#this isn’t lamplight but it looks like it lol

[forwhump]

a/n; sorry I’m posting again :’) I’m losing track of what I’ve posted because I’m not posting in any sort of chronological order so if I’ve posted anything about the auction (technically it’s a fundraiser but I’ve always called it the auction) then this is a prequel !!! if I haven’t then >:) enjoy this totally innocuous thing, nothing horrible happens after this at all

also I’ve been losing track of the names I use for the background soldiers since the very beginning so if I ever use a name more than once it’s up to you whether it’s the same guy or two guys w the same name <3 LOL

tw/cw: dehumanization, captivity, mentions of dismemberment, implied rape/noncon, misgendering, transphobia, grievous bodily harm, stabbing

living weapon whumpee, military whump, creepy whumper

Any night that Silas spends with Wren is a good night.

It doesn’t matter how much he’s bleeding, or how much he hurts, if Wren is nearby and Silas is sure that he’s okay, that he’s safe, then it’s a good night. He’s died happy knowing that Wren is safe.

There’s something to be said about the nights, however, that Wren is safe and he’s okay and Silas isn’t bleeding. He isn’t in pain.

Silas is sitting on the floor, back against the side of Wren’s bed, head tipped back against the mattress. Wren is curled up nearby, his hand in Silas’ hair, and he’s reading quietly, something Silas isn’t really following, fixated as he is on the soft sound of his voice, on his strange, Wren accent. Silas has his face turned, cheek against grey sheets, watching Wren as he reads to him, holy, even more inhuman than Silas in his beauty. In the yellow glow of the lamplight, cast from Wren’s desk, his hair glows something golden and his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks.

It’s a good night.

It starts that way, anyway.

“You’re beautiful,” Silas says, because he’s beautiful and Silas is nothing if an honest, maybe blunt person.

Wren looks up at him and he wishes, for a moment, that he could draw like Wren can, because it’s a picture he’d like to remember and he doesn’t think he will. He doesn’t get to remember very much. But Wren smiles at him, soft and sweet, and Silas forgets about anything that doesn’t make him so pleasantly warm it makes him a little uneasy. “You’re not listening to me at all,” he says, “are you?”

“I’m kinda listening to you,” Silas says, “mostly I’m looking at you,” and Wren laughs, pushing his face away with the hand in his hair.

Silas turns his face back to try and bite his fingers and Wren laughs again, a sound that makes Silas feel so warm all over he might flush with it. Wren is beautiful, arguably, all the time — some really ugly things have happened to him, have been done to him, but Wren, at his core, interwoven into his DNA, is so beautiful that Silas sometimes has a hard time looking at him. It’s like staring too hard into surgical lights, too bright, it makes him see the same sort of spots. Wren’s always most beautiful when he laughs.

He doesn’t laugh often — not often enough, anyway. But Silas has gotten good at bringing it out in him, and he’s best at it when he doesn’t try. At the end of his life, when his brain is removed from this thing they’d turned him into and what little is left of him is destroyed, if they bother to ask him what his proudest accomplishment was, this is what he would say. That he got to make Wren laugh.

“Sorry,” Silas says against his knuckles, and he tries to bite him again and Wren bats him away with a smile that makes him dizzy.

“I don’t believe you are,” he says, and Silas can’t help the smile that pulls at his own mouth on one side.

“I’m not,” he agrees, and the way Wren laughs reverberates through his chest.

“I picked this for you because I thought it would hold your attention,” he says, and the way he smiles at Silas would probably give Silas a headache if he let it.

“I want you to read the one that Hal wanted you to read,” he suggests, just because Wren keeps telling him no.

“No,” Wren says, predictable, and Silas smiles against his knuckles. “Hal wasn’t being nice. You won’t like it.”

“I’ll like anything if you read it to me,” Silas says.

Wren has a very peculiar way of looking at him sometimes, soft and sweet, eyebrows pulled together in the middle. He looks at him like that now, and it warms Silas in almost the same way his laughter does, even if he doesn’t quite know what it means. “Not Frankenstein,” he says, but he laughs again when Silas ducks his head and obligingly presses a kiss to his hairline. “You’re cute,” he says with a smile, “but still no. I’d read you anything else.”

“Just not what I want,” he says, and Wren laughs.

“You don’t even know what it is!” He protests, which makes Silas grin, despite his best, most valiant attempts not to. “You just like to argue with me.”

“I like to do everything with you,” Silas says, kissing his knuckles.

Wren snorts out a laugh as he pushes his face away again. “Shut up,” he says, and he says it with a sort of fondness that makes Silas’ chest constrict. He reaches towards him because he can’t help himself, grabbing Wren around the waist and hauling him off the edge of the mattress. Wren laughs again and Silas smiles properly. “What are you doing?”

Silas pulls him into his lap. “You’re not close enough.”

“No?” Wren says, and he puts on the voice he uses when Silas is in trouble but his smile is blinding and he leans his weight into Silas’ chest, arms around his shoulders. Silas’ hands span the entirety of Wren’s back and Wren is looking at him really closely, a little pink across the bridge of his nose. His hand on Silas’ cheek is almost painfully gentle.

He’s so close. “You’re beautiful,” Silas says again, because he is, and it bears repeating. “Even more beautiful up close.”

He’s so close Silas can see perfectly well the way he flushes, pink, beneath a splattering of freckles Silas only ever sees when they’re this close. It makes him grin, which makes Wren laugh again, pinching his cheek. “Shut up.”

But he’s so close. He’s so close that Silas can see freckles splattered across his face, clustered closest across the bridge of his nose and along his hairline. He’s so pale, and his hair is so light, but his eyes are so dark, and they’re huge, and he’s so beautiful but Silas has thought it’s given him a surreal sort of quality, that sometimes he looks even less human than Silas. “More than beautiful,” he says softly, because he doesn’t quite know how to put it into words. “Extraordinary.”

Wren angles his head and his smile takes on an odd sort of softness that never fails to make Silas’ face feel hot. “You’re too sweet to me,” he murmurs.

It’s kind of a dumb thing to say. “I’m in love with you,” he says softly, because he thought as much was obvious.

He can feel the way Wren’s breath hitches against his chest, and that’s all the time he gets before it all goes to hell.

The door is kicked open with a force that makes it sound like it’s been blown to pieces. Wren flinches with his entire body and Silas holds him protectively to his chest without even really thinking about it. A man called London, with an accent Silas doesn’t like, stands in the doorway and his lip curls back from his teeth as he looks down at them, his gun at the ready against his chest.

To Wren, he says, “I thought we told you no dogs in your room.”

“No dogs on the bed,” Silas says, and if his eyebrows lift, challenging, he can’t help it. “I’m not on the bed.”

London’s lip curls back a little further. “Common room,” he barks, accent grating. “Both of you. Let’s go.”

“Why?” Silas says.

“A talking dog,” London remarks, sharp. “One that talks back. How peculiar.”

Silas starts to lift both his middle fingers and Wren quickly pushes his hands back down. “We’re coming,” he says, and he says it in the weird, kind of saccharine voice he only ever uses with the soldiers.

Except London’s gun is still drawn. Except London isn’t wearing the usual black tactile uniform of the soldiers on patrol. He’s wearing a black uniform only Silas has ever seen, because it’s the black uniform the soldiers only ever wear in active combat. Whatever’s waiting for them out there, it isn’t good.

“Wren,” he says softly.

“Silas,” Wren pleads, even quieter. “Please.”

Silas grunts, but Wren had said please so Silas would’ve been obedient if he’d asked him to amputate his other leg. He heaves himself up, into his chair, and follows close at Wren’s back. London falls into step at Wren’s side, and tells him, “beastiality doesn’t suit you.”

Silas says, in his best imitation of London’s accent, “cunt.”

London pivots and hammers the barrel end of his assault rifle into Silas’ hollow eye socket in one, fluid motion. Something in his face, something that feels like his cheekbone cracks under his skin and he grunts in pain.

Wren starts to gasp, “Silas,” but London silences him with a snap of his gloved fingers and a crude point.

“Move,” he snaps.

Wren turns towards him anyway. “Silas —“

From the end of the corridor, from the common room, Hal’s voice says, “Silas?”

Silas stops trying to dry his bleeding eye socket with his sleeve. The throbbing headache of his broken cheekbone dulls to a beat drowned out by the roar of his heartbeat. Being summoned from his room in the middle of the night is one thing. Wren being summoned, too, by a soldier in full combat uniform is another. Hal also being called on —

Wren feels it, too, because his hand finds Silas’ arm and his fingers are shaking. “Hal?”

“Wren? What the fuck is going on?” Hal calls.

London growls, “move.”

Wren looks down at Silas, who turns his head to kiss his sleeve, as soothing as he can manage.

He should’ve grabbed his fuckin’ leg. He’s still new to needing it — to feeling this fuckin’ helpless without it. What’s going to happen to them? How is he going to get Wren out of it with one fuckin’ leg?

Hal isn’t alone in the common room. He’s standing with Robin and June, huddled close in a space crowded with soldiers. Every one of them is dressed in full combat uniform.

Point stands proudest among them, and he looks up with a grin.

Silas groans. He can’t help it.

Wren pinches him through his sleeve. “What is this?” He asks softly, not quite looking at Point, who looks at him intently and like a predator.

With another lecherous grin, he says, “field trip.”

Wren makes a sound that would probably be amused in any other situation. “What?”

“Field trip?” June repeats.

Point holds up a hand, quieting her without looking at her. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he says. “Let’s move, soldiers.”

And the whole thing is kind of surreal, clouded by Silas’ worsening concussion and broken orbital socket, pooling with blood. Hal, June, and Robin are led down a different corridor than Wren and Silas; Wren and Silas, flanked on all sides by soldiers and Point, are led to a service elevator.

Silas, in all his years in the district, has never been outside. This isn’t really any different.

The service elevator lifts them to a section of the district like any other — dimly lit, chipped grey concrete. Down a corridor, a huge metal grate had been lifted out of the way, opened to the back of an armoured van, doors closed and secured.

It’s Point, of course, that unlatches and opens these doors to the back of the van. It’s crowded with soldiers, with Point’s favourite men, crammed on the benches lined along the inside, standing along the back. Point jumps up into the van and whirls back around with a bizarre sort of flourish. “The girl will ride with me,” he announces. “Animal transport will be up next for the dog.”

Wren’s voice has gone flat, but his accent is probably the thickest Silas has ever heard it when he says, “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Point grins with all his teeth and he looks even less human than Silas. “You know I don’t kid ‘bout you, cowgirl,” he says, mocking, and Wren takes a quick step back, knocking into Silas. “I ain’t playin’ with you, neither. Get on up here.” He pats his thighs, beckoning.

“Fuck you,” Wren says, but his voice sounds brittle and his accent sounds even thicker. Silas curls a protective hand around his hip.

“C’mere, girl,” Point says, and whistles, patting his thighs again. “C’mere.”

“Fuck you, I’m not getting in the rape van,” Wren snaps, and Point’s jovial mocking drops off his face. It’s like he’s been wiped clean, replaced by something totally and uncomfortably blank.

“You’ll do whatever I fucking tell you to do,” he deadpans, “or I’ll make your dog bite the bumper and you’ll be forced to watch as I crack his ugly head in half. And then I’ll fuck you anyway, mm?”

He takes a step back down from the van and Wren’s whole body tenses. Silas pulls him close, into his lap, away from Point, who pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t start with me, freak,” he says. “I don’t want to kill you while I’m hard. Give me the girl.”

“You’re a fuckin’ weirdo,” Silas tells him, and something twitches in Point’s jaw.

“You’re a failed fucking science experiment,” he snaps. “An crippled fucking dog. A waste of fucking skin, and I fuck your girl better than you do. Give her here.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “I’ll tell you what, Darren,” he says, and Point’s eye twitches, this time. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“Silas,” Wren breathes.

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. He angles his head at a soldier standing close, Haunt, who quickly lifts his gun and shoves the barrel hard against the nape of Silas’ neck.

Whatever, what’s another gun to the head? But Wren gasps, reacts, human, and he’s distracted just long enough that London’s able to grab him by the arms and haul him out of Silas’ lap.

Time warps. Slows down.

Wren screams.

Point grabs him around the waist, lifting him off his feet as he struggles.

Silas reaches for him and he’s stabbed quickly in the throat.

It happens so quickly that his crewneck is already sticking to his chest before it even starts to hurt. Then the pain starts to gurgle at the back of his mouth, sucked into his chest as he takes a wet, choking breath in. Point doesn’t look at him as he opens his jugular, but he looks up with a grin as Silas bleeds, wrenching the buck knife out of Adam’s apple. A rush of blood follows the blade, and Silas’ prison greys are already black, soaked with blood.

He thinks his ears are ringing, but when the blood stops rushing he realizes Wren is screaming and Point is laughing at a garbled, cackling pitch.

“I was waiting for you to try something,” he cackles. “You’re getting predictable, Silas.”

Silas raises a hand to the wound and his shaky fingers dip into the opened meat of his throat, gagging him.

With an ease that makes him gag in much the same way, Point pulls Wren’s hands behind his back and lifts him as he struggles. He throws him into the back of the van, onto the floor between the benches, and as soon as Wren hits the ground, face down, a soldier steps down hard on the back of his head, pinning him. Wren screams bloody murder and it sounds nothing like blood rushing in his ears.

A different soldier peels down Wren’s waistband with the toe of his boot and the way Wren screams echoes between Silas’ ears, bouncing off the inside of his skull. It makes him vomit, but he doesn’t know blood or bile, but most of it seeps from his opened throat and only a mouthful makes it to his tongue, long numb and useless.

Point pats his cheek twice, hard, and Silas vomits into his lap. His chin finds his chest and he doesn’t have the strength to lift it off again. “You’ll follow in the med van,” he says, and Silas hears him in odd bits and pieces. Somebody close is making horrible, wet gasping sounds and he has a really sick feeling it’s him. “And you’ll be good as new by the time we get where we’re going. We got a long ride ahead of us.” Silas can’t see anything except blurry red spots, but he doesn’t need to see Point to know he’s grinning when he says, “your girl’s gonna be in good hands the whole time. Don’t you worry.” He knocks Silas over the back of his head and his laugh is a cackle.

Silas doesn’t see it, but he can hear Point jump into the back of the van. There’s some kind of sound that follows it, skin on skin. Wren sobs loudly and Silas vomits down his chest. “Alright, girl,” he says, loud and theatrical, probably more for Silas than Wren, in a sour, mocking version of Wren’s accent. There’s a creak of the hinges as he grabs at the doors. “Time to get fuckin’.”

The doors close loudly and something in the sound feels like a bullet to the brain, a sudden, sharp explosion of pain that ricochets behind Silas’ eyes.

He doesn’t remember anything else for the next three days.

[ijustreallylikepirates]

I got an anonymous fanfic request so I’m going to be merging it with my fic on Alec’s birthday to just make it a bit longer. Hope that’s not much of an inconvenience or a bother.

I hope y'all enjoy this. I put my heart and soul into these fics just for y'all. Yall are a great group of people. Tumblr people are better than real people. Anyways I’m gonna stop yapping and here’s the fic.

Btw this fic is gonna be like really long so sorry bout that lol

Disclaimer: swearing, making out (shocker)

Finally, the day I’ve been waiting for for so many months. It’s finally my birthday.

I went full out for Nick on his birthday so I think he might spoil me like he tends to do even when it isn’t my birthday.

I don’t know what he’s planning but it’s gotta be something good with all that money he has. Perks of having a rich boyfriend.

I don’t only love him for his money though, if that’s what you’re thinking. There’s so much I love about him, like his personality. He’s so sweet, he treats me well, the way he always has a dirty joke for me. We have created so many amazing memories together it’s just hard to not love him. He also has the prettiest hair that just swoops when he turns his head in every which direction. His eyes are just so blue I get lost in them like I’m swimming in the Aruban ocean every time I stare into them. His skin is just so soft that when I hold his hand, it feels like I’m holding hands with a marshmallow.

I do quite love the expensive things he buys me though.

As I’m laying in my bed reading Fellow Travelers in the dim lamplight of my bedroom, Nick slowly opens the door and looks at me. Surprised to see me awake he says, “Good morning, birthday boy.”

He pushes the door open completely, and walks over to my bed. I smile as he pushes back the covers and lays his head on my pillow right next to me.

He kisses me on the cheek and asks, “Whatcha reading?”

I wrap my arm around his shoulders and show him the book cover. “Fellow Travelers.”

He lays his head slightly onto my shoulder and asks, “What’s it about?”

“It’s about these two guys Hawkins and Tim who fall in love in the 1950s which obviously wasn’t a very great time for queer people. So they just had to keep their love a secret and make it through the McCarthy Red Scare trials and the Lavender Scare.”

Nick stares at the words on the pages. “I have no idea what any of that means but okay.”

I just laugh. “If you’d read it, you would understand.”

“I haven’t picked up a book since what, high school?” He laughs. “Unless you read it to me like a toddler.”

I poke his nose with my finger, then kiss him. “You really want me to?”

“Hey, what the heck, love. I love hearing the sound of your voice so yes please.”

I laugh and kiss him again. “You’re so stupid. I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

“You love me.”

“I do actually.”

I put my bookmark in between the pages of my book, then place it down on the bed next to me. I turn to the side and wrap my arms around Nick’s back.

My face is now very close to his. He just smiles and places his hands on my waist.

He kisses me. “I have big plans for us today.”

I smirk. “Oh yeah? How much money do you plan on spending on me today?”

He kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry about that, love. Just kiss me.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, British boy.”

“Hey, you’re British too so-”

But I obviously can’t let him finish that sentence.

I quickly press my lips onto his. His eyes widen and a noise that sounded like a tiny scream escapes from the back of his throat.

When I pull away, he blushes and says, “Wow. I fucking love it when you kiss me like that.”

“What?”

“Like when you kiss me when I’m in the middle of a sentence. Or just when I don’t expect it at that moment. It’s my favorite thing ever.”

I blush and run my fingers through his hair. “You’re actually stupid. I fucking love you so much.”

He nuzzles his head into my chest. “I love you even more,” he mumbles into my chest.

I remove my fingers from his hair and rub his back. I kiss the top of his head.

We laid there for a while. He sneakily placed kisses on my chest a couple times, and I held him close to me, listening to his quiet breathing.

But after a while, he lifts his head and kisses me. “Well, we should probably get up now. It’s been a while, we can’t just lay here in your bed forever, birthday boy.” He sits up and pushes himself to the edge of my bed. “Come on. I made you breakfast.” He picks himself up off the bed and walks out the door.

Before getting up, I lay in my bed and stare at the door, the blanket pulled up over my chin. God, I love this man.

I throw the blanket off, grab my book, and get up. As I walk out the bedroom door, he has set a plate on the table. I smile and walk over to the table. But I didn’t even notice what he had cooked for me.

On the plate sat Menemen, or Turkish scrambled eggs with tomatoes. Menemen is one of my favorite Turkish dishes of all time! I wonder how he knew?

I laugh and ask, "You went out of your way to make me a Turkish breakfast?" I pick up the fork next to the plate and spear my breakfast.

I fork the eggs into my mouth and...

Oh.

Oh. My. God.

I close my eyes and throw my head back. "Mm. This is so good!"

Nick giggles as I fork more eggs into my mouth. "Thank you. I wanted to make some kind of breakfast from Türkiye. Cause y'know, I thought you would like it considering you're always trying to get me to try Turkish food."

I laugh and fork another bite of egg into my mouth, then pick up my book in my other hand. "You spoil me."

He smiles and says, "You deserve it."

I just chuckle and open up the book. But before I can take the bookmark out of the book, Nick takes the book out of my hand and snaps it shut. "Jeez. If you want gay love stories, I'm right here."

I laugh as he places the book back down on the table next to me. I shake my head and finish the last couple bites of my breakfast.

When I set my fork down on my now empty plate, Nick quickly picks up the plate and brings it over to the sink. As he starts to wash the plate he asks me, "So how was it? Was everything alright?"

"Everything was delicious, Efem. Why do you ask?"

Nick raises an eyebrow at me and says, "Well, I just wanted to know because it's the first time I ever cooked Turkish food for you and it's also your birthday! I need your first meal of the day to be perfect!"

"Well, it definitely was perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're so much more than welcome, Alec. And of course I'm going completely out of my way to make sure you feel like the most special person on this Earth." He turns his head around and says, "Now go put on something nice. We're going out."

I just roll my eyes. "Alright. Whatever you say."

I get up from the chair and walk over to Nick. I give him a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to my bedroom.

I close the bedroom door behind me and start looking through the drawers in my bureau. I pick out a nice blue button-down shirt and some black dress pants. I slip on some ankle-high white socks and a pair of shiny black dress shoes. I pull a leather belt through the belt loops of my pants, then slip a navy blue overcoat over my arms.

I quickly scan the room. I grab my phone off my bedside table and put it in my back pocket. But just as I'm about to leave the bedroom, I remember something.

My wallet.

I know that it's my birthday and Nick probably won't let me spend any money, but I never leave the house without my wallet. Ever. Like if there is ever a situation where I need to show my ID or driver's license, they'll be there right in my back pocket. Or like, what if Nick forgets his wallet today?

I scan the tops of my nightstands, but don't see my wallet on either table. I do a quick search of the bedroom; in my drawers, under the bed, under my pillows, inside my bedsheets, everywhere I could think of.

Then, I have an epiphany.

Nick.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Not this again. Nick!"

"Yeah?" he calls back from the other room.

"Did you steal my wallet again?"

Silence.

"Hello? Nick?"

More silence.

I sigh. I walk over to my bedroom door and walk out. "I swear. Nicholas fucking Milton, you give me my wallet back this-"

And that's when I saw what he was doing.

He was just standing there in the middle of the living room, his hands in the pockets of the cashmere suit jacket he now had on, my wallet lodged between his teeth.

And honestly? I definitely blushed.

I just stood there for a second, then look Nick in the eyes and say, "Nick."

He just smirks. Well, as well as he can with my wallet in his mouth.

I walk over to him and hold my hand out. "Give it back to me now."

He slowly shakes his head.

"Now."

A low giggle from the back of his throat.

I shake my head and close my hand around the wallet. He clamps his jaw down tighter on my wallet.

I pull on my wallet, but my hand slips. "Come on, give it back!" I try to pry it out again. "You're going to get teeth marks on my wallet. That was expensive!" Another pull. "Come on!"

He just looks at me blankly, that horrendous smirk on his face.

God, he's so frustrating! I groan loudly.

But then... I smirk.

"Oh, Nick..." I say, leaning closer to him. "If you give me back my wallet, I'll reward you."

From in between his teeth, he says something like, "Wih wha?" which I assume meant, 'With what?'

I lean even closer. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll kiss you. Maybe we could, I don't know..." I lean over and put my lips dangerously close to his ear. "Make out..." I whisper into his ear. I place a gentle kiss on his neck as I pull my face back.

He was frozen, his whole face completely red. I hold my hand up to his mouth and he unclamps his teeth. My wallet falls into my hand, and I close my hand tightly around the smooth leather. I do a quick check to see if he didn't take anything out of it, then slipped it into my other back pocket.

"Thank you," I say, tucking my hand behind his neck. I lean in and press my lips onto his.

He doesn't waste a second kissing me back. He puts his hands on my waist and pulls me close to him, kissing me harder.

His tongue brushes against mine as I push him hardly against the wall, making the room shake a little. One of the paintings even falls off the wall. But I'll fix that later.

I bring my hands down to his back, then start lifting up his cashmere suit jacket and white undershirt with my index, middle, and ring fingers.

I felt his hands trail down my waist and onto my ass. I press my body up against Nick's, warmth surging in between us.

I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. Or was it mine? No matter. Nick is so hot, I don't even care.

All that I could hear was my and Nick's breathing, the sound of his golden watch quietly ticking, and the occasional kissing noises. To be specific, very wet kissing noises.

He squeezes my ass as my hands start to trail up his back. His skin is so soft and warm.

I feel like I'm on the moon. We've made out many times before, but this just felt so much better. I don't know what was so special about today's makeout sesh. Maybe because it was my birthday. I don't know.

Wait...

My birthday! Nick is supposed to be taking me out today but we're up against the living room wall sharing saliva! And yes, before you germaphobes say anything about that sentence, I know how weird it is but like come on! It's Nicholas Milton iii, the hottest man on this earth!

I slowly pull away from Nick, a trail of spit stringing between our lips and breaking apart, spilling onto our bottom lips.

Nick goes in for another kiss, but I put my finger over his lips. "What time is it?" I ask him.

He pulls his hands from my ass and checks his watch. "11:00."

I retrieve my hands from his back and say, "We should get going." I back up from him.

He nods. "Just promise me you won't spend any money today. It's your day and you deserve to be treated like a princess."

I scoff and roll my eyes. "You already treat me like a princess every day, but okay. Come on now, the anticipation is killing me! I really want to know where you're taking me!"

He laughs. "Okay, okay! Just one more second. I have to grab something.

I watch as he walks into the other room. I raise my eyebrow when he comes back into the living room, holding something inside his cashmere suit jacket. That's...suspicious.

"Come on, let's go," he says, grabbing his car keys and opening the front door.

I look at him with my eyebrow raised, then follow him out the door and close the door behind me. We walk over to the car, and I climb into the passenger seat.

Nick opens the back door of the car. I pull down the sun visor and pretend to look at my hair in the mirror, but really, I watch as Nick slips something black and grey into one of those reuseable Stop&Shop bags. Very suspicious.

He then shuts the car door and walks over, climbing into the driver's seat. He shuts the door and starts up the engine.

I realize I still have the sun visor down, so I quickly run my fingers through my hair and pretend to look at it with a pout.

Nick leans over and cups my face in his hand. "Your hair looks fine, love." He kisses me on the cheek and shuts the sun visor. I blush as he puts the car in reverse and backs out of the driveway.

~

For the whole car ride I stared out the window with my legs crossed, trying to figure out where Nick was taking me.

But wait a minute...

I recognize this route!

This is the way to Barnes&Noble!

Nick really is spoiling me today, isn't he? Plus, I wonder what's in that bag in the back seat...

I turn my head to look at Nick and ask, "Are you taking me to Barnes&Noble?"

He smiles and nods. "Yep. I'm going to let you buy as many books as you want with my money."

My jaw drops. "Are you serious?"

"Mhm."

"Are you sure you want to let me do that?"

"Anything for you, baby."

I look back out the window and smirk mischievously. I rub my hands together and say, "Oh, you're about to go into debt."

Nick raises his eyebrow and says, "I'm starting to regret my decision."

I just laugh.

When he pulls into a parking spot in front of the Barnes&Noble and stops the car, I quickly jump out of the car and start running to the store.

"Come on!" I shout back to Nick as I jump up the curb.

"I'ma coming!" he shouts back, laughing in between sentences. "Wait up!"

I get to the front door and I look behind me. He's still running across the parking lot. I smirk and fling the door open as I shout, "Too slow!" and run through the door.

Nick laughs again and shouts, "Hey! Wait!" but the door shuts before he can make it there.

I don't even look back to check if Nick was behind me; I just ran behind one of the shelves. I started looking for books and piling a bunch into my arms. Hey! Nick said I could have as many as I wanted, so I'm picking up as many as I want.

But... I still want to be nice, so I'll limit myself to 20.

By the time Nick finds me, I have 19 out of the 20 books I limited myself to in my hands. Well... as good as I could hold them all anyway. I had them stacked in my arms, trying really hard not to drop them.

As soon as Nick sees me in the adult romance section, he rushes over to me. He laughs and asks, "Do you want some help with those?"

"Yes please," I say as I pile half the books into his hands.

Nick staggers a little, but quickly regains his balance and tightens his grip on my books. He huffs and asks, "What books did you even pick up?"

I look at the books and say, "Red White and Royal Blue, A Taste of Gold and Iron, Under the Whispering Door, In the Lives of Puppets, In Deeper Waters, Good Omens, Out of the Blue, Less, Kidnapped by the Pirate, the Apollo Ascending series, and the Shadowhunters Mortal Instruments series."

"Is that it?" Nick asks.

I just realized I have a guilty look on my face. "Yeah? I thought about it, and I realized I don't want you to spend that much money on me just for me to buy ink on dead trees."

Nick's eye twitched. "Alec... when I said you could buy as many books as you wanted, I meant it. Go fucking crazy. I don't care if you want to spend all my money on your ink on dead trees because it's your day and that's what's important to you. Go pick up some more fucking books and we're not leaving here until you have all the books you want."

I look at Nick, absolutely dumbfounded. "Oh... are you sure?"

Nick's eye twitches again. "Yes!"

"Like... 100% positive?"

"Yes!" Nick looks around. "But I think we need something to hold all these books though. Do they have like, something for us to put them all in?"

I consider this. "I don't think so. But you can ask one of the cashiers for one of those big paper bags."

Nick nods. "Alright. Come on, let's go get one."

He starts walking towards the front desk, me following closely behind him.

There was nobody checking out and there was only one cashier. Nick walks right up to the desk and says to the cashier, "Hello!"

The cashier looks up from her magazine but doesn't say anything.

"Uh, can I get one of those big paper bags?"

The cashier raises her eyebrow and picks up one of the paper bags from behind the desk. "This one?"

Nick nods enthusiastically. "Yes! That one!"

The cashier's face turns skeptical. "For what?"

Nick points at me and says, "I promised my boyfriend I'd buy him as many books as he wanted, and I really underestimated how many books he'd really buy."

The cashier just chuckles. "Are you going to actually come back and pay for them?"

Nick raises his eyebrow and lets out a small quiet gasp. "Are you calling me a criminal?"

"Just a genuine question, sir."

"Of course I'm coming back to pay for them! I'm too rich to start stealing shit!"

I laugh. "Stop flexing on your money."

He laughs too. "I'm just saying." He takes the bag from the cashier. "Thank you very much."

She laughs and picks up her magazine. "You're welcome. And happy shopping!"

I take the bag from Nick and dump my books into it. He dumps the books that I made him hold into the bag.

I look up at the cashier and say, "Oh, I'm definitely happy," before walking off to another shelf.

Nick loudly exhales and says under his breath, "At least he's happy," before following me.

~

By the time we made it out of the store, it was 4:00PM. I wish I was joking but I literally spent 5 whole hours in Barnes&Noble.

But I bought a lot so that makes sense.

Along with the original 19 books I picked up, I had bought The Love Hypothesis, The Song of Achilles, Dreamland, all 5 Heartstopper volumes, Nick and Charlie, This Winter, Radio Silence, Loveless, I Was Born for This, Solitaire, The Paris Library, all 6 volumes of Fence, and The Clean Slate Ranch series. 46 books total.

I also bought two Elvis records, a Queen record, and a Cardigans record.

Altogether that came to £498.94.

Now, sitting in a fancy restaurant, my books and records safely stored in the car, we laugh about that insane price.

"I mean, come on!" Nick shouts, swirling his wine around in his glass. "Almost £500 for 46 books and 4 records? That's crazy!"

I take a sip from my wine and say, "I mean, in America my shopping haul would probably amount to $1000."

Nick raises his eyebrows in shock. "Really?"

He takes a sip of wine as I nod.

"That's bogus!" he says, accidentally spilling a drop of wine on the tablecloth.

He quickly wipes up the wine as I say, "Inflations." I take a sip of my wine.

He laughs. "Sometimes I don't know about America."

I don't respond.

Nick raises an eyebrow at me. "Something wrong?"

I finish off my glass of wine and say, "Do you ever think about... Disventure Camp?"

Nick's eyes widen a little and he takes a sip of wine. "Sometimes... yeah. Why do you ask?"

I fold my hands in front of me and twiddle my thumbs. "I just can't stop thinking about the friendships I destroyed on that show or could've had. Everything I lost because I joined that show."

Nick puts his wine glass down and puts his hand over mine. "What do you mean?" he asks solemnly.

I sigh and say, "I lost a woman I really loved because I couldn't see it for my myself how shitty of a husband I was being. I haven't seen my son in almost a year. I really thought I could waltz onto that show and win the money to fix my marriage! I'm so stupid and I lost everything! It's been a while but I... still feel guilty about everything."

I grab Nick's hand and start playing with his fingers. "And I had people I was really close to on the show that I lost because I was so set on winning the dumb game! I had great friendships with Ellie, Connor, Grett. I couldn't even maintain 3 friendships without fucking anything up? And I can't believe that I let myself get tricked by Fiore! I could've won that money; I could've fixed my problems! But I didn't and I lost everything!"

"Hey! We all got tricked by Fiore! She was a little demon child, but we couldn't help it. We all underestimated what she could do, and it didn't turn out good for any of us. And I was great friends with Ashley, Lill, and Will in season 1, but I just recently made a Facebook groupchat with them and we're all talking again. Maybe if you talked it out with Ellie, Connor, and Grett, you could restore your friendships! I don't know if that'll work for you but it did for me."

He took my face in his hands and says, "And you definitely didn't lose everything. I'm here! I was the fresh start you needed, and we are currently going steady! I definitely needed you for my character arc and you needed me for yours. I'll be here to help you through everything. I'll be there when you need me most. Just call on me, and I'll be there for you in the blink of an eye."

A tear falls from my eye. "I... don't know what to say. Thank you so much."

Nick smiles and wipes the tear away with his thumb. "All I want is for you to be happy. Come on now, don't be sad. It's your birthday!"

I put my hand over his and close my eyes. "Yeah... yeah, I guess it is."

~

Dinner came and it was great. I wasn't expecting much because it was such a fancy restaurant, and usually fancy restaurants never have the best food in the world.

Me and Nick were back in the car, driving somewhere else now. He had his hand on my thigh as we listen to Billy Joel on the radio.

I laugh. "I don't understand how you can plan so much stuff to do for one day! You didn't have to spend so much money on me today. I mean, come on! It's just my birthday!"

Nick gasped. "Just your birthday? It might as well be Christmas! Your birthday is one of the most important days of the year!"

I just laugh as he pulls up to our local park and parks his car against the curb.

I look over at him and raise my eyebrow. "The park?"

He smiles and says, "Go on. Go find a nice spot. We're going to watch the sunset and I have presents."

I smile. "How did you know I like to watch the sunset?"

"I always see you staring out the living room window with a book open in your lap. The sunlight always makes your eyes look so beautiful."

I just blush and open the car door. "Whatever." I step up the curb and look around.

There was a nice spot next to the lake, a nice patch of sunlight in the grass. Perfect.

I look behind me at Nick, who is walking over to me with the reusable Stop&Shop bag. I really want to know what he put in there earlier. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

I wave him over, a big smile on my face. He laughs and starts running.

Once he gets over to me, he places the bag down on the grass. he reaches down and pulls a blanket out of the bag. The same blue fleece blanket we had laid over us after our first date.

He laid the blanket out on the ground. "Here. Sit. I don't want your hot ass to go green."

I laugh and sit down on the blanket. He sits down next to me and pulls the bag onto the blanket. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a small box wrapped in blue paper; a red envelope attached to it.

"Here," he says, handing them over to me. "Here's your present."

I take it from him and smile. "Aw, thank you. But you didn't have to. You've already done so much for me today!"

Nick rolls his eyes and says, "Just open the damn present."

I laugh and remove the card from the box. I put the box down on the blanket and go to open the envelope, but Nick grabs my arm.

"Wait! I want you to open the present first!"

I raise my eyebrow. "But why? It's good manners to open up the card before the present."

"I know but... I think you'll like what's in the card more than the present itself."

I just stare at him, confused. "Al... right then. If you really want me to."

I put the envelope down on the blanket and pick the box back up. I slowly unwrap the paper.

There was a small mahogany box. I open the lid and...

Oh. My. God.

Inside the box was the most beautiful watch I had ever seen. Emerald green and gold, beautiful sheen, smooth leather wristband. It was so... vintage!

I take it out of the box, staring at it in awe. I put it around my wrist and observe it.

"Oh, wow. Nick, this is so beautiful!"

"Even more beautiful than me?"

I scoff. "Oh, shut it." I look away. "And no, you're still more beautiful."

He laughs, then leans over and kisses me on the cheek. "Now open up the card."

I pick up the envelope and pry it open. Inside was a card with flowers and the words 'Happy Birthday!' on the cover. When I opened up the card there were two sheets of paper, but I shoved them aside to read the card.

There were no actual words on the inside, but Nick had written in his swoopy handwriting, "I love you so much. Happy Birthday Alec xoxo -Nick."

I blush. Then I close the card and look at the pieces of paper that were inside.

And when I tell you my initial shock when I read what was on it. The sheets of paper were two plane tickets to Istanbul, Türkiye!

I look at Nick, my jaw dropped. "You didn't!"

He smirks and says, "One for me, one for you."

I just laugh and throw my arms around his neck, tackling him onto the blanket. I start showering him with kisses, as he laughs and laughs.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh, you're the best boyfriend ever!" I exclaim, getting up off of Nick.

Nick sits up and just laughs. "I know you always wanted me to see Istanbul so... why not take you there myself?"

I lean in and kiss him. "Oh, I promise you are going to love it there!"

He smiles and blushes. "I bet I will."

We look into each other's eyes for a moment. Then Nick seems to remember something. "Oh, I have cake for us!"

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a cake in a plastic tin. It had white frosting and the words 'Happy Birthday Alec!' written on it in chocolate lettering.

Nick smiles weakly and says, "Sorry that I couldn't bake you a cake myself. You know I'm a shit baker."

I laugh. "Yeah. You're a great cook though."

He blushes. "I really do try to make good food."

"Try my asshole! Your food is fucking amazing!"

He turns even more red. "Aw, really? Wow." He places the cake down on the blanket next to me and covers his face with his hands.

I just laugh.

After a while, he takes his hands off his face and picks some forks, a cake trowel, and paper plates out of the bag. He removes the lid off the cake and cuts two slices of cake with the cake trowel, then puts each slice on a plate.

He puts a fork on one of the plates and hands it to me. "For you, my king."

I blush and take the plate. "Oh, stop it."

We sat there together side by side, eating our cake with one hand, our other hands lying next to each other on the blanket, our pinkies crossed over.

Once we finish our cake, the sun had started to set.

I look up at the sky. It's colored in many shades of yellow, orange, purple, and pink. It was absolutely mesmerizing. I put my hands in the pockets of my overcoat and smile up at the sky.

Suddenly, I hear a click from next to me. I look over and see Nick holding up his camera.

"You sneaky bitch!" I exclaim, laughing.

He pulls the camera away from his face and laughs, saying nothing. And oh my God, the light from the setting sun was reflecting in his eyes, mixing in with the blue and making them shine. And his skin seemed to be glowing.

I blush and say, "You're so pretty."

He blushes. "You're so gay."

I gasp. "Oh no! I've been outed!"

We laugh.

I lean onto his shoulder and let out a breath. "I really wish I had my book with me."

"Who says you didn't?"

I look up at Nick. "What?"

He turns around and reaches into his bag, pulling out Fellow Travelers and handing it to me.

So that's the black and grey thing he slipped into the bag earlier. My book! I take it and smile. "You're so stupid. I love you so much!"

"I knew you'd want your book with this sunset so... I brought it, just in case."

I turn to the page I left off on and say, "How do you know me so well?"

He puts his hand on my waist and says, "Well, we've been dating for like what? A year now? I should know you pretty well."

I just shake my head at him.

He kisses me on the top of my head and says, "Happy birthday, Alec."

~

What a day this has been. Laying with Nick in his bed, I think about everything he did for me today.

"Alec?" came Nick's voice out of the silence.

"Hm?"

"That thing you called me earlier. What does that mean?"

I raise my eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"That name you called me at breakfast."

"Efem?"

"Yes. Efem. What does it mean?"

I chuckle. "It means 'my daredevil boy' in Turkish."

He smiles and runs his fingers through my hair. "Well, that checks out."

"Mhm."

We plunge into silence again.

"Alec?" Nick asks again.

I laugh. "Oh my God, what now?"

"Sorry. One more thing. Remember how you promised to read your book to me earlier?"

I smirk. "What? Do you want me to read it to you now?"

"Yes please. I really want to know what happens."

I just laugh. "Hold on."

I get out of his bed and go to my own room, scourge through my bookshelves, grab Fellow Travelers, and go back to Nick's room.

I climb back into his bed next to him and open the book to the first page. "You ready?"

He snuggles his head into my chest and says, "Mhm."

I take a deep breath and start. "Very snazzy, Mr. Fuller."

And as I read to him, listening to his quiet breathing, I really truly know that this right here, the little moments like this with Nick, is what true love looks like.

OMG THIS HAS TO BE MY FAVORITE FANFICTION IVE WRITTEN SO FAR CNIDWBXHKDSNCH!!! THEYRE SO GAY OMG

anyways I’m sorry again for how long this one is lol I got a little silly again

I really hoped you enjoyed this one guys especially you anonymous person who asked for this

Anyways have a great day yall and there’s more fanfictions to come!!! Ily all bye!!! <<<333

[beneathashadytree]

hello maya! i hope you’re doing well 💕 you’re one of my favorite blogs and i felt like i hadn’t seen you in a while so i thought to check up on you — then i saw you had mentioned in a post your ask box was empty. so i had thought it was the perfect time to bring up a request i’ve had in my head for a while.

it’s for a dio from jojo’s x reader. i genuinely don’t have very many specifics other than the reader being an extremely powerful vampire alike him. (you know, someone who matches his energy.) whom he is absolutely infatuated with. the reader would be like his king/queen or partner in crime. i’m not sure of it, but i have the haunch it would fall under the steamy/suggestive genre. but tbh please write whatever feels right, you probably know better then me lol. thanks so much!

A LITTLE ROUGH - DIO BRANDO X READER

Warnings : this is pretty spicy (nothing outright NSFW though) and not proof-read, mentions of blood and blood play, vampire bites serving as an aphrodisiac, mentions of death, biting, scratching, implied switch!Dio, vampire!reader, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : spice

Word count : 0.9K words

Additional notes : Hello nonnie! I’m doing quite well now, thank you. Your request was one that I was looking forward to as I was writing the ones before yours! I loved the unique dynamic, and I really enjoyed depicting the power swings between them. Hopefully you’ll like this one as much as I loved writing it!💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

“He didn’t last long, the poor thing,” they tutted, sighing almost sadly from behind him. “Pity. I was starting to take a liking to him.” A thump sounded through the room, and Dio knew that this was the sound of yet another body slumping against the floor, already drained dry.

He quite liked the idea.

“That is the thing with humans, I suppose. They can’t take much… excitement.” His voice held a little amusement, watching as they emerged from the shadows, pink tongue poking out to lick at their dripping red fingertips. Lapping at the leftover blood, the metallic scent permeated the air and pulled a tug of desire from Dio’s gut. It was all the more enticing to notice the redness of their blood-stained lips. “Enjoyed yourself, my dear?”

“Quite.” Their grin was nothing short of devious, fangs glinting under the warm lamplight, the other half of their face painted in the colors of the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Truly, he thought to himself, there isn’t anyone worthy of his time but this brilliant ethereal being.

“Come here,” he demanded, uncrossing his legs at the end of the bed and setting aside the book he’d been engaged in reading for the past hour as his partner had gotten their fill.

With an arch of their brow they halted in their steps. Narrowing their eyes, they seemed to come to a decision. Crawling across the bed to him, they didn’t hesitate to wind their arms around his broad chest. Their nails scraped against his exposed skin, sending delighted shivers down the vampire’s spine as they trailed downwards. With their other hand, they firmly cupped his jaw, tilting his face away from them. He stilled, anticipation filling him as he wondered just what they might have in store for him.

They lowered their head, the soft tresses of their hair lightly brushing against his skin and tickling him. Teasingly, he felt their tongue lick at the shell of his ear, pulling a sigh from him, before their teeth tugged at his earlobe. It felt a little too good when their lips moved downwards and traced a path down his neck, sucking harshly at his pale skin and grazing it with their teeth.

“Gentleness doesn’t bode well with me,” he chuckled breathily, a hand reaching up to tug their head further down.

A pricking feeling of intense heat spread over him, flushing to the tips of his ears as their fangs dug into his flesh. Dizzying pleasure washed over him; a carnal feeling of desire so deep it overshadowed all else.

A vampire’s bite to another vampire was an aphrodisiac like no other, drugging them with a sense of lust so maddening it drove them to obsession. Dio, for one, would never allow himself such a weakness normally, but with his beloved around, he’d never find it in him to say no to such bliss. Perhaps even a small part of him relished in the thought that they were marking him from the inside out.

He’d been groaning so sinfully without even noticing it. The embodiment of sex itself was coursing through his veins, as their nails dug into his skin and scratched mercilessly. Their grip was almost bruising, as though to tell him that he had to think again if he believed he could boss them around. Lapping noisily at the puncture wounds on his neck, the sounds were too erotic for him to handle when his patience was stretched so thin.

He wanted them pulled flush against him and all over him so badly it almost hurt. Golden eyes lazily looked back as he tilted his head, meeting the sight of their cocky grin against his skin. With a single glance downwards to his lap, they knew—just as well as he did—how much he desired them, and how poor of a job he was doing trying to hold back.

“I’d rather have some fun with you now,” they purred in his ear, their rich voice captivating, “You can handle a little rough play, can’t you?”

With tantalizing slowness, their hand inched further down his torso, the other stroking his neck almost adoringly. Lightly grazing past his bellybutton, they delighted in hearing the sharp hiss that escaped him against his will. He could never hold back much around them, much as he tried to pretend he could. They’d unravel him all nice and pretty if he dared.

They palmed him over the material of his pants, cupping his growing bulge with a conceited chuckle breathed in his ear. It was fun; watching his chest begin to heave up and down as he indulged in the mindblowing pleasure only they could provide. And he knew quite well that they were enjoying every single one of his reactions.

Within a second, he’d curled his fingers around theirs, halting their ministrations as he roughly pulled them in and silenced them with a lewd, wet kiss. Only when they wantonly moaned into his mouth did he feel satisfied enough to pull away and smirk at them. “I’d be rather offended if you don’t think I’d love to see you fully ravished.”

Clicking their tongue, they turned to perch themself on his lap with impossible speed, hips grinding down on his thickness and arms wrapping around his neck. That wicked smile of his dragged them further into the pits of hell, where they’d be sure to coax every drop of pure, carnal pleasure from him.

“We’ll see who’ll be the first to fall apart, darling.”

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna

[urfavweeb]

streets - kaeya x fem!reader

summary: taking risks isn’t something you’re used to; but kaeya is willing to change that about you.

MINORS DNI. sexual content ahead!!!!

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, drinking alcohol (just like 2 drinks lol, i’m not comfy with drunk sex), consent isn’t implicitly stated but it’s 100% consensual, kinda innocent reader, choking, i'm not sure what else there is!

author's note: enjoy :) i haven't written in a while, so i apologize if it's not great! i also didn't proofread so pls lmk if there are any issues

if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that you cared a lot about your reputation you hold in mondstadt. too many people respected you for you to fuck anything up, but tonight seems a little different.

going to angel’s share with kaeya and a few other knights to celebrate how well everyone’s been doing seemed fun at first, but the cavalry captain got touchy with you a little too quickly.

of course everyone wanted to quickly go and change before meeting here, and you had made a mistake with putting on a dress for the night.

his hands managed to find your thighs after just one drink, causing you to slap his fingers away with a sideways glance. the smirk on his lips causes you to roll your eyes, sipping at the last of your drink.

as amber and lisa discuss what their plans are for tomorrow and the following days, you listen along and eventually finish up your beverage. it’s relatively early, but you just want to go home and get some rest.

“alright guys, i’m gonna head out for the night. i’ll see you in the morning!” you say, waving to everyone while you pay for your drinks and then leave the tavern.

leaving the tavern left you looking around the cobblestone paths, noticing that a lot of the guards are half asleep whilst others are barely paying attention to what’s going on around them.

you feel tired as you walk down several ways towards your apartment, hearing quiet talk amongst those who are out still. their murmurs make you feel less unsafe, that is until-

you’re pushed up against one of the brick walls of the buildings before you can think, a hand going over your mouth as you begin panicking, an elbow swinging back harshly to try to escape the grasp.

“fuck!” kaeya’s voice groans as he backs away, glaring at you as he puts a hand over his abdomen. he moves his hand after a moment, coughing and looking away as if he’s not in pain.

you sigh as you lean against the wall, raising an eyebrow. “why the hell would you do that?” you ask, watching the way that he tries to avoid eye contact with you.

“i didn’t entirely think that you’d elbow me like that! i mean, you shouldn’t be surprised that i followed.” he says, shrugging.

“why did you follow then?”

after you ask that question, he leans into your body more. his hands move to either side of your head as he smirks in a manner that makes you curious of his real intentions at the moment.

once he leans his face into yours, breath fanning across your lips, you take the hint. kaeya’s flirtation with most women stops at a point, but with you it goes a step further.

before more thoughts can be processed in your head, he’s kissing you, your back pressing against the cold wall. a slight breeze paired with the lightheadedness caused from his touch has you shivering with delight, a wetness pooling between your thighs.

the kiss ends with you only wanting more, panting as the man grabs onto your wrist and leads you to a small area where any views are slightly blocked from the people nearby, lamplight giving a yellowy hue to everything.

once you get there he’s taking a seat on the gravelly ground, pulling your body so you’re seated on top of his lap. “uh- isn’t this a little risky?” you ask, but he shushes you with a finger pressed to your lips.

you decide that overthinking isn’t going to make the moment enjoyable, crashing your lips into his as his hands fall onto your hips, squeezing the clothed flesh harshly.

your tongues swipe against one another as his hands move around your body, eventually reaching underneath your dress to grip at your ass. eventually the kiss gets more heated, his hard cock pressing against you as you begin grinding against him.

a hiss escapes his lips as he pushes up into you, his teeth biting down on your lip a few times in between kisses.

his fingers eventually reach into your panties and a dark laugh escapes from his lips, “so wet already? what a naughty girl you are. and here i thought you were oh so innocent.” he says into your ear quietly, causing goosebumps to rise along your body.

his index finger swipes across your folds, gathering your wetness before he pushes his finger in. you bite your lip as he thrusts one finger, then adds another, his thumb circling your clit while he does so.

you lean against his chest and huff out air, moaning quietly as you try not to rock your hips into his touch. your nails dig into his shoulders as he speeds up his motions, sending you reeling and writhing against him.

his fingers leave you and you whimper, him chuckling and licking his fingers, humming contentedly at the taste.

he doesn’t waste a moment, pulling his dick out of his pants and pulling your panties to the side. he rubs the tip against your wet pussy, tapping your clit a few more times before slowly slipping the tip in and leaving it at that. “make sure you stay quiet, alright? be a good girl for me.” he says.

you don’t have a moment to reply before he slowly thrusts his hips up, your mouth opening up as your nails dig into his shoulders again. once you allow your weight to drop and he’s in all the way, you fight the urge to roll your hips as you adjust to the feeling of his cock almost hitting your cervix.

“f-fuck, kaeya, i can’t-!” you moan out as he thrusts up into you, his hand quickly covering your mouth as he begins moving at a brutal pace. the pace doesn’t falter for a moment, his tip hitting every sweet spot it can.

however, you feel fear spike up your body as footsteps pass right near you, his hips never faltering as he continues his movements, you fighting back any noises. the worst thing that could happen now would be someone seeing you.

“shhh, you don’t want people knowing how much of a slut you really are, do you? going so crazy for my cock, nobody would like you if they knew you were such a whore.” he whispers, causing you to throw your head back and bite your lip harshly.

once the footsteps have passed and he thinks nobody else is close by, his hips falter their movements. you look at him with pleading eyes, frowning. “what are you doing?” you whimper.

he rolls his eyes. “ride me.” he says, leaning his head back against the wall.

you look down with a blush before moving your hips up and down, before eventually moving faster. your breasts bounce and small moans begin coming out of your mouth again, his hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing each time you get a little too loud.

you hit a spot that sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head, his name leaving your mouth loudly as you gasp. he chuckles at this, his fingers leaning down and rubbing your clit as you continue moving on his cock.

you can feel your orgasm approaching as he continues moving his fingers against you, louder moans escaping your mouth as time goes on. right as your orgasm approaches, he starts thrusting his hips up again.

it hits you hard, eyes rolling back once again and tears rolling down your face from the feeling. “fuck, kaeya, please don’t stop!” you moan out, feeling the way he begins to grip your hips with more force than before.

your walls squeeze his cock roughly, sending him into a frenzy as he thrusts harder, slapping sounds echoing off of the walls as he continues his movements.

eventually, you’re a bit overstimulated and his orgasm is only now approaching, while you can feel yourself get close to cumming again.

his arms wrap around your waist as he begins to thrust hard and fast, squeezing your body in the process. he’s making you cum for the second time without even knowing, your hips sputtering against his as you let out moans and gasps, fingers digging into his body.

you can hear footsteps approaching again, trying to stay quiet but struggling due to the force of his thrusts. as they get closer, you can feel him cum inside of you, spurting against your walls.

eventually he’s out of breath, leaning against you in a way that looks like a hug as lisa approaches the two of you.

“is everything alright? i thought i heard noises over here and i wanted to see what it was.” the woman says, and all you can think about is how hard his dick still feels in you.

kaeya’s quick to save the moment. “poor y/n here wasn’t feeling too well, she’s been crying so i was comforting her. she just had a stressful day, that’s all.” he says, rocking your body back and forth in a way that makes you stiffen.

the overstimulation of his cock rocking against you and the humiliation you feel makes you feel hot everywhere, head ducking into his neck further.

“oh sweetie, we can always have a chat if you need to. please come have tea with me at lunchtime tomorrow, y/n.” lisa says, and you can hear the kindness in her voice.

“o-of course, lisa.” you manage to choke out, shaking as his hips start moving slowly and carefully.

she hums happily. “okay, great! i’ll talk to you both tomorrow, then. please bring her home though, kaeya. she’s shivering from the cold!”

he nods, “of course. i’ll take great care of her.” you can hear the smirk in his voice as lisa walks away, footsteps going further and further away.

“now,” he begins, “where were we? i didn’t get to finish fucking you stupid yet.”’

you know you’ll be sore in the morning after he’s satisfied with you, but you’re more than okay with it.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hey! First of all, I'd like to say that I love your works on AO3! "Fifteen Minutes With You" (or smth along those lines) was one of the first fics of levihan I read, and I loved it!

Anyway, a couple of sentence prompts that've been rolling around in my head. I'll add some detail, but feel free to use or discard anything. Writing is tricky lol!

"What if I (insert bad deed)?"

"I'll love you just the same"

"And if I (do smth bad)?"

"I'll love you just the same."

I was feeling a childhood levihan thing goin on here, maybe angsty? Idk

And fluffiness

"Wow! It's been 4 days!"

"Since?"

"I last bathed!"

*thwack*

Aaah hello! Thank you so much, I’m always pleasantly surprised to find people who read my Levihan fics from back in the day :D it brings me so much joy, you’ve no idea. 

I decided to go with the bath prompt - though admittedly, it ended up far less fluffy and far more angsty than I intended, I hope you can enjoy it regardless! 

---------------------------------------------

"Hange."

...

"Hange."

...

"Oi, shitty glasses. Hange."

No response.

Levi stands in the doorway, shoulder-leaning the frame and glowering into Hange's cluttered quarters. He has been calling her name for the better part of five minutes now, but Hange, hunched over her desk with her nose mere inches from the leaf of parchment she is scribbling on, had failed to notice him.

He kicks his boot against the door, and the resounding bang is enough to catch her attention. She jumps a little in her chair, and turns quickly to the door. She relaxes when her gaze lands on him.

"You scared me."

Levi grunts. "You didn't come to dinner.”

Hange blinks at him. Her gaze travels to the window, where the sky beyond had grown dark save for a speckle of stars and the thin smile of a wispy moon.

"I forgot.” 

Levi rolls his eyes, pushing off the door frame.

"You forgot lunch, too." And breakfast, and countless meals over the last few days, weeks. Months, maybe.

She hums absently, turning back to her papers. "I've been busy. Lost track--I don't know how Erwin had enough time in the day to do everything."

Levi gives a noncommittal grunt and picks his way towards the desk, avoiding haphazard piles of books and papers and discarded scrolls, small, disorganised mountains of debris that must have made some semblance of sense to Hange. Even as he watches, she twists in her chair and reaches blindly into one pile, plucking up a stack of papers and dropping them onto the desk with a sigh.

Levi stops beside the desk, arms folded over his chest to look at her.

Up this close, Hange looks tired. It isn't an unusual sight--Hange has been prone to fits of research-fuelled insomnia for as long as Levi has known her, so easily side-tracked by her every theory and scheme that basic needs like sleep and sustenance often took a back seat. But there is something unsettling to her exhaustion, these days. There is no manic glint in her eye, no exaggerated waving or yelling, no aroused flush to her cheeks; recently, Hange is always pale, skin papery at best, but waxy and sickly more often than not. Her shoulders sag over the desk, shirt hanging more loosely over her frame than Levi remembers, and there's a near constant tremor to her fingers that barely ceases even as she presses pen to paper, scribbling notes and signatures on countless forms presented by countless people.

Her gaze is fixed dully on the newest expense report, now. The low orange light of her lamp flickers in the lenses of her glasses; fire dances on a matt black backdrop over her left eye, where the patch is strapped firmly in place. Her right is half closed, exhaustion pulling at the lid, the skin beneath is puffy and bruised deep purple. Her lips, dry and cracked, shift almost imperceptibly as she mouths the words on the page, reading quickly, scratching her signature where needed and flipping to the next page.

"There's food," he says, leaning his hip on the corner of the desk. "Stew, and the brats hid some bread from Sasha. Go eat something."

"In a minute," Hange mumbles. Levi huffs, and pinches the top of the quill, plucking it out of Hange's grasp. It's a testament to her exhaustion, that her fist keeps the motion of writing for a second too long before realising she is no longer making a mark on the paper. With a tired sigh, she sits back, and levels her tired gaze on Levi.

"In a minute," she says again, holding her hand out for the pen. "Let me finish these first."

"Eat. It'll still be here when you get back."

She looks very much like she wants to argue. Levi watches the way her brow creases in the middle, the way her eye pinches, narrowing at him, the way her hands ball into white-knuckled fists against her thighs. But she's tired. She is bone tired, and the righteous energy saps from her within seconds. She deflates, and brings a hand up to rub at her eye, knocking her glasses up to her forehead as she does.

Levi almost wishes she had fought with him instead. There's a terrible, gnawing guilt, seeing her like this--seeing the way the weight of his choice bears down on her. Hange is a worthy Commander, of that, Levi is certain--Erwin never would have chosen her if he didn't believe the same.

But things have changed. The world has changed. And what it means to be Commander of the Survey Corps has morphed into something unfathomable larger and more complex than what it was before. It is unchartered territory, and Hange has been thrown into waters black and bottomless.

Hange pushes her bangs back from her face with both hands. The hair, limp with grease, sticks in place, and even Hange seems surprised, pulling her hands back and looking almost curiously at her palms.

"Huh. Its been four days."

"Since?"

She gives him a look, then, and there's a flash of something old and familiar in her eye. She quirks the corner of her mouth in a grin.

"Since I bathed."

Levi swiftly raises his arm, and Hange flinches, but the curled fist that thunks atop her head is almost gentle. She blinks up at him in surprise.

"Disgusting. I'll hose you down after you eat."

-----------------

Hange sits cross-legged in the tub, while Levi's fingers scrub soap suds into her scalp. The bathroom is mostly dark, save for the flicker of lamplight and the pale, foggy glow from the moon through the window.

She is quiet while he cleans her. She had eaten some food, though not as much as he would have liked; sipped at the stew and picked half heartedly at the bread the kids had painstakingly secured. It was better than nothing, but Levi finds his gaze travelling from the top of her soapy head to her bony shoulders, and to the knotted curve of her spine. He can see the shift of her ribs beneath her skin, and when she obediently leans her head back for him to rinse the suds from her hair, he can see twin points of bone at her hips, the skin brutally bruised from the pressure of their belts.

Something unpleasant rolls in his gut.

"Turn around."

Hange does, twisting until she is facing him and re-crossing her legs. Levi dips a cloth into the warm bath water and begins the meticulous process of scrubbing her down, starting at her shoulders. Hange dutifully extends first one arm, and then the other, and it is while Levi is thumbing at the grime between her fingers that she hums, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin upon them.

"It's been a while," she says, voice soft in the quiet. Levi moves on to the next finger; Hange's hands, like his, are calloused across her palms and at the tips of her fingers, from years of using the triggers on the manoeuvre gear. They are rough, but her fingers are longer and thinner than his own, and limp in his hand like this, they look almost delicate.

Levi hums in question.

"Since we did this."

Levi makes another non-committal sound. Things have been hectic, since everything that happened at Shiganshina. A whirlwind of learning, adapting, planning, everything moving at such a dizzying pace that moments like this had been all but abandoned.

Moments of peace, of quiet; moments where the world falls still and time slows to barely a trickle, they are a rarity none of them have been able to afford.

Levi dips the cloth in the water and rinses the soap from Hange's hands.

"We've been busy," he says. You've been busy, is what he thinks, but his guilt would sit too far forward, if he said it like that; it would be too brazen, and he knows already that his apology is not what Hange wants to hear. He made his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences. There is no room for regret.

Hange sits back when Levi brings the cloth down over her chest, crossing her legs so he can wash over her belly and sides.

"It's nice," she says. "I forgot. How nice it was."

"For you, maybe," Levi says. He taps her knee, and Hange hook her leg out over the side of the tub. Levi adds more soap to the cloth and smooths it over her thigh.

Hange lets out a low chuckle. "Just another floor to mop for you, huh?"

"The floors don't get this filthy."

He is careful around her knee, where scar tissue from a recent wound is still forming. It is tender to the touch, he knows, but Hange makes no complaints when he touches it. She lets out a pleasant little groan when his fingers knead into her calves, toes curling.

Levi washes over her foot, then taps the sole, and Hange draws one leg back in and raises the other one, and the process starts again. It is methodical and familiar; strangely comforting, in the mess of everything. They've been battered with new information, faced with a world that is so vastly different from anything they had imagined before, burdened with the  insurmountable task of exploring it, of finding their place in it--all of this new, all of this frightening.

But this; this is an old tale. They have danced this dance for years, muscle memory leading them in each step. Shiganshina changed some things--Levi is more gentle in places than he used to be, careful cleaning the thickened, still healing skin on her back where Bertolt's titan had burned her. He used to dump water over her head like a dog, bit back smiles at the way she would cough and sputter and stare indignantly through her hair at him, but now is he careful to keep water from dripping into her bad eye. He slides the cloth over her face with more consideration, avoiding too much contact with the tender tissue above and below her clouded, milky eyeball. The swelling has lessened considerably over time, but the wound will remain raw for a long while to come.

When he is done, he helps her stand, and rinses her down with a pale of clean water before offering a hand to help her step from the tub. Standing up to full height, Levi can see the extent of the way her body has changed. She has always been a rake of a thing, all straight lines and sharp edges, but she has always seemed strong and sturdy. Something steady, dependable.

Now,  she seems fragile in a way Levi has never known her to be. There is no room left for her to bend; too much pressure, and he fears she will snap, splinter into a million pieces he cannot hope to fit back together again.

He holds a towel for her. Hange takes it with a small, grateful smile, and wraps it around herself, then leans back against the edge of the tub and bows her head. Levi scrubs at her hair with a second towel, ringing as much water from it as he can.

She dries herself half heartedly  and pulls on the spare shirt Levi had brought for her while her back and shoulders are still damp. The fabric sticks to her, highlights the protruding bones of her spine when she bends over to tug on her pants.

Once fully dressed, Hange stretches, popping her back as she does, and rolls her shoulders, her neck. She gives Levi a lazy, pleased smile.

"I needed that," Hange says. Levi clicks his tongue.

"I know. You stank."

Hange laughs, a light, airy thing.

"Always so kind, Levi," she says tunefully. She seems loose, more relaxed than Levi has seen her in what feels like forever. Her shoulders sit lower not bunched up about her ears, and her face isn't so pinched or strained. It's a relief.

It's short lived.

"I should get back," she says.

"You should sleep."

She shrugs a shoulder at him, waves a hand.

"Later," she says. Even as she speaks, Levi can see the tension rising in her; the respite of a bath and a hot meal had been brief, and already the weight is reloading. Her burden grows heavier by the second.

"A few hours, Hange. The paperwork will still be there when you wake up."

"And there will be more, no doubt," she says. "I'll get further behind than I am already."

There is no more room for negotiation. Levi can only count himself lucky that he managed to get this far with her, to do this much. He schools his face into a neutral expression and nods, scooping to pick up her wet towel and dropping it into the laundry basket as he follows her out of the bathroom.

Levi refuses to regret his choice. He made the right decision in Shiganshina, and he will not doubt himself for that.

But the tight, nauseous knot in his stomach does not ease. He watches Hange settle back into her desk chair, strap her eye patch over her still-damp hair, and bow herself over the pile of papers she had abandoned on the desk, and the sickening unease swells to his chest, pushing the air from his lungs.

He made the choice to condemn Erwin to death. He will do everything he can to ensure he has not done the same thing to her.

--------------- 

Thank you again for the ask!! If anyone else has prompts, please feel free to send them :) I can’t promise I’ll fill everything, but it’s a fun exercise 

[rouiyan]

hmm im quite new to tumblr and honestly am dissapointed with the lack of GOOD doyoung fics on here. can I request a scenario or a drabble (whichever u see fit) of doyoung taking me along when 127 were touring and the moments we had (backstage/fights and making up/ comforting when he felt unsatisfied with his perfomance/moments with some other members too) I just miss 127 touring a lot !! and ofc if this is too complicated u can refuse lol

hey lovely, this ended up way longer than it should have been but it’s really just a bunch of drabbles strung together that have somewhat coherence to another. i liked the way it turned out though and i hope that you do too <3 

𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 — idol!doyoung x (gender neutral) reader ✧ genres : established relationship, fluff, angst ✧ word count : 4.7k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, food

synopsis — snapshots of what it's like to travel with your boyfriend. oh an his nine other teammates.

“how much space do you have left there?”

doyoung peers over you, chin propped atop your shoulder, and even though he sees for himself quite plainly, you supply him with an answer anyways, “not much, just the front pocket now.” his chin digs and you shift your head the slightest in his direction, to appease him with your attention maybe. he doesn’t budge nor speak so you take it upon yourself. “what?”

“quick kiss?”

plucking the garment from the assortment of items he'd passed along, you inspect it with curious eyes, "you gonna wear this?"

"huh? oh, that." he sits back on his knees, then onto his bottom, then crossing his legs, "i thought i'd give sleeveless a try." you don't mean for it to come out offensively, rather teasingly in actuality, "you?"

unbothered, he simply muses on, "yeah, me. why?" with eyes rushed and flitting across his surroundings for a sight of his phone. now you're even less in the intent of offending him, more so just pushing his buttons in the face of humor, a humor that's evident in the way you glance up from the tee, eyes locking with his own and shadowing with mischief, "with what muscles?"

doyoung clicks his tongue, sticks it into the side of his cheek, and now back on his knees, treads over to where you're sat, countenance teeming with amusement. his demeanor himself traces in the slight of a smile that's yet to appear, only held back as he defends his biceps, "hey, i've been working out, you know." you watch him situate himself once again, legs crossing just opposite of your own. placing both your hands on both his knees, you lean in, lips puckered and nose scrunched either in emphasis or hilarity, he isn't quite sure though he thinks it's cute. that is, until you speak again, "you want your kiss? how bout now?" and he mirrors with an, "i'll pass," standing to retreat back into the hunt for his missing phone, head shaking all the while at your devious antics.

minutes later and upon finding it within the folds of his sheets, doyoung reverts his attention back to you who, by the looks of it, has just finished packing for the night with both sides of your suitcase clamped shut but yet to be zipped. his feet are planted firm on the ground when you move to stand in between them. they're off the ground a moment later when you push him back into the bed with an 'umph' and a hug that pulls both your bodies flush against each other's.

you'd go on about it for days but to you, doyoung has always been a silent lover. a kind of lover that people would mistake as just 'a friend of yours' or sometimes even a brother, cousin, relative of the sorts. by no means is he vocal with his love for you, and though times are abundant when you find yourself at dead ends with the thoughts of how he seemingly flits between, in and out of love, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight. 

forehead on his chest and arms laced around his back, you do your best to hold him as closely as he does you but it's impossible, you think, and not because of his so-called 'muscles.' the intimacy you share with him is bred from comfort, apprehension, normality. it's apparent when he next speaks, voice lower and reserved for when you are close and the tingling feeling in his heart softens his regard a tenfold, "excited?"

you lift your head to peer up at him. the same softness is returned in your one-word response, "elated," as you thud your temple back upon his chest. the chuckles he give reverberate beneath you, "sarcasm or no?" a shake of your head is given but doyoung craves more. hands on your waist, he manhandles you, in the gentlest possible way, so that your head lies in the dip of his neck, arms around his shoulder, and legs on either side of him. he knows that at this point, your energy is already teetering the lines of consciousness. he makes the most of what little you have left.

"kiss me?"

a sloppy peck is left at the foot of his neck and your lips stay there for the rest of the night.

the wind slaps at the skin of your face. you swipe away a hair or two that it'd blown into your mouth, open as you exclaim into the wide air before you. the city air is noticeably laden with light pollution and carbon emissions alike but it's refreshing to you who has spent the greater part of the day limited to a cramped airplane seat. the shuffle of feet, a sound that's barely discernible in the mix of whizzing cars and honks, calls for your attention from behind. heeding to it, you find  doyoung, swaddled in a sizeable down coat, with his eyes squinted in the wind. "coming in soon? you've been out here yelling for almost twenty minutes."

you give him a look that makes it seem as if the situation were of a scolding mom and a naughty child. it's like you're adhering to the script because apprehensiveness does indeed rest in your wary response, "i just wanted to try it, like how they do in the dramas, you know?"

his tone chides, "yeah, yeah i know," while dragging you back inside the warmth of the hotel room, sitting you atop the bed, crouching before you. "doyoung, what are you-" though bizarre, the prospect of a ring emerging from behind his back does cross your mind. instead, he draws forth a bottle of wine.

you comment on it a little later, four hours, with jaehyun sprawled upon the bed to your left, snores loud and resounding in between the sentences of your hushed (and very much drunken) conversation. "you know, earlier when you brought out the wine, i thought you were actually going to propose to me." under the lamplight from the bedside table, your boyfriend's cheeks are tinged a soft pink, flusteredness maybe, inebriation surely. his head slops forwards onto your stomach, off and out of the hold of his palm, and lolls there for awhile before his dwindling bouts of energy jolt him upright. the sudden movement of his elbows digging into your abdomen have you groaning until a light smack is landed on his forehead. doyoung gives you a sleazy smile.

"maybe."

suddenly you're very much sobered up. "what'd you say?" though doyoung is still very much intoxicated as his head tumbles down upon your stomach once more, mumbling against your skin, "i did bring a ring to surprise you. i don't know if now's the time though, what do you think?" you don't think, in fact, you are completely and utterly void of thoughts. his, "hm?" pulsates from beneath you but even then, you're at a loss of words.

"i think—" i think yes. "i think you ought to go to sleep." 

when you will your eyes upon his figure, perhaps a minute later, you find that per your instruction, he's already fast asleep.

the flight from jakarta to london is 15 hours (too) long and you'd planned to spend a good chunk of it doing what you were doing now, seat reclined the furthest possible and knees brought up to your chest to prop up your switch. you'd come to the conclusion that packing your earbuds in your suitcase that went into cargo was perhaps your first big mistake; your second, forgetting to ask doyoung for his before he fell asleep. with the volume turned to mute for the past four hours and counting, you scrunch your nose as your animal crossing character silently stumbles across another wasp-laden tree, third in a row, but before you're able to net it, your boyfriend stirs from beside you, his fingers tapping incessantly on your wrist to call for your attention. you glance over at him, "what?" and when you glance back to the screen, you're displeased, to say the least, to see that your character now has a swollen eye, courtesy of the wasp and its programmed sting.

the look on your face when you drop your feet to the ground, the device dropping to your lap, is enough to get doyoung to cut straight to the point. "i need to brush my teeth, wanna come with me?" puzzlement clouds your expression and he furthers in explanation, "you know, to save time?" still not quite getting his point, you nod along anyways, thinking a little walk and stretch to the bathroom wouldn't hurt. "okay." 

taking his outstretched hand, the journey to the bathroom turns out to to be the most stressful. the whole row of three very tall men (jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny in that order) with their very long legs making the situation a lot more complicated than need be. you end up tripping once over jungwoo's left foot, twice over jaehyun's right shoe, and thrice over johnny's right knee, a lot higher than where any normal knee should mark when planted straight on the ground.

the lock on the lavatory clicks shut behind you right when you realize just how small the compartment is. doyoung closes the toilet lid and props a knee upon it, leaving you with enough space to place your legs shoulder-length wide at most. you look over at him, or rather, you tilt your head slightly to the right and chuckle into the fabric of his hoodie, his chest pressed into your face. you manage between your chuckles, "go on, brush your teeth." 

his arms bustle their way around and about you to grab at one of the packaged toothbrushes at the left of the sink and a paper cup at the right. there really is no way around it though a moment later, he relents by taking both legs upon the toilet seat to accommodate you. his kneeling stance stunts his height so that you're at about eye level with him. "here," you pass along the toothpaste and he flicks a dot of it on the brush. instead of stretching over to the sink, he simply passes along the toothbrush for you to run under water, passes the cup for you to do the same, and accepts them back with grateful hands. "you know, this would've been a lot more efficient if you'd just gone by yoursel—"

"i know," he says it as if unimpressed, though it sounds more like 'iiroe' (or some other incoherent keyboard spam) as he continues to brush his teeth. you prop your hands upon your hips, both elbows hitting opposing walls and a teasing lilt is added to your voice, "are you mad you brought me along?" you're not sure if he's smiling or if he's simply following through with his teeth-washing regimen. doyoung shakes his head, "no." you smile at that.

you know for a fact that he's smiling when the two of you switch spots, quite the haphazard move for your head clunks onto an overhanging cabinet while his back is then subjected to half your falling weight. a hand of yours is quick to clamp over his mouth right when you gather your bearings because his laughs come out loud in between panting breaths. you're terrified at the thought of being caught by a passing stewardess who'd suspected two people and some funny business upon breaking in, only to find two people, yes, but one brushing teeth on the closed toilet lid and the other laughing hysterically with a hand clutching his sore back. 

doyoung backs out of the bathroom at first alone, head snapping left and right in a spy-in-a-secret-agent-movie-esque way, before tugging you behind him, the folding door clapping shut. he waits as you prod careful steps over the three soundly sleeping men and he grins when his turn comes and he epically fails in his attempt to cross over in one, sweeping step. he apologizes sheepishly at the three, now awake though still very tall, men and he turns back to you, only then letting the suppressed sniggers out. 

if not your lover, doyoung is your best friend. there's something reassuring about having someone that always has your back. whether it just be laughing with you, crying with you, sitting with you in silence as you both scroll through your phones, or even now, as he peers over your shoulder to watch your little character fish the same sea bass over and over again. you like the comfort that you share with him, the comfort you were so lucky to have happened upon.

the armrest in between is pushed up as you slip your switch back into the front pocket of his backpack. doyoung holds an arm out and you slip into the warmth of his side, head bobbing to the turbulence and onto the heights of his shoulder. he glances down at you, briefly, and when your eyes meet his, they curve into the sleepiest of smiles. the two of you sleep with the pace of your breaths in tandem with each other's, the two of you wake under the announcements of a landing, and your fingers hook onto the sides of his backpack as he leads the way off the plane, in a single file line all the way.

doyoung drapes a jacket over your shoulders the second you break the open air of london and he hooks the same jacket above your head where the awning of the airport stops and the thundering skies continue their downpour where it left off. his hand provides cover as you duck into the car, so as to prevent you from hitting the frame of the door, and when he slides in, right next to you as always, you grab his hand in your own, eyeing each other with the indications of a smile. 

it's then, as you point to the little droplets that whizz across the window of the car, that doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he loves you, a lot.

the palm of his hands slide down the satin fabric of his slacks, repeatedly. the look you throw his way has him gulping. "you sure you're not nervous?" his hands stop midway, too obvious it seems. "not at all." a quirk of your lips is given in response as you take the seat next to him in the waiting room. you watch as he tucks his bottom lip under teeth and you watch as his hands shift in their continuation down his thighs but retract and interlink as if they'd remembered not to do so. a stage manager knocks once before bursting in, sweat trickling down the sides of her face and a side of her headphones pulled backwards of an ear. she pants though the show has yet to begun. "five minutes and he has to get backstage," is what she directs at you and you pair your nod with a kind smile, signaling her exit.

the interaction only seems to ignite increasing bouts of anxiety from your already antsy boyfriend so you take his hands in yours, situating your body a smidgen to the right, and do your best to absorb his attention in something, anything else that could sidetrack his nerves for just those five minutes. 

"excited for tomorrow?" doyoung's hands squirm in yours and his facial expression morphs into a flicker of confusion before righting itself and following through with a reply, albeit half-hearted, "yeah, i guess."

"it's your first day off in awhile," you give his hand a squeeze, "and we get to explore the city, all by ourselves." he only nods along and though you're sure your attempt is futile, you hope that it falls through, "and new york's up next huh, i bet the snow will be real prett-"

"what are you getting at?"

it takes a second for you to process what he'd just did, what he'd just said, "what?" though looking at him, he's nonchalant as ever; the tone in which he rejoins makes it seem as if he's ticked off somehow, "why are you telling me this?" 

doyoung's brows draw to a point and it throws you off. he is ticked off. and it's plausibly that realization that gets you taking a stand for yourself as well, voice now clipped, "i just thought that i could preoccupy your thoughts for a bit, you seem so ne-"

"y/n." stopped in your tracks, you blink back at him benumbed. "i've already got enough on my plate as it is, why can't you just let me deal with my own shit?" 

there's something brooding beneath the face you put on for him. he sees it surfacing and he has enough sense to pay mind to it. that is, until you retort, "your own shit? then why the fuck am i-" 

"yes, my own shit. last i checked, i'm the one going up on that stage tonight so stop talking as if it's our job." and his defenses are held back up, sky-high, untouchable. doyoung's scowling at you as if you've never been more wrong in your life when in fact, you're almost positive that he's never been more at fault. the clench in his jaw, his hardened eyes, edged stance, everything about him in the moment jars you and you want nothing more than to punch him square in the nose (you do have quite the mad uppercut) but you restrain yourself under the pretense that he's minutes, maybe even seconds, away from being called to the stage, to perform.

sighing, the only thought that comes to your mind as you gather your bearings along with your belongings is the feeling that creeps between the synapses that once had held tight in your belief of his support, of his leniency, of his affections when it came to you. you swallow thickly, bag in hand and other hand reaching out for your coat, because you're sure you've never felt as unwanted as you do now, in front of him, glowering in your presence. at least the glint in his eyes soften when you come to a stop in front of him. 

doyoung peers up at you then, dubiously, and the first urge he receives is to duck his head back down. he feels small, and not because he's sitting and you're standing. he feels small, infinitesimal, with the knowledge that somewhere in those five minutes, things had gone awfully awry with little hope in rectifying in the little time left. the air that hangs heavy between the two of you remains silent, save for the unspoken passing of words that neither of you acknowledge. you're the first, and last, to break it.

"are you mad you brought me along?"

doyoung wishes he'd been quicker in denying. maybe that would've been enough to keep you from excusing yourself the second the stage manager had made her reappearance. maybe that would've been enough to get you to stay, to watch him, to cheer him on, to support him. maybe that would've calmed his nerves, finally, at last. he doesn't know, he's having a hard time deciphering his thoughts, chunking through his regrets, wallowing in his worries. 

doyoung gets into position. the only thing he knows is that he's in the right spot, the glow-in-the-dark tape tells him so. he'll have to sing soon, and maybe his scratchy voice will add to his pile of regrets. he'll have to dance too, to remember formations, stage directions, but the idea seems so far away, foreign, when all he can think of is the look on your face as the seconds dragged on, waiting for him to say 'no,' to say 'of course not,' to say 'i'm sorry, i love you.'

he's having a hard time because even now, long after you've left, the words stay lodged in his throat. and as the screams from just beyond grow louder and louder, as the lights overhead grow brighter and brighter, doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he needs you, he needs you more than ever.

it's dark and cold when doyoung first enters. to the right, he flicks the light on mindlessly to be met with an empty room. he supposes that it's warranted. setting his backpack upon the bed, sheets still pulled crisp and unfurled, he almost succumbs to the taunts of sleep that entice him but a single thought of you rectifies him, hand fishing out his phone from a back pocket of his jeans. 

it's then that he notices, with a startle that rivals a starring victim in a horror movie, the door to the balcony propped open a finger's length. he takes a glance back at the entrance to see your discarded shoes that had went unnoticed just seconds before, he figures. the curtains that skirt the adjacent windows billow in the wind that veers past the crack allotted, the gusts that becomes stronger and more fervid with each step doyoung takes in the direction. there's no creak that accompanies the swinging of the door, though he wishes there were so he wouldn't have to break his presence to you so suddenly. the second thing he notices, just behind the fact that you are indeed out here, is that the air is a biting cold, explaining the initial temperature he was met with upon entering. 

you're wearing the same, thin sweatshirt that you had donned for your backstage viewing of the concert, regrettably the coat had been neglected in your state. from the far edge of the balcony, you know there's a whole world splayed out before you, buildings lower, taller, equally as tall as the high-rise of your hotel, winding streets that never seemed to end, traffic that never seemed to move. you know, but it's impossible to see for yourself with the tears in your eyes that come as fast as they go.

time is stagnant, has been for hours upon hours, for you. for you also, crying is foreign territory, really, you'd like to consider yourself headstrong in the face of conflict and composed in the face of inner turmoil. it feels silly to find yourself hundreds of feet in the air and hundreds of miles away from home, sobbing in the light of an ineffectual fight with your boyfriend of three years. and it isn't as if the fight proved detrimental to the relationship, it was trivial in all the ways that pointed to the single course of action being to simply make up with him and move on. but somehow, your hesitance holds in resilience. 

you don't want to admit how unnerving it was to see an argument stem from such a small trifle, such a small amount of time, such a lack of care. why is it that situations that seem so small in their doing hold the most significance in their passing?

doyoung clears his throat and now you're the starring victim in a horror movie. a, "holy fuck!" accompanies the startle and the knuckle-white grip that both of your hands impose upon the rail. he steps fully out of the hotel room, into the frigid air of a london night, a london midnight in the middle of winter. "sorry, i- i'm back." rather lame but there's little headspace for you (or him for the matter) to process that. 

with a hand still on the nob, doyoung stands stiff across from you who is slowly but surely withering in the realization of how pitiful you must look, hair mussed in the wind, tear tracks evident, and the remnant pants that your hiccups had left in the wake of your breakdown. if not pitiful, then straight up pathetic. 

"are you okay?"

you blink at him. there's not much else you can say except, "yeah, i'm okay."

doyoung takes a step closer, a hand off the nob and the door clicks shut behind him. two more steps and he's a two foot distance from where you're stood on the far right of the terrace, gaze intent on his every action. he doesn't say anything at all, and what vexes you the most, he simply opens his arms wide, a forlorn sort of smile settling across his features. his apology.

there's not much else you can do except to give in to his embrace, reminiscent of all the love you've ever come to know, all the love you will ever know. you cry again, once in his arms; something about the smell of him, the warmth he gives off on a cold winter night, that gets you sniffling into his chest, finger fisting his own sweatshirt at the small of his back. a hand of his rounds your figure and holds you upright, the other is lain on the back of your head, soft strokes to tell you that he does care, he's here for you. really, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight. 

hundreds of miles from home, scratch that, because right there in his arms, there is nothing more convincing than the fact that doyoung is your home, you are home.

mark sips on his smoothie until the straw begins to make those whistle-y, echo-y sounds that tell of how he's finished the drink. a passing waitress takes the emptied glass from him and he gives a nod to her muttered, "refill?" 

glancing back, he's met with a plate of food that's been cleared for a good while now and a table of mostly drunk boys that can't seem to get a hold of themselves. taeil, quite the horrific drunk, is slopped over haechan's side. neither of them seem to notice. and then there's yuta, taeyong, and jungwoo, all seated in a row and all with their heads fallen straight on the table, backs hunched over. sicheng and johnny are nowhere to be seen but mark supposes it wouldn't be all that odd to find one of them lain out flat on the floor, or underneath the table, or even suspended from the ceiling at this point. 

mark glances across the table, locks eyes with jaehyun who had also decided to remain sober for the night. jaehyun gives a nudge of his head over to his right, to where mark looks to his left to see you and doyoung at the end of the table engrossed in conversation, so much so that it seems as if you're leaning into each other, elbows propped on the table and all. he could chalk it up to the speakers, the music was turned pretty loud, so naturally you'd lean in to hear the other better. or maybe, mark thinks, maybe the two of you are just naturally drawn to each other, a thing that happens to couples as he'd heard, subconscious actions like these are plausible as well. or maybe, mark thinks, but his train of thought is interrupted when the waitress returns with his strawberry smoothie, straw exchanged and drink refilled. he takes it from her, a gracious, "thank you," supplied and when she turns to leave he takes a sip, turning back himself.

whatever made it into his mouth is spat right back out when he sees the scene unfolding before him. here is mark's inner narration on what's happening:

doyoung-hyung's not in his seat, huh. oh there, he's standing, no wait—now he's kneeling, oh, he's kneeling. what's he getting from his pocket? a box, it's a teeny box. he's opening teeny box, oh fuck, oh jesus, oh he's proposing. he's asking you to marry him. oh my god, what if you don't say ye-

"yes."

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — hey anon, i hope that you thought it was a GOOD fic. if not, ahem, i apologize for taking up your time. but really, this fic holds together so many mini ideas that i had but were never substantial enough to turn into writing so thank you for giving me a base to build off of, i enjoyed writing it very much <3

[everyotherworm]

important to keep in mind that the prodigy map is technically not accurate. Skywatch isn’t several pathways away from shiverchill mountains, it’s literally on top of it. The snow they grind on Skywatch goes down to the mountains, thats how they even have snow, and when you go down the elevator of Skywatch you can pretty clearly see youre on land exactly like that outside of the cave area in shiverchill. Firefly forest is also closer to both than it looks, I mean, in game you used to literally be able to walk into shiverchill mountains through mountain pass in firefly forest. And obviously we already know you can walk from lamplight town to firefly forest in a much quicker trip than the map would have you believe. Like the map is just vaguely inaccurate in general lol, so don’t use it as location reference for pretty much anything XD

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 49- The Underground

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block (new computer and I still can’t fuckin at you)

Turns out the hermits aren’t the only ones who wish to get rid of Magistrate Dolios.

____________________________________

Etho drops into the canal below, water rippling without a single drop to disturb the silent cave. Heterochromatic eyes rove across the dark, dank tunnel, waving one hand for the others to follow. Scar comes next, much less gracefully as he misses the last rung and tumbles into the canal with a heavy splash. 

They were beneath the noble district of the city. Grown above the canals like most of Milliara, they built up beyond the lifeblood of Lairyon. Left it behind, to pass through in these underwater canals, until they lead to a fountain, messenger canal, or the rest of the city.

Once Xisuma’s boots are in the water, he sloshes forward without pause. He knows who he saw, he’s just not sure if he believes it. Ex never gets involved with anything. He always waits, watches from the sidelines. When X wanted to fight, it was Ex that stayed behind. When X wanted to be a guild, Ex went on his own. 

He continues on, following the distance sound of scraping and scuffling, harsh against the soft patter of water and trickle of running water. Xisuma rounds the corner, white light reflecting in the distance off the damp walls. He’s so focused on the light at the end he doesn’t notice the movement in the shadows. At least, not until it’s too late. 

A warm hand claps over Xisuma’s mouth, muffling any attempt for him to cry out. Another arm drags him into the darkness, and a wave of fear keeps Xisuma from trying to escape. A warm, low voice growls in his ear, full of menace. “You had your chance, now let the big kids play.” 

“Tris, we’re just supposed to stop the guard, not-” A second, similar voice fractures through the darkness, and Xisuma notices a lock of pink hair, bright against the stone wall. 

“I’m Nightshade!” The one holding Xisuma snaps, loosening his grip on him. “Do you want half the city to know who we are?”

Xisuma manages to wriggle free, and instead the twin faces wrestle each other into the water. Tackling and pulling hair, calling each other names that grow louder and louder. Loud enough for the other hermits to find them. 

Stress realizes who she’s looking at first. “King Sor?” 

“What am I, chopped liver?” one of the two growls, his blue scarf soaked.

“The king?” Tango splutters, snapping his fingers. A flame appears in his hand, and he raises it higher. Sure enough, wrestling in the muck and mud of the swampwater was the King of Lairyon and his twin brother. Yin and yang, dark and light. Their tan skin and rainbow hair- though the king’s much brighter- was instantly recognizable, even if the all white and black suits weren’t enough. 

Grand Advisor Tris, currently holding King Sor in a headlock, glares at the hermits. “Do you mind?” 

“We are in the middle of something.” Sor adds, looking at their audience as he grabs hold of Tris’s fingers and yanks. 

“What are you-” Xisuma starts, confusion clouding his prerogative. Why is the Twin King, monarch of Lairyon, in the canals beneath his own city, tackling his brother and arguing over codenames? Xisuma shakes his head, trying to avoid the fact that he’s standing in front of the king. “Where did he go? My brother?” 

“Where’s Doc?” BDubs adds, bouncing from foot to foot. They have to find their friend. Is he still alive? What do the kings want with a criminal? Why all this, when King Sor has more power than even Dolios? 

“Three lefts then a right, there’s a staircase carved into the wall. It’ll take you to-” Sor has gained the upper hand, sitting on top of Tris, but the advisor isn’t afraid to kick his brother into silence. 

“You are, by far, the worst spy ever.” Tris hisses, but the hermits leave the twins to their squabble in the sewer. Following Sor’s directions, they wind through the secret caves, Tango, Grian, Ren, and Iskall illuminating the darkness. Jevin can’t help but think about when they first began this journey, way back in Gildara. How they wandered dark, wet caves like this. Only to become enraptured into something so much bigger than they could ever have known. 

But rather than a corrupted crystal at the end of this dive, they find the carved steps Sor had mentioned. 

They also find the trail of blood up the rough hewn stairs. Every step up is slick with the ochre, a different size and shape from the one before. At the top of the stairs, a hatch remains closed. Xisuma presses up against the metal hatch, but finds it too heavy to lift. Looking up, he notices a symbol burnt into the metal. 

Ex still uses their shared mark. Even after their estrangement, the swirl and the star remain easily visible. Not like how Xisuma scratched it off everything he owned. “It’s blocked. Stress?” 

“Not a problem, dearie.” The ice mage squeezes her small, limber body between Xisuma and TFC, rolling up her sleeves. Without even breaking a sweat, she forces the hatch open. Light blinds them for a second time, though this much softer than before. Lamplight, enough to illuminate the wooden building, but still soft enough to cast shadow. A chest full of books has been tossed aside, the rug covering the hidden hatch flipped over. 

The hermits crawl out, like an army of ants from the seams in the wood, filling the small bookstore. Ex’s arrival surprises no one, and neither does the twenty something mages in his bookshop. The twin brother of Xisuma looks up, purple eyes meeting the hermits. A lock of pure white hair covers over one eye, and the red fabric of the cloak covers Ex from the nose down. But even with his face covered, the hermits can see the discontent in his expression. 

“He’s in the back. I’d… I’d be prepared.” Ex’s voice remains low and tempered, a bit deeper than Xisuma’s own. He turns away, running fingers across the shelves of books around him, before pulling free an encyclopedia of medicines. 

Scar doesn’t wait, bursting through the curtain into Ex’s living quarters. He follows the trail of ash and blood, until he stops dead. The other hermits crowd in behind him, desperate to see their friend. For a week, he’s been in jail. Just being able to be in the same room was a blessing.

Doc was rested on a cot, bandages covering his legs, his arms, his chest, his face. Blackened skin beneath white gauze. He lays still, eyes closed, clothes in burnt tatters. For a minute, everyone holds their breath, waiting to see Doc breathe his own. When a shallow rise of his chest, followed by whisper of an exhale, escapes from the puppeteer, relief floods the hermits. 

Doc is alive. Hanging on by a thread, but alive. Scar grabs Grian, yanking him to the front and shoving him into the room. “Fix him!” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Grian may be rivals with Doc, but they’re still friends. Family. He walks across the silent room, each step a loud creak through the wooden building. The hermits follow in after, a concave audience watching, hoping for a miracle. 

Grian’s eyes begin to glow, and another set of wings appear from his back, and another. A halo rings above Grian’s blond hair, sharp shafts of light piercing the air around him. The archangel kneels beside Doc, lost in the overwhelming power of his magic. A mere pass of his hand over the unconscious criminal begins to heal him. An angelic miracle, Grian simply brushes a wing, and it eases the blackened burns across their friend. 

Doc’s breathing deepens, though he doesn’t wake. Brought back from the brink, from the precipice of death. Mumbo carefully sidles up beside Grian, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Grian, you can let go of your aura.” 

The soothing voice does the trick, as light fades and wings disappear. Grian’s exhausted but forces the glow and sleep from his eyes to see his success. Doc was alive. Doc was stable. 

Doc was safe, with his family again. 

Ex appears in the doorway, hands full of books, potions, herbs, and crystals. But when he sees his patient, no longer bleeding out and struggling to hang on for dear life. He looks at Doc, then Grian, then Xisuma. Dropping his armful of supplies, he waves his hand. “You really have one of everything, don’t you?” 

Xisuma takes a deep breath. He hasn’t spoken a word to Ex in years. What does he say, after so long? What does he tell him, or yell at him, or cry to him? But only one word manages to escape from X’s lips, through his mask. “Thanks.” 

The word surprises both twins, blinking back in surprise. Ex’s lips press into a thin line, and he turns his head away. A white ponytail of hair cascades over his shoulder. “Never say I didn’t do anything for you, brother.” 

“Xisuma, this is your brother?” Keralis questions. They were almost identical twins, in fact. From the structure of their face, the intensity in their eyes. The only difference between the two was Ex’s snow white hair. Hell, they even had them both in ponytails. 

“If he still considers me a brother.” Ex snips, picking up the mess on the floor and carefully placing the books in a stack. 

“I thought you said getting into things would only lead to trouble.” Xisuma looks down at his friend, then to Ex. 

“And by the looks of it, I was right.” 

“But you saved Doc. You used your magic in front of half the city, to save him from burning at the stake.” Xisuma shakes his head, still in disbelief. “Why?” 

Ex stops moving, going silent. His shoulder tense forward, until his head drops. “Because he means so much to you. You may not consider me a brother, but I still care about you. Whether or not this disaster could have been avoided, we’re all in on it now.” 

“We?” Cub picks up on Ex’s words, raising an eyebrow. Of course, there were the royals, but he also remembers the water magic appearing from nowhere, the cactus growing from the woodwork, the black wings in the smoke. 

Ex snorts. “What, you think you guys have been this lucky the whole time? That it was only you idiots taking on the magistrate?” 

He turns, walking out of the room. Assuming the hermits will follow. He assumed correctly. Only a few stay behind to keep watch over Doc, the others squeezing through the aged wooden shop, up the rickety stairs and into a dining room. 

They aren’t alone. Inside, three people are sitting. One with short brown hair, cropped to the side and laying on the top of the table, earthy colored clothes and scarves wrapped around her. Sitting crosslegged in the seat is a small kipling, rocking in place with curious eyes as he looks upon the large group entering into Ex’s study. Finned ears flick against black and orange locks, a slight glow appearing under the kipling’s clothes in the dark room. And in the corner, perched on the flat booth’s backrest, a blonde mane drapes around a serious face, and a pair of jet black wings rustle against the wooden walls. 

The last faces they expected to see were those of the Wanderers.

“Red? Ecto?” Zedaph tips his head to the side, surprised. The last time they saw the three of them, it was before the labyrinth challenge. When the hermits celebrated with Team Crafted, they had already left. Disappeared just as fast as they appeared. And now, they’ve reappeared. Sitting in the middle of Ex’s kitchen, sipping on tea. As comfortable there as they were in that ratty old inn. ‘How do you guys know Xisuma’s brother?”

“It was you three who rescued Doc.” Scar whispers, his voice soft and almost reverent. Water, desert, and dragon. 

“Ex approached us while you and Team Crafted were within the labyrinth. He told us about things we already had suspicion of, but no connected dots.” Avon tips her head back, looking down her nose at the hermits. “We decided the best way we could help Lairyon was to cause as much nuisance to the magistrate as possible, as well as handle certain missions.” 

“This entire time, you were helping us?” Xisuma turns, looking at his brother. They’re the exact same height, purple eyes locked in some years long argument.

Ex snorts. “What, you think you idiots did that all on your own? But it wasn’t just the wanderers that have been helping. Team Crafted has had their hand in this underground rebellion as well. Turns out, they make a lot of trouble all over the place for the arcane guard to deal with, as well as encourage people to tell their stories and speak out against the magistrate.” 

“But then that leaves…” Mumbo trails off, and he turns around at the sound of bickering behind them. Sure enough, the twin rulers are still arguing over their codenames. Mumbo bows, his hands shaking as he remembers all the rules he was taught when in presence of the king. 

King Sor presses one hand over his twin’s mouth to shut him up, and uses the other to wave off Mumbo’s bow. “Please, there’s no-” Sor’s interrupted when Tris retaliates, licking his hand. The king curses, rubbing the spit on his white outfit. “You’re disgusting, brother.” 

“Go on, finish the story. Don’t forget to tell them who’s idea it was to reach out to the mysterious white haired man with connections to Eremita.” Tris scoots in beside Red, and Ecto pours tea for the royal advisor. 

“It was Tris’s idea to contact Ex. I honestly don’t know how he found out about him, but he’s been the conductor of it all. We help fund in any way we can, and he does the research before sending the wanderers and Team Crafted to play support roles.” King Sor doesn’t look like the man the hermits are used to seeing. The king, the ruler of Lairyon. He’s thriving with people, just another person, another friend. 

“But...you’re the king. Why can’t you just depose of Dolios?” Beef questions, the confusion in his voice matched by all of the hermits. Only Ex and the wanderers act as if this was evident. 

They expected Sor to answer, being the king, but with a loud crash of a metal teacup against the wooden table, all attention is turned to Tris. “That monster, that....bastard has been using us all against Sor. Especially me.” Tris grits his teeth hard, jaw tight and set. “You’re too damn soft, Sor.” 

“Soft?! Tris, he was going to kill you!” Sor gasps, tears beginning to streak from teal eyes, across tanned cheeks. His breath hiccups and catches in his throat. “Dolios made sure he had control over everything, including me. In order to do that, he… he tortured Tris. My brother. Threatened both our families. Hurt our closest friends in the royal guard. Sometimes… I had no choice but to let it happen. The things he would have done to the kingdom were so much worse but...at what cost? Did I make the right decision, letting him do that to my own brother?” 

Sor’s knees fall out from under him, and in the aged wooden floor of a bookstore, the King of Lairyon is brought to kneel. Tears fall, all he’s been forced to endure breaking down. And the hermits, despite hardly knowing King Sor, understand and sympathize with him all the same. His family is at risk, the same way their own is. Dolios will stop at nothing to tear both families apart, all for his gain and rise to power. 

Red clambers over Tris’s lap, breaking every taboo and rite to approach the king. She runs over, and hugs the king tight and close. A warm hug, like a mother’s embrace, just enough to calm down the monarch. Such a young man, forced to make so many horrible decisions. After a moment, the king recollects himself. Through puffy, tearstained eyes, he looks to the hermits. “Lairyon needs a hero. There are no chosen ones, there is no prophecy. No knights in shining armor, no kings and our awesome power. This time, the heroes need to be made. And you, the Order of Hermits, were the brave souls to choose to be heroes.” 

“Dolios is using his darkness to gain power. After what you dealt with, we were sure you’d give up.” Tris adds, standing and placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Now, the scars on the royal advisor’s body are clear as day. “But you really are the heroes that will bring back the Light of Lairyon.” 

Silence falls over the room. The hermits, heroes? Just for wanting to help, to do what no one else knew to do? They were caught up in all of this, and multiple times death waited to claim them- if Dolios had his way. They weren’t heroes, just people who chose to fight back. Who chose to make the stand. 

“Dark magic isn’t new.” Ex breaks the silence, hefting a massive, ancient book onto the table. The wood rocks, dumping Avon off it and into Ecto’s lap. “There have been insurgences all throughout history, though the past thousand years have been relatively quiet. Unfortunately about that, almost all information how the dark magic was defeated has been… lost to time. To make matters worse, no reported insurgence has ever been so prolific as this time around.” 

“Alright, how does this help with anything?” Xisuma rolls his eyes. His brother always has such a flair for the dramatics, always getting way too deep into history and his books. Next to the massive tome that Ex is flipping through, Avon stops pestering Ecto. She goes still, even when the desert wizard dumps her onto the floor. A look of fear spreads from her eyes, rippling like a drop of water across a lake. 

“Well, if this happened before with the ancient ones, then it’s likely the answer may lie with the history of Lairyon itself. Perhaps if you-” Ex is interrupted when a massive black pair of wings extends, one smacking him in the face. 

“The spirit dragons are in danger.”

[anunvalidcritic]

The Boys: SN2.7

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.) 

Sorry for the delay but I’ve been really busy with work and I haven’t gotten much sleep due to this but nonetheless I was able to finish it and upload the commentary.

               BUTCHER, BAKER, CANDLESTICK MAKER

(Photo Credit: @01091006)

Alright we’ve got ourselves a grown ass man whose clearly obsessed with STORMFRONT

Ik he’s gettin’ tired of seeing/doing the same shit over and over again

Maybe he’s one of the meme makers

Yep called that shit again

He better not become some fucking murder... smdh

“Congress?? Please what a bunch of corrupt cunts they are.” - BUTCHER

(this line hit a little too close to home iykyk)

This congresswoman looks familiar... I can’t put my finger on it though

Alright so whose that ringing BUTCHER’s line?? (That’s a long ass number too)

“Mom I don’t want a fucking unicorn frappe.” - ANNIE

Bro wtf?!!!!!

“And Serge... no abandoning your post this time.” - MALLORY

rip to BUTCHER’s father

BLACK NOIR didn’t have to go in on ANNIE like that

ICONIC DIALOGUE

LAMPLIGHTER - “Okay. Different strokes, man.”

HUGHIE - “Please don’t say that in this context.”

“You know this isn’t healthy, man. Y-You can’t watch porn while the... sun’s out.”- HUGHIE

LAMPLIGHTER = ARSONIST

I like how HUGHIE said “nevermind” just to continue with his story.

LOL THAT TRANSITION BETWEEN HOMELANDER TALKING ABOUT ANNIE AND HUGHIE LOOKING AT THE SCREEN IS PURE GOLD

“Come on do you want me to cuck? Or be the guy who fucks the wife?” - HUGHIE

“Yeah, come on. Let’s go fuck the wife. Con-sensually.” - HUGHIE

You know I never truly understood why the nickname “Billy” went with the name William.

ICONIC DIALOGUE

SAM - “What, no hug?”

BUTCHER - “You step one inch closer, and I’ll kill you quicker than that fucking arse cancer.”

SAM - “I bet you would.”

ROFL The way he slapped his finger away

Beating the shit out of your kids does not equal “tough love”

Sooo.... LENNY committed suicide...

Wow, well I’ll be damned tha nazi bitch has a heart

I haven’t seen MAEVE use her powers in a minute!! That poor table.

Wait why is DR. VOGELBAUM in a wheelchair??? Ig HOMELANDER really did fuck his ass up.

Wow I really forgot M.M’s gov name is MARVIN.

FRENCHIE reminiscin’ -- You know i still remember when FRENCHIE said his dad smothered him with a hello kitty duvet lol

Watch me fuck around and learn KIMIKO’s sign language

Fish Bowl = Fixing Grievances

Bruh this whole church is toxic

“And boom, bitchies!” - LAMPLIGHTER

“Your America’s second favorite lesbian couple, after all.” - ASHLEY

Whose the first?... Ellen and Portia??

“Ashley for once in your life be a fucking human being.” - MAEVE

Their watching a lego movie of the Blindside

... I think we all know HOMELANDER is lying to BECCA. He’s gonna snatch that little boy up in the middle of the night.

BUTCHER a whole maniac

Why do I feel like LAMPLIGHTER is gonna step HUGHIE up...

👀...

HUGHIE RUN!!!

My mouth is really ajar looking at this hand scene

She’s walking a little too slow for me... I foresaw that shit!

BLACK NOIR is strong af! Jesus he’s throwing her around like a dog that vigorously shakes its head with a toy in its mouth.

STARLIGHT bro I’m gonna need you to get the fuck up! Don’t let this dude choke you out!

... once again... fuck almond joy’s

Y’all can do this reunion shit later. GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BUILDING!

ICONIC DIALOGUE

M. M. - “Kid, you are fucking unbelievable. All you had to do was watch porn.”

HUGHIE - “I didn’t know he was gonna set himself on fire?!?.”

I think we all knew this church for supes was all kinds of fucked up. But this whole scenario of EAGLE hunting his partner dressed up as a deer is on the stranger side to things. 

Why tf did ANNIE’s mom look at KIMIKO like that?!?!

HOMELANDER lookin’ sick af!

BRUH IS THAT FUCKING CINDY!!!!????

“Oh, shit.” - THE DEEP

_______________

episode 6 here. Once again I’m sorry for the delay in the post. I’ll have to figure out my timing better. But on a lighter note... EPISODE 8 WILL BE THE LAST FOR THE SEASON!!! We already know it got confirmed for a season 3 so this last episode better fucking bring it!

[the-iron-orchid]

“You can beg better than that, I think.” Just dominate Julian. Do it! - vesuvian-disaster

It’s even canon to our continuity! :D

Pairing: Jinana x Julian

Warnings: Bondage, pegging, domination, marking, general graphic-ness lol

[Context: while Jinana and Julian were away on their boat trip, Heron took it upon himself to replace Jinana’s tiny, lumpy bed with one big enough for Julian to stretch out on. It also has a few additional features... like hidden attachment points. Because Heron is a Good Friend who wants them to have a Nice Time. He’s also gifted them with a copy of an erotic grimoire.]

🍋 🔞 18+ only, minors dni  🔞 🍋

Motivation is the key to learning. Julian has been learning a great deal lately, as evidenced by how quickly he manages to undo the wards on the door to the shop.

He is highly motivated.

I take my time replacing the wards, while he dashes up the stairs at speed. I hear the sounds of splashing water emerge from the bathroom.

He is also well-trained. I am demanding, and like nothing more than a freshly-washed submissive.

I leisurely set the shop to rights, then take a moment to freshen myself up magically. (It’s so much faster.) When I do finally make my way upstairs, I find that Julian has arranged himself on the new bed in the most seductive manner he can manage, wearing nothing but a smile. Arrayed before him are the things he’s taken from the drawers under the bed: a set of leather cuffs, and a quantity of silk-sheathed cord. 

A nice time, indeed.

I take the grimoire from my bag and place it safely upon the dresser, open to a specific page. The thing Julian is interested in is simple enough; I’m sure I can do it. But first… there’s something I am interested in. I’m sure he will be, too.

“And what shall we do with you, hmm?” I pick up one of the cuffs, inspecting it. They’re new, well-made of soft sturdy leather, and much less likely to leave abrasions… though it’s not impossible. He does like to struggle.

But Julian doesn’t struggle at all as I place them around his wrists, buckling them securely. I run a length of cord through the ring on each one, and through convenient attachment points on either side of the bed, holding his arms down and slightly away from his body. 

And here is where the magic comes in. I push one of his legs up, folding it, draping the silk cord over it. I trace a few simple symbols over his skin with the tip of one nail, speaking words of magic, and energy flows into the cord, animating it. Julian’s eyes go very wide as the cord snakes around the limb under its own power, binding it simply but effectively in a bent position. I do the same for the other leg, and now Julian is very exposed to me indeed, a flush staining his face, neck and chest. I take more lengths of cord and run them between the previous bonds, securing his wrists to his ankles.

He isn’t going anywhere. Now he does struggle, testing his bonds, his flush growing deeper as he finds them to be unyielding.

“Jinana…” he whispers, undulating against the surface of the bed. “I need you. Please…” His need is in fact very obvious, the way I’ve got him trussed up, his cock rigid against his lower belly. But I haven’t yet cast the spell that he truly wants. The bondage is just my gift to him.

“Oh, darling,” I say sweetly, running the tip of one finger along the underside of his shaft. “You can beg better than that, I think.” I smile as he shudders strongly, wriggling in his bonds. He looks so cute like that. “Tell me what you want.”

He makes an inarticulate noise. “Please… I want you to fuck me. I’ll do anything… “

“I’m certain you will. But there are so many ways to fuck someone, Julian. Be specific.”

He writhes a little against the bed. “I want you… to fuck me... in the ass,” he finally manages to say. As if this causes a dam to break, words start spilling out of him in senseless succession. “Oh god, please, I want it so much. Fuck me as hard as you can. Use me however you want, just please fuck me. I’m begging you, Jinana.” 

He’s putting on quite a show; he’s even tearing up a little, his lips trembling.

“I don’t know, my love… I can always use you however I want.” Julian lets out a desperate little whine. “But you are cute when you’re so needy.”

I make a big show of relenting, kneeling on the bed before his spread legs. I reach for a little jar of lubricant and take my time preparing him; this only makes him more desperate. His inner muscles grip hungrily at my fingers as I spread the lubricant inside of him, and he moans aloud, shameless, continuing his litany of pleading.

Finally, I speak more words of magic, calling into being a sort of double-ended phallus made of arcane force. It’s really very pretty, shimmering with magical energy, and unlike its mundane counterparts it does not require a harness to stay in place. The one end slips inside of me - all of this preparation has me quite ready - and the other juts forward from my body at an angle, ready to give Julian what he wants so very badly.

He cranes his neck to try and see as I position myself between his legs, and very slowly begin to push into him. “Relax, darling.” He’s so wound up, I can feel his body resisting the very thing he wants so much. And then the resistance melts away as he lets go and submits to me, his body relaxing in its bonds. I still move carefully, watching his face for signs of undue pain, until the other end of the magical phallus is entirely within him.

“Very good, my love.” He moans feverishly, and he tries to move his hips in his bonds. “Ah ah - I told you to relax.”

Once again, he does so, and I start to move my own hips. It’s a unique sensation, the one portion of the shaft moving slightly within me even as I move the other within him, the nexus of the two fitting just so against my clit. Julian groans and lets his head fall back, his eyes fast shut to close him in with the sensations. “Ohhhh, harder, please, fuck me hard,” he begs, and his body feels ready to take it, so I oblige. Each stroke forces a sound from him, a grunt or a little cry. 

I grip his narrow hips and fuck him for all I am worth, digging my nails into his flesh because I know he likes it. He likes it so much that he has to hold himself back a little, holding on as long as he can. He knows that he will be punished if he comes before I do... but if he controls himself, he will be rewarded.

Between the moving shaft inside of me and the friction against my clit with every movement, it doesn’t take all that long for climax to hit me. I rake my nails over Julian’s thighs and bite at the skin of his chest, shoving the magical phallus deep into him with every wave.

When it subsides, I pause briefly to catch my breath. Julian’s legs are to either side of me, and I can feel them shaking with his unfulfilled need, his chest heaving under me. But he knows he’ll get what he wants, if he can just hold on and keep still… even though it goes against all of his natural inclinations. Soon, I start to move my hips again, letting my hands wander over his torso to leave livid little scratches (his skin marks so beautifully), and play with his tiny nipples. I am not large, but still I am shaking his body with every thrust.

“Oh god oh fuck Jinana please I can’t - ” He’s barely holding on, now, but still waiting for permission.

“Come for me, Ilya.”

He doesn’t even need me to touch him; the verbal cue, the action of being fucked and the bouncing of his cock against his belly is enough. He gives a series of agonized groans, his back arching, the come jetting from him in little arcs that spatter his chest and belly.

When it’s over, Julian collapses back against the bed, his skin gleaming with sweat in the lamplight. I let the spells dissolve, and release his hands from the cuffs. There are slight marks; he’ll be happy about that. His hair is damp, sticking to his face and lips; I push it back gently, and lean in to give him a kiss.

“You did so well, darling,” I tell him, and his eyes flutter open to look at me. His lashes are spiky with sweat, or maybe tears. I gather my power one last time and pass my hand over his body, cleaning the mess left behind, and lay myself next to him, against his chest. His arms come around me, holding me tightly to him.

“How did I ever get this lucky?” he asks, his lips against my forehead. “...maybe don’t answer that.”

I laugh, running my hand over the red marks I’ve left on his flank. “Something good was bound to happen to us eventually,” I tell him.

[captainimfangirling]

The Boys Season 2 Episode 7

Warning: Spoilers

Homelander & Butcher: Basically Homelander and Butcher were raised by toxic c*nts. Sadly Lenny couldn’t take it and killed himself. I honestly didn’t except Dr. Vogelbaum to say Homelander up until age 5 or 6 was a sweet boy who liked to cuddle. This proves my theory that Homelander wasn’t born evil. He was raised and turned into a sociopath (they’re created through trauma) and the same thing happened to Butcher. That’s why Butcher didn’t mind threatening Dr, Vogelbaum’s own family.

Remember how I made a post suggesting Homelander learned those toxic things from Dr. Vogelbaum? Looks like I was right. It just made sense because Homelander was raised in a lab without interacting with normal people. It’s kind of sad to think a 5 or 6 year old started to change the way Dr. Vogelbaum wanted him to change. Homelander isn’t his biggest failure. He’s the one who failed Homelander just like Mr. Butcher failed his son. I’m scared for Billy Butcher after that ending. He’s gonna do something more crazy.

Ryan: Sadly Homelander was right. Once Ryan learned the truth, he’s gonna hate Becca. I don’t think he really hates his mom, he’s just upset. I always thought Homelander just saw Ryan as a new toy but maybe he really does care about the kid in his own twisted way and doesn’t want him to go through what he went through. In his mind, he’s saving Ryan.

Stormfront: I wonder if Homelander was gonna do what Becca asked but Stormfront probably convinced him that she would be a better mother. It makes more sense to me because Homelander did leave Ryan alone until Stormfront talked about missing her daughter. Did she know about his kid and manipulated the entire situation? I honestly wouldn’t be surprised. Psychopaths are natural manipulators. Plus she mentioned to Ryan how he was the first natural born super hero. Why did she bring that up? Maybe she wanted her own daughter to be a natural born supe and this is her own way of having a kid she always wanted? Sadly I think we’re gonna see into season 3 since we only have one episode left.

Theory: What if Stormfront was the one exploding those heads?

Black Noir: Big Black Noir!!! lol Ok back to the review. I’m relieved they decided to not do the comic book story line with Black Noir (they showed his mouth so he is a poc superhero). I was still kind of hoping he would reveal his face to Stormfront when she tried to get him to join her Nazi army.

Queen Maeve & Elena: I loved how Maeve saved Starlight by putting nuts in Black Noir’s mouth because he’s allergic. lmao! Poor thing knows Elena is scared of her. I honestly can’t blame Elena. She didn’t know Maeve as well as she thought. I want Maeve redeemed in Elena’s eyes but I have a feeling it’s not gonna happen.

Hughie: I love his Journey shirt. Anyway, he’s adorable as usual. He loves Starlight so much. I love his interactions with Lamplighter.

Lamplighter: I still don’t know if he burned himself intentionally in order to save Starlight and because he wanted to die or just because he wanted to die. 

Starlight: Her mom is so stupid. To be honest, I was hoping Starlight wouldn’t be revealed as the mole so soon but at least we’ll see her more with The Boys!

The Deep & A-Train: I have a feeling The Church of The Collective is gonna be the big bad next season. I’m not very interested in that story line to be honest. I bet The Deep would rather f*ck that goldfish than his wife. lol

M.M.: I want him to be with his family like Mallory said but at the same time I don’t want him to abandon The Boys.

[sappho-official]

okay so YES I know the year is 2020 and I’m suddenly really into a rarepair for a dead fandom but I NEED to talk about valencock from fallout 4. which is a helluva ship name lmfao. I just love the idea that they knew each other when Hancock was in his 20s.

spoilers btw, for both of their approval conversations/The Long Winter. also this is kinda dark lol

I just. I’m losing my shit at the realization that Hancock took a one-of-a-kind-drug to turn himself into a ghoul. you know who else took a drug to turn into a ghoul, perhaps the only other character in the series? Eddie Winter.

so, headcanon that Nick was working on the Winter case, not because he thinks there’s anything to solve but because he needs some goddamn closure on his fiance’s death. and he finds out that Winter was taking a drug around the time that the bombs fell, and he starts looking into it. maybe he finds a dose, maybe just a recipe that he gets someone to replicate for him.

and John...John’s not in the best place right now. Nick confides in John that he’s not sure what the drug does, hopes it just killed Winter, but...maybe turned him into a ghoul? Nick isn’t sure, and he’d use the drug on himself but, well, that’s not an option. so John volunteers.

and Nick’s like, what the fuck, no?? i’m not letting you have this, you might die! so John shrugs, leaves town for a while. Nick doesn’t realize until a few days later that the drug is missing.

he makes the trip to goodneighbor, to the hole-in-the-wall place that john’s been living in since mayor mcdonough was elected.

Nick quietly lets himself into John’s pad. There’s a soft noise, a grumble, from the bed.

“You awake?” he asks, half expecting silence.

“Unfortunately,” rasps a voice from under the blankets. Nick’s heart sinks. It’s not how John sounded just a week ago.

“You knew what you were getting into,” Nick murmurs, taking the desk chair and dragging it over. He sits down next to him. “Did you want this?”

There’s a gravelly chuckle, and John’s head peeks up above the blankets. Nick can’t help but gasp when he sees him: skin bloody and raw, blond hair falling out in patches. His irises have expanded, color peeled away to become cloudy and grey. His nose is practically rotting, one nostril entirely gone.

“Heh,” John smirks, “the look on your face.”

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Nick pleads, “we can bring you to the doctor, you can stop taking the injections—“

John pulls his hand from under the blankets, dried blood pilling on the sheets as he moves. He holds it up to stop him, raw skin shining in the lamplight. “This ain’t for you,” he rumbles. “I’m doing this ‘cause I want to.”

Nick’s face goes stern. “So you’re not done with it yet. Listen, you might not be past the point of no return—“

“You don’t get it, do you,” John cuts him off. “I did this for me.”

Nick blinks.

“You thought it might kill you.”

John shrugs.

“Figured it was a win-win.” He stares up at the bare bulb above his bed. “You’d get your answer and I wouldn’t have to look at the same bastard in the mirror.”

“Christ,” Nick mutters, laying his head down on the blanket. He wants a cigarette, but there’s no damn point in smoking one.

He nearly jumps when John’s hand settles on the back of his head. He strokes at the base of his neck, and it’s almost comforting. Like Nick’s the one whose skin is peeling off.

“How,” Nick mutters into the blanket, “how are you feeling?”

John laughs, and, oh, that’s going to take some getting used to. “Well, I’m ‘bout high on Med-X as a vertibird, so I’d say I feel pretty good.”

“Alright,” Nick murmurs. Decides not to call the lie.

They stay like that for a while, John’s hand on the back of Nick’s neck, only the ringing of faulty wiring to keep them company. Somewhere outside a firefight breaks out. He feels John tense in the bed.

“I’m gonna kill Vic,” he grumbles.

“Alright.”

John raises an eyebrow. Half of it’s gone. “Pretty sure murder’s a crime, mister cop.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Nick sits up, “he’d deserve it three times over.”

He expects John to make a joke, but instead he looks contemplative. “Yeah. He does.”

They’re quiet again for a moment; there’s an explosion, screams. Then, nothing.

Nick sighs. “I shouldn’t have to say this,” he says, straightening his hat. “If you go after him, don’t get yourself killed.”

“Made it this far,” John grumbles, pulling the blanket higher above his face. “What’s another couple centuries?”

Nick stands, looks down at the living corpse of his best friend.

“Do you want me to try to fix this?” Nick asks. “I won’t if you don’t want it, because this is your choice. You’re an adult. You can make choices.”

John chuckles again. “Not somethin’ I ever thought I’d hear you say, brother. But nah. I’ll tough it out. I’m a big boy.” He grins and Nick wishes it wasn’t so weak.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” John says, face falling into something more serious. “I wouldn’t complain ‘bout some more painkillers, though.”

Nick nods. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says softly. He leans down, brushing his lips against John’s forehead. His sensors tell him that John’s skin is 102° fahrenheit. He turns to leave but something catches on the bottom of his coat.

“Don’t go.” John is staring up at him, eyes a dark August storm.

Nick stares down at him helplessly, feels like his heart is somewhere on the floor. “I have a case.”

John flops back onto the bed. “Fuck.”

“I’ll bring some water by later,” he says, “and I’ll see if I can bring a doctor with me. Just to help with the pain.”

“Thanks,” John croaks as Nick closes the door behind him.

so. anyways now i guess im gonna see if can pull together a fic that can provide the full context for this scene? i posted like the first two chapters of it, we’ll see how this goes.

[mandelene]

I'd love to see Francis and Arthur take the kids to Disneyland :3

Al and Mattie would have such a good time.

I had to remind myself that Disneyland is in California and Disney World is in Florida. I always confuse the two 😅 (I've only ever been to Disney World, so I had no idea what's at Disneyland. I looked up a map on Google. I apologize if I got something wrong in this). This is a tangent, but I remember when I was a little kid, Disney World had the ExtraTERRORestrial Alien Encounter attraction, and I bawled the entire time because I was four or five years old and terrified of the "alien." My parents had to reassure me for a full hour afterward lol. Fun times. 

The Happiest Place on Earth (According to Alfred) Word Count: 582

"It's all right, Matthew, you don't have to be shy. Go and stand next to Alfred and Mickey Mouse so we can take a picture," Francis says, motioning with his hand to where Matthew should pose. The poor child isn't a huge fan of the people in character costumes, although Alfred is absolutely enamored by all of them. 

Alfred has taken pictures with Donald Duck, Elsa from Frozen, Belle, and Cinderella, but Matthew would rather eat a caramel apple and go on the rides than approach strangers. Whenever a photo opportunity presents itself, he makes sure to hide behind Francis's leg.

"Go on, poppet. It's all right. Mickey Mouse doesn't bite," Arthur vows, crouching down to put a reassuring hand on Matthew's back. "Look, he's even waving at you. Wave back."

Matthew looks like he'd like to do anything but wave. However, he does it anyway, knowing it would be impolite not to return the gesture. When Mickey Mouse steps forward and holds his arms out for a hug, Matthew's eyes double in size.

"Come on, Mattie!" Alfred shouts, growing impatient. He's wearing his Toy Story t-shirt and has a Buzz Lightyear baseball cap atop his head. "We still gotta go on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride after!"

With a deep breath to steady himself first, Matthew takes three brave steps forward and allows Mickey Mouse to embrace him. He obediently gets into the frame of the photo, but the smile on his face is obviously strained. He seems relieved once it's over.

Francis and Arthur thank Mickey Mouse as he leaves, and Alfred wastes no time in leading the way to the next attraction. "PIRATES, PIRATES, PIRATES!"

"I liked the Dumbo ride the most," Matthew says.

"Dumbo was fun," Francis agrees because he, too, is a fan of the calmer rides. He makes Arthur go with the boys on all of the more intense attractions because he would rather be spared the anxiety.

Matthew takes his papa's hand just to be safe, and adds, "I liked 'It's a Small World', too."

"Booooooring!" Alfred exclaims, skipping with excitement. "Let's do the haunted mansion! Dad, will you go with me on that one later?"

Arthur sighs. "Must I?"

"Yeah!"

"I guess I don't have a choice, then."

Francis shoots him a sympathetic smile and says, "I'll treat you to a nice glass of wine at the Lamplight Lounge later, darling."

"You had better."

"Hey!"

Arthur laughs and rummages around in his bag for a moment to find his sunscreen. Then, he smears a bit of it on Alfred's nose against his will, noticing it's becoming a bit sunburnt.

"Daaaaad, you're so embarrassing," Alfred whines.

But no one pays him any mind because a moment later, he’s already going on about something else. He sees a vendor and pleads, “Dad, Dad, Dad, can you buy me a Forky plushie? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?” 

“No, Alfred. You already have plenty of toys. You don’t need another one. You already picked one toy. We bought you Pluto, remember?” 

“BUT IT’S FORKY!” 

“No, and that’s my final decision.”  Matthew, on the other hand, had the foresight to wait in making his “one toy” selection. He plans to peruse all of his options at the Disney souvenir shop before making his decision. He thinks he might like an Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. 

“LOOK, THAT’S IT! THAT’S IT! THE PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN RIDE!” 

Alfred races away to get on the long line. He’s certainly going to sleep well tonight after all of his elation. Matthew hurries after him, afraid of being left behind and separated from him on the ride. 

Meanwhile, Arthur and Francis exchange smiles, take each other’s hands, and follow along, happy simply because the children are happy, and they wish it could always be this way. 

[rimalupin]

Drunk!Arthur x MC: “I Like You”

(A/N: Okay I love ~soft and adorable~ Arthur, and this scenario of him drunk-confessing his love for someone has been playing through my head for a while now, so I decided to just go ahead and write it lol. Enjoy a cute love-drunk ((and literally drunk)) Arthur~.)

(Warnings: Mentions of alcohol & tobacco, but other than that, this story is frikin FLUFFY man, LOL.)

-----

Past Midnight, le Comte's mansion

I yawned as I finished reading the last sentence of the page. Arthur had asked me to read through a manuscript of his newest Sherlock Holmes story. Since I had the day off, I decided to head to the library and read away.

~~~

To be honest, I was surprised that he asked me of all people to proofread his story. Sebastian would've been more qualified for this, especially since he knew more about Holmes's stories - as well as the author behind them - compared to me. When I asked Arthur about why he chose me to read the manuscript, he simply shrugged and stated, "I thought you'd enjoy the story since Holmes is so popular in your time."

"Well, he is. But I really don't know much about the books themselves." I bowed my head a little, slightly embarrassed to be admitting this in front of the author himself. "I have yet to read them."

"Well then, now's a good time to start." He plopped the manuscript into my hands and winked. "Get to it, my dear assistant."

Even though I didn't think I was the most qualified for this job, I was happy to help him out. Ever since I came to the mansion, Arthur has always been there for me. Granted, our first few interactions weren't the best (try getting cornered by a flirty, potentially blood-thirsty vampire inside a mysterious mansion during your first night in nineteenth-century France), but after a few days of getting to know each other (a suggestion made by le Comte and Sebastian which I was hesitant to take at first), I realized that he wasn't a bad guy. In fact, he was really fun to be around: he was always ready with a game or a conversation topic to keep the mood entertaining. And minus the frequent flirting, he's really grown on me. I guess something just clicked for the two of us. So of course I'd want to help my newest vampire bestie with his project.

Along with that, I know how hard he works on his stories. Recently, there have been more late nights of him scribbling on sheets of paper under a dim lamplight. Whenever I'd seen the light on in his room during those late hours, I'd bring him some coffee and fudge before bidding him a good night. 

~~~

After finishing the story, I decided to stop by Arthur's room to drop off the manuscript. I'm about to knock on the door when I hear someone from inside the room. "Theoooooo I wanna see herrrrr."

"In this state you're in? Absolutely not," Theo replies, a stern edge to his voice.

"Theo it'll be fiiiiine. C'mon!"

I wonder if they’re alright. Curious, I knock and call after them. “Arthur? Theo? Can I come in?”

“Let yourself in, Hondje. And help me take care of this idiot.”

“Now, Theo, it’s not nice to call people names," Arthur says in a sing-song voice. "Be nicer to the little bird before you scare her away~.”

I hear Theo let out an annoyed grunt - I can almost feel his irritation radiating through the door. “_____ GET IN HERE NOW.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” I open the door to find Arthur hugging a very grumpy Theo on the bed. I stifle a giggle. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes, and for once, I’m thanking you for doing so.” Theo pries Arthur off of him and stands up to walk towards me. “Look, I could use some help with taking care of him.” He nods his head towards Arthur, who stands and staggers towards Theo. 

"Oh, c'mon now, Theo," he responds as he attempts to place a hand on Theo’s shoulder, only to miss and swing at the air. "You don't have to be my mummy: I can take care of myself, you hear." His words slur, and he sways back and forth, his body threatening to give in to gravity and fall to the floor.

I drop the manuscript and rush to Arthur's side. "Arthur, be careful!" I place my hands on his shoulder and back, and Theo follows my lead to help gently guide him back to the bed. 

As if finally realizing I was in the room, Arthur blinks up at me with surprise. "_____..?" His breath and clothes smell of alcohol and tobacco - I can tell that he and Theo were at the bar earlier. It was a usual occasion for them to go out for evening drinking sessions, but they never came back as drunk as Arthur was now.

"How much did you drink?" I ask.

Arthur gazes at me, dazed. "Mmm, can't remember..."

"Liar," Theo scoffs. "He knows damn well what his limit is, and yet he's dumb enough to do this."

I watch Arthur lay his arm over his head, covering his eyes. "He doesn't look too good... I'll go get him some water." I stand up, but then stop in my tracks when I feel Arthur gently tug on my sleeve. "_____, wait..." 

"Arthur, I'll be right back." 

"Noooo, stay here." I raise an eyebrow at Arthur, who is now looking up at me with big, pleading eyes. "Pleaaaase?"

Theo rolls his eyes. "He hasn't been shutting up about wanting to see you all day." 

My eyebrows raise in surprise. "What..?" 

"I'll get the water. Call me if you need anything else." I'm about to ask him what he meant, but the door had already shut.

I sigh and turn to face Arthur. "Do you need anything else right now?" I ask him. 

He gives me a little smirk. "You beside me." 

I roll my eyes at him, but I realize that he's serious about his request when he scoots a little to make more room for me. I sigh and sit back down on Arthur's bed. "Better?" 

"Getting there." Before I could protest, he moves closer to me and lays his head on my lap. 

"Arthur, what..?" I begin. 

"_____...." He looks up at me with a sad smile. 

I furrow my brow. "What's on your mind?"

"You." 

Was he really drunk-flirting with me right now? "Arthur, be serious." 

"I am." His eyes meet mine, and he’s looking at me for what feels like forever.

Feeling self-conscious, I start to look away when a hand gently touches my cheek. "MC..." He guides me back to look at him: his gaze is earnest, and his blue eyes pierce into my soul as he says, "I like you."

I blink in disbelief. I don’t know how to respond. All that comes out is a confused "What..?" 

He repeats himself: "I like you." There's a beat of silence before he quietly adds, "But not as a friend..." I shake my head. Surely, he isn't thinking straight: it's the alcohol talking. But he wouldn't have said that if there wasn't a little truth to it, right..? 

Despite his inebriated state, he reads my thoughts clearly. "_____, please don't doubt my feelings for you: I really do like you." He tilts his head as he examines me. "But I wonder how you feel about me." 

I raise an eyebrow. "That's a funny thing to hear from someone who guesses nearly everything correctly." 

"See, that's the thing," he says as he lays his head onto his pillow. He gently pulls me down to lay beside him and I oblige, wanting to hear him out. "I could simply deduce your feelings for me and eventually conclude that you like me. But you know, it’s surprisingly difficult to gather evidence for that, even though we spend so much time together..." He plays with a lock of my hair as he continues. “I wouldn’t want to scare you off by drawing the wrong conclusion, so I want to be sure…”

He trails off, and he’s quiet for a while, still twirling my hair with his fingers. "You want to be sure of what..?" I ask.

“That you feel the same way I do..." He moves closer until his forehead gently presses against mine. He wraps an arm around me and gazes at me earnestly. "But I don’t want to know based on my assumptions or deductions. Your feelings are yours alone, so I want to hear the answer come from your lips. That's how I'll know..." he trails off, and his eyes start to close. 

It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. I watch him and listen to his even breathing, which soon turns into light snores as he dreams with a peaceful look on his face. 

I don't want to wake him: he needs the rest. With that, I'm pretty much trapped in his arms for the rest of the night. Sighing, I carefully move to pull the sheets over us, snugly tucking us both in. 

He won’t hear me since he’s asleep, but I whisper to him anyway: "I'll give you my answer in the morning." I gently brush a stray hair away from his forehead, and my fingertips briefly linger on his temple before pulling away. "Goodnight, Arthur," I say as I drift off to sleep, pushing away my worries of what will happen in the morning by focusing on the warmth of his body, the way he held me in his arms, and the sound of his breathing.

[cyclone-rachel]

notes on The Boys season 2 episode 4 

such disrespect

I do love these two, Frenchie and Kimiko

Frenchie no, I hope you and Kimiko get to communicate somehow about this

I’m sure she’s done jack shit too

Return of Homelander’s gross mommy kink

Then again it also never left

That... is incredibly sad. And I would also like to learn more about Mallory?

Depends on who the president is

you sure she’s alive?

That’s a trap, Butcher do not go there

You were the media whore before she was, my dude

What exactly are they suggesting

They can’t, that’s what they were trying to say

Did Homelander always know it was Doppelganger?

He really is dumb

Does he really cry that much?

Good on Maeve

DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER

Starlight has done nothing wrong, you dickface

yes very good

what is he doing to her

big yikes

heeeey

gosh, so does he just eat when nobody can see him

can’t wait for it to come up again

she is cute

Annie doesn’t

This is very risky, kids

Asking the right questions

road trip time?

Be honest with her, Hughie, she went through so much for you

not wrong

is it road trip time?

heeeeeey Shockwave

lol, of course they have a streaming service

fuck you, Homelander

It is all about you, isn’t it

this is pure

it is a road trip to North Carolina, and he is kind of their chaperone

what is the point of this commercial thing

oh boy here we go

when are we going to see Lamplighter?

awww, I like this. It’s gonna go wrong at some point.

did a superhero kill him

oh shit

that’s interesting

oh noooooo

that’s intense, Becca

Ryan could fall with style

That is a good choice

Are the Almond Joys drugged too, like the Fresca?

mood, Annie

I want to give you a hug

is Ryan in that car

You’re sure not a good role model

I’m so glad that Becca can see through his shit

is that something she wants?

Love you, Maeve

I know who that is, she’s the Afterbuzz lady

Oh my god

Sure, Jan

is this based on a real statistic in one of the universes

most of them are also assholes

ugh he’s gonna say something shitty and gross, isn’t he

fuck my secondhand embarrassment

Homelander no

NO. FUCK YOU

only she gets to out herself, you piece of shit

I knew this was going to happen, because I spoiled myself on it, but still FUCK

poor Maeve, she looks so uncomfortable

can I give her a hug too

noooooooo

You better not be lying

Kick his star-spangled ass

Don’t tell me he thinks him outing her is a good thing

Dipshit!

stay away from women!

let Elena live, thank you

hell yeah it is

One less woman you creepily fantasize about

Murder her, Kimiko

oh my god her face is so heartbreaking

KAREN. MA’AM. ACTING

I love you both

she is full of rage and it’s very relatable

oh dear

Despite Starlight being there

MM is a good man and I hope he lives

Is that how you got your nickname?

We’ll have to find out too

oh nooooo

ah, that’s not Lamplighter, I see (I thought it was him in the trailer)

oh shit

Probably older

that’s sad

you deserve that, you bitch

I hope someone screenshot all those memes

okay but teenagers on the internet would make those too

I would also accept Arby’s gift cards

fucking yikes

that’s an understatement

Ryan is still Homelander’s son

Go, Becca!

She’s a way better actress now

yeah see, there it is

fuuuuck

oh shit, that’s not good, especially if it goes the way I think it will

she’s right too

oh fuck, that’s what this is about

god. why.

yeah that’s a cult thing

no, not that again

oh my god

nooooooo

also in general it is extremely on-brand for this show to have an episode premiering on 9/11, when that is an important date in the comics

and I JUST REALIZED Jack played Marvel in the first Hunger Games movie, and his district partner was named Glimmer. And now he's working with the actress who voiced Glimmer in new She-Ra

so that’s fun

[elstreem]

Made a little hangout on my island that’s inspired by moths (though it looks more like butterflies and fireflies ^^;) I don’t have Online so I can’t share these patterns, but here’s a closer look at them.

I like this idea so much that I made up a little story about a mystical hangout/cafe called the Moth's Wings. Despondent dreamers who lost sight of their lights will be lead to the place by a glowing moth, and they will be greeted by the Lady who keeps the place. I'm not sure what her name yet should be, I'm thinking it would be either Lady Imago or Lady Lamp Light (maybe Imago Lamplight? lol) Anyway, anyone who needs a place to calm down will be whisked away to this serene little place somewhere between dreams and waking, and the Lady will do her best to encourage and uplift all the weary souls who come to her for guidance. She makes good flower tea and has a huge Atlas Moth named Lewis helping her out. I wish myself I can visit. Btw, there isn't any particular species I modeled that moth after. I should read up more on them.