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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

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Events Unchanged - Xehanort x Eraqus

So THIS is my final piece for the @checkmate-zine. I had a blast writing it and it’s probably one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever written. Please check out the other creators on this project because they are all absolutely amazing.

Music Inspiration: End In Tragedy and MIssing You by Set It Off

Art by my queen @kingdomcarrots

~~~~~

The castle looms over the young man. This being his first stop, he’s not entirely sure he’s in the right place, or rather, the right time. The description of the place matches up, but he could be anywhere from minutes to decades off with no idea how to tell. Additionally, if he’s jumped even a minute too far, that complicates the whole plan.

With really no other choice, he climbs the steps to the front door, letting himself in. He’d heard a little of this place, seen a few paragraphs in books, but the Land of Departure is such a small world compared to Scala Ad Caelum. However, this is very obviously an off-shoot of the Scala training school; the only real difference lies in the missing inhabitants. Such spacious halls lack the chatter of students and staff despite the well-kept appearance.

“Identify yourself.”

He stops. That gruff voice rumbles with the faintest hint of familiarity. Curiosity piqued, the young man turns back.

It has to be him; it couldn’t be anyone else. Aside from that traditional style and the Master’s Defender prepared to strike, Xehanort could never mistake those eyes and no amount of hostility could mislead him. There’s no doubt now that Xehanort is far into the future, not while he stares at the aged face of the man Eraqus is to become.

He looks worn, as if the years have been long and hard and those scars prove nearly as much. That welcoming cheer from their very first meeting has been replaced by sheer apprehension, likely caused by his arduous life. It seems he’s become the soldier his parents always pushed him to be; and yet, surely, he can’t have forgotten his beloved.

Cautious hands lift to push the hood back and reveal the face hiding beneath.

Shock takes over the old warrior’s expression. “Xehanort?!”

“Eraqus.” It’s all Xehanort can come up with in his uncertainty.

“How is this possible?!” Resumed suspicion reaffirms that fighting stance.

First and foremost, Xehanort has a mission, one that could potentially fix everything that went wrong in their lives. They could have everything they lost, including the happiness stripped from them far too soon. Additionally, this is Eraqus, the one who saved Xehanort from self-destruction and gave him the motivation to do all these incredible things. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure Eraqus’s happiness. However, the stubborn blueblood often disapproved of Xehanort’s methods as of late and perhaps that’s only gotten worse as the years passed—perhaps plans should be kept quite even from one’s most precious. Having been caught here in the future, Young Xehanort must pick carefully which truths to divulge.

A soft exhale calms the nerves. “I’m from the past,” the traveler confesses. “Brought here by the version of me from this time.”

“How? What for?” Eraqus demands. “What proof do you have for any of this?”

“I can’t say how or why but…”

A well-seasoned Master Eraqus is probably not a fight Xehanort wants to pick, but he’ll need something personal to convince this man of the truth. He knows just the memory, but it’s not pleasant.

Xehanort’s gaze drops to the floor. “You once caught me on the roof of the citadel. You told me…that if I couldn’t find a reason not to step off, then you would make one.”

Eraqus’s mouth presses into a thin line; they never told anyone of that incident.

“So what are you doing here?”

Shaking off morbid memories, Xehanort replies, “Like I said, I can’t tell you that, but I need to find myself from this time. Is he here?”

Eraqus wears a heavy pity that agitates Xehanort—he may still be young with much to learn, but he’s never taken kindly to pity.

“You don’t know anything. You just left, didn’t you…”

“I left Scala several hours ago,” the youth says. That empathy grows. “Why?”

“You…Your older self doesn’t come by often.”

This is unexpected. Even as he left, Xehanort fully intended to visit his significant other once he got things set in motion. Besides, Xehanort is greedy—he knows it. He’s got only the sparsest restraint when it comes to indulging in his partner’s presence, so this statement by the man at the heart of that avarice makes no sense.

“Why not?” Xehanort is not going to remain calm if that look of condolence continues. “When does he come by?”

There’s a solemn shake of the old man’s head. “He doesn’t.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t?!” Xehanort barks, leather creaking with tightened fists. “He has to come visit you! He wouldn’t leave forever—not when you’re the person most important to him!”

The outburst does nothing against Eraqus’s empathy. “I’m sorry. Once you left, we started to view things differently. There were things we simply couldn’t agree on.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Nothing I said would’ve convinced you to stay.”

“No!” he shouts. “There’s no excuse! You should have stopped me! If me leaving made you so miserable, you shouldn’t have let me go! You should have cried or begged or even beat me over the head—whatever it took to make me stay!”

Tears form in the man’s eyes and that unwanted compassion pushes Xehanort past his threshold. With renewed determination, he stalks past the elder to resume the search for his future self.

A strong fist catches around the young man’s wrist. “Where are you going?”

His answer is short, sharp. “To do what I came here to do.”

For the third time, Eraqus presses, “And what would that be?”

Xehanort glowers. With a vague restraint in his voice, he spits, “I’m a time traveler; what do you think I’m doing here?”

“You can’t do that! There must be consequences to meddling with the timeline!” protests the elder.

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?!” the young man roars. “YOU THINK THIS IS JUST SOME STROLL IN THE PARK FOR ME?! OF COURSE I’M TRYING TO CHANGE WHAT HAPPENED AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT IT COSTS! IT COULD COST MY LIFE AND I WOULDN’T GIVE A DAMN! THEY DESERVED BETTER! YOU—” Fury falters as the words catch in his throat and the edges of his vision blurs. “You deserve better.”

Guilt resonates on that marred face; this is why Xehanort never told him. Eraqus had said a million times over that what happened wasn’t Xehanort’s fault, but a deep sadness settled in Eraqus’s heart that was clear to the Seeker. For Xehanort, the loss of his friends was already unbearable enough, but to have the love of his life stuffing down his turmoil behind a flighty façade tipped the scales. So now he’s here.

With a look of defeat, Eraqus pleads, “Don’t do this. Please.”

“I’m doing this for you.” Again, the older master begins to argue, but the younger has had enough and pulls away. “You couldn’t stop me then, and based on what I’ve seen today, you can’t stop me now. Take care of yourself.”

With that, Xehanort leaves.

It’s been a few hours since the confrontation, but Xehanort still hasn’t found a single clue to the whereabouts of his present self. He’s hopped a few worlds and even double checked those he’d been drawn to in the past, but nothing comes up. Worst of all, something is pulling him back to the Land of Departure. He can’t shake the feeling that, no matter what Eraqus says, Xehanort would return to him eventually. They must still love each other or else he wouldn’t be here.

His arrival is noiseless and unnoticed, but with each step closer to the castle, he hears the escalating sounds of a battle. Peering around a pillar across from the castle steps, Xehanort sees Eraqus squaring off with a young, brunette man.

As he watches, Xehanort notices enough between the two to speculate that there’s a clearly straining relationship. Considering the use of darkness by the younger man and Eraqus’s violent abhorrence of it, Xehanort assumes that’s the cause of the clash. The winner would be an easy call if it were a simple fight, but that boost of darkness significantly closes the gap; so it comes as a surprise when the younger warrior rushes past Eraqus, causing him to stumble. It takes every bit of self-control Xehanort has not to act on protective urges as the Master’s Defender falls from its wielder’s hand.

Terra, as named by Eraqus, is upset with his success. He cries over it, but his master is the one to apologize, admitting that his own heart is full of darkness. That declaration plays in the gray area of Xehanort’s mind. He already knows Eraqus is a good man with his heart bound to the light. What he doesn’t understand is that light, too, can make mistakes—mistakes which may beget darkness. Xehanort has tried explaining this before, but the noble would have none of it.

A dark figure at the top of the stairs catches Young Xehanort’s eye too late. A blaring ring fills his ears seeing that man aim a familiar weapon. There’s no time to react; he’s too far away to do anything. Before Xehanort’s very eyes, the man he loves, and should have always loved, fades.

With the reality of what happened beginning to sink in, his eyes focus on the man strolling down the steps. Anger ignites in his heart until he hears Terra question the stranger.

“Master Xehanort! Why?”

Master Xehanort—that man, the very person who killed his beloved Eraqus, is Xehanort himself.

A dark storm swallows the sky, mirroring the wrath churning in the young man’s chest. With nothing but that rage guiding him, he rushes after the assassin into the dark portal. This new land is empty and barren save the mass of foreboding keyblades strewn about, but Xehanort has other concerns right now. Waiting just outside his attack range is the murderer.

That man’s voice is filled with the gravel of age, but no remorse can be detected. “I wondered when you would arrive.”

“You killed Eraqus.” Fists tremble at the young man’s sides, that quivering creeping into his chest.

“I did.” Only a man scorned like Young Xehanort could withstand those chilling yellow eyes.

Furious, he yells back, “That’s it?! That’s all you have to say?! How could you?! He was the only reason I didn’t throw myself off the citadel! HE’S THE REASON YOU STILL EXIST!”

“Ah, the foolishness of my youth.” His casual dismissal drives the young Seeker’s heart rate up. “It’s true he’s the reason I exist today, but Eraqus’s departure was necessary. You know firsthand how loyal his heart is to the light.”

The response tears from his throat. “AND THAT’S JUSTIFICATION TO MURDER HIM?!”

“He just didn’t understand that this is all for him, to create the life that he should’ve had. You knew there were consequences to meddling with time.”

With no comeback, the young adult sneers, but the old master has one last remark that cuts to the quick.

“As you said: they deserved better—he deserves better.”

The words spoken just hours ago, shoved back in his face, incite the anguish burning in his heart. Rationality devolves and Young Xehanort charges his future self.

All his life, Xehanort let his mind dictate his path. Moves were not made without thought to the consequences, but this—this is something beyond even the purpose of this mission and everything in him is screaming for revenge. Grief and anger cloud his judgement and spur attacks too straightforward to connect, however, that sloppiness doesn’t discourage him.

Old Xehanort swipes, successfully disarming his younger self, and with the same ruthlessness shown to his former love, he eliminates the man from the past.

Golden eyes meet gold; even as he’s being dragged back into his own time, the young man emanates his fury.

Unbothered by the turn of events, the victor simply states, “One day, you will understand.”

~~~~~

The elder watches his past self disappear among the shadows. It’s unfortunate how naïve he was, but this was to be expected—he and Eraqus had been so in love. Xehanort still possesses those feelings, which is why the decision had been so difficult. There’s a hole in his heart but he understands that sometimes things must be broken for them to become better and that’s the sort of thing the Seeker is betting on.

In lieu of these unfortunate circumstances, he’s going to have to prepare a backup—to persuade his young self into venturing into the future a second time.

As the thought occurs, darkness flares from the ground, creating a portal from which steps the young man that just tried to smite him. He’s more prepared than he gave himself credit for. He beckons the young man to follow to discuss the details of their plan. Even as they speak, the senior can see a spark in the new master’s eyes. There’s a curiosity that he will no doubt seek answers for.

“How is Eraqus?”

He should’ve known.

Enacting his hard-earned skill of smothering his emotions, the old man answers, “Eraqus is dead.”

The youth freezes, clearly distraught. “How?”

A deep breath conveys true sorrow while concealing the lie. “The same as the others.”

Hard determination grows on the young man’s face. Knowing that look and knowing himself, old Master Xehanort has ensured his ignorant self’s unquestionable devotion to the mission.

~~~~~

Despair shakes his heart, waking the young man. Opening heavy eyelids, Young Xehanort finds a room illuminated with soft moonlight. Although this is not his room, it’s still familiar. Normally this place would bring him some solace but the discomfort he feels is intense.

Whatever this is, it’s akin to a nightmare, slipping from his grasp as he tries to remember; it’s confusing and upsetting and damn near painful. Xehanort has had days where getting up for training was hard, he’s been injured so badly he’s been unable to stand, and he’s suffered unending fatigue at the hands of depression; but none of that compares to the sheer heartache of this moment and he doesn’t even understand why.

Gentle humming draws his gaze lower and he immediately chokes down a whimper. Pressed flush against him is the love of his life, peacefully snoring away. Even with his messy hair and a little drool, he’s absolutely beautiful. No sight could be more stunning and yet, it’s also the most painful. Whatever vice is clenching down on Xehanort’s heart has to do with Eraqus.

Of course, Xehanort’s always had those fears that maybe he can’t make Eraqus happy or that maybe he’s not good enough—as quoted by the noble’s parents—but even those feel so trivial compared to this dread. It breaks him more than anything ever has.

His quivering is impossible to stifle and sniffles begin sneaking past his defense. To make matters worse, his sleeping partner stirs.

“Xehanort?” Such a sweet sound worsens the turmoil. “Xe, what’s wrong?”

There it is: the first hiccup that destroys the weary dam holding everything in and he breaks down right there.

Eraqus doesn’t press for an answer but instead holds his sweetheart tightly. With the unknown sorrow flooding his system, Xehanort sobs into his boyfriend’s chest, desperately hoping to get this misery under control before he has to say goodbye to Eraqus in the morning.

#xehanort #eraqus #young xehanort #xehaqus #checkmate-zine #kh zine

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goldrogerstits · 4 years

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How to edit and color manga-caps

This is a tutorial on how I personally color and edit manga caps in photoshop. I’ve done my best to explain my editing and coloring process but English isn’t my native language so please excuse any grammatical errors! Anyway, let’s get started💛

Clean-up

First of all you need a clean manga cap to work with. Start by erasing the parts of the image that you don’t want to keep and redraw parts if necessary. In this case I erased the speech bubble and redrew parts of the sparkles surrounding Komurasaki. Try to stay consistent with the artists original style If you redraw parts of the image as it will be very noticeable if you’ve strayed too far from the original style. I recommend that you study the line width especially and try to emulate that!

Then level the image as seen in this tutorial by @aldiwali, by leveling the image you erase some of those grainy dots surrounding the line-art. I’ve also found that it helps darken the line art! When you are done with clean-up separate the line art from the background. I’ve already made an in-depth tutorial how to do that (and erase more of those grainy dots) so I’ll link that here: X.

Once you’ve cleaned your manga cap and separated the line art from the background you can start putting down your base colors and flats!

Coloring process

Start with a simple base color for the skin, I usually go for #9e7e7d as that will give the skin a nice warm tone once your done! Then make a copy of your base layer. Go to your copy of your base layer, right click and create clipping mask and color it with something more akin to an actual skin tone. Combine the clipping mask and the copy of your base layer, then lower the opacity to your liking, I usually go for around 85% opacity.

This step is very unnecessary and you don’t need to actually do this (just a normal skin-tone as a base) but I do it out of habit. If you look at some of my older stuff it’s way more noticeable (see example down below).

If you use this method please be aware of that it does tend to lighten colors so I don’t recommend that you use this method for when you’re using darker colors.

BONUS TIP for when you’re coloring: Make a color palette! I try to keep track of what colors I use for different characters but it’s easy to get a bit lost so I actually made a little color palette as a reference for myself. That way I can easily keep track of what colors I like to use for a base and for shading.

Anyways.... back to the actual tutorial! Time to color the rest of the image! Try to get some good reference pictures of the character/characters (preferably something that was colored by the actual artist) if you’re going for canon colors. I usually play around with hues for a bit before I’m happy with results! For example I gave Komurasakis red dress more of a purple/pink undertone to make it work better with her fan and the flowers in her hair.

Try to divide your colors into different layers to make the shading process easier but don’t make to many separate layers as that can get a bit confusing! I try to divide my layer based on color and placement!

If you’re not using a reference for what colors you’re going to use I recommend that you at least follow a color scheme. Try to find colors that work with each other but still contrast each other. A lot of people will be looking at your graphics trough their phone and a lot of details will be lost so by making your colors contrast each other you keep some of clarity! I’m not saying that you shouldn’t use colors that are very similar but you should keep the format which your graphics will be looked at in mind.

Anyways now that we’ve colored everything we need to add color to the parts of the line-art that aren’t supposed be black, in this case we need to add color to the hair, lips, fan and dress. Go to your line-art layer, right click, make a clipping mask and then you can color the line-art. Your layers should look similar to this:

Make a base which you can work off later as seen below.

I usually color everything first and then I refine the outlines with the help of the eraser. Try to keep the width of the outline consistent with the rest of the line-art, otherwise it won’t be as seamless. (I did’t outline her hairline as it’s very “feathered” and I wanted to keep that feeling, but I usually outline the hairline too)

You don’t have to separate each color into its own clipping mask as that isn’t going to make any difference when you shade everything later. Now time to add the line-art to the hair!

Line-art

I do recommend using some sort of drawing tablet to make your new line-art. It’s not that isn’t possible to do it without one but it’s a bit tedious to it with a mouse or touchpad.

If you use a drawing tablet use a brush that allows you to control the stroke weight of the brush. I usually go for one of the default brushes but I’m sure that there are a tons of fun brushes out there to play with!

Create another layer just above your manga-cap, this is where we’ll draw the new line-art! Try to follow the “flow” of the original line-art. In this case it’s fairly easy for me to see where line-art would fit naturally thanks to the way Oda choose to illustrate the “shine” on Komurasakis hair!

Look at the area that I’ve encircled, it’s easy to imagine that that’s where Oda would have chosen to add the line-art if he hadn’t colored the hair black. If you can’t find any of these spots try to find a few references for how the original artist does the line-art when it’s in full color. For example I used the cover of volume 92 to get a feeling of how I wanted my line-art to look.

Basically try to find what makes the original artists line-art distinct and copy that for your own line-art!

After I’m done with my line-art I go back to the black base and fill in some of the empty spaces that were left by the artist for clarity. Like the gap between the line-art and the deep purple parts of the her fan. When your happy with your base and line-art you can start shading!

Shading

(Before I start shading I generally color in all the stuff I left out like her eyes, makeup and the shine on her hair. I also decided to outline her eyebrows.)

Let’s start with shading the flats! Add a clipping mask to your layer and set the layer style to multiply. The amount of layers I use differ from color to color but I tend to stick between two our four layers of shading. When you’re shading use a color that is soft but with enough contrast to your base so it doesn’t blend into it. I generally use a color with a warmer tone to shade but the you can play around with colors and tones to add different effects.

Create a clipping mask and set the layer style to overlay or soft light to highlight certain areas with a lighter color. I tend to play around a bit with the opacity before I’m happy the results. When you’re finished with shading the flats you can start shading the base!

It’s basically the same thought process as before, just add a clipping mask your base layer and set to multiply! Your layers should look like this:

And that’s it! We’ve shaded everything and we’re basically done! There’s just a few more minor things to do.

Details / Coloring the line-art

I like coloring the line-art as it gives the graphic some extra color. To add color to your line-art just do as we did before. Make a clipping mask and color the lines, simple as that! Try to use colors that are dark enough that the line-art isn’t lost.

I did some finale clean-up, colored the sparkles surrounding Komurasaki, added som motion filters to that, fixed the background and that’s that! We’re done! That’s how I edit and color manga-caps! I hope this helps! I might have gotten lost on a few tangents so please feel free to ask questions if you need clarification on anything💛

#gahhhh I hope I spelled everything right #anyways I hope you guys enjoy this #this isnt the only way to color #and edit manga caps its just the way I do it!!! and im not a professional or anything I simply do this because it's fun!#tutorial #coloring tutorial #coloring #manga coloring #manga #one piece #op #shonen jump #opgraphics

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lovemybluebully · 3 years

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Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

#tickling #tickletorture #tickle #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #wolverine #loganhowlett #xtas #dangerroom #ticklefic #scottsummers #cyclops #marvel #tickleart

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Mold Me New (3) — Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 3.7k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Terry has given very generic instructions to Frog about how to retrieve her birthday gift. A more then welcome surprise follows.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None. (Wow. I’m shocked.)

Once more let me thank potter supreme @joheunsaram (I’d be wandering in darkness and despair without you. Lob U)

Here is my complete masterlist and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

“Hello?”

You felt deeply embarrassed venturing into the backyard of a stranger.

“Excuse me? Hello?”

The heavy sound of something slamming against the floor of a garage had you slightly worried. You were ready to run away when the door opened. The neighbourhood wasn’t familiar to you and Terry’s refusal to tell you anything about the specific address she had given you scared you even more.

You feared you’d end up at one of Terry’s friends with benefit’s house.

You changed your mind, however, when you recognised the man standing out of the door.

“Frog? Is that you?”

“Taehyung?” You said, recalling the name of the man. You had met him only a couple days before, spending a good time with his friends while your own had ditched you.

“Hello Frog!” He exclaimed, incredibly happy to see you. “Are you here for a four pm meeting?”

“All I know is that Terry told me to be here by four. She gave me the address but,” you laughed, shaking your head and touching your hair nervously. “She didn’t mention it was you. She didn’t say anything. She only said it was a surprise.”

Taehyung’s laugh exploded suddenly, deep and loud. “That explains many, many things.” He nodded to himself, waiting for you to get closer. “Welcome to my studio,” he said, letting the door open a bit wider.

The space inside was bright and airy, with a wall that resembled a glasshouse, while the others were made of brick and lined with shelves. In a corner you noticed a strange contraption, like an iron cauldron, and an unfamiliar machine close to a basin. There was also a large table all along the glass wall, like it was waiting for plants to be hosted, but none were found.

“With me you’ll learn the humble, raw art of modelling clay.”

You turned to him with a furrowed brow, completely confused. “Clay?”

“Yes. Clay.”

“You model clay?” You asked, giving him an amused look.

“I am an artist,” he stated clearly. “I also model clay but that’s not all I do.”

“So that’s my gift? A clay lesson?”

“Ten clay lessons. I’ll make you an intermediate.” Taehyung reached a wooden cabinet, opening it and taking out a large block of clay, grabbing something from his apron and detaching a smaller part before putting the clay back in the cabinet. “But first, let me get you an apron.”

You felt your eyes blink in confusion. “You teach?”

“Art should answer anyone’s calls, in my opinion. I help people learn how to call.”

You were positively impressed. The quiet, if a bit Darcy-esque man, seemed relaxed and talkative in his natural habitat.

Taehyung reached a coat hook on the wall, giving a good look at you before choosing a garment suitable for your height. “This should do,” he said, offering it to you and letting you put it on.

You appreciated the independence he allowed you, allowing you to wear it yourself. You hung your tote on the now free hook and slipped your arms and head into the different loops before closing the tie around your waist in a cute ribbon.

“You'll want to fix your hair before your hands get messy,” Taehyung suggested, watching you carefully get it out of harm's way, since the last thing you wished for was dirt in your hair.

“You didn’t mention you teach art the other night.”

He smiled shyly. “The night you introduced yourself, I remembered I had gift lessons booked under your name. I wanted your birthday surprise to stay a surprise.”

You were entirely endeared at the thought. “That’s very sweet of you!” You exclaimed, watching him collect the piece of clay he had previously cut.

“It’s not a big deal,” he murmured, looking away as his cheeks blushed.

He was eager to watch you learn. He already felt like your hands could have so much potential. He had studied them all night after he met you, watching the sinewy fingers arch and straighten and hold and curve. “Okay, let’s start from a little bit of theory.”

He moved to the table by the window, “Would you mind grabbing a bowl with some water, there?” He pointed to a large utility sink in one of the corners, where you found a bowl and filled it halfway with water.

You made a careful work of walking to the table, placing down the bowl and sighing in relief once you realised you had caused no issues so far.

“Two questions. Have you ever used clay before?”

You snorted and shook your head. “Nope.”

“So you supposedly know nothing about it?”

“Exactly.”

He chuckled and bobbed his head. “That’s okay. All you need to know so far, is that clay is a mineral, and it can have different compositions which make it more or less difficult to model and to cook. I’ll have you use very generic clay, which is suitable for beginners, isn’t too picky about cooking and will look a bit plain, but is also pretty easy to shape. You’ll thank me later.”

You raised your eyebrows and smiled.

“It’s easy to work with, it cooks at low temperature and is also cheap, which will make it better if you ever choose to continue this hobby,” he explained. “It will take a fairly long time for you to master several techniques with this one, so no use spending money on fancy stuff. We’ll keep that for when you’re an upper intermediate. All cool?” He asked, checking in on you with his beautiful, dark eyes.

He had very pretty eyes, you noticed.

“Yes, got that.” You confirmed, startling when he slammed the clay against the table.

“Cool.” He replied with half a grin. “Let’s start from zero.”

Once more he extracted a tool from the pocket of his apron, showing it to you. “This is a wire. You’ll find one in your apron too.”

You rummaged in the pocket and found it. “This will help you with step one — Wait. Lemme start from very very zero.”

He walked back to the cabinet and dragged a block of clay out — the one he’d cut a piece from a few minutes ago. “This is called craft clay or potters’ clay. It’s ready-made and you can buy it in any diy shop. Some artists make their own mix, but let’s start with this since it’s specifically made for learners.”

“It looks very tough,” you commented, testing the small amount he’d cut before, prodding it with your finger.

“It just needs some love,” he explained, pouting sadly. “Clay is so misunderstood. It needs to be firm. But it’s pliable, as long as you treat it appropriately.”

You arched your eyebrows. “I just thought it was softer. Messier, somehow.”

“It is once you wedge it and moisturise it.” Taehyung acknowledged. “Clay contains platelets. Platelets make it solid, but also plastic as long as it’s not dry. Right now you have two enemies. Shape memory and air.”

Taehyung’s hands got on the piece instinctively. “Today I’ll only manage to explain wedging and centering. So be careful and pay attention. If you mess up wedging, your life will get ten times more impossible on the wheel. Let’s start.” He brought the main block back in the cabinet. “That one needs to stay fresh.”

Once at the table he settled beside you. “What’s wedging?” You asked, staring at your piece of clay.

“Wedging is your starting point. As you saw earlier, ready- made clay comes in blocks. Which means square. On the wheel, you’ll always start from a cute soft ball. Which means round.”

Taehyung’s hands massaged the clay for comfort. He felt somehow uneasy at the way he was going to interact with you. “Basically clay holds memory of the shape it was in. You want to erase it to make it more pliable. Like… When an introvert is in their comfort zone for too long and you need to get them back in society and you just… force them in several different social circumstances to warm them up, make them more versatile. More sociable.”

God, he felt ridiculous. He was using his inner turmoil to explain pottery.

He was going to defenestrate himself.

“Okay,” you laughed. “I got the introvert thing. I like the parallel.” You smiled and for a second you thought about all the years you’d been there, shaped like a block to fit inside someone’s life — or to fit them in yours.

You could use some wedging too.

“We usually wedge on plaster, or concrete or wood, because they get the extra water out of the clay. You want it to be a tiny bit humid. But not wet.” Taehyung spread his large hands over the small disk in front of him. “You want to make it more homogeneous. Uniform. For today let’s use the ram’s head method. It’s basically like kneading dough.”

His hair fell over his eyes as he bent down, leaning towards the table. “We have a small amount of clay, since you’re starting. You basically want it to become a thick block first.”

He bent the disk in two, turning it in a thicker, longer rectangle before placing his hands to the opposite sides and pressing, making the clay become more compact.

“Okay, try,” he invited you to do the same.

You mimicked his actions, focusing on the cold, solid feeling of the material under your fingertips.

“Use your palms. Don’t be afraid to get your whole hands on it. You’ll need all your strength.”

You nodded and followed his lead, the cold expanding to your palms, the feeling amplifying beautifully. It was somehow reinvigorating after the initial strangeness.

“Good. Now. Ram’s head.” He inhaled and regained his position. “These,” he said, wiggling his fingers, “and these,” he explained circling his hand around his shoulder. “That’s where you want to focus. All your strength resides there. You won’t feel it right now, but you will once you work with larger pieces.” He steadied himself and placed his palms on the sides of the piece. “Palms on the sides. Your wrists will do all the work. Your thumbs wrap around the top of the piece. The other fingers on the back of the piece. Focus on the wrists. You want to push the clay downwards first, then outwards, to the back of the piece. Okay. Position your hands.”

Taehyung stood straight up, allowing you to see his clay, on top of which he was previously bent over.

“I’m not…” You frowned and tried to feel the clay under your hands, trying to recognise the different sides.

“It’s okay. May I?” He asked, bringing his right hand close to yours.

You nodded, waiting for the contact.

It was chalky, somehow, almost dusty with the way the clay was already drying up, but it still held some cold dampness.

He corrected your fingers, staring at them and giving them a slight twist. “This way your wrists should reach just fine.”

He stood at your side, respecting your personal space even though his hand touched you. The smile on his face was the gentlest, most exciting thing you had felt in a while.

“Okay, mirror it with your left,” he told you as he stepped back, regaining his own space.

“This feels nice,” you admitted, giving the first twist of your wrist.

“Let’s see if you still think so after wedging for twenty minutes,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Twenty minutes!?” You said, already worried.

He giggled and shook his head, his curls brushing against his forehead, which you didn’t notice, because you were too busy focusing on the clay under your hands.

“Ten, usually. Twenty if you need very pliable clay. Like if you’re doing hand-building. But we can use something a bit rougher.” Taehyung helped you get out of the position your clay body was stuck in. “Help it with your fingers. Bring it back, yes,” he encouraged you once the position was right. “And now your wrists. Exactly. Look at you. You’re learning!”

He looked excited when you turned to look at him. He was literally shining with the meek sunlight coming from the window.

“I’m learning!” Your excitement mirrored his own.

“Okay, now, watch. This is why it’s called ram’s head.” Taehyung showed you the spiral on the sides, and the elongated triangle on the front.

“That looks fancy!” You said, feeling curious about the shape.

“Keep going and yours will be just like this!” He spurred you on, making you work harder and faster, which eventually led you to the ruthless burning that possessed your arms afterwards.

With his elbow, Taehyung pointed at your shoulder blade. “Just push your body weight into the clay. The whole motion should mimic a wave,” he showed you how. “If your hands are positioned right, you only need to lean in to wedge— Just. Like. That! Good job, Frog!”

You smiled and went on, paying attention to his corrections, and his gentle advice, enjoying the gentleness with which his pinkie finger pointed to a specific direction, or a finger that was in the wrong position, realigning it.

“Nice! Now, tuck the corners in in a cute fluffy ball. See how soft and warm and round it feels now?”

You nodded enthusiastically. There was something in menial tasks that always made you happy with yourself. Seeing the results of your efforts and hard work always made you feel accomplished, productive.

And it’s been a while since you felt that rush, except for seeing an organised shelf in your shop, with books neatly aligned and rated.

“Okay. I’ll show you how to work the wheel. We got little time left, so maybe I can show you the groundwork and then you can toy around with the body I centred, so you can get familiar with the feeling.”

You agreed.

Taehyung gave a few more twists to your clay body and brought it to the wheel. “Okay. Here we go. Forget Ghost, this thing is a lot more difficult than that. And forget all that water. Too messy. Bowl?” He asked.

Your forehead creased as he pointed to a small stand with a basin. It looked like a short version of a vintage stand for those porcelain bowls used in bedrooms.

You moved it closer to him.

“Thank you,” he smiled and caught the clay body, throwing it on the middle of the turning plate, currently still as he hadn’t yet activated the wheel.

“You can aim for the centre. There’s an indentation to show it. See,” he pointed to the plate. “There are all these circles to show you if you’re actually following the shape.”

He dipped a finger in the bowl, letting the extra water drip down, until it was just slightly damp. “You run around the base to seal it. That way you don’t need to slam it down and you don’t risk watching it unstick and mess around with you.”

“Okay. Great!”

“Now. Position is very important. With your legs you hold the holster and the wheel. Don’t worry about getting too close. Check three things. Knees around the wheel. Elbows braced on your thighs — that will stabilise you. And your torso leans forward. Not angled but perpendicular to the wheel. You need to be right on top of it, so your weight sinks down. Not across.” He showed you the correct position, his lean frame protecting the ball of clay like a hen defends her chicks.

Watching him become so tactile and connected with the material under his hands was endearing, but also fascinating, especially with the way his hands wrapped around the body.

“Okay, let me centre it for you, then you can try. It’s a procedure that can go back and forth, so I’ll have you doing this over and over for a few times. It will help you familiarise with it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, watching his fingers sink in the water. “Now, trick. You wet your hands. Let them drip down just a little, so you don’t drench your piece. If the piece is drenched, the platelets will loosen and the walls of your cup, bowl, vase, whatever will collapse. And we don’t want that, right?”

The way his head snapped towards you with an inquisitive look made you shake your head and reply readily, “nope.”

“Exactly. So, we sink our hands in, rest, and— one, two three, drip and—” he moved his hands over the clay body, letting a few tens of droplets fall onto the material. “Nice and wet. Not sodden, of course. We don’t want that, remember?”

You blinked and nodded as his hands started moving.

Taehyung grinned as he noticed your captivated gaze. You were learning. You were curious, interested, completely amazed. It was the most satisfying look he had ever seen. “This is your treasure now. You curl yourself around it and protect it. Like a dragon hoards its gold.”

He leaned down into the piece, his foot looking for the pedal and pressing it down very, very delicately.

“Your pinkies and ring fingers are doing all the work right now. They seal around the base, reinforcing the sealing we did before. Once you gave enough spins around the base — oh, feel the plate with the side of your pinkie and palm!” He reminded himself, showing you the part of his hand and securing it around the wheel once more. He corrected his position. “You will feel the clay push you up. That’s when your palms close in. You want to make sure it goes up.”

The wheel suddenly stopped and Taehyung showed you the result. “See. Cute mushroom shape. A two inch stem, and then the round hat.”

You bent down to check and studied the way the table started spinning slowly again, showing you the consistent shape.

“More water. Same technique.” He repeated the dip-drip process. “Now. Pinkies stay in. Lots of pressure. And your palms are going to push the hat of the mushroom up. You want it to turn into a cone. So once the hat disappears, you’re gonna keep your hands steady, with a lot of pressure, and drag them up, slowly. And bend them inwards slightly, into a tip.” He followed the process with his hands, his fingers steady and his veins thicker at the effort and the pressure. The way his elbows braced against his hands brought even more blood to the back of his palms.

Still, you didn’t let that cloud your focus. You stared at the process, especially once he stopped the wheel and took his hands off.

“Now we’re bringing it downwards with the thumbs. We’re helping it regain the center. This,” he prodded the ball of his thumb, the soft part where the finger could sink, “is the part that gains the centre. You push it down, while your fingers lean over. Like you’re projecting energy from your palms.” He finished showing the procedure, showing how the ball of clay was a perfectly round dome, placed in the exact middle of the wheel.

“Now you take the lead!” He turned to you with a grin.

With a shy blush you watched him stand up and gesture to the seat elegantly.

You settled down and fixed your position around the wheel, following the instructions he had given you previously.

“That’s nice. Closer.” He corrected you helping your seat closer to the holster of the wheel.

“Now we’re ready to go. Wet your hands—” he directed you, helping you count the dip and drip. “Steady.”

You placed your pinkies tightly around the base, feeling the dome a bit too large for your hands. That’s because it was shaped for his large hands.

“Yes. Steady,” he encouraged you. “Go.”

The taglist is open!

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

#taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction #thetruthuntoldnet #thebtswritersclub #Taehyung strangers to lovers

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Silver Mist - part 3/3 - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

warning: adult content, read the ao3 tags

Every enchantment had a weak point.

There was a reason there were more cultivators than foxes out there, why even the cleverest fox had to hide behind a human mask and pretend to some level of decency – why Nie Huaisang had been so careful with playing with his brother, his most favorite and most precious of people. There would come a time when he got weakened, or distracted, or something, and suddenly all his enchantments would slip through his fingers, breaking down, and he’d be left with nothing but what he earned fair and square.

(Nie Huaisang’s mother, the second Madame Nie, had disappeared right after he’d been born, and yet it was Nie Mingjue’s mother that everyone said went away, that everyone recalled leaving, not his – his mother was the one they all said had died.)

Nie Huaisang lived in fear of that moment.

When his brother burned his fans in a rage, he thought – this is it. He’s remembered.

He hates me now.

It was all so very frustrating, too, because he’d finally settled everything just the way he liked it: his da-ge in his life and in his bed, feeding him with his heart and body and happy to see him flourish. It was all he needed in life, just that and nothing more. Sure, Nie Huaisang loved the gifts his brother’s sworn brothers brought for him – he’d always been spoiled beyond belief, and never saw any reason to change. It was ironic, really, that it was Jin Guangyao’s gifts that his brother always found fault with, not Lan Xichen’s which were just as multitudinous, but perhaps it was because he needed to wheedle and whine and beg for gifts from Jin Guangyao.

With Lan Xichen, he just needed to smile.

(Lan Xichen was always weak to a smile. Back at the Cloud Recesses, during the war, his weak protests had died at once at the sight of a smug little curl of the lip as Nie Huaisang pressed him down and climbed on top of him –)

Lan Xichen’s ears didn’t turn red the way Lan Wangji’s did, nor did he duck his head and grin the way Wei Wuxian did, Nie Huaisang observed judiciously, but that didn’t mean he could hide his embarrassment at the very sight of Nie Huaisang, and that made it very easy indeed to talk him into buying Nie Huaisang all the gifts he could possibly want with barely any protest. Maybe a But your brother - that quickly cut off when Nie Huaisang pressed his fan to his lips, but nothing more, and then he’d go above and beyond to find an excuse to take Nie Huaisang shopping for anything that caught his eyes.

But Jin Guangyao…

Sometimes Nie Huaisang would swear that his san-ge gave him all those gifts in front of his da-ge on purpose, the sneaky little minx, even though he knew Nie Mingjue would only rage at him for it.

Nie Huaisang’s presents burned, and he shouted and screamed and fled and cried, and he waited in his da-ge’s bedroom shivering in fear but unwilling to back down. He was a Nie, after all, and being a fox didn’t make him any less that.

“Huaisang?” his brother said, coming in through the door.

He looked – tired.

Tired, not angry; his eyes were bloodshot and he appeared to be in pain – his da-ge, his brave and bold da-ge who feared nothing, in pain!

“Da-ge, what’s wrong?” Nie Huaisang said fitfully, deciding to ignore… everything, at least for the moment. “Why are you like this? What happened?”

“I don’t –” His brother rubbed at his face. “I don’t know. I – I got so angry –”

His nose was bleeding, Nie Huaisang noticed, and frowned. “Da-ge?”

Maybe this wasn’t about what he’d been doing at all.

“Da-ge, come here,” he said, and his brother came to him. “Lie down,” he said, and his brother obeyed, free and clear and of his own volition. “What’s wrong with you?”

“The saber spirit,” Nie Mingjue said dully, staring up at the ceiling. “I thought I’d have longer.”

Nie Mingjue had never explained the exact details of their family’s cultivation technique, only postponed discussing it, and so Nie Huaisang had known there was something wrong with it – his brother only ever shared good things with him, while shielding him from the bad. He’d taught him everything he could, omitting only the last few details, and thus it was in those details that the problem lay.

As if Nie Huaisang couldn’t guess, when every generation of his ancestors had died from a qi deviation.

He scowled.

“It can’t be,” he said, settling down next to his brother on the bed. “You haven’t even been cultivating it that much, recently. Not more than your usual training.”

“Maybe it’s the war?” his brother wondered aloud. “After-effects, only becoming apparent once my cultivation increased further –”

“But the recent increase in your cultivation isn’t even because of saber cultivation!” Nie Huaisang argued. “You’ve been helping me, instead; it’s completely different, a totally different approach. A problem with one method wouldn’t affect an increase in your cultivation through another.”

His brother frowned.

“Huaisang,” he said, his brow furrowing, his eyes clear and thinking – thinking and realizing. “Your new cultivation ‘technique’…”

…oops.

“It’s only because I love you so much, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said at once, immediately pulling himself up and over to straddle on Nie Mingjue’s lap. It gave him an unfortunate view into the expression of shock and no little bit of horror currently forming on his brother’s face, but he needed any advantage he could get – he wouldn’t be able to pull his brother into the trance state like this, not when he’d realized, not when he was fully sober. Nie Huaisang had gotten stronger since they’d started this, but not strong enough to beat his brother when his brother was trying. “Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t I show you how much I love you?”

“Huaisang! There are – you can’t – you’re not allowed to love me that much!”

“Why not?” Nie Huaisang said, and when his da-ge tried to sit up he put his hand on his chest and pushed him back down. Maybe it was the angle, maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was just that his brother wasn’t really trying, but he managed it, and immediately a short sharp shock went straight to his cock. “Why not? Who’s it hurting?”

“Who is it – me! You’re doing it to me!”

“And sometimes you do it to me, what’s your point?” Nie Huaisang said, breezing past the fact that his brother wasn’t referring to penetration at all. “If we keep it discreet, no one will learn from our bad example, and you weren’t really looking for a spouse anyway, were you? You always wanted to leave the sect to me. Why shouldn’t I have you? I want you.”

“Huaisang –”

Nie Huaisang ground his hips down and felt the answering twitch. “It’s too late, anyway,” he said, and his brother stared up at him. “Look at you. I’ve already ruined you – you’ve got my words in your brain, in your core. You’ve had my cock up your ass and you’ve loved it, you get hard just thinking about my cock in your mouth –”

“Because you put it in my head.”

“Just because I put it there doesn’t mean it’s not still there,” Nie Huaisang said, and leaned forward to press his lips to his brother’s neck. “It’s still in there, da-ge. And if it is, then what’s the point of not letting me have you? Haven’t I been taking good care of you, all this time? And look at where it’s gotten us: you sleep better, you eat better, you have the strength to train, I’m stronger than ever before… I’m a good didi, da-ge, I’m your good didi.”

His brother was weakening. Nie Huaisang could feel it in his heartbeat.

“You didn’t take advantage of me,” he whispered, intimate as the lover he had made himself into. “I took advantage of you. There’s nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be guilty for. The act’s already been done, plenty of times – the line’s been crossed, and there’s no going back. There’s only the way forward.”

“Huaisang…”

“Don’t I have your heart?” Nie Huaisang demanded. His fingernails were like claws where they dug into his brother’s chest as if to rip it out himself, his teeth like fangs filling his mouth; he didn’t know what his face looked like right now and he didn’t care. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted – a cultivator as righteous as his brother would be a prize for any fox, any yao, any creature bent against humanity, but all Nie Huaisang wanted was what his brother had always given him freely. “You love me, you love me. Give me your heart and I’ll be happy. Da-ge, I’ll be so happy, you don’t even know, it’s everything I’ve always wanted and more. You give me anything and everything, you always have. Give me this, too.”

“I can’t,” his brother whispered, and it was only I can’t because he couldn’t make it I won’t. “Huaisang…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Nie Huaisang coaxed him. “I know you love me, and that’s enough. You don’t have to go against everything you are, da-ge, I’d never ask that of you. All I need you to do – the only thing you need to do – you know already, don’t you? You know what you need to do for me.”

Nie Mingjue did know.

All he had to do was let go, give in, and let the words already swirling beneath his skin come to the surface, sink willingly down into the quiet world where Nie Huaisang was master absolute, and Nie Huaisang would make sure that he never felt bad about any of it. Not ever again.

“Give me your heart,” Nie Huaisang said. “Please, da-ge.”

His da-ge’s heart, whole and entire with nothing held back, was the best thing he’d ever gotten.

The art of deception was misdirection.

Change one thing in a room at a time, and in time no one would notice that they were in a different room entirely. Set water simmering slowly, and the crabs would cook without ever thinking of escape. Dress up as a god and play the demon to confuse –

Nie Huaisang knew how to play with the hearts of men, for good or for evil, and in comparison their eyes were nothing much. A talisman for illusions, a mimicry of mannerisms – it was easy enough to pretend to be his brother, who was sleeping so sweetly in his bed. A deep sleep, a healing sleep; his poor brother’s meridians were all twisted up into something like a nightmare, but it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t straight out over time, together. All he needed was some sleep and some peace, and Nie Huaisang could give him both, so he did.

His brother had stirred briefly, hearing the siren call of duty, but Nie Huisang was a better siren by far. He promised him that it would be handled, and his brother trusted him to see it done – and he would.

No one knew that the Nie listening coldly to their requests wasn’t the right one.

Not even Jin Guangyao, who came with his head bowed and his demeanor meek, setting up his guqin to play music designed to provide clarity – he expected Nie Mingjue to be there, steady as a rock and just as unshakable, and so, to all appearances, he was. There was no reason to check any further.

He played.

Nie Huaisang listened, his eyes narrowing in a smile – oh, san-ge, he sighed. Oh, Meng Yao.

I always knew we were too much the same.

He did nothing, though, nothing but wait for the song to finish and Jin Guangyao to take his leave, bowing, and then he said, “Will you spend some time with Nie Huaisang today, before you return? He’s still upset from yesterday and not speaking to me.”

Why would he be speaking to his da-ge now? His brother was asleep, just as he ought to be, and speaking to him would only wake him.

Jin Guangyao had been expecting this, too. “Of course, da-ge,” he murmured, and Nie ‘Mingjue’ scowled, Nie Huisang scowled – no one who wanted to really hurt his brother deserved to use that term.

“Dismissed,” he said, and waited until Jin Guangyao left to remove the disguise, drifting out after him, calling, “San-ge!”

Jin Guangyao turned with a smile and Nie Huaisang threw himself forward, wrapping himself around his sworn brother-by-proxy’s dominant arm – he could use both, but he had a preference if you cared to look – and immediately burst out into chatter, complaints and stuff and nonsense, wailing on and on and on about how wronged he had been.

His voice modulated itself into a melody, the cadence quickening and slowing, rising and falling, infused with his own very special cultivation, and it wasn’t that much different from what it normally was – and Jin Guangyao wasn’t really listening to him anymore, anyway, not any more than it took to respond with a few hums of sympathy and the occasional word of consolation. Why would he? The situation wasn’t anything different from normal, from the boring and mundane and uninteresting, what with there being complaining and whining and Nie Huaisang, a younger brother that he trusted, even if only to be a complete idiot. Absolutely harmless.

Jin Guangyao wasn’t the cultivation genius Nie Mingjue was, but he’d had a very long way to go to catch up; he wouldn’t have made it to where he was now if he hadn’t taught himself the habit of constantly cultivating, drawing in qi from the outside and channeling it inwards. He did so now, unconsciously, spreading the effect throughout his entire body, pulling him inch by inch into something nice and comfortable, pleasantly restful.

There was no need for schemes with Nie Huaisang, after all. He was so silly, so useless; he couldn’t even really be used, only indulged, like the little brother Meng Yao had never been able to afford to have growing up. Look at how dependent he was: scared to do anything else, wholly in the palm of his hand.

There was nothing to fear.

There was only –

Listening.

Give me your heart.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #niecest #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #silver mist

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is an art form. It takes more than just having ingredients and following a recipe. It’s the flavour, texture, taste, and the presentation. It’s knowing why when things go wrong and how to fix it. It’s knowing the right kinds of ingredients to pick, how much of each should be combined, what techniques and methods to use. Baking is therapy. Baking is scientific. It is art. The ingredients are as follows:

Fresh strawberries

Sponge cake

Sugar

Heavy cream

Vanilla extract

You slice the freshly washed strawberries into halves as the stand mixer whips the two cups of heavy cream and quarter cup of sugar into medium peaks. Once you’ve got your components prepared, you slice the cooled sponge cake into two layers and set the bottom layer on a cake board on the turning cake table. You spread the whipped cream evenly with an offset spatula and layer the strawberries with cream on top. Afterwards, you place the other sponge cake on top and repeat the process. You finish the shortcake with strawberries on top for decorative purposes and pipe flowers with a twelve inch piping bag. “Very well done! Everyone give a round of applause for Y/N’s shortcake demonstration.” The teacher claps and the students around the counter follow suit. “Now it’s time for the real test.” She begins slicing the cake into pieces, but you’re not nervous whatsoever. You know you did a great job and your strawberry shortcake is worthy of salivating over. And as expected, while your classmates take careful bites and allow the flavour to linger on their tongue, there’s nothing but praise. “Wow, the sponge cake is so soft and moist.” “The cream is so smooth.” “It’s so fluffy.” “It’s melting in my mouth.” Even the teacher is nodding as she eats. But of course— “Isn’t it too sweet?” Jeon Jungkook has his brows deeply furrowed with a soured expression like he bit into a fucking lemon. His fork is cleaned but he puts the utensil down with a noisy clank, not wanting another bite. A muscle in your cheek twitches. “Didn’t you say that last time?” “Yeah.” He shrugs. “But you didn’t follow my advice. Obviously.” “Maybe you just have sensitive teeth, Jonhson.” “I don’t,” Jungkook deadpans, not appreciating how you pretend that you don’t know his name. “I don’t see anyone else complaining.” “Because they’re too nice to. If you can’t take criticism, then there’s nothing I can do, Y/N.” There are eyes flickering around. This happens often enough that no one’s particularly surprised, but there’s still bated breath held amongst your classmates. You open your mouth to retort. But the teacher eats with a thoughtful look, and then nods. “You’re right, Jungkook. You could lessen the sugar just a tad, Y/N. The strawberries are quite sweet this time around. Just goes to show that ingredients might always change, everyone!” “Okay.” You force a smile. “I’ll make a note of it.” “Alright class, now that we saw the demonstration, off you go! Watch that whipping cream! It shouldn’t be soft or hard peaks!” Everyone turns to leave, but your glare connects with Jeon’s until he turns around all the way. No matter what you make — Jeon Jungkook always complains that it’s too sweet. He’s a fucking ass. “What was up with that?” There are audible murmurs behind you. “I thought they were going to fight.” “In the kitchen? No. Maybe outside — but you know how it is.” “They still hate each other over the September incident?” “Well Jeon almost got Y/N expelled….” You turn around and once they realize they’ve been caught gossiping, they look away with big eyes and they quicken their hands. “So, uh, pass me the cream!” “Y-Yeah.” The teacher brings your attention back as she finishes marking the rubric. “Thanks for doing that demonstration for the whole class, Y/N. Job well done as usual. Just lessen the sweetness and you’re good to go.” You’re given ninety five percent. Full marks lost because of that asshat. You hope he can feel your glare on his backside. Eventually class ends and with your station all cleaned, hands washed, and apron put aside, you leave. Outside of the room, is the most handsome man on the planet waiting for you. The person who you love wholeheartedly. The person you’re most excited to see. Your person. He’s dressed in a white turtleneck sweater that you got him last year for his birthday, black jeans, and that baby blue trench that’s always soft to the touch. His dark hair is brushed and he’s leaning against the wall casually. But the glimmer in his sheepish eyes betrays the nonchalant exterior he tries to put on. And the corner of his plump lip pulls into a tender smile. “Hey—oof!” Laughter bubbles out of Seokjin’s mouth and his arms wrap around your frame after you quite literally leaped onto him. You barely manage to pull away from the man, having the strongest urge to stick to him forever. “I missed you.” You pout and he grins. “Missed you too, sweetheart.” You lean in to kiss your boyfriend silly. He holds you by your waist and you greet his plump, soft lips that makes you melt in a chaste peck. After a moment, you break away and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Should we go?” “Yeah.” Your steps sync together. “You won’t believe what happened to me today.” “What happened? Tell me.” The pair of you walk down the corridor together as the rest of the class continues to spill out. There are girls who caught sight of the heartwarming interaction and they hold their books to their chest as they sigh wistfully. “God, I’m so jealous. I want to be in love too. When am I going to get a boyfriend?” “At this rate, never.” “Hey! Rude!” “I’m kidding!” She giggles. “You just won’t get someone like Seokjin.” “Let’s be real, no one is gonna get someone like Seokjin — he’s just...perfect.” “They’re such a good couple, aren’t they? They’re gonna have such pretty…” Their voices fade, but Jungkook exits and hears their commentary. He turns to steal a glance at your backside down the hall. Jungkook scoffs audibly. “What?” Taehyung catches up to his best friend and swings an arm over his shoulder. The same-height brunette follows his line of sight and hums. “Jealous you’re not in a relationship?” “As if. It’s just pathetic, is all.” Jungkook looks away and they make their own way to the dining hall. “You really handed it to Y/N today.” Taehyung grins mischievously. “Like damn. I didn’t think her cake was half-bad. But you’re not scared it’s gonna come bite you in the ass, Kook? Y/N’s gonna hammer you down when it’s your turn for demonstration.” “So what? Like she knows what she’s even doing.” “Are you sure about that? She seems pretty decent at what she does to me.” “Decent isn’t good enough,” he says blankly. “She thinks she’s the shit but she came here to follow her boyfriend.” Taehyung whistles. “You still mad over September?” “She just irks me. Always has.” “Right, didn’t you guys go to high school together? You, Jin and her…” “We never talked. Whatever, it’s not worth talking about and wasting our time. Hey, what’s on the menu for lunch?” “You tell me. Jimin never texts us what’s new today. Dude just eats and then goes.” “What class does he even have right now?” “Bakery safety and sanitation.” Jungkook grins, remembering just how nightmarish that class was. “Rip.” The two of them turn the corner, moving the opposite way from you and Seokjin, and the hallway empties out.

Anxiousness boils at the pit of your stomach. Today’s the day you’ve been waiting for ever since you found out your application was accepted into the institution and you were successfully enrolled. Whatever results appear, it might dictate where you’re headed in the near and far future. The experience that you gain in these two years will pave the path to your career after all. “It’s today?” Moonbyul puts down her spoon. “Isn’t the paid internship in May? It’s only November.” “The posting went up for us in November too,” Hani pipes up past a mouthful of eggs. “Remember?” “Did it? It was so long ago, I forgot.” “It was only last year.” Sandeul rolls his eyes. “You haven’t gotten that old.” “I sure feel like it.” “Well if anything, you sure look like it.” “Umm, excuse me?” “Okay, okay, guys,” Your boyfriend interrupts with a laugh. “You’re freaking out Y/N even more.” They mutter apologies, but you smile. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you ask, “Where did you guys end up going?” After all, they’re a year ahead of you and they’ve been through the entire process. Any advice is helpful advice at this point. “Sandeul and I got hired by a hotel,” Hani says, “The Marriott. It was a pretty sweet gig, kind of tough though. Out of the entire class, I think five of us went there in total, so we were pretty lucky that we knew each other. It was long hours, but I learned a lot.” Sandeul scoffs. “Can’t say I did.” “When do you ever learn?” Moonbyul bites back. “My internship was at a private club,” Ken recalls, interjecting as the two of them argue again. “But all I baked was bread all day. It was awful.” “Oh god.” You look to Seokjin. “What if I have to bake bread all day? I hate yeast.” Jin laughs and he lifts his thumb to affectionately swipe at the corner of your mouth, getting the spaghetti sauce off your skin where you missed. “You’ll be fine. Promise. You’ll probably get hired at a catering company like I did. Or maybe a pastry shop.” “God, I hope so.” “Which did you apply to?” Hani asks, playing with her noodles. “Just a bunch of them. Restaurants, catering companies, shops. I applied to I think ten.” “Oh, you should be fine then.” “But I heard sometimes they put you in ones you didn’t apply for.” “That rarely happens. Don’t worry about it.” She bats the air with her hand, easing your worries a little more. Your boyfriend smiles warmly. “See? Told you so.” You nod and check the time. It’s five minutes to noon. And with that realization, you get up. “We should go.” “Don’t they email you?” Sandeul asks, pulling himself away from his argument with Moonbyul and ignoring whatever half-hearted and playful insult she throws his way. “Yeah, but the physical posting gets put up faster.” You’re jittery, hopping on both feet and Jin chuckles before he gets up too, taking your food tray and his to dump into the trash. They wish you all the luck you need and you’re off with Seokjin by your side. You’re excited and afraid, not exactly sure what to expect. You just hope you get your internship by the same catering company as the one Seokjin had. They liked him enough that they’ve ensured him a position after he graduates. If they hire you too and you do well enough, they’ll hire you back and you’ll get to work with him. It would be absolutely perfect. You can already imagine it. A small apartment in the city. Working together. Coming home together. There’s not a better plan out there. The hallway is crowded with lots of people pushing past to look at the posting. There are loud conversations, eager claps and cheers, to disappointed sighs and whines. “Wait here, okay?” You turn to Jin, not wanting him to be stepped on or pushed by the crowd. “I’ll be right here.” He squeezes your hand before letting go. And you push past the horde of students. “Excuse me, excuse me. Sorry…” “Aw man, I have my internship at a grocery store?! This sucks.” — “The hell is Dog World.” — “Oh my god, oh my god! I got into the East Wood Country Club! Fuck yes!” Finally, you stumble out of the crowd to the very front. The list is grouped together by locations and you search your name on the paper posting. After an antagonizing minute, you find it. “Kim’s…..Wedding Cake Company….” Blood drains from your face. It runs cold. Jeon Jungkook is coming with you. // You stomp your foot and cross your arms. You’ve been pouting for the past hour. But you can’t help the distress — not when you were still unable to comprehend it. It was the worst news on Earth. You thought your eyes were wrong, that maybe the posting or printer made a mistake, but the email wasn’t any different either. “I can’t believe I have to go with that jerk! It’s all ruined!” “I know, baby.” Seokjin pouts with you, sympathizing with your situation. He pulls you in to plant a kiss at the top of your head. “But you’ll be okay. Promise.” The way he says it calms your nerves, but that doesn’t mean you still aren’t frustrated to no end. There was only one paid internship to be done. One that was supposed to pave your way, help with the rest of your career, teach you things that couldn’t be learned through lectures and classroom work. But your one shot is destroyed. In shambles. What should be a fantastic experience is going to be a dreadful one. Why did things never go right for you? “I just….I just really wanted to be hired at your company.” You look up at him, eyes stinging and glossy with tears that threaten to shed. Your plans are ruined. “It’s okay. You can always apply after graduation.” “I know.” You sigh. “But of all people, why him?” A few hours later, the pair of you catch up with your friends at the dining center for dinner, and they quickly notice the way you’re not necessarily jumping for joy, but rather grieving. “Not...good news, I presume?” Moonbyul gasps. “Did you not get hired anywhere-OW!” She rubs the spot where Sandeul smacked the back of her head for being tactless. “It’s not that,” you reassure them with a small smile. “My internship is at Kim’s Wedding Cake Company.” Ken’s eyes are enlarged. “Oh shit.” “Wedding cakes?!” Hani sharply inhales. “That’s brutal.” “No, it’s not that either. I don’t mind. It’s just…” You steal a glimpse at your boyfriend. For one, you wanted to go where he went and secondly— “I’m with Jeon Jungkook.” “Who?” Ken asks, brows furrowing. “You know, the black haired kid,” Moonbyul says in an attempt to jog his memory. But the man’s impassive expression doesn’t waver or alter. “You literally described at least a quarter of the population.” “The one that looks like a rabbit, you idiot.” Hani makes grand gestures. “The deer-looking fellow. You know, the cute one.” “Right!” He snaps his fingers, as if that was enough to remember him by. You shake your head. “He’s not cute. He’s an ass. Steer clear territory.” “Can’t you steer clear from him?” Sandeul asks before he slurps up his carbonara and then chews in his cheek. “There’s like what— four or five kids coming with you? You can probably avoid him if you wanted to.” “No.” It dawns on you just how bad the circumstances are. “Apparently only two of us are going there. At least I didn’t see anyone else assigned to that place. It’s only going to be just him and I.” “Yikes.” “Not helping, Hani.” Seokjin gives her a look that makes her sheepish and mumble an apology. “It’s not going to be that bad.” He reaches for your hand underneath the table, a private place without the prying eyes of his friends. “It’s only for three months and it’s during summer. It won’t happen for quite some time.” “Yeah.” You squeeze your hand tenderly with his. It’s wondrous how effective Seokjin’s reassurance is. You feel like there’s no reason for you to be afraid, for you to dread the inevitability. He makes you feel like you could take on anything. All plans have their obstacles. Maybe this is just yours. Things always have a way of working out after all. You’ll get your experience, do your internship without talking to him, and then apply where Jin will be working after. You just have a feeling — call it your intuition — that it’ll work out. // But you’re still somewhat unsettled. You wonder if there’s a way you could switch. At least it wouldn’t hurt to take your chances and ask, then you knew you tried and did all you could. So with a hopeful heart, you approach the office area and open the door. The secretary is gone from her desk, maybe gone to take a bathroom or coffee break, so you take a seat in the waiting area. One second passes before you overhear a familiar voice that you’ve grown to detest. “—don’t see how I’m qualified at all! I haven’t even learned about wedding cakes yet!” The frustration is tangible. “It’s a course for next year!” “Then you’ll get a head start from your classmates, Jungkook.” There’s an audible sigh and his voice becomes calmer. “Miss. Kang, please. I just don’t understand how I could be put in something I didn’t even apply for.” “What do you want to do, Jungkook?” “Pardon?” “What is it that you want to do after you’ve gotten your diploma?” “I want to be a chocolatier.” There’s a pause. “A Master Chocolatier. I want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters. That’s why I applied for Oliver’s and Tokyo Confectionery. Spending my time and my internship at a place that does chocolate is important to me. Not wedding cakes.” “Well, you’re lucky then. I personally know the couple that runs Kim’s Wedding Cake Company. They’re good friends of mine and the man who runs the place with his wife is actually a chocolatier. He studied in Paris and has been in the industry for more than ten years. I feel like you could learn a lot from him, Jungkook. Remember, it’s not the place you go to, but the mentor that you have. Think it over. Give it a few days. If you still have concerns, we can talk about it.” Jungkook huffs in exasperation and grabs his bag. He mutters a reluctant ‘thank you’ before leaving the office. He doesn’t take one look back but on his way out, he catches you staring straight at him in the waiting area. His steps slow but then he scoffs, looks away and walks out. When you get a chance to talk to the lady organizing internships, it’s brief — she apologizes and tells you there’ll be no changes made. There’s no arguing, you know that much. Not when Jungkook quite literally tried every desperate plea in the book. You end up leaving and at the same exact time, Jungkook exits the men’s locker area, changed back into his regular attire. The two of you nearly bump heads, running into each other. “Are you following me?” he flat out asks when your eyes meet. You raise a brow, freezing in the middle of the hallway. “Excuse me?” “Are you following me,” he repeats with a sharp tongue, obviously still peeved over his previous interaction with Miss. Kang. But you don’t know why he’s putting it on you and making such outlandish accusations. There was absolutely no limit to his cockiness. “Get your head out of your ass, Johnson. I don’t have the time or day to follow you around.” “Then what are you doing here?” “I don’t think I need to tell you where I am or what I do.” “Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and brushes past you. But you turn onto your heel and shout after him— “Do you really think you’ll make it?” “What?” He shifts around to glare. His thick brows are knitted, mouth downturned. “Do you really think you’ll make it as a chocolatier?” You meet his eye and a smirk pulls on your features. A rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “You? Really? You want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters? That’s cute.” “At least I have actual ambitions and goals and I’m not here for the sake of my boyfriend.” “Excuse me? What are you trying to say?” “Don’t play dumb and act like you didn’t follow your little boyfriend here.” “You don't know anything about me, Jeon.” “I don’t? I know that you’re not passionate about baking, that’s for sure. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have fucking stolen—” “Fuck you,” you spit. “I didn’t.” “Yeah right.” Jungkook scoffs. “Get real, Y/N.” He gets the last word. Jeon Jungkook turns around, walking away with his bag slung over his shoulder. You shout insults after him but he ignores it, making you look like the fool. Tears sting your eyes and your teeth grit. He’s an asshole through and through. You don’t know why you even bother wasting your breath. If Seokjin was the most patient, kindest person and the person that you love the most — then Jeon was the complete opposite. You will forever detest his very being. // Your hand is squeezed and you’re brought out of your thoughts. “Babe? What’s wrong?” You look to your boyfriend. That’s right — you love him and this man loves you. There’s nothing else that could ever matter more than this. “Nothing. I just had...a really long day today.” Seokjin stops walking and spreads open his arms wide. He gestures to you. “Come here.” A smile pulls into your features and you jump into him. Jin laughs, stumbling back as you cuddle into his chest. His arms wrap securely around your frame, shielding you from the cold, from the darkness of the night. You feel safe. “I love you.” He hums and kisses the top of your head. You’re beginning to feel better already.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #bts seokjin #bts slice of life #bts slice of life au #jungkook series #Y'ALL THIS IS GONNA BE THE SWEETEST THING Y'ALL EVER DARN READ #istg reading and editing ch 1 again brings tears to my eyes #im so excited to finally share this series #I HOPE YOU'RE READY

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shouldntcryoverit · 4 years

Text

the art of discordance

a captain rex x jedi fic during clone wars era :))

no warnings i think uh yeah hope you enjoy let me know ig...

next chapter

CHAPTER ONE -

A new general. That’s what the rookies had heard, though Rex was reluctant to believe the Jedi Council had the guts to replace Skywalker. After a good few months, the captain had learnt of his general’s unique ‘disposition’, and getting a new general to step in was what he least expected.

That was until the ship landed just outside their camp and she walked out. Even from his position sitting further back on some crates, Rex could make out the figure, identifying her as one of the jedi knights, though which one escaping him. Perhaps the rumours were true.

He watched as she walked closer, hands placed purposefully and eyes wandering over the other two jedi in front of her. The commander crossed her arms defensively, though her master seemed unbothered by her arrival, excited even.

“master?” Ahsoka coughed

“oh snips!” Skywalker bleated with the same enthusiasm he had wagered throughout the interaction “this is Jaida Reyes”

“the one from your padwan stories?” Ahsoka said with smug conviction

“my reputation precedes me” her accent was crisp and calm, though her tone radiated a coolness that Ahsoka couldn’t help but feel distanced by “though i’d rather be known for my skills with a lightsaber than helping Akin steal from Obi-wan”

Ahsoka held back a snicker as Rex walked up to the three, absent minded as he double checked his comm.

“General Skywalker, we have the new coordinates” His attention tried hard to divert to the new face.

“ah thank you” Anakin turned to his friend “this is my captain, Rex”

Rex nodded at his introduction.

“i’m the new co-general, General Reyes” her face settled into the beginnings of a smile, but faultered and remained her neutral, placid gaze.

The young jedi watched with focused eyes as they walked the short distance towards the briefing tent. Already her presence seemed to spark rumours among the men, and she watched as the younger looking troopers sent her inspecting looks. It was to be expected, honestly she never wanted a big formal introduction, but she didn’t know that her arrival would breach the news so quickly.

When they arrived, the tent was half full. An open and decorated holo map was in the centre, with at least two clones at each marked entrance point.

“Boys” Skywalker called “we have a visitor”

She rolled her eyes slightly at the flamboyant gesture, but stepped forward anyway. “I’m General Reyes, apparently Skywalker wasn’t trusted enough to run his own battalion, so i got called in” Her hands rested behind her back, but a small grin encroached her face as the snipe made a few troopers smirk.

“excuse my fellow jedi, she’s never been good at taking second place” Anakin fired back, earning another set of grins.

Reyes crossed her arms as her smiling face resumed the same placcid one she’d kept previously. “i have heard nothing but good things, and i look forward to serving with you.”

The Captain moved forward from the side of the room and clicked to change the holo map, it made a small beep as he did.

“The 212th met a settlement of droids over this side of the ridge. Last report was that they were able to move forward at the threat subsided.”

“so what does that mean for us?” Jaida’s brows furrowed as Rex layed the plans out for her. Already her mind was scoping escape routes and vantage points, but she remained seemingly unbothered by the conflict describes. Rex couldn’t help but feel unmotivated by her apparent lack of interest.

“our initial plan was to take out the last forces left on the planet after the seppie defeat, but intelligence believed the 212th accidentally did it for us”

She scoffed “so we’re here for a clean up?”

“hope you brought something fun to do” Ahsoka scorned.

The efforts were limited within the first hour. Already the men were tired of the same scenery and nothing but expansive flats. The sun stood high in the sky, illuminating the landscape in a orange hue. It wasn’t hot nor cold, everything about the mission mediocre, something Reyes particularly hated. It wasn’t just her with an annoyance, she could sense the captain’s distrust. She understood it, only hoped it wouldn’t comprimise her efficiency.

As if nothing interesting was ever going to happen, a yell from a trooper a little further ahead broke the methodical thump of the machinery.

Soon followed was the sound of gun fire. Each shot was slow, until finally the enemy was visible.

“Find cover!”

“you did say you wanted action” Anakin quipped, earning an actual chuckle from her usual pursed lips. It almost caught Rex off guard.

It was unavoidable, the lack of cover meant the men were almost completely exposed, accept for the three jedi that stepped forward, sabers ignited.

Reyes was a new sight, though she didn’t look out of place on the battle field. Her lighsaber was different, instead of the usual one blade, hers had two, both green and glowing as she tactically spun it round and round, catching blasts as if it were sport. Even her fighting style seemed new, she fought with elegance and structure, each blow purposeful and strong.

Her focus was planted entirely on the enemy ahead, so much so that she failed to notice the trooper settling down beside her.

“karking droids, never seem to die” she muttered, deflecting a few more blasts.

A muffled laugh came from beside her and the familiar blue and white etched her vision.

“I’d get used to it general” a trooper grinned

Jaida turned and grimaced, an offering of acceptance. As she refocused her mind to the task at hand, a thought slipped through.

“trooper, get those three and come with me”

Her request caught the clone beside her off guard, but he complied none the least.

The five of them rounded behind the line of defence, all the way to their republic.

“uh, sir, what are we doing?” a soldier with a hand print on his chest asked, gingerly as the new, seemingly scary, general climbed onto the side.

“if i can prime the ignition gear and jinx the starter cable, I can force it into their ranks and it’ll, with any luck,” she popped her head up with a half devilish grin “turn them all into scrap parts”

It was the trooper with the cog on his helment that relaxed first “heh, they teach you that at the temple?” he quipped

“nope” she gestured for them to cover her as she popped open the side “they taught me it on florrum” she said with a smirk, before diving back into the mess of wires and sparks.

Jaida’s plan worked, and effectively too. After a very short battle, the men finished their sweep and prepared to bid the timeless campaign fairwell.

Once back on the ship, most clones settled down for the trip back to Coruscant, and Reyes followed suit, though only subtly checking that everyone was well and okay, before continuing her sweep on the ration packs. After she deemed her check satisfactory, she retreated to the command rooms. The door slid open and revealed Rex standing over a report, absent minded to say the least. His shoulders tensed momentarily as the door swooshed, and she noticed the sour taste that seemed to flood his tongue when he met her eyes.

Jaida cleared her throat, and planted fists against the table, propping herself up.

“i’m sorry, we lost men” Jaida spoke calmly, slightly softer than her usual tone.

“with all due respect sir, you don’t seem all that bothered.” Rex mentioned.

“captain” “it’s not something i’ve grown accustomed too yet” Jaida countered, though her argument didn’t cause Rex’s stance to loosen. She cleared her throat

“i’ve lost people before, and I know what it’s like to loose someone in battle, though i don’t know what it’s like to loose your brothers. i did not want this” her tone was instructive, but it softened all the same and her true compassion fell through.

Rex paused for a moment and met her eyes again “i shouldn’t have blamed you, my apologies, general”

“relax, captain”

“it’s uh, Rex, sir” he corrected. It was when he lifted his hands to the side of his helmet that Jaida realised she had never actually seen his face. It came off, and revealed a strong jaw and cheek bones, all toned perfectly set. His eyebrows arched above his eyes, a slightly different shade of golden brown than his brothers. Of course the main difference was his hair colour, short and stark blonde.

“Jaida” her response made Rex frown ”if i have to call you by your name you have to call me by mine. Jaida” she explained

“sounds fair”

“good” she smiled for the first time, and Rex liked it.

————————————

The night after an assignment was always filled with either anecdotes or silence, a relief or devastating. Jaida watched as the men loitered around crates of rations and equipment, all with distant smiles; tired.

She had previously been stuck at the medbay after the medics caught sight of her, a few gashes on her cheeks the real cause - nothing bacta wouldn’t heal, but she learnt quickly of their head medic, Kix, and his ability to scare even Jedi into looking after themselves. After making peace with the captain, a warmth had begun to spread about her.

Now, she stood against the cold duraplast walls of the Resolute, picking aimlessly at the scarce red dirt left on her hands.

“You okay Jay?” the question broke her mindless thought.

“yeah, i am” she looked up to her friend knowingly, Anakin grinning as he always did.

“Generals!” a trooper with geometric tattoos called out “come sit with us”

She turned her head sharply and gazed over the haphazard array of lounging clones

“I ought to check the ration packs” she tried to excuse.

“you should take one sir” Another clone encourage lazily “deserve it after that rescue”

She blinked for a second, unsure if it would make more sense to agree or deny. Before she said yes or no, Anakin had already collected her on his way to his own seat in the game.

Jaida sauntered over and handed each clone a bar before taking one herself, sitting down cross leggedly just as graceful as she did anything.

“sir, i don’t like it” she spoke between chews “name’s Jaida”

“well, Jaida, general’s told us a little about your career together, got any stories?”

“many” Jaida gave the first ghost of a smile any of them had seen from her yet, however small it may have been, and lent backwards against another log “Anakin ever told you about the time we climbed to the very top of the temple walls?”

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #clone wars #501stlegion #anakin skywalker #the clone wars #rex x reader #commander rex

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blps · 4 years

Text

Let my hands guide you

Pairing: Akaashi x reader

Genre: fluff! And strangers to lovers

Summary: You meet Akaashi at a pottery store. (PLEASE TAKE NOTE THAT I NEVER DID POTTERY IN MY LIFE, SO PLEASE DON’T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY PLS)

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: ...... ok so I’m not sure I like this, the scenario in my head is way better so I might do a different one with pottery!Akaashi because I can hahaha; I hope you lovely people had a nice weekend and here’s a fic to handle the week! Enjoy!

///////////////////////////////////////

You opened the door to enter the shop. It was a pottery store where they taught classes for beginners, sold from every type of work from mugs, plates and vases to original decorative art pieces some students were willing to sell.

It was your first time to come here, a little intimidated by the beautiful artwork displayed. You shook that feeling away, determined to simply enjoy yourself and have fun creating something. A feeling of excitement washed over you, ready to try pottery for the first time.

A kind girl greeted you, showing you the way to the back, the workspace for classes and artists. You put on an apron and followed her to your assigned molding stand for hand building method of making pottery. She showed you the three main techniques; the pinch pot, coiling and slab.

Once she taught you every method and the use of each tool, you thanked her as she left you alone to concentrate on your work. It was fun and relaxing. Concentrating on the details of your pieces and handling the tools. It was strangely therapeutic. You made one bowl, one mini pot for one of your plants and, with the clay that was left, you made a small ladybug to go on the pot as decoration. You were proud of what you accomplished and turned to notify the nice girl but you couldn’t find her. You were nervous to explore and leave your familiar workplace. Thankfully, another staff member saw your distress.

“Do you need anything?”

He took your breath away. You couldn’t believe you got the chance to lay your eyes on his beauty. He glanced at your workspace and you remembered what your goal initially was.

“Oh, I just finished my clay and I was wondering if I could know how to finalise it?”

“Yes no problem. They are wonderful for a beginner,” he complimented you, making you even more confident in your new hobby,”I can take care of this for you. So first we’ll -”

He then proceeded to show you how to finalise your pottery, explaining everything methodically and clearly. You listened as he kept on talking, entranced by both of his looks and his words.

He notified you that it would take three to eight hours for the clay to harden. They would supervise your work, taking good care until your next visit. He accompanied you to the front desk as you paid for today’s expanses.

“I would also like to book another session, preferably one with an electric wheel?” you asked.

“Of course,” the pretty staff member smiled at you and proceeded to book you your next appointment.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You realised that you never asked for the pretty staff member's name. When you picked up your artwork, you didn’t see him for the entirety of painting your mug and pot. But even at that, you enjoyed brushing the paint on the clay and continuing your newfound hobby. Akaashi was forgotten at the back of your mind, too busy enjoying your new favourite activity.

You painted your mug your favourite colour and added some details to your liking. For your pot, you chose a nice blue colour to mimic the blue sky, a contrast to your plant’s different hues. Your ladybug sat nicely on the side of the pot. It might not look hyperrealistic, but it was still one you were proud of.

Your day finished well as you returned home with your new acquired creation. Putting your plant in the new pot, it was well decorated and a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction overcame you. Pottery made you happy and you were eager to start new projects in the future.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

For the next few sessions, you made various mugs and tableware for the shop. Making these allowed you to not pay for anything as you were producing for the shop. But of course, once in a while, you would create for your own place. Pottery soon became a regular activity of your weekly routine.

With how much you spent time there, you met the pretty staff member again, often at that. His name was Akaashi and he was the one who always put your clay to harden. He always complimented you on your work and helped you if you needed any advice. Akaashi quickly became a friend to you.

The nice girl who first taught you the basics, Yukie, was also a friendly person you could depend on.

Currently, you were frustrated because the clay wouldn’t do as you guided it to do. The shape you wanted to achieve was a challenge and the shape you had was all deformed and abstract. You turned off the power of the wheel and let out a sigh.

“Do you need any help?”

You gave Akaashi a desperate look, your eyes clearly saying yes. He smiled a little and pulled a seat facing you. He fixed the oddly shaped clay, and let your hands work. When you started to mess up the shape, Akaashi joined his hands over yours, guiding them to the proper movements of your shape. His hands were covered in clay, as were yours, but the gentle way his hands held yours made your heart skip a beat. His long fingers corrected your mistakes as he explained what you were doing wrong.

For the first time, your ears didn’t listen to him. You were surprised by how he held your hands so easily. His gaze was focused on the clay as he kept on rambling about pottery, but yours were on him. You noticed that everytime he talked about his passion, he got more talkative, having this eager tone that made his eyes light up.

Sensing that your hands were not moving and that you didn’t respond, he looks up, meeting your eyes. None of you could look away as nothing was said. The wheel continued to spin, the room was still noisy from other workers, but it seemed that the both of you were frozen in time, neither of you moving.

Then, someone bumped into you, from behind, making you fall forward into Akaashi. This seemed to wake you up from your trace as you quickly excused yourself and went to pack your stuff to go home.

Akaashi was still in the same position, looking at the door you left, wondering if you felt his heartbeat quickened.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You proceeded to avoid Akaashi for the next few days, too embarrassed to face him again. You came when he didn’t have a shift, Yukie keeping you company.

Pottery helped to take your mind off of him. You concentrated on making various creations, new pots for your new plants. The spinning of the wheel drifted your mind elsewhere, your surroundings fading away. Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice him.

“Can we talk?” You froze entirely. You already felt bad avoiding him, you might owe him an explanation.

You agreed, following him to a more private area of the store, your hands still tainted of clay. Akaashi on the other hand was dressed casually, the first time you saw his style. Of course he knew how to dress with style too. His only sign of nervousness was him playing with his fingers.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line when I touched your hands, I should’ve asked first, I-”

“That’s not it Akaashi,” he looked at you curiously, the script he memorised completely unnecessary, “When we held... well touched hands, I felt something that may cross the line of friendship. I needed time to myself-”

“What if I told you I also felt it”, your look of surprise met his, “If you are willing to try, for a relationship, I’m willing to try.”

You didn’t know what to say. Were you ready to be in a relationship with Akaashi? Would you risk your friendship? You did think he was handsome, and kind, and easy to go along with, and easy to open up to, and your heart was clearly affected by him. But was that enough? Maybe it was.

“I’m willing to try.” Your affirmation put a smile on Akaashi’s lips. Maybe, just maybe it was worth it.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x you #akaashi x you

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hetalia-has-a-secretary · 3 years

Note

Maybe you could do- single dad!axis&allies hcs if their precious human child catches a cold and needs parental attention, but it's a world meeting soon and bosses won't be happy. Who will say "**** it" and skip the meeting just to stay with their sick child at home? Who hesitates, but decides to leave the child with professional nurses? Who'll bring child with them lol? I hope it's okay~

Ooooo I love this! I've always wondered who does and does tick off their bosses!

Sick!Child and Single Dad Allies and Axis Headcannons!

Allies:

America is 100% the kind of dad to say "screw the man! I'm taking care of my sick child!" To his bosses face. His boss wasn't happy America skipped the meeting but eventually shrugged it off. Meanwhile America is trying very discreetly to ask England and France how to take care of a sick kid since he learned Hamburgers aren't always the solution. He'll also be the kind of dad to make sure the child is actually sick, and isn't just faking it for any other reason. "Is everything okay at school? Are you being bullied???" In the end America just wants to be a good father, and almost forgets about his hero motif.

England is another one who will skip a meeting to be with his kid. He's really, REALLY focused on this second chance of being a good parental figure. And after his run in with America's rebellion, he's trying even harder to make sure his child is okay. It's almost suffocating for the kid, but England backs off once any discomfort over his hover mom nature is called out on. And if the Child is faking to be sick he'll scold the child for lying, but will still ask why. Sometimes tough love is a necessity.

France is the type of father who really wants to be with his child while their sick, but he actually doesn't stay. Instead he gives the kid the option to chose who looks after him. His heart does completely break if he leaves and the kid is visually upset. Like, the kid might feel guilty as his father walks out the door in tears dramatically. But France's boss is kind of harsh towards him, so he sees no other choice. But once the meeting is over he makes a B line to his child's side, and may or may not have brought a new toy, or some kind of treat to make up for his absence. From here on out France is by his Child's side until they get better.

China has no problem leaving his kid to go to a meeting as soon as he realizes it's just a small fever. So long the kid can move around and breath "He'll be fine". China has a "mind over matter" outlook on being sick. And so long the child isn't physically disabled by their ailments, he's made sure to have a long conversation about how his work is important for them both. However, China will skip the meeting if his kid is extremely sick, or throwing up. China has a full out fight with his boss over it, and it ends with a broken wall due to China's martial art skills.

Russia is another one who will go to the meeting so long his kid seems like they'll make a quick recovery, but that will not stop him from being completely distracted from the meeting. After all, they're in russia, it's cold. If the kid doesn't start to do well with general winter he's going to start taking extra precautions to make sure his kid doesn't get sick. When he arrives back home he's another one who has a treat or toy for the kid. He'll also try and make the kid laugh, and will talk to the kid about how boring the meeting was, and how he would have rather been home with the child. On the other hand he knows that Belarus is an amazing caretaker. Even though it seems to make her feel like they're a married family. Thankfully the Child is fully aware that aunty Bella is nothing more than an Aunt. Also, Russia has 100% given his child Vodka in an attempt to help them sleep. Immediately regretted it when the kid threw it back up.

Canada (who?) Is pretty much the perfect dad when it comes to his child getting sick. Since Canada practically raised his child to have an ungodly amount of- oh let's be real he's aware that if he doesn't go to the meeting no one will notice so he stays home with his kid and pretty much becomes the kids servant. Yet Canada knows what's best for the child and will make sure they eat plenty of protein, and if they're throwing up he won't force them to eat anything heavy. He'll, Canada will let the kid eat certain junk foods if that's what's staying down. But hydration is a must. He's even bought a cute water bottle that encourages the child to drink more. Very patient with the sick child and will respond to every beck and call, even if it's a ridiculous request. He just wants his kid to get better. But he needs to be careful or else Kumajirou will be next in line, since the tiny bear has taken it upon itself to be a weight blanket for the sick child.

Axis:

Germany is a top tier father and caretaker, so even if he can't stay with the child you KNOW he'll be calling them every chance he can get. "Did you take the medicine I left for you? No you can't mix it into the ice cream... WHY ARE YOU EATING ICE CREAM!?" He deals with Italy so this is almost a walk in the park (not derogatory). Even if he DOES want to stay, he kind of can't since he's pretty much the head hancho of the meetings. So you just KNOW the child is sick if the meeting gets cancelled last second. He does not care who he makes mad when and if he does cancel a meeting. He's another to come back with some sort of apology treat. Usually it's the child's favorite food. And also buys two in case the kid throws it back up. He's also doing his hardest to at least break the kids temperature. He wants to know he's done something good as a father. Because he sometimes wonders if he's doing things right, ya know? Will also probably catch whatever his kid has.

Japan is a very relaxed father. He's also one of the more successful one's at sensing the kid was getting sick before they even got sick, so I don't think he would ever have to miss a meeting. And if he did there's two options. The child stays with some of his co-workers in japan, or he will actually take time of. The conflict between him and his boss was done and over rather quickly, and since germany is the meeting leader, he can just get the run down from him. Japan does try a couple ancient techniques, but if they don't work he will resort to modern medicine. He's also very weary to not give his child any medication he might not need. Which is good for the kid because they probably didn't want that grape flavored cough syrup! All in all there is a quick recovery.

Italy isn't the best at taking care of his kid when they get sick. Especially because he starts to panic because he can't figure out which of the many methods of getting better he needs to try. Probably has to go to Germany and Japan for help the first couple times as well. But he gets the hang of it. He, however, cannot stand the sight or sound of puking or blood, if any. But he still tries. I don't think Italy's boss would have much conflict over him missing a meeting. Germany however might get upset because Italy never told him his kid was sick, so there's that.

Prussia is technically retired at this point so he doesn't have to worry about meetings. But pre-retirement he'd have 100% use his kid as an excuse to not go to some "unawesome" meeting. And I feel like Prussia, despite his ego, knows exactly what to do. After all he has a little brother yeah? Piece of cake for the awesome prussia! But, lol and behold he certainly dials up Russia or Germany with any questions. Will mostly complain about how not awesome being sick is, and will do what he can to make his child at the very least laugh. Which is very AWESOME!

#hetalia american #hetalia england #hetalia france #hetalia china #hetalia russia #hetalia canada #hetalia germany #hetalia italy #hetalia japan #hetalia prussia #hetalia #Headcannons

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

64. I didn’t know my ex moved so you find me curled up on the floor in front of your apartment door

Ot4, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Duck didn’t mean to fall asleep in front of her cave. But there was no one home and the rock in front of it is just the right temperature to coax him down into a nap in the spring sunshine.

“Um, can I help you?”

His nose tells him the voice belongs to another dragonborn before he opens his eyes. It’s just not the one he’s hoping for. Instead of blue scales and muscle, he finds blue eyes staring down at him while black and white scales glint in the afternoon light.

“Uh, I, uh, do you know the dragon who lives here?” He didn’t think she’d move on that fast.

“I am the dragon who lives here.” The other male adjusts the satchels on his shoulders, one laden with food and the other with books, “I moved in a week ago.”

“Well...fuck.” Duck slides off the rock with a groan, “sorry, didn’t know the place changed hands. Didn’t mean to, uh, crash on your front porch.”

“It’s okay. I was hoping to meet more of our kind here.” He writes a glyph on the door and it opens, “do you want to come in? I got some nice wine from town and, um” he scratches at the stone, “no one to share it with.”

“Sure.” Duck follows him through the familiar front hall and into the kitchen. The furniture is different, all clean lines and polished wood, and there’s new art on the walls. He reads the spines on the stack of history books on the table while his host pours them each a glass of wine.

“Thanks” he takes the goblet, “I’m uh, I’m Duck by the way. It’s a nickname.”

“Joseph.” The other dragon sits across from him, “I take your...ex lived here?”

“Yeah” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “we end things a month ago but, uh, I was missin her and I, uh, I, I, fuck, nevermind.”

Joseph sniffs the air, “surprise heat?”

Duck nods, “I was kinda hopin for, uh, for a pity fuck or somethin. Fuck, that sounds pathetic.” He rests his head in his hands.

“There’s no shame in wanting intimacy.”

“Guess not. Uh, enough about me, how’d you end up here?” He prays Joseph takes the hint.

“I travel around studying humans, trying to bring a greater understanding of them to our kind. My hope is it’ll help keep the peace, since we’re less likely to fear or attack things we understand. Kepler might be the place I settle; the town is a great mixture of dragon and human cultures.”

“So you just...study everythin they do?”

“Right now I’m focusing on technology. Hence the, um, the scars.”

“Oh shit” the white zigzags and bursts that Duck assumed were simply markings are, in fact, scars, “what happened?”

“Mostly minor accidents, like you’d get cooking or gardening. This one” he gestures to the white on his cheek, “is embarrassing; I was so engrossed in my research I didn’t notice the experiment I was running was about to go haywire.”

“Ouch.” He hazards a joke, “hate to see what your hoard is like, probably, uh, shock me.”

Joseph smiles, “I don’t really have one, it’s a pain to move it every time.”

“Not even a little pile?” Duck raises a brow; there’s a magpie-ish quality to the other dragon that suggests there’s a collection hiding somewhere.

A faint dusting of gold on his cheeks, “I do have a, um, a small stack of books.”

“Can I see?”

“Of course. This way.” He leads them to the master bedroom. A wave of unwelcome nostalgia hits Duck as he enters, and he’s about to excuse himself back to the kitchen when a giggle climbs up his throat.

“A small stack, huh?”

Joseph settles on the cushions at the center of three towering bookcases, each crammed full, “I don’t have that many. I once met a wyvern who had whole hills of books. I like them like this so I can actually find things.”

“Hate to say it Joe, but this is an honest to gods hoard.” Duck kneels near him.

“Joe....huh, I like it when you call me that. Normally I hate it. And it’s a library, not a hoard.”

“If you say so. Uh huh, what’s this?” He crawls to where a pile of puzzles toys and games is hidden between the bookcases, “seems like the makings of another ho--oh hell yeah” he grabs a box, “Minotaurs Riddle, I fuckin love this game. Haven’t played it in years, lent mine to a trio of centaurs and never got it back.”

“Do you want to play a few rounds? I, um, I don’t have anything urgent tonight but if you have things to do-”

“Nah, got all my shit taken care of early in case...uh, well, you know.” Humiliation at his earlier desperation rears its head.

Joseph drags a low table over, “Then it sounds like we could both use a night off.”

Three hours and two bottles of wine later, they locked in a stalemate, Duck scanning his cards for a way to break it. He’s never had this intense an opponent before and it’s so fucking fun.

“I play the hero's spear BUT” he flips a card facedown, “on my own chariot, which opens up the way for my chimera to attack.”

Joe’s eyes flick between his hand and the board, pupils no more than slits as he concentrates. Then he sets his cards all facedown, “I don’t have a counter-move, so you win.” His grin is fairytale perfect, “that was great! And now I know your method of play so I can beat you next time.”

“You wish.” Duck doesn’t mean to growl as deeply as he does.

“It’s not a wish, it’s a promise.” Joe boxes up the game without ever taking his eyes off Duck.

“If you say so. But if you break it” he curls his tail around to stroke black scales, “think I oughta get a prize.”

Joe’s responding click-growl is unfamiliar, could be anything from agreement to “leave me the fuck alone.” He starts to retract his tail only for Joe to close his claws around it.

“I think you should get one for your win tonight, too. You did come here in a, um, a certain state.”

“Ain’t you the polite one.” Duck shoves the table aside and prowls across the pillows, “offerin that stylish tail up for meWHOAH, fuck.” He laughs as Joe, lightning quick, lunges forward and traps him on his back.

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you got here. Gods” he undoes the wrap at Duck’s waist with a hungry growl, “do you have any idea how hard it is to think strategically with all of this” he runs his palms up Duck’s chest, “on display. Once I’m done give your body the attention it deserves, then I’ll put my ass in the air for you.”

“You drive a hard bargain Joe, but I’ll take it.” He grins as the other dragon gropes his thighs.

“Good. Besides, this is a proven way of getting over heartbreak.”

“Think that theory might need a little more testin. So get down here and kiss me.”

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

“Interesting.” Joe taps the bottle with a claw as he studies the ship inside it, “you really don’t know how they do it?”

“No fuckin clue. I can build model ships outside bottles, but this? This is wild to me.”

“I wonder if we-” Joe raises his head, inhales, and breaks into a dazzling smile, “dinner’s here! You can come in Barclay, we’re in the sunroom.”

Footsteps on stone announce the cook, who Duck usually sees at Amnesty Lodge down in Kepler.

“Didn’t know y’all did delivery.”

Barclay sets a bag crammed with tins and bottles onto the table, “We don’t usually, but Joseph’s a special case.”

Duck spots the blush on his friend’s cheek, “Oh yeah?”

“He, uh, he lets me test new recipes on him?” Two pink patches bloom under Barclays' beard, “there’s a berry custard tart in there today.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Joe’s tail is subtly twitching, “do you want to stay a bit and eat?”

“I’d love to, but I gotta get back before the dinner rush.”

“Right, right, of course, oh, right, your tip” the dragon darts into his study, returns a moment later with a small purse of coins, “here you go, thank you so much it, I’ll be ready for our cooking lesson on Tuesday and, um, it’s always nice to see you.”

Barclay pockets the money, smiles softly, “you too, Joseph. Bye Duck, see you in town.”

Joe watches him go long after he’s out of sight. When he turns around with a sigh, Duck smirks.

“You got it bad, Joe.”

“I know.” He slumps down in a chair, “I think he feels the same way but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Coming out to a dragon’s lair and getting hit on, all while you’re at work? It would stress me out if I was human.”

“You pay him for those cooking lessons?”

“No. I, um, I guess I could ask him then but dragon/human relations are understudied outside of things like midnight weddings. I’m not even sure how something like sex would work, if it would work at all. The books I have on it are out of date and, honestly, most likely written by dragonborns who never had firsthand experience.”

Duck stands, circles the table to drape his arms over Joe’s shoulders and nose his neck, “You could still just ask. Learn what he likes instead of fussin over research.”

“You’re right. I’ll ask. Eventually. Maybe.”

He chuckles and nips a sensitive patch of scales, “It’s a start.”

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

Duck’s busy in the back garden when the chanting starts. It sounds enough like an angry mob that he draws the thicket of brambles across the door to be safe before heading for the second floor and the window to the front yard.

The crowd isn’t from Kepler, people there know he isn’t much for offerings or other forms of intervention into human affairs. He inherited his position from a true dragon who was once considered a forest and weather god. It took years for humans who came to understand that while he could help them identify what was killing their orchards or blighting their fields, he couldn’t summon rain or quash frosts.

Not only do the humans out front seem unaware of those facts, they’re constructing a convoluted, cobbled-together, ceremony. There are offerings of food, but the chants have something to do with slaking his deep hunger. Which is weird, because when you offer food to a dragon it’s meant as a gesture of kinship, not fear. The music doesn’t match either of those dynamics, the robes on the elders are white, which indicates surrender in war, and the incense they’re lighting is too heady; if he eats with it in the air, all he’ll taste is myrrh.

Wait, those are the bundles of incense humans used to burn during weddings. No one’s held a midnight wedding in decades. And holding one when it’s not yet sunset is really baffling. He’s about to write it off as yet more cultural miscommunication when two men drag a bound figure, all dressed in black, out from the crowd and drop it near the door.

“Fuck.” He tromps down the stairs, peers through the thicket for a closer look. The figure is a young man, dirtied silver hair tangled across his face and shattered red spectacles on his nose. His ankles and wrists are tied, and when he tries to scoot back from the cave entrance the crowd jeers. The man looks sluggishly between the crowd and the cave. Resigned, he crawls Duck’s way.

The dragon sets a hand on the thicket to will it away and tell everyone to get lost when he scents blood beneath the incense. Members of the crowd are getting agitated, suggesting they light a pyre to hurry the process along. That’s not even remotely how a midnight wedding works, and were Duck a certain other dragon he might tell them that. Instead, he makes a gap at the bottom of the thicket, grabs an enchanted rope from his work closet, and whips it through the opening. Two seconds later he has a cheering crowd outside his house and a petrified sacrifice inside it.

He kneels, undoing his rope and the bonds. The humans brown eyes lock onto his claws.

“Please. Please just make it quick.” His voice is raw, his pleas continuous, but he doesn’t pull back when Duck cups his chin and touches his forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burnin up. Your eyes a pretty glassy too, wonder if-”

“Drugged. To keep me from running or fighting. Not like they needed to. They, they did enough before that.” He hiccups and Duck smells exactly what plants they put into the mixture. They’re meant to make the human body more pliant. More receptive.

Fuckers.

“Okay” Duck keeps his voice soft, “here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna take you somewhere you can lie down and look you over. Once you’re patched up, you can rest.”

He nods as Duck scoops him into his arms, “Need my strength.”

“Yeah, but not for, uh, for what you think.” He nudges the light with his elbow, illuminating the rumpled green of his bed. When he sets the human down on it, he tucks his arms across his chest.

“Can you get your shirt off for me?”

The man reaches one skinny arm under his back, whaps it about, then shakes his head. Duck eases him upright, let’s him slump forward onto his shoulder why he undoes the eyehooks and buttons. The sight that awaits him is grim.

“Fuck, what’d they have against you?” He counts gashes from four different instruments intermingled with bruises in every color.

“Outsider. Came looking for work. Angered the wrong person.”

“They get you on your legs too?”

A weaks nod.

“I’m gonna have to slice the pants off; got a bad feelin I might re-open wounds if I try to pull ‘em free.” He runs a clawtip up the outside of one leg; the human grips him, afraid, though when he runs a thumb soothingly up a newly-bare spot, he sighs happily. Duck’s instinct is right; there are half-healed wounds now oozing blood thanks to the man being tossed about. He instructs the human to lay on his belly, fetches his bandages and disinfectant from the bathroom, and starts water for the tea that will clear the potion from his system.

When he starts on the wounds on his back the human whimpers, weakly clutching the blanket.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweet thing. Know it hurts, but you’ll feel better soon.” He runs the claws of his free hand through silver hair, undoing tangles as he goes. He is sweet; long legs and wiry arms, a face that’s odd but impossible to look away from. Duck wishes he were a worse dragon than he is; he could slip his threadbare underwear down and relieve the effects of the potion another way. Instead he patches and cleans, tips tea between parched lips, and finds one of his smaller robes to protect the skinny frame from falls oncoming chill. When he’s done, the young man is asleep. So he draws the blankets up and goes to sleep in the garden.

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

His body feels like it’s been through a wine press. No doubt a result of the dragon “marrying him.”

No, wait. He’d taken him to bed, run his claws tenderly through his hair, but then he’d tended his injuries and let him sleep unmolested. Indrid rubs his forehead, wishing his foresight hadn’t been so weakened by his weeks in jail; it would be nice to know if this is a sign the dragon is harmless or if he just prefers his food uninfected.

The bedroom door slides open and a scaly figure walks in, nose firmly in a book. It’s not the same dragon as yesterday; this one is sleek, with midnight scales and long, narrow horns. The one who tended him was bulkier, with scales like a forest viewed from above, dozens of greens and golds melding together. His horns were shorter, Indrid remembers because in his fevered state he wanted to rub them. They looked soothing to touch.

“Oh, good morning.” The dragon closes his book, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came in for some scale oil and I’ll be out of your hair.” He grabs a purple bottle from a shelf.

“Wait, please.” Indrid struggles to sit up, “can, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“We were sort of hoping you could enlighten us. From Duck’s description, your delivery was so garbled he couldn’t figure out what they wanted. Or, um, it was clear what they wanted done to you, but not why it should be or why they chose him.”

Indrid’s about to answer when a second voice drawls, “Joe, you better not be pesterin our guest with questions.”

The black dragon looks over his shoulder into the hall with a sly grin, “He asked me first.”

“Uh huh, a likely story.” The green dragon, Duck, steps into the room, pausing to kiss Joseph’s cheek. Oh gods, Indrid understands now; he wasn’t fucked or eaten yesterday because Duck was waiting to share him.

“Since you’re up we can--whoa, whoa what’s wrong?” Duck kneels by the bed as Indrid tries to scramble backwards.

Joseph sets his book and bottle down, “You still think you’re dinner, don’t you?”

“Wh-why shouldn’t I?” Indrid pulls the blanket up to shield himself.

“For starters, we don’t eat humans. And we sure as hells don’t fuck ‘em without them bein’ real eager. Even then, some of us stall.” Duck gives Joe a pointed look, “beyond that, someone dropped you here after torturin you. You need lookin after more than anything.”

“We should get these fixed too” Joseph picks up his shattered glasses, “I might have what we need in my workshop, or we could go into Kepler-”

“We’re near Kepler? Thank the gods.” Indrid slumps against the wall, “It was the last place I stopped before things went south. I should have just stayed there. Instead I got it into my head to keep travelling, find an enchanter to train under and got...well, you saw.”

Duck carefully sits on the bed, as far from Indrid as possible, “Yeah, I did. I promise, nothin like that’s ever gonna happen to you again.”

“And if you’re interested in learning magic, most dragons have some. I’d be happy to share what I know if you’re willing to assist in my research.”

“That means makin sure he don’t fall asleep too close to his experiments.”

Indrid has no idea what those experiments might be, but he decides he’s very willing to find out.

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

Voices echo from the back garden, so Barclay curves left instead of going to the front of Duck’s home. Joseph asked him to bring his next few meals here since he’s helping Duck with an “unexpected house guest.”

He’s anticipating another dragon, almost drops his cargo when he sees how wrong he is.

“Indrid?”

“Barclay! I, when Joseph mentioned we were getting dinner from town I hoped it was the Lodge but seeing you is better still.” The other man is in a thick sweater and is wearing one of Duck’s wraps as a makeshift skirt, “I’d get up to hug you but I’m a bit weak at the moment.”

“I got you.” He sets the bags down and leans in for an embrace.

“I’m glad you fellas know each other.”

Barclay remembers burying his fingers in fine, silver hair while Indrid kissed him and worked his clever fingers inside him, promising he’d make him feel wonderful. He did. Every time.

“Yeah.” He blushes, spots Joseph registering this information and--knowing him--storing it away for later.

He was already making frequent trips to see the dragons, but as weeks give way to months he finds that whenever he’s not working, his feet ache to wander up into the hills.

Tonight, he and Joseph made dinner for the four of them (Indrid’s taken up residence in Duck’s home, and the dragon seems deeply uninterested in making him move). The dragons are on dish duty, so he and Indrid wander back to the library where Joseph has lit a fire.

“You really ought to tell him how you feel.”

“Is it that obvious?” Barclay fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist.

“Very. Then again, I know what desire looks like on you.” Indrid bumps their shoulders together playfully.

“But he’s, uh, he’s got Duck. He wouldn’t want a human, no matter how much we like each other.”

Indrid wordlessly moves to the bookshelves, smile widening as he finds a tome bound in blue leather and brings it back to the rug, “I found this when I was fetching books for him the other day.”

“Holy fuck” Barclay stares at the drawings, faded and labeled with draconic runes but undeniably that of a dragonborn fucking the living hells out of a very happy knight.

“I believe it tells the story of a knight who agrees to take a fair maiden's place as an offering and ends up enjoying his new station in life. It’s clearly been read often, though the anatomy is off in places.” He indicates a drawing in which it’s obvious the human doesn’t have balls to go with his enormous cock.

Barclay wants to say something witty, but all he can think about is gripping Joseph’s horns while he twines his tongue around Barclay’s cock.

“Yes, it’s giving me ideas too.” In the firelight, Indrid’s uncovered, brown eyes are almost red.

“Yeah?” Barclay sets a hand on his knee, “I’m no dragon but, uh-”

Indrid leans in, kissing him gently, “While dragons have their appeal, you are what I want right now.”

Barclay lets himself be pulled to the ground and is suddenly very glad dinner required so many dishes.

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

“I didn’t realize you’d be taking notes while you did this.” Indrid smiles, amused, as Joseph scribbles something at the top of a fresh page. They’re heading down the hall in Duck’s home, Indrid having agreed to be the subject of a very exciting day of research.

“I’m not. Not, not that I’m uninterested but, um, since I need to be able to observe everything, Duck will be the one actually fucking you.”

Indrid stops dead, heart fluttering in his chest, “He...is he just doing this as a favor to you?”

Joseph smiles, shakes his head, and Indrid understands that he was reading all the times Duck looked him over with those green eyes correctly.

They reach the bedroom and step across the threshold wearing twin expressions of confusion; Duck forgoes nesting in favor of a bed, but the mattress, a dozen blankets, and every pillow in the house are now on the floor, the dragon busily arranging and rearranging them. Then he sniffs the air and turns, pinning Indrid to the spot with a toothy grin.

“Why the nest?” Joseph drags a chair across the floor and positions it between the pillows and the fireplace.

“Dunno, ever since you told me that today was the day, I’ve had the itch to build one. Gotta make sure you’re comfortable, sweet thing.” Duck holds out his hand and Indrid reaches for it.

“Not yet. Indrid, please undress so I can make some notes.”

“You’re killin me here Joe.” Duck growls as Indrid moves towards the chair, peeling off layers until he’s naked. Joseph scribbles some notes. Indrid would feel like a scientific specimen were it not for the way the pupils in those blue eyes dilate each time he looks at him.

“I just need some measurements.” He pulls a ruler from the pocket of the notebook and kneels down, gingerly taking Indrid’s cock in his palm.

“I, I should mention that is generally frowned upon when it’s just humans.” Indrid squirms as hot breath skates up the sensitive skin.

“Humans are touchy about size.” Duck adds, settling his claws on Indrid’s hips from behind. He’s good foot and a half taller than the human, which always makes Indrid feels safe in his embrace; those have been more frequent these last few weeks, Indrid using the cold weather as an excuse to cuddle with the living furnace whose home he shares.

“Hmmm, if they have less genital variation than dragons, I could see how size would become the point of competition.”

“Variation?”

“Dragons got all kinds of set-ups” Duck grinds against Indrid’s ass, “Joe and I happen to have the same kind, where we can lay in someone and get, uh, laid in if we want.”

“Laying?” Indrid squeaks, “I, I’m not opposed but I’m not prepared either.”

“Nah, won’t do none of that today.” Duck blows hot breath down the back of his neck, “if you want, we can try some other time. Can even let Joe take notes. And if he’s good” Duck rests his chin atop Indrid’s head and looks down, “I’ll even save some for him.”

Joseph’s head snaps up, eyes wide, and for an instant Indrid expects to be sandwiched between two dragons, which sounds deliciously warm. Then Joseph collects himself, “Yes. I’d, um, I’d like that. But for now, I need one more measurement” his tongue flicks the air near the head of Indrid’s cock, “may I?”

“Please. Ohhhhhhhyes” He moans as Joseph licks his shaft, “that’s lovely, so veryOHgods” he bucks his hips as Duck digs his claws into the meat of his thighs.

“That’s very helpful, Duck, he’s getting wonderfully hard.”

“I aim to please. Now hurry up before I start fuckin him here and fuck up your data.”

“Just a second..there, done. Duck, please kneel, Indrid do the same but keep facing me.”

“Yessir.” Duck pulls them both to the floor. Claws spread his ass open and the tip of one pokes the base of the plug he put in earlier, “heh, you let Joe help you with this?”

“N-no” Indrid cranes his neck back for a kiss.

“I didn’t want to overstep.” Joseph replies matter-of-factly.

Indrid runs his mouth along Duck’s jaw, “next time I’ll make him warm me up with his tongue before putting it in.”

A moan from the chair as Duck rumbles, “good thinkin, he’s fuckin incredible with his tongue. But you better let me watch.”

“Of course.”

Fabric shifts behind him and then Duck’s wrap falls to the floor. The plug joins it and then a solid, ridged cock is teasing his cheeks.

“You ready, sweet thing?”

“Yes.” Indrid pushes his ass back, whines when only the first half-inch is pushed in.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the whole thing. Just gotta go slow, don’t wanna hurt my mate.” Duck pauses, “huh, sorry, that just came out.”

“I don’t mind.” Indrid sets his hands on top of the dragon’s.

“Fascinating.” Joseph scribbles more notes.

“You like the idea of bein my mate?” The question is shy, Duck hiding his face in Indrid’s neck.

“So very much. You make me so happy, Duck, you take such good care of meEEEoh, oh I see.” He snickers as Duck thrusts shallowly and laps at his throat, “you like being a good mate, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah. Wanted to, to do this months ago, wanted, when they gave you to me I wanted to climb into bed with you, fuck you sweet and slow and tell you nothin was gonna hurt you now, that you were all mine, keep this cute little body safe under the covers. Under me.” He thrusts several inches at once and Indrid moans, bounces in his lap in search of more, Duck click-growling each time he pushes down.

“Please, please, I want it all, Duck, pleasepleaseAH, AHhnnnngods” he grabs Duck’s arms as they wrap around him, the dragon bottoming out with a groan.

“Holy shit.” Joseph stares at them, and Indrid follows his gaze down to his lower belly, where the outline of Duck’s cock is unmistakable.

“Oh I like that a great deal.” He whispers, biting his lip as the outline slowly moves.

“Me too. Fuck, fuckin love how small you are, you barely fit on my dick and you’re still beggin for it.”

“How could I not?” Indrid purrs, relaxing against Duck’s chest, “this is going to sound very silly, sweetheart, but please, please” he tips his head up to kiss Duck’s chin, “take me?”

A tender, deep purr, then “anythin’ you want, sugar.”

Indrid lets his mouth fall open, spilling moans across the floor as Duck fucks him with abandon. It’s so much, almost too much, but it’s all he wants, to be taken and cared for by the magnificent, loving creature behind him.

The stretch and drag of Duck inside him is so intense he barely registers his own orgasm, though he cums hard enough to splatter some on Joseph’s leg. Then he’s holding on and whimpering as Duck spills into him, hotter than a human and so plentiful it drips down his thighs before the dragon even pulls out.

“Got what you need?” Duck pants, still holding Indrid to him.

“Yes.” Joseph is purring, gaze drinking in the two of them.

“Good. C’mon, sweet thing, let’s do see how my nest holds up to me mating the fuck outta you.”

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

Duck said it was fine to use the glyph to come in without knocking, so that’s what Barclay does. He sets the cake he made in the kitchen, wanders down the hall in search of the others. They weren’t at Joseph’s, so odds are good they’re here. Muffled voices direct him towards the bedroom, but when he arrives his libido kicks all sensible thoughts from his mind.

There’s a giant mound of cushions on the floor, at the middle of which he can see Duck’s tail, the spines of his back and, occasionally, his head. Indrid’s feet and calves are just visible, so limp he’d worry he was asleep except for the little moans he knows quite well. And sitting by the fire, watching the scene with an obvious tent in his lap, is Joseph.

Two scales snouts snap up into the air. Duck notices him, whispers something to Indrid, who waves and then pulls the dragon back down. The same can not be said for Joseph, who is licking his lips like he’s just seen a gourmet meal.

Barclay smirks, moves to the chair but stays standing, stroking one horn as he does, “I’m not interrupting research, am I?”

“Um” Joseph’s cheeks go golden, “yes and no. I, I really was making notes at first but for the last hour it’s been, um, hard to focus.”

“Wonder why. Wait, holy fuck, they’ve been doing this for an hour?”

“One hour and twenty-four minutes.”

“Knew Indrid had stamina but that’s impressive. Uh” he trails a finger up Joseph’s leg, scales as smooth as he’d hoped, “how long have you been dealing with this?”

“Most of that time.” Joseph’s breath catches charmingly as Barclay straddles him.

“Babe” he kisses the warm column of his neck, stopping to pay special attention to each scar, “I know you’re dedicated to your work, but I’m pretty sure they’d let you join them.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

“My polite dragon” Barclay nuzzles his cheek, “you still deserve to be taken care of, you know that, right?”

Joseph nods, tips his head to the side so Barclay can nibble his throat while undoing his wrap. What he finds is spectacular; a pointed cock with circular ridges and, beneath it, a slit just begging for his tongue to tease it. But since he’s not done kissing him yet, he adjusts his balance so he can close one around the shaft and slide the fingers of the other into the slit.

The dragon makes a series of hurried clicks and growls, throwing his arms around him and kissing his face, “Barclay, you, you’re so wonderful, I never thought you’d want this, ohgoodgods.”

“I do, babe. I wanna know what my whip-smart, handsome dragon likes, wanna make you come apart” He squeezes lightly and Joseph growls.

“I did not wait this long to cum on you while you’re clothed.” Clawed hands grip his ass as Joseph stands and carries him to the nest on the floor, dropping him into it with uncharacteristic carelessness. Which he then remedies by methodically removing Barclays clothes and folding them into a pile.

“Mmmm, hello dearest.” Indrid turns his head to kiss him as Joseph rolls him to face the other two.

“Hey. Gotta say, you look really good like this.”

“Damn right he does.” Duck’s hips stutter and Indrid squirms happily, “heh, shoulda known Joe would pick that for you. He’s got a thing for thick thighs.”

“Huh? OH! Ohfuckyeah.” He moans as Joseph manhandles him to thrust his cock between his thighs. Teeth nip his neck as golden pre-cum streaks his skin. The scales of his cock rub wonderfully on the base of Barclays own, and soon he’s so hard he’s ready to promise Joseph anything he wants for the chance to cum.

Cool, human fingers encircle his shaft. Indrid grins, “I may not be able to move much, but Joseph seems to be more than capable of getting you to fuck my fist.”

Barclay dips his head forward with a groan to kiss his shoulder.

“You don’t gotta worry about movin’” Duck grunts, tongue darting out to Indrid’s cheek, “all you gotta do is lay here and take my cum like a good little mate whenever I say.”

“Yes, yes, oh goodness Duck please, take me, use meAHnnnnn” a whimper “so much.”

“Shhh, s’okay sweet thing, I’m almost done.”

Joseph purrs in his ear, “cum for me, big guy, cum for me while I coat your thighs and, gods, and Duck breeds your boyfriend into next week.”

“Fuuuuck.” Barclay spills helplessly into Indrid’s hand, holds tight to his shoulder and Joseph’s right arm as the dragon cums between his legs. There’s a muffled curse and an “eep” from beside him, then Duck rolls off Indrid and begins licking the humans cum from his stomach.

“I, I think you built a very sturdy nest.” Joseph curls his body around Barclay and drapes his tail over Indrid’s legs to brush Duck’s.

“Thanks, handsome.”

“I also think living with Indrid for months has made your mind assign him the position of partner, hence the nesting.”

“Makes sense.” Indrid murmurs.

“And--oh” Joseph sighs as Barclay kisses him.

“Promise you can share more theories later, babe. Right now, how about napping with your boyfriends?”

Joseph purrs deeper as they all cuddle closer, “I like the sound of that.”

#OT4: Government and their Cryptid Boyfriends #indrid cold/ duck newton #duck newton/agent stern #indrid cold/agent stern #agent stern/ barclay #sternclay #indruck #dragon au #terato

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