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evanpeterswhoresblog · 1 year ago

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Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

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saphronethaleph · 5 months ago

Text

Outside the Throne Room

RK-T glanced over at GD-S.

“So…” RK began.

“Ssh!” GD replied, sharply. “Keep your mouth shut! You know the boss doesn’t like us to, you know, appear human in any way.”

“Boss isn’t here,” RK replied. “Well, he’s here, but he’s not here here. He’s on the other side of that door.”

“He could come out of that door at any time, you know that,” GD said. “We’re supposed to be silent and intimidating. And red.”

“Dude does like red,” RK mused.

He frowned, behind his mask. “Though… I actually wanted to ask. Why exactly do we exist?”

“What are you getting at, man?” GD replied. “We’re… imperial guards. We guard… the Emperor. Literally our only job. It’s in the description.”

“That’s what I’m getting at,” RK said. “We’re imperial guards, and in there right now with the boss is a Jedi. Like… the first one there’s been in decades.”

“Nah, there’s loads,” GD shrugged. “There were like twenty thousand Jedi, you’d never catch all of them.”

“Still, you get my point, right?” RK asked. “Vader goes in there with a Jedi, and the boss tells us to leave.”

GD shifted slightly, his force pike humming. “He’s the boss,” he pointed out. “His word is law. In fact I think his word is imperial dictat which is even more certain than a law, you know.”

“Not what I’m getting at,” RK replied. “He told us to leave. Literally. That’s the biggest threat possible, a rebel Jedi, and he’s told us to leave. And, what’s more… you’ve got to have thought about this yourself, but the boss is also… the boss. Most of the time he doesn’t need bodyguards… it’s not like he’s going to need us to stop him from being beaten to death by a mob, he could just electrocute them all.”

“That… is true,” GD admitted. “Now you’ve got me wondering why we exist at all. Thanks.”

“Sorry,” RK said. “I thought you’d have an answer.”

“Well, I don’t,” GD said, a bit snippishly.

The two red-clad guards stood in silence for a long moment.

“Maybe I should check on him,” RK suggested, and flicked on his comlink.

Then, a few seconds later, flicked it firmly off again.

“Well?” GD asked.

“Boss told the Jedi to kill him,” RK reported. “Then I heard the sound of a lightsaber and the boss laughing. So… I’m going to assume that any kind of, fighting noises or whatever, are his plan.”

GD sighed.

“It would be so much easier to do our jobs if the boss told us about this sort of thing,” he said.

Another pause resulted, this one longer and more awkward.

“Ever wonder if maybe our purpose is just eye candy?” RK suggested. “Looking good while the boss is doing something?”

“That’s depressing,” GD muttered. “But, yeah, that checks out.”

He looked at his force pike. “It’s not like these weapons are going to be much good for actual bodyguarding…”

“They can do the stun thing,” RK pointed out. “There is that.”

“Yeah, which is short ranged and really awkward,” GD answered. “I think I’m coming around to your point of view. If we were supposed to be proper bodyguards we’d have blasters.”

Silence returned, curling around and around like a cat preparing to settle in for a nice nap.

“...seen any good movies lately?” RK asked, eventually.

“This is doing great at maintaining the mystique,” GD groused.

“Do you see anyone to care?” RK replied. “Myself I actually thought the latest Starflare holodrama was good.”

“Isn’t her husband Baron Fel?” GD said, then shook his head. “Great, turns out my weakness is gossip.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll check in on the boss again,” RK offered, reaching up to flick on his comlink, then turned it off again. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

“Fine?” GD repeated. “Is that a proper report?”

“All right, all right, I heard several seconds of someone screaming, then the boss said ‘and now, young Skywalker, you will die,’” RK informed his coworker, copying the Emperor’s voice as best he could. “Is that enough of a report for you?”

“Yeah, whatever,” GD said. “Sounds like he’s having fun, at least… sounds like he might nearly be finished, though. So no time for gossip.”

“Whatever,” RK sighed.

Silence came back for the encore, and the two Red Guards stood either side of the door, defending someone who didn’t need defending from the absolutely nothing that might threaten him.

Then the door hissed open, and Darth Vader came through.

So did the Jedi, supporting Vader on his shoulder, and RK and GD both stared.

“...um,” RK began. “...halt?”

“He’s with me,” Vader replied, his voice strained.

“Where’s the nearest shuttle bay?” the Jedi asked.

RK and GD both pointed, completely unsure what to do, and the Jedi and Vader hobbled off down the corridor.

“Wonder what that was about,” GD said, eventually.

“Attention all decks!” a panicked voice said. “Attention all decks! Rebel fighters have entered the Death Star, they’re headed for the reactor, we can’t stop them!”

Two blank red masks gazed at one another for several seconds, then RK and GD bolted for the shuttle bay.

#star wars #Return of the Jedi #red guards #luke skywalker #darth vader

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onlyjaeyun · 7 months ago

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i’ve been following ur writing for some time now and i do have to agree with that anon who said you did CH dirty. you are a very talented writer so it’s just hard to watch.

you started off CH so strong with the lore and little chapters here and there but as it progressed you kind of just got lazy and it shows. when important events happened in the story, they weren’t conveyed through writing but through the texts (ie the riki and yn fight, that was definitely worth a written chapter) and it was honestly disappointing.

the ending isn’t much to say about either. yn and hoon barely go through development after the letter incident and all of a sudden they’re dating and married with a kid like two chapters later?

idk, if it was a mental health issue then i get that but even then you should’ve just gave it a break and thought everything out more. you could do so much better.

thank you for the feedback!

i wanna put you through the progess of a piece of writing from the POV of a writer okay? now keep in mind: i work two jobs, am a fulltime uni student and the daughter of an immigrant household with two parents who still work most of the day just so you know what else i have to deal with, besides my mental health okay?

now, i started off CH strong right? yes. i uploaded on the daily, fine i chose that. a chapter usually takes me around one hour if i actually sit down and focus on nothing but the chapter itself, which includes IG stories, editing, formatting etc. alright

on top of the daily chapters, i constantly replied to 40+ asks a day, a blessing in disguise because no matter how much i enjoy talking to you guys, the pressure does get worse the bigger that number of my inbox becomes, i hope this makes sense

now, i started CH back in october, right when my semester started, thats why i started off strong but as time went on, my assignments and private life got too busy and i guess i felt entitled enough as a writer to skip a few certain chaps and make life a little easier for me by making them regular chapters instead of written ones.

and this is gonna be my main point: i'm not a machine. i wrote a minimum of 5 THOUSAND words per written chapter, MINIMUM. we're talking about a 5-9 THOUSANDED worded chapter EACH WEEK. which usually took me about 6-7 hours, even allnighters.

yes, i chose to do that and maybe my time management wasn't the best but i had to create a compromise where i wouldnt have let you guys wait for over two months which would have resulted in me losing my motivation completely, and yet still focusing on EXAMS. because you know, i'm a fulltime uni student with TWO jobs 😮‍💨

if YOU think i did CH dirty go write an alternative ending yourself but it should be a minimum of 15 chapters including 5 written ones, with at LEAST 9k words each yeah? i wanna see you manage it all, pls prove me wrong snd show me you're better than me i'm genuinely begging bc it might inspire me to do "better" next time.

as a writer/artist/creator, and i can tell you probably arent one yourself or havent been one for long, the longer smth takes to come to an end the worse the pressure becomes which results in a blockage i dont wish upon my worst enemy i'm being deadass. i dealt with some of the worst writer's block ive had since i started writing literally 12 years ago and you're telling me i should have just "taken a break" and do "better"

i never, ever expected anything from anyone but some of you are so entitled to a writer's time and skill it's giving me a headache. maybe you didn't like the timing and writing of the last few chapters of CH and i guess that's unfortunate but this was so unnecessary because you completely dismissed everything else that could have been going on in my life and even belittled my mental health issues like im some fucking AI writing machine

do better, be nicer, write it yourself if you don't like it i'm so fucking over this

if i had gotten out of my own comfort and wellbeing and have actually written another set of written chapters i would have burned myself completely out. ive been in this fandom for not even a year and have already finished FOUR smaus with 50 chapters each, you do NOT get to tell me what i should or could have done better because you dont even give a fuck about me as a person this is just about receiving what YOU think YOURE entitled to but this is MY art and I will do what I see fit even if it's not what was expected of it because i'm a fucking human being with a life before i'm a writer on tumblr

oh, also: i do this for free ㅤ:) just a reminder :) this is my HOBBY :)

and don't you EVER call me lazy again when it comes to writing because i'm not gonna pour my heart and soul into a fic just for you to call me lazy when i literally wrote 50 THOUSAND words for this fucking fic just for the written chapters

goodbye

#; mailbox 📬#; cold hearts

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year ago

Text

The Pretty Average Trump Trauma

I really picked the wrong week to have a controversial post go viral.

The appeal deadline for my disability case is very soon and we just recently got the last of the medical records. My lawyer can get very busy and hard to reach. And I have been freaking out trying to get a hold of him to make sure everything is ready to be submitted. Thankfully he just emailed and said everything is on track and will be sent in for the appeal.

But having this weighing on me behind the scenes while also dealing with the blowback from my "vote for Biden" post caused me to enter into some unhealthy arguments and lose my temper on several occasions.

I didn't actually think about what would happen if that post went viral. Sometimes I write things and a hundred people see it, and it serves as a catharsis because I was able to get my thoughts and fears out of my brain.

And sometimes it gets reblogged 6000 times and I can forget I have a platform where that happens from time to time.

I wish I had written a better initial post. I think my thoughts in subsequent posts, along with the inclusion of what I think is a better strategy, would have gone a long way to help people understand my point of view. Looking back, that original post feels incomplete.

The post that ended up going viral was not inspired by reason or logic and it was never really meant to convince anyone of anything.

I thought I was preaching to the choir.

It was a representation of my fears. It was the result of two years of panic and trauma from the pandemic which ended in my mother's horrible death.

Let me explain...

On November 9th, Shaun, a YouTuber I respect, posted this.

And it scared the hell out of me.

A very popular leftist with a huge platform wrote this to 5 million people and I freaked out.

Shaun wasn't necessarily saying not to vote for Biden at the time. But he thinks people should all say they won't vote for him unless he calls for a ceasefire. I get the strategy. But I feared that nuance would be lost on many people and they would only see it as "don't vote for Biden... no matter what." Which was an accurate prediction on my part. The guy from Eve 6 has been going nuance-free for weeks now.

The one thing I greatly disagree with Shaun about is this...

Before the pandemic, I might have understood his argument. For the first two years, Trump was mostly an ineffectual goof. He had trouble getting a lot of his worst ideas to manifest. Most of the border wall he built ended up being repairs of existing barriers. And Obama droned civilians and kept kids in cages too—though Trump kept them in cages indefinitely and made up a rule that we can't actually know how many civilians he was droning.

So, a lot of the same, but turned up to 11.

But nothing about the pandemic response was pretty average.

There is something I have been choosing not to say during all of these discussions. I felt like saying it would be poor timing. I was worried people wouldn't actually agree with me. I worried it would make people think I was turning suffering into a competition. I didn't want to make it look like I valued certain lives over others. But then people accused me of all of that anyway. I was called evil and a collaborator and a supporter of genocide.

So I'm going to talk about it. Because the fact that few have mentioned it in these discussions has been bothering me. And the fact that the majority of society does not mention it makes me feel very alone in this belief.

I have long believed Trump and the majority of US conservatives committed a genocide of the disabled and elderly. I was never really comfortable calling it that word. I wasn't really sure how a genocide got classified as such. So I would just say things like, "40% of people who died during COVID should still be alive" and "Trump is responsible for hundreds of thousands of COVID deaths" and "Trump killed my mom" and hoping people would make the connection or at least see it as mass murder. I mean, this country judges everything by how many "9/11s" something is, but not the pandemic?

Donald Trump was the leader of the Republican party. When he refused to wear a mask due to vanity, his followers looked for something to excuse him. And I feel that directly birthed the "masks don't work" movement among conservatives. Donald Trump, having enormous influence among his acolytes, refused to correct this dangerous rhetoric. And he probably welcomed the cover so he could continue going maskless and not smear his makeup—even after he nearly died.

It is my belief this was the beginning of a genocide of apathy, deliberate and accidental incompetence, and non-compliance. And the reason for that non-compliance was not freedom as many claimed.

Conservatives did not like being inconvenienced.

They didn't like having to consider others.

And if competence requires effort and vigilance, they'd prefer doing the bare minimum.

Trump was famous for not filling vital administrative positions in the executive branch. Not only that, his turnover rate was 5 times higher than previous administrations. People were asked to do the job of several people because they didn't staff properly, and so those people quit. Thus creating a cycle of inexperienced new-hires that were out of their depth and asked to do much more than they bargained for. There is no way they could succeed in their jobs.

I think people forget that part of the role of the executive is the day-to-day boring administrative shit that is required to run a country. And when this day-to-day work isn't valued, it creates a crisis of incompetence. Which then creates things like not enough tests, not enough testing, Trump saying "if you don't test, it doesn't count", botched vaccine rollouts, rampant misinformation, poor education of the populace, and abysmal improvised press conferences where the President does a quick riff on injecting bleach.

This competence aspect is one of the hugest reliefs I had with the Biden administration. Not Biden. Not his policies. I'm talking about the regular workers getting shit done. This is the reason I am desperate to get my shit worked out with Social Security before the election. I once called Social Security during the pandemic and I literally got a recording saying to try calling back the next month.

Trump didn't care. People criticized him for not hiring people. He was aware of the problem. He just did nothing about it. And many conservatives praised him for "trimming the fat" or whatever. This idea that all of these government workers were useless burdens on the taxpayer fell apart during the pandemic.

There is incompetence caused by ignorance but it can also be a deliberate act. Trump was extraordinary in all forms of incompetence. He wasn't qualified to manage a pandemic. But he could have easily appointed experts and then gotten out of the way. But his narcissism would not let him cede power to anyone. He has always been convinced "only Trump can save you" and so his ego helped kill nearly half a million people.

Once the incompetence ball got rolling, that's when malicious apathy reared its ugly head. It was time to choose who they cared least about dying—who they felt was most useless. Conservatives decided it was time to devalue lives and start making sacrifices to save politicians' money laundering fronts small businesses.

Popular conservatives were going on TV and saying it was okay if Grandma died. It would be a worthy sacrifice to protect our freedoms.

The Lt. Governor of Texas, Dan Patrick, basically offered up the elderly for sacrifice all while claiming that he spoke for them and was also willing to die. Though I don't take his personal willingness very seriously, since he has the money and resources to get the best medical care and probably had no expectation he was in any danger.

“No one reached out to me and said, ‘As a senior citizen, are you willing to take a chance on your survival in exchange for keeping the America that all America loves for your children and grandchildren?’ But if they had? If that is the exchange, I’m all in. So my message is let’s get back to work. Those of us who are 70-plus, we’ll take care of ourselves.”

But you cannot just sacrifice the elderly. You may justify it by saying they have lived a long life, but many of the same health risks were shared by the disabled. Many of whom still had normal lifespans, but just needed extra care and protection.

There are countless elderly who cannot "take care of themselves" but they are still of value to our society. They are still loved. They watch and teach their grandchildren. They are the keepers of the family stories. They bake cookies and give you two dollar bills. They have random bowls of butterscotch all throughout their house.

But some need help. Some are sick. Some can't drive. Some can't walk. I guarantee not all of them were prepared to die for the cause.

And none deserved to die for a sports bar.

Oh, didn't I mention?

Dan Patrick owned a chain of sports bars that were losing money from the lockdowns. Did you really think he was sacrificing old folks "for the children"?

Thankfully Dan's sports bars are gonna be okay. He ended up receiving a $179,000 PPP loan... that was forgiven.

Then they started saying COVID deaths weren't COVID deaths.

"Well, they had a bad heart." "They were obese." "They had cancer."

They dropped the elderly excuse and began to openly devalue the disabled as well. If you were sick, what good were you? They considered us the next sacrifices for their convenience. If we wanted to survive, we shouldn't have gotten sick. It didn't matter that we could survive for years or even have a normal lifespan as long as we were protected by our communities.

And then began the non-compliance.

Trump's followers ignored masks and lockdowns and eventually vaccines. They were unwilling to protect the vulnerable and so many of us just... died.

Again, 40% of the US COVID deaths could have been prevented. Hundreds of thousands of people should still be here. Malicious apathy, incompetence, and non-compliance were the direct cause of this genocide.

The United Nations Genocide Convention identified 5 acts that typically constitute genocide. Only one act is required and in the pandemic 3 of the 5 acts happened.

Killing members of a group. Causing members of a group serious bodily harm. Imposing living conditions on that group that would destroy them.

I'm looking at that third one just now and realizing why we have advocates to remind us of vulnerable groups that need protection. I was thinking about how the elderly and disabled were trapped in hyper-contagious nursing homes and care facilities, but I completely forgot about prisons and the concentration camps at the borders.

I am not trying to diminish the awful things happening in Palestine right now. This is not a comparison of suffering—but a reminder. When a current terrible thing is happening, it can be hard to focus on anything else. But I do wish more people recognized what happened as a genocide and that the leader of that genocide, the one with the power to stop it, was Donald Trump. If we are going to base this voting decision entirely on acts of genocide, why is this not part of the consideration?

It is an awful moral calculus we have to figure out. One president is supporting and asking for funding for a genocide and I feel the other was the direct cause of another genocide. That's why I said both choices sucked. And the only way I could resolve this moral calculation was by asking what path would cause the least harm for everyone involved.

And the most disappointing aspect of all of these debates was the ableism. People told me if Trump was elected and I lost my benefits I should grow my own food and learn about medicine. They said I valued disabled lives above those in Gaza. They told me to imagine myself in Nazi Germany as a collaborator despite the fact I would have been euthanized.

But I felt like they weren't considering the disabled at all.

I am a disability advocate. So of course I am going to remind people to consider us in their voting decisions. But I'm tired of hearing I value lives differently just because I speak on behalf of a vulnerable group more often. I'm tired of continually having to justify my existence. And I'm tired of people dismissing the very real trauma caused by Trump.

It was not pretty average.

I'd like to tell you the full story of my mother's passing. All of the details. Even the ones I can't bear to type. But this isn't just my story. This is the story of countless others who had to watch their loved ones slowly die behind glass or over the phone or on an iPad.

I spent two years in constant anxiety trying to protect my two very sick parents. It was always assumed that my father was the most at risk. And that he was probably going to die long before my mother. But she had started a treatment for her psoriatic arthritis that turned the volume down on her immune system. Something that would normally not be a huge risk... but a pandemic changed that. A vaccine needs a functioning immune system to protect someone.

She could either accept the agony of stopping treatment or risk getting COVID. If people would have been willing to protect her, it would have been an easier choice. And she would still be around today. And I wouldn't have to worry about being homeless right now.

I don't know for sure when she was infected. I kept her inside as much as possible. But she needed those treatments and we had to pile into a crowded waiting room every time. And I remember a man in his fifties who seemed preoccupied with having to wear a mask. And when he thought no one was looking, he'd pull it down below his nose. A few days later she was being taken away in an ambulance.

A few weeks before my mother died, she called me on the phone. She was heavily medicated and they had two different breathing devices assisting her. The nurse was holding the phone up to her ear and she was trying to speak over the volume of the air rushing into her face from the masks. I could not hear her no matter how loud she yelled. So she asked the nurse to take the masks off for just a second so we could talk.

Her only concern was for my father. We all contracted COVID and she was so worried he would end up just like her. Thankfully the vaccine worked for him and he was okay at that moment. But she kept yelling, "Is Dad okay? Is Dad okay?" And I kept trying to tell her he was fine, but she was hard of hearing and the phone could not be held very close to her ear.

Unfortunately, the yelling made it harder and harder for her to breathe. She started gasping for air. The nurse kept insisting she put the breathing equipment back on, but my mom refused. "I want to talk to my son! I need to talk to my son!"

I knew there wasn't much we could do to communicate. And so I kept trying to yell "I love you, Mom. Everyone is fine. I love you!" I then asked the nurse to tell her that. And when she finally understood what I was saying, she burst into tears.

Her oxygen levels were getting dangerously low and she was fighting the nurse. And she just yelled out, "I'm so scared! I think I'm going to die! Tell Dad I'm sorry I can't take care of him! I don't want to die!" She kept repeating that over and over. The nurse had no choice and had to put the masks back on. My mom screamed and shouted "No! Please no! That's my son!"

And those were the last words I ever heard from my mother.

Gasping for air. Scared of dying. Worried about her family.

This moment has intrusively popped into my brain on a regular basis since it happened. It happens when I'm awake. It happens in my dreams. I have no control over it. I just have to keep experiencing it like it is happening for the first time.

After I saw that tweet from Shaun and then many others expressing the same thing (without the strategic aspect), my dread and trauma resurfaced with a vengeance. I've been reliving my mom's final words in my dreams. That moment keeps popping into my head. I feared the man I feel is most responsible for my mother's death may regain power and kill me and the last of the family I have left.

I keep asking myself the same questions over and over. What if there is another public health emergency? What happens to my trans friends if he turns the US into Florida and Texas? What will happen to the migrants at the border?

All I have is my two best friends. Katrina is gay and Delling is trans and disabled. All of us are vulnerable.

I wrote that post to help deal with the nightmares. Writing is part of my coping process. I didn't really expect it to go super viral. I just needed to get that out of my brain. But when people pushed back and started calling me evil and a collaborator and that I was valuing my life above those in Palestine, all with a huge heap of ableism, I found myself unable to let it go and not respond. I couldn't choose the healthy thing and step away.

While I feel I made some good arguments and put forth some solid ideas for other ways to handle this, I also got angry and lost my temper and stayed in arguments for way too long—all to my mental detriment.

My little world felt like it was collapsing and the world at large also felt like it was collapsing. I had personal horrors in my mind mixing with the horrors of this global conflict.

It was too much.

I don't regret what I posted. Many felt the same as I do. And I think my subsequent posts did a good job of expanding on my thoughts while also offering hope for alternate solutions.

But I do regret the timing and I wish I hadn't lost my temper. Especially in a reply I left with a lot of cussing.

People might disagree but I am hoping that people can understand the fear and trauma that influences my point of view.

I am actually willing to risk quite a lot to protect other people. Even people in faraway lands I don't know.

But I refuse to offer up the vulnerable to be sacrificed if it won't actually help anyone. That's what a Texas Lt. Governor would do.

#trigger warning #death mention #genocide mention

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burins · 4 months ago

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fic author self rec!

@timetoboldlygo tagged me in this like two weeks ago and I was busy. thank you for continuing to tag me in shit even though it's very hit or miss as to when I'll actually do it <3

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

this was rly hard. a few months ago I hit 71 fics on ao3, which is a wildly high number! and all of them are my personal children whom I love. also I know there's a fair amount of recency bias (and frankly also I think I have gotten much better at writing than I was when I first started posting fic more than a decade ago!) that being said. five fics that I rly loved writing:

whetstone - fe3h, Edelgard/Byleth, major character death

this is 4k about sacrifice and empire and being in love! I wrote it mostly on the train because the idea seized me by the throat and did not let me go. for a while there was a group of friends on Twitter who were passing snippets around to make each other sad, which is really all I can ask for in a work.

breath hot, blood red - batman, gen, graphic violence

while we're thinking about love and violence! I love in comics when Batman is a Creature and a monster and a horror. and I also love a devil's bargain. this was so fun to write bc I got to use a different register than I usually do, almost a fairy-tale style, while still having everyone's dialogue be really grounded. and I think the combo worked really well!

underfoot, a threshold - FatT, samothes/samot, no warnings

speaking of fairy tale styles. I still think this is among the best things I've ever written which is funny because I think about fifteen people have read it. but they all really liked it, and so did I, which is all that matters in the end! writing samot and samothes pre-canon is so much fun because I get to drop in all of the foreshadowing about how doomed they are while still writing two people who very much love each other. doomesticity!

there when the light comes in - DC, timkon, no warnings

I posted this really fast bc I was having so much fun writing it and as a result I didn't get to really sit in the writing process but it was a blast. I liked doing research for this so much that we actually ended up going to a few of the spots Tim and Kon do on our actual honeymoon road trip (Elmer's bottle tree ranch is as fantastic in person as it was to read about.) also I got to write so much banter!

mission parameters - DC, superbat, no warnings

the behemoth! this one does have to go on here. I learned so much about plot and structure and character development while writing this! it is only my second actual longfic and it was very much a Learning and Growing experience for me. I got to do world building! I got to make OCs! also because I posted a chapter a week I got to see everyone's responses coming in every week, which remains one of my favorite fandom experiences. I had a lot of lovely friends cheering me on but i cannot say enough nice things about @suedeuxnim who beta'd this and made it about ten thousand times better than it would have otherwise been. literally helped me fix the entire emotional arc!!

ok that was a lot of words about all of these. it's fine.....,

tagging @try-set-me-on-fire @froizetta @cairoscene @dustorange @curiositeath but as always no pressure and anyone else who wants to do it should consider themselves tagged!

#tag game #i do need everyone to know that i had not realized Trump had been shot when i posted this

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cynthiav06 · 1 year ago

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In which scenes do you think they should have given Klaus and Hayley a kissing scene?

Let's say we disregard the entirety of season 1, let the whole Elijah thing blow over.

Firstly, in season 2, when Klaus is consoling her after explaining the realities of being a hybrid, in the real moments are vibrant scene or even when he takes her out to kill witches, they could have given us a forehead touch in the for the former and a kiss for the latter part.[Both consumed by bloodlust mostly Hayley as Klaus can control it, she accidentally(definitely intentionally while acting on her true desires) kisses Klaus and he is so enamored he can't help but reciprocate.

I trust you, more than you know scene should have definitely evolved into a kiss. Klaus can't help the jealousy and the feeling of fear that arises at the thought of her marrying Jackson (yes, yes, he is also worried about Hope's existence being revealed, but there's obviously more) and after hearing Hayley's words he wants to convey to her that he does trust her and care for her so yeah a kiss there for sure.

In season 3, Hayley turns back and is fighting Klaus but breaks down after seeing Hope and then hugs her? I think that scene should have also had Klaus hugging them both, maybe to symbolise his apology or other but not a kiss, but at least a hug.

After he saves her from Lucien, we really need a scene where he hugs her, and then she kisses him because she needs to feel that he is real and they are both alright. Klaus kisses her back equally fervently to assure her that she is safe as she is both afraid for Klaus's life and her own so he can feel her fear and relief now that Lucien's dead. That should have definitely been added. (So many missed opportunities for the building up to probably the most compatible and perfect couple you would think they didn't do it just to not brutally destroy the previous Klaus or Hayley ships. Oh shit that's exactly why)

When they are alone in the wood clearing, and he says, "I have given you a thousand reasons to abandon me, but you haven't yet, thank you?" A kiss would have gone really well with that.

Maybe a scene where Hayley shows off her karaoke skills, and Klaus is so amazed he kisses her? That would have been perfect.

When he goes to Marcel to sacrifice himself for Hope, Hayley and his family, a parting kiss

When Klaus, Hayley and Hope unite and Klaus and Hayley see each other's struggles they can't help but kiss because Hayley has missed Klaus's presence, his words, his protection and Klaus has missed his little wolf and littlest wolf dearly, moreover Klaus can't help but marvel at her strength each time for whenever he thinks this might just break my little wolf she perseveres through it and he has been wanting to kiss her since they last parted and as she was one of the few who broke him out the want only doubled.

A lots of kisses during that time cause two people don't go to such lengths for each other if they don't love one another like crazy.

When he has to leave with the hollow's essence, a sorrowful but desperate kiss. Yet again, parting ways and this just might be permanent.

I like to think Hayley gave him individual visits to check on him when Hope was grown enough and was in school and they kissed and everything.

Lastly when Klaus saves her from Greta, the Hollow's defeated and its all good for the rest of them, after Hope's taken back, passionate kissing and make out scene that results into another miracle baby is exactly what we deserved. [This is what I believe would have actually happened if the writers weren't bloody fools and also so I don't wallow in misery at the unfairness of it all for both of them]

#klayley #klaus and hayley together or not at all #The ending they deserved #the ending we needed #hayley marshall #klaus mikaelson #soulmates forever #anti klaroline #the originals

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heich0e · 8 months ago

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liv…. i eat up your dialogue EVERY TIME like a crazy person.. if you post smth for someone i dont go here for, i read it just because 🤍 i 🤍 love 🤍 your 🤍 writing 🤍 but that being said……. i must know the details of the canonverse levi wip you posted. what did erwin do! what was levi and r’s relationship! how!!!!

if you're genuinely interested, i really don't mind telling u what the plot is because i will quite literally never post it. it was the first fic i ever wrote for any anime, and i hadn't even gotten very far into the actual show at the point of writing—so while some aspects are (tenuously) canon-compliant, there are also many very clear ways in which it is not.

so, to reduce that terrible levi x reader fic (it's so bad and i MEAN that!!) down to its barest bones, start to finish:

[WARNING: THERE IS AN ENTIRE FIC SUMMARIZED UNDER THIS READ MORE AND IT IS MULTIPLE THOUSANDS OF WORDS LONG. THEMES INCLUDE: DUBCON, CANON CHARACTER DEATH, VAGUELY MISOGYNISTIC TONES, AND EVERY SINGLE CRINGE-Y FANFIC CLICHE U CAN IMAGINE. BYE.]

at the point where the fic opens, reader is a young, low-ranking soldier in the survey corps on her way to mitras with levi and erwin to attend a small gala being hosted by a very wealthy family that they're petitioning (effectively wooing) to provide funding for the corps

the reason reader is asked to come along is because she comes from a very good family in mitras and is connected to the "high society" folk—though never explicitly stated, erwin very much intends to use her and her social graces as a sort of poster child and mouthpiece for the corps, in hopes that she can charm ppl and help them gain favour to accomplish their goal

all things considered, reader was very privileged growing up and had as comfortable/luxurious of a life as anyone (at least anyone in paradis) could possibly hope to have. her family is aristocracy/noble and comes from a long line of "wealth." her father is a doctor who consults with the military in a high ranking capacity—though he's never actively been a soldier, and it's largely just a cushy job where he doesn't do much actual grunt work, just gets consulted on things and sits on boards or whatever

reader graduated from school and enlisted in the military when she came of age—to the shock and horror of her family (especially her mother) and their noble peers. but she felt an impetus to do something with her life that wasn't just sit around docilely and look pretty until eventually her father handed her over to an advantageous husband and she went from daughter to wife and surely then eventually mother—while never actually having any agency or choice for herself

because reader was well-educated from childhood, she did well academically at the cadet academy, and because she grew up in a comfortable home she is physically very competent as well (though truthfully her skill as a soldier is often very OP and cringey to read back now... but it was my first fic! sue me!)

levi and reader don't interact much in the corps (as he's not her squad leader) but when they do they're constantly at odds—he thinks less of her as a result of her silver spoon upbringing, and while she doesn't dislike him, per se, she definitely resents his treatment of her

on the trip to mitras (alongside a very uncomfortable homecoming to her estranged family's home with two men who are effectively her bosses) they attend the gala/banquet and it's revealed that the family hosting it is the most wealthy in mitras (save for the royal family, though they're sort of unofficially considered the second-in-command) who reader is very familiar with—they have a son her age, and a few daughters slightly younger, who she grew up close to (i made all these characters up btw.... first fic liv was rly going wild)

the son from this family was always sort of sweet on reader growing up, and they have a vaguely romantic history in their teens (before reader enlisted.) reader very quickly surmises that she was brought along (or at the very least is able) to possibly sway the son in their favour, as the eldest and heir to this family's fortune, who would in turn convince the father to support the corps

the son (his name is adam btw. if anyone cares? lmao) is actually very sweet, and earnestly cares for her. he's just blinded by his own affluence to a lot of realities—like most extremely wealthy people are

reader is a good soldier and she's cunning, and she knows that what she's doing is ethically/morally questionable but in the interest of the greater good she goes along with some flirtation/manipulation for the cause

the story progresses and reader continues her work in the military, but the heir from this family is clearly infatuated with her and he (and his father/family by extension) begin implicating themselves more heavily with the military as an excuse to see her/spend time with her/etc though of course it's all under the guise of official business

so it's like the life she fled is bleeding into the one she built for herself, and it's stark juxtaposition becomes very clear in those instances where they overlap and she's forced to juggle them both

she just wants to be a soldier and do good. erwin is (in so many words) pressuring her to do her part and keep up the charade. levi is watching this all unfold from the wings and starts to feel some genuine sympathy for her

lots of very dramatic things happen, yadda yadda yadda. levi grows less hostile over time, and reader becomes closer to him. she's always respected him and that grows into something mutual. there's a lot of unspoken tension brewing between them

it's revealed that reader threw her cadet exam results so that she wouldn't be in the top of her class, and therefore couldn't become an MP and had to join either the garrison or the scouts. she did it intentionally (erwin knew and used this to his advantage) so that her family wouldn't be able to force her back to mitras. when levi realizes what erwin did/knew and how he used it to his own advantage it really upsets him, because he's basically pimping reader out for the betterment of the survey corps. this is the first time you really see levi get angry about the way she's being used (and you can infer in this moment that he maybe cares about her a bit)

more dramatic stuff happens!

the story culminates in the reveal that the son is planning to ask for reader's hand in marriage. her own family has already agreed. part of the financial agreement the powerful family has made with the survey corps is that reader will effectively be retired once she marries (and transferred to a clerical role with the MPs. desk work, basically. fake work, for all intents and purposes, because the position was made up just for her)

reader goes to erwin, understandably extremely distraught when she finds out, and begs him to stop it from happening. she doesn't really care about getting married, but she doesn't want to leave the scouts. he effectively (though not explicitly/in these particular words) implies that maybe if she fucks her "fiance" he'll be more open to compromise and let her stay in the corps

she does it, but unsurprisingly loverboy is not about to let the woman he's obsessed with (who he has now officially boned lmao) go back to risking her life every day in the military, and it's almost immediately revealed that her plan didn't work at all

(erwin pretty much knew the whole time it wasn't going to work. bastard.)

reader feels betrayed and helpless. she goes to levi the night before she's set to leave—who basically is like "uhhhh i told you so??" upon finding out what's happened—and they end up sleeping together anyway in a very emotionally fraught and vulnerable moment

she leaves the next day

a timeskip happens. turns out that the ENTIRETY of the wealthy family was killed in the attack in mitras (like between annie and eren's titans i think? don't remember what season that is. a lot of ppl get smooshed in a church. they were there.)

but reader had already been married into the family. she wasn't in the church and inherited the entirety of their wealth as the sole surviving family member.

she was also.... pregnant :) (of course she was! this fic hits every trope and bad fanfic cliche! maybe it's twins!)

levi is back in mitras years (??) later (listen.... i didn't know where the hell the canon storyline of this manga was going at the time so FORGIVE ME for the fact that obviously this is not canon compliant l m a o)

reader has become sort of a recluse since everything happened in mitras, but having inherited the wealth she's become a key figure politically and particularly with respect to the military because of her influence as a donor.

levi tracks her down to this surprisingly humble property on the outskirts of town.

there's a little boy playing in the yard. no more than four or five. he has dark hair and slate grey eyes. levi looks at this child and sees his mother's face.

the little boy speaks to him but levi is (understandably) very confused and disoriented. reader comes outside and is shocked to see levi there. like she's seeing a ghost.

reader tells the little boy to come to her and scoops him up in her arms, and she quietly reminds him (his name is Teddy btw... short for Theodore) that he's not supposed to talk to strangers.

and Teddy leans in real close and says "but mama... he has your wings" because Levi is wearing his survey corps uniform with the insignia on them. you've kept your own patch (a parting gift from erwin when he sold you off... how thoughtful) and treasure it.

all of which is to say that basically Levi is the kid's father, but because reader was already married when her pregnancy was discovered and the timeline still checked out—so no one ever questioned the paternity (especially because she was a WIDOW by the time she gave birth.)

teddy is now the "legitimate" heir to the entire fortune that was left by reader's husband/his family, but until he comes of age it's reader's to manage, so she can provide a safe home for him to grow up in—though notably removed from the society that she was raised in.

it's heavily implied (though not actually confessed) that reader and levi have been in love with each other for all these years, and there's a kind of optimism about what future is ahead for them now that their paths have crossed again. (present day canon-knowing liv is laughing at this part in particular.)

the end.

#liv got mail #for all that is good and FUCKING merciful if u make it through this thank you and i'm sorry #WIP #<- that tag feels bad and wrong here but oh well #hiding in the tags to talk abt this wip more hope that's ok lmao #the hard part is that i think there are some aspects of this story that ARE good and many that COULD HAVE BEEN good (but aren't)#adam's character in particular is very interesting to look at bc he's very morally grey #reader struggling against her circumstances is compelling bc her wealth turns the conventions of that narrative on its head #levi reckoning with his own prejudices!#erwin being kind of evil!#reader being of age when she joined the cadets and therefore older than the rest +#now occupying a kind of big sister role to the others after living all her life as an only child!#yeah... anyway

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dani-luminae · 5 days ago

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Thinking about Haley in Phoenix's Heirs (and even the future of her main canon stories) and her popularity as a rockstar. I have thoughts I don't know will ever make it into the story, but (inspired by some theme park attractions, general headcanons and stuff)

When Aerosmith was retired from Rock'n Roller Coaster at DHS, Haley was the replacement. At least one of the songs she recorded for the attraction was a tribute medley to the previous band, who had been one of her favorites growing up. Rock'n Roller Coaster is as a result one of Hadley and Blaise's favorite attractions at Walt Disney World, and not just because they get immediate front-of-the-line privileges for it.

It was a surprise when Universal contacted Haley to ask if she wanted to be a part of their yearly Halloween Horror Nights event. She happily agreed (she loved a good scare just as much as family-friendly fun) and recorded a brand new song for the new house which would be based off of it; telling a story of a talented musician who made a deal for fame with some powerful entity, in return for a thousand human souls offered in sacrifice. This was the plot of the haunted house, claiming that Haley was throwing a "charity concert" but it was actually a ploy to lure in souls to be sacrificed, and so the guests had to "escape" various creatures and even "Haley" herself trying to capture them and kill them. (Funnily enough this entity may or may not have been implied to be Hades)

(Haley had to train about twenty actresses on how to portray her in this haunted house. It was fun, and Hadley helped)

Haley has no problem shouting at the paparazzi and is very protective of her family

She has a PR manager of course, and they get along well, but there are days when she stresses him out a lot. He takes frequent vacations (which Haley encourages). Haley doesn't care to be online much herself or have social media accounts, though she's very vocal about this in interviews.

Politics is tricky for her. She thinks her music speaks for itself, especially when it comes to rebelling against authority, but of course she also has the problem where the wrong people (fascists, idiots, that lot) think her music is an anthem against "government tyranny" (read: social programs, etc.) And she's never one to mince her words to tell those people that they're deeply wrong

She is, however, vocal about telling people to participate in government at all levels - local, state, government. That's what it's there for.

She has argued with her agent, Janes, to take her "world tour" to more than just the usual "USAmerica and maybe a few European cities" route that so many world tours end up being. So far she's succeeded in taking her show to Rio de Janeiro and Tortola. She's still arguing for more and wearing him down with sheer insistence.

For a short while her record label did try "pairing" her with a male colleague, a fellow rockstar stage-named Octavian Roksolana. They appeared at concerts together, and interviews, and Haley got the feeling that the label was trying to pass them off as a 'couple'. Octavian, however, wasn't into romance, and Haley wasn't into him, so it went nowhere, and the label gave up after a couple of months. She sharply warned them not to try it again.

That being said, Haley and Octavian are still friends and like to send postcards if their careers take them anywhere interesting. He got to go to Athens for a concert and she was jealous.

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biffhofosho · 2 years ago

Text

Prisoner to Temptation | Chapter Eight

Word Count: 11.3k

A/N: >.>

Your Honor, I’m in love with jealous Hyungwon.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12

Right on schedule, the princess’s monthlies came, and as it always did in a palace, news traveled quickly when other people did the laundry. Whispers trailed behind her down every corridor like a veil of her failure.

“She’s not that young.”

“And she’s only getting older.”

“Poor Prince Hyungwon. We should go to him.”

“Somebody has to.”

Naran kept her chin up. They were being ridiculous. It was unrealistic to expect results so soon. They were just jealous. Or bored. Or both.

She could think of a thousand reasons why everyone wanted to bring her down, but the truth was, none of that mattered. A princess had one job, and she had not accomplished it. It wasn’t like Naran was in a hurry to be a mother, but it also meant that certain expectations still had to be met this coming month.

For his part, the prince said nothing of the talk of the palace. He showed up at her door one night seemingly none the wiser, and with how needy she always felt around her monthlies, Naran nearly invited him in. In the end though, she begged him to postpone their visit until later in the week and spent a very restless night staring at the ceiling instead. For the next few days, the princess managed as much time away from the prince as she could because she simply didn’t trust herself around his pretty face and his witty conversation.

But if the sexual moratorium had taught Naran anything, it was that without Prince Hyungwon’s special attention, life in the palace wasn’t just frustrating—it was dull. She had always known she was not cut out for the role of princess, but actually having to fulfill the public duties of her position could not have been more tedious. Without an outlet, she felt like a lightning bolt ready to charge at the easiest target.

That very morning, she found herself outside her husband’s door, hoping for the grace to ask for some of his time that night without sounding as desperate as she was, only to be startled by his voice behind her.

“Looking for me?”

“My lord!”

Hyungwon smiled with his head cocked to the side as though he were studying a never-before-seen creature.

“Yes—no! I was just going to check your schedule today—to make sure you didn’t mind if I took a ride out in the pasture.”

“When have I ever minded that?”

Naran narrowed her eyes at his amused tone. “Okay then. I guess it won’t be a problem…”

“Nope.” He was still smiling, and the princess was growing more frustrated by the second. “Is that all, my lady?”

“I—”

Just then, Hansol entered the sitting room but stopped when he found the couple huddled near the prince’s door. With a deep bow, he said, “Pardon me, Your Highnesses. I just wanted to see if you needed any help with your trunks, Your Grace.”

“Trunks?” Naran asked, looking back to her husband.

Hyungwon nodded sheepishly. “Father demands I call on my uncle in Jemulpo, but I shall be back in three nights’ time.”

“Three nights?”

The words echoed in the cavern of the room. Just the thought made her heart sink to the soles of her feet. She was already overwrought, and now she had no outlet for at least three more nights?

“You weren’t going to tell me?” the princess pouted.

“That’s why I’m here. My father just received the request from my uncle, so I am to leave at once. I wanted to go as fast as possible if only to get back all the quicker. I do not like being away from home.” Hyungwon stared at her then, his bottom lip finding its way further under his teeth with each passing second. “Did you need something before I go?”

With a heavy sigh, Naran shook her head. “It can wait, my lord. I hope you have an easy trip.”

The prince sighed, too, but bowed all the same. When he came back up, he stole a kiss of her cheek and whispered, “Wait for me until then.”

Naran didn’t stand around to watch her husband pack. She was anxious enough as it were. Watching him toss things around in his room instead of tossing her around would have been too maddening. Instead, she lived up to her lie and took a long ride on her horse out to the edge of the pastures and then completed an even longer route around the rim of the property. She had hoped she would come back to the palace exhausted, and she did—just not the way she needed.

It all would have been so much easier if the prince were not a talented lover, but since he was, it made it incredibly difficult for Naran to find satisfaction elsewhere. Her tried-and-true methods of self-pleasure were failing. Every time she came close to release, it eluded her, which had never been a problem before. She simply could not bring herself over the edge, and it was spilling over into her days, too.

She was snippy with the empress, snippier yet with the servants, especially with the male ones. Even if the notion to dally with one of them struck her, the moment Naran looked into their eyes, the mood soured. They would be eager to please, she had no doubt, and more than a few of them were probably up to the task, but the thought of having her time wasted on the ones who couldn’t keep up squashed the inclination. She already knew someone capable of doing a proper job, and he was leagues away at the moment.

It was on the fourth day of frustrations that Naran sat with Magda in the tea lounge, silently drowning her sorrows into a cup of jujube tea before another servant came in with a tray with a letter on it. At this, the princess sat up straight.

“Word from the Prince?” she asked.

The servant, a slender thing with a bright white face like a peony but eyes like daggers, bowed and said, “No, Your Grace. I believe the courier said it is a letter from your family.”

Normally, that would have perked the princess right up, but instead, she slumped a bit into her chair as she opened the envelope to read it while Magda looked on, sipping her own tea.

The letter turned out to be from Saran, just an update from the road home as they journeyed back through the Goryeon mountains. It was full of her sister’s teenage fantasies about being swept away by lonely mountain gods or bandits who would have a change of heart as soon as their eyes fell on her. It would have been charming if the images hadn’t been obviously colored with shades of the royal wedding the girl had just attended. Naran had a sinking feeling now that her sister would marry the first suitor she met when she came of age and make an ill-fated match because of it.

And of course, the end of the letter spent over a paragraph sending love to her “new brother” and entreating his promise to take “very good care” of her big sister. It should have been sweet. Instead, it chafed.

Naran dropped the letter onto the table and shifted her gaze down the hallway to watch the busy palace staff go about their mornings.

“Everything all right with Their Majesties?” Magda asked at length.

The princess shrugged a shoulder. “So Saran says. The trip has been easy, I guess.”

Naran returned her attention to her tea, watching the way the little dried fruit bobbed at the bottom of the cup without a care in the world.

“Your Grace!”

Her head shot up to find her old friend’s eyes wide to the whites. Naran frowned. “What is so urgent?”

“I’ve been talking to you for over a minute. Did you not hear me?”

The princess pursed her lips. “I did not.”

At the lady’s admission, Magda smirked. “I was talking of His Highness, Prince Hyungwon. It should be good to see him again, wouldn’t you say? I find the palace rather quiet without him.”

“Not that he says much to begin with,” Naran deflected.

“I must be honest. I have been a bit surprised at how much time you have spent with Prince Hyungwon since we’ve arrived considering all the blustering you did on the way here.”

“You’re exaggerating,” the princess admonished with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve avoided him wherever possible.”

“I think you’ve spent far more time together than you realize, My Lady.”

“And who else shall I spend it with, hm? I only know you and him, Magda.”

The attendant brought her tea to her lips and took a long sip. When she pulled it back, she was smiling with the same wan curve as her cup. “I don’t just mean during the day.”

Naran felt itchy under the collar of her hanbok.

“Now, I know you’re exaggerating just to annoy me. It’s only been twice. And a half,” she mumbled as an afterthought. “Besides, we are still newlyweds. Expectations are high, and I still need to prove my worth to the emperor. And anyway, it’s getting colder at night, so, naturally, it’s easier to stay warmer. Plus—”

Magda’s smile broadened.

“Oh, what?” snapped the princess.

“Nothing. It’s just, I made a simple observation. You seem to be mounting several arguments on why it’s been twice. And a half.”

Magda was vibrating with laughter and Naran growled. “I should have left you in Urga.”

“Either way, My Lady, might I make a suggestion?”

The princess cocked her head as she listened.

“I think you should find some little way to make a positive impression with the servants here,” said Magda.

“How do you mean? Hansol and I get along very well already.”

The older woman shook her head lightly. “No, Your Highness, I mean the other ladies of the palace. There have been… rumblings of late.”

“Rumblings?”

Magda’s face tightened a bit, and with it, a little pinkness capped her warm tan. “It seems more than a few of the serving lasses have remarked on a strong change in the Prince’s interactions with them.”

“How do you mean? Is he scolding them?”

“No, My Lady. I know you know perfectly well what I mean.”

Naran’s heart thundered in her throat. Sex. She meant sex. For a moment, the princess had the awful urge to run out of the room with her fingers in her ears, but she soldiered on. Her voice shook as she asked, “Is he being too aggressive with them then?”

“No. No. It seems he does not pay them much attention these days, and it has caused some… resentment, particularly toward Her Ladyship.”

“Oh.” Naran bit her lip as she tried to hide the creep of a smile. “Oh?”

“You should be more concerned about this, My Lady.”

“It is the prince’s choice with whom he elects to spend his time. We have an agreement he can do what he wants with whomever he wants,” said the princess, though she found it a bit tougher these days to say that and mean it.

“These women are the ones charged with taking care of you, Your Highness. If you don’t nip this in the bud, these sorts of things can get out of control.”

Naran scowled then, her sudden burst of good mood thoroughly rained upon. “Well, what do you suggest, Magda? Shall I check out my husband to them like a library book?”

Now, it was Magda’s turn to scowl. “I said nothing of the sort, and I will thank you not to be crass with me. I suggest you build some rapport with them. Do not make yourself any more of a threat than you already are. Treat them to something nice or spend some time with them.”

Naran rolled her eyes. “This all sounds like work.”

“You are a princess, are you not? That title sounds like a job to me after all.”

“I hate when you’re right.”

“You mean always?” Magda retorted.

As much as it chapped that Naran was being asked to coddle her husband’s paramours, it did beat having her food spat in or other such petty sabotages—or, worse, having her staff actually prey on her husband behind her back.

With nothing else to occupy her overworked mind and no word on the prince’s anticipated return, the princess made it her mission to invite a few of her most vocal dissidents to dine with her in the Secret Garden, which servants rarely had permission to see. Needless to say, the serving lasses were floored by the invitation, but being a request from the Princess Supreme herself made it impossible to turn it down.

They made a sweet table in one of the pavilions next to the stream. The music of the water was already romantic, especially when leaves drifted down to become boats on the current, but Magda, to her brilliant credit, had primed the atmosphere with even more romance thanks to the devious addition of an all-male waitstaff comprised of the most handsome servants the palace had to offer. If the ladies weren’t already pink-cheeked from the dashing faces waiting on them, the cups of wine ensured it.

By second course, the lasses were willing to laugh at anything the princess said. Gone was any potential resentment as Naran called for treat after treat and glass after glass, and eager-to-please men came to flirt with the chatty women. Everything was going exactly to plan.

For a while.

Naran and one of the long-haired, easy-smiling servers were mid-passionate argument over who was the better rider, his friend in the Royal Guards or her, when all her progress was chucked right into the creek.

“Princess.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the pavilion entrance to find Prince Hyungwon standing rigid and narrow-eyed. The spells the ladies had been under broke the instant their eyes fell onto his stunning face, flushed with the exercise from climbing the hill, and the other men were forgotten in an instant. It was impossible to deny the way even the princess’s own body reacted to the sight of him.

The server Naran had been arguing with leapt to attention, practically breaking his back when he jerked up from his cool lean on the banister. Everyone but the princess bowed to the prince while she let out a defeated sigh. So much for defending her role…

“What can we do for you, your grace?” Naran simpered.

“You are needed back at the palace at once.”

His voice was cold, and it prompted her tongue to prod at the inside of her cheek. “We have almost finished with our picnic—”

“I said ‘at once,’” Hyungwon repeated. His gaze flicked to the server over her shoulder and then back to her face.

Naran’s eye twitched. It felt very much like a standoff, but if she abandoned the ladies so quickly, they could resent her again, and if she balked at the prince’s authority, she would undermine him. Heaven and earth, she was tired of politics. It was moments like these that she most missed her freedom to simply charge to the stables and ride off into the steppe until her temper had cooled.

The princess took a sip of wine and let out a long breath. “Very well, my lord. Let us finish up this course as it is nearly over. The chefs did take an awful lot of time and expense to treat our staff so well today, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hyungwon was quiet. She could see the storm in his eyes even from her seat on the floor, but he nodded all the same.

“You are welcome to return—”

“I shall wait,” he asserted and took up a post across from the entrance, propping himself on a large rock and watching his wife’s every move.

Naran dug her nails into the skirt of her coat as she did her damnedest to avoid his gaze, but it was next to impossible when he sported his burgundy dallryung, for his dark features and warm skin always looked most striking contrasted in rich reds.

Gritting her teeth, she said to her audience, “Eat up, my dear ladies. Our picnic might have come to an end sooner than expected, but let us not let these delights go to waste.”

The serving lasses obliged, but conversation had come to a standstill and all the heart was out of the party. Whatever goodwill Naran had built washed downstream, especially when she rose and headed over to her husband, who insisted on offering his arm for their walk back to the palace.

“You ruined everything, you know,” she hissed as they walked, tethered to one another, back down the hillside.

“I could see that…” he said tightly. “Why are you eating with servants anyway?”

“Because of you, sire.”

Hyungwon glared at her then, but Naran met it back.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Evidently, you haven’t been… visiting your regulars, and grudges are forming.”

“Ah… Oh.” The prince’s lips pursed as his ears reddened.

“Yes, oh. This was my attempt to get back into their good graces, by offering other options, you see?”

At this, however, his eyes snapped to hers. “For them or for you?”

Naran glowered at him. “We’ve talked about this, my lord, remember?”

“I’ve only been gone three nights. Did you really feel the need to move on so urgently?”

“I—” the princess was stunned by what she could only call hurt etched into the corners of the prince’s eyes. But all too soon, it gave way to indignance. “You have no right to complain. After all, I was only cleaning up the mess you left me. Now, why am I being summoned in the middle of an event I put on?”

Judging by his grip on her arm, Hyungwon did not appreciate the shift in discussion, but he answered, “The palace has received some unexpected guests, and as my father and mother are still detained in town by the Ministers, we are obligated to host them for the evening.”

“Obligations, obligations. I’m sick of that word,” Naran griped. “I was already hosting something.”

“Well, now, you can host two things, only this one will include your husband.”

“I didn’t want to include you.”

Hyungwon pulled her to a stop then underneath a thick cluster of trees. The leaves were starting to redden at their tips, leaving the shadows more vibrant than usual as he pushed her back to the edge of the path where they were less likely to be seen arguing.

“That is painfully obvious,” he said. “Honestly, has your taste descended so far to the depths of Cho Daejung?”

“Who?”

Hyungwon shook his head. “You don’t even know the name of the man you were flirting with?”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone, your grace,” Naran insisted.

The prince took a step closer and then another, forcing the princess back until her spine collided with a trunk. A shower of leaves rained down around them as his face drew far too near for the comfort of her wine-addled mind. Though Naran was no lightweight, she felt the alcohol burning through her then, stealing what little control her conscious mind ever had from staring at his lips.

“You were talking this close,” Hyungwon asserted. “How is that not flirting?”

“We were not!” the princess objected. She was right, wasn’t she? The servant would not have been so bold in front of all those others, she was sure of it. “We were arguing about who was the better rider.”

The prince moved in even further as his voice dropped lower. “That is our thing.”

We have a thing? Naran marveled.

Hyungwon’s chest collided with hers, and the breath left her lungs. His hands found her hips now, and she felt her pulse jumping in her throat. His gaze would not let up on hers as it burned to communicate something more than his limited words ever could.

“I swear,” Naran managed through short, tight breaths, “nothing happened. I’m not interested in that man.”

“You’re not?”

She felt his fingers dig in even through the thick fabric of her coat.

“I’m not. I don’t even know him. And anyway, he doesn’t excite me.”

At this, Hyungwon raised an eyebrow. “Who does then?”

Just then, the service bell clanged down below at the palace, summoning all staff to duty. The couple broke apart, which was just as well as the voices of the rest of the party were already tumbling down the hill behind them.

“Come on,” said the prince. “We best get back.”

Hyungwon grabbed her hand and dragged Naran down the hill before the servants could crest it. His pace was unforgiving, and the princess struggled to keep up as his legs were much longer and his anger much hotter than hers. By the time the pair had reached their wing, she was breathless and a little lightheaded. When the prince threw open the doors to the sitting room, Magda nearly dropped the box she was holding.

“Your Highnesses!” she exclaimed. “Is everything all right?”

“Just fine, Magda,” answered Hyungwon curtly as he continued to tow his wife into the room.

“I did not hear you were back, Your Grace,” the attendant said with a deep bow.

“That makes two of you then. If you wouldn’t mind, please leave that in your lady’s room and help the staff ready for the guests’ arrival.”

Magda reeled back. “But won’t My Lady require me to—”

“Should she need you, she will summon you,” he replied. “Our guests should be arriving any moment, Magda.”

Naran looked helplessly at her attendant, who was more astonished than anything, but the resolve in the prince’s voice could not be challenged, and so Magda did as she’d been ordered and shut the main doors behind her.

Hyungwon dropped the princess’s hand at last and immediately whisked off the silk belt about his waist as he headed toward his bedroom door. Over his shoulder he said, “Wear what I bought you to dinner tonight.”

“You bought me—”

But the prince cut her off with a gruff, “It’s on your bed.”

His door closed a second later, and Naran was left dumbfounded in the gulf of space between them. With nothing else to do, she fell back on ritual and headed to her room. There on her bed was the box Magda had been holding. It was large, bound up with a fanciful satin ribbon that looked too pretty to unravel though she had no choice. Her fingers worked through shimmery emerald curls as the fabric puddled all at once to the bed.

Naran lifted the lid, and once it was off, a bloom of iris burst into the room so powerful that the princess felt like she was wandering the gardens again. Folded inside on a cushion of silk and tied again with another satin ribbon was a gown, more art than garment, she thought, though it wasn’t until she’d pulled it out that she understood how exquisite it truly was.

Made of the most divine Indian muslin, the skirt swished as it tumbled, flowing more like water than fabric. It was the color of a full-body blush, embroidered with jubilant golden bouquets along the hem and accented along the top in gold as well. Ruched sleeves capped the shoulders to leave the arms bare while the neckline dazzled in ways unlike anything Naran had ever worn. More in the risqué style of the Brittans, it plunged between the breasts all the way to the empire waist while the back risked a deeper exposure to the dip of the small of the spine.

Swallowing hard, she undressed and slipped into the breathy luxury of spun cotton. It was tight around the ribs, and with the hug of the sleeves, it took the princess a long minute of wriggling to put it on without help. After a life in heavy wools and furs, it felt like wearing a breeze. The bodice cupped her breasts like hands while the skirt fled from her hips as though it resented the notion of touching skin.

The princess stood in front of her looking glass. A woman looked back at her that she barely recognized. Her coal black hair tumbled down her back to cover the deep V, but even then, it was more skin than Naran had ever shown. The pale pink of the gown enhanced the freckles on her caramel skin, and though it should have made her the picture of innocence, the cut of the neckline negated it immediately. Her collarbone flared proudly as she eyed herself from side to side. The chest needed a few stitches to fit her figure more snugly, and if she turned too much, the pillows of her breasts could flash in full. But she liked it. She liked how powerful she felt in it. She liked how enticing she looked.

There was a quick double-knock at the door, and Naran announced thoughtlessly, “Come in.”

She expected Magda. Instead, she found her husband.

“Are you almost ready?” His words were out before his mind caught up to the image of his wife.

Hyungwon froze in the door frame. Naran, too, could not wrench her eyes from him.

It had been months since she’d seen him in a Western style, and even though Naran had many things imprinted on her mind from the night of their engagement, she did not remember him even then looking as aggressively handsome as he did now.

The prince wore a billowing white blouse, and when his arms moved, the sleeves puffed like a bird about to take flight. Most likely, the long ties around the collar were intended as a cravat, but Hyungwon did not wear them that way; instead, they were knotted loosely, a bit like he was planning on getting undressed rather than hosting company. His black trousers fit rather tightly to his legs, elongating an already enormous man, and making matters most problematic for her, he wore polished black boots to his knees. Her husband looked just as capable of charging to the front lines on horseback as he did captaining a great ship with one leg propped on a storm-battered prow.

“You look exactly as I dreamed you’d look in this,” said Hyungwon.

“Thank you.” Naran lowered her eyes to her neckline. “Maybe it should be tailored first though before I wear it.”

“It’s perfect the way it is.”

His eyes were smoky and distant, almost as though the man she had married had been locked away somewhere inside while some shadowy predator roamed around unrestrained.

“I—I think this dress might scandalize your guests, sire.”

“They’re Westerners, and this is in the Western style. I thought it might make them feel welcome, but perhaps it is the wrong kind of welcome.”

Naran bit her lip. “Perhaps I need a chemise underneath?”

His eyes fell to the heart-shaped neckline plunging between her breasts, but all the prince could do was nod.

“But Magda has gone to finalize arrangements, and I can’t get out of this ridiculous thing without her help,” she grumbled. “Whoever thought of clothes you can’t take off yourself. Positively idiotic.”

Hyungwon cleared his throat softly and stepped closer. “Shall I help you, my lady?”

“Didn’t you say the guests should be here by now? I’m sure you should be there to receive them…”

“I’m sure I should…”

Naran wet her lips.

“If you have a moment then, my lord, before you leave, I would appreciate the help.”

Hyungwon closed the door behind him as he approached. The princess presented her back to him. She put her arms up and waited, but instead of lifting the dress over her head, the prince grabbed her wrists and lowered them back to her side.

“Do you like it?” he rasped into her hair. “They had so many exotic things in Jemulpo, but only this one was made just for my princess. It came all the way from Brittany just to adorn these lovely curves.”

His hand circled Naran’s neck, his middle finger stroking the skin there, before it slipped to the wells at her collar bone. The lower he went, the rougher his breathing grew. Finally, his fingers slipped under her neckline as he grabbed a handful of her breast. There was a roughness in his grip she’d never experienced from him before, a hungrier need demanding satisfaction.

“My prince,” Naran said raggedly, “we don’t have time—”

Hyungwon cut her off with a playful pinch of her nipple as he mouthed along her neck. “Time? All I can think about is how much time you’ve made me stay away from you. It’s been over a week since I’ve touched you, my darling. That’s too cruel.”

The prince rolled her nipple between his fingers as her chest thrust out against the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Sire—ah! The guests—”

“There’s no way I can greet them like this. They’ll see how hard I am for you. I need you, Naran.”

As if to underscore his point, Hyungwon grazed his hips against her backside, and the princess felt the unmistakable jut of her husband’s erection.

“No time…” she protested weakly.

“You’re not really going to make me wait any longer, are you? Do you hate me that much?” As he spoke, Hyungwon removed his hand from her bodice to hike the skirt of her dress roughly up her legs until he could grab a handful of her ass and elicit a yelp of pleasure from her.

His hot, wet breath panted along her ear as he said, “If I put my fingers inside you right now, would I find you soaked for me?”

“Please don’t say these things,” she whimpered.

“I thought you liked it when I talked, princess?”

“S-so much…”

“Then answer my question.” Hyungwon kneaded the supple flesh at her hips as he purred, “Would I find you soaked for me?”

This time, the princess let out a little cry. “Yes! Yes, sire.”

Hyungwon kissed the side of her face for a job well done, and Naran melted into it. In the sunlight, his face always looked soft and friendly, but here in the diffused twilight of her bedroom, shadows contoured his cheeks and jaw. When his eyes locked on hers in the mirror, they were resolute.

“You’re always tempting me, always asking things of me, and I can’t say no to you, darling. I can’t say no.”

There were more kisses now, at her jaw and ear and throat until he covered the newly bared skin along her shoulder.

“Didn't you miss me at all?” he pressed. “I missed you. Tell me you didn't let anyone else into your bed. Tell me it's still only me. Even if it's not true.”

Don't say it, Naran warned herself. It's a mistake.

“It's only you, my prince.”

Hyungwon groaned. As though he could read the flutters in her breath as well as words themselves, he added, “Maybe it's because I'm used to getting everything I want, but I like to know what’s mine and mine alone.”

It's just pillow talk, her frantic mind justified. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

And yet, the other part of her refused to be appeased. Put a stop to this now, you fool!

“My prince…”

His chin was on her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers in the looking glass. Hyungwon shifted her skirt in his grip to bare her core and the ghostly vestiges of his brands on her thighs. With his whole hand, he cupped her eager sex.

“This,” he murmured as his middle finger coaxed her seam, “is mine.”

Naran’s hand flew to his, not sure if she was intent on starting things or stopping them.

“Darling,” said the prince with a laugh darkening his tone, “you are soaked.”

He teased the sweet button there with his fingertip, and all his wife could do now was tremble in his arms.

“I missed this,” Naran confessed as her head tipped back against his chest.

“What did you miss, beautiful?”

“Your attention!” she gasped as he circled a stroke faster.

“You can have as much of it as you want. I promise I will make you feel good again. All you have to do,” he whispered as a finger seated itself just outside her entrance, “is let me.”

Naran tore her face from the reflection of her husband to the man himself. He met her gaze there, their lips far too close for her wavering willpower. Would it be so bad to give in? What could it really hurt if she allowed his lips to touch hers? They had been everywhere else on her body already anyway.

Where was the harm in a single kiss?

A knock—more like a pounding—at the door tore them apart at once.

“Your Highness,” said an unfamiliar lady’s voice, “are you ready? Your visitors arrived twenty minutes ago, and no one but your staff has greeted them.”

There was a clear barb in the servant’s tone, but it disappeared when the prince’s stern face confronted the petite woman on the other side of the door.

“Oh, my god—Your Highness!” said Hayun, the peony-faced girl who had brought Saran’s letter that morning. She had also been at the picnic as Magda had singled her out as Naran’s biggest detractor, and for a short while, the princess had thought she’d been successful in swaying the woman’s attentions to one of the male servants, but from the shimmering look in the maid’s black eyes, all hope of redirection was lost.

“Servants do not bang on royal doors, miss,” the prince admonished with ferocity. “If you have not learned that by now, perhaps we can move your post to the chickenyard where you can crow to your heart’s content.”

Hayun stood there on the verge of tears before she gathered what was left of her pride to bow and slink out of the wing.

Naran stood bewildered in the middle of her room. Her hair was disheveled and her brand-new gown askance. Worse yet, her lips were throbbing from unfulfilled promise. But it was for the best.

In the end, she had to be grateful for Hayun’s disruption; otherwise, she would have to reconcile the fact that in a few short weeks, she had been willing to give up her dreams for something that was, at its heart, merely contractual marital sex. Naran would not be the same sort of pitiful princess that had haunted these palace halls for centuries. She was determined to be more than a womb and an outlet for a prince.

“We’d best get going, sire,” she said as she hastily twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with a jade hairpin. “Everyone is obviously anxious.”

Hyungwon sighed but nodded. “There’s a shawl at the bottom of the box so you don’t get cold.”

Naran grabbed it and wrapped it around her shoulders. It wasn’t as warm as a hanbok, but at least it gave her some security as she walked next to her husband on their way to the Receiving Hall.

Hoping for a safe topic of conversation, Naran asked, “Who are these visitors anyway that they can just disrupt an empire unannounced?”

“They are traders from Wessex,” said the prince, “or so the story goes. They have already visited nine of the East Sea realms.”

“Which just leaves Goryeo as number ten…” the princess mused. “Is that unusual for traders who have already come this far out of the West? Surely, they want to return home with as many trappings as they can to make it worth the harrowing trip.”

“That would be true if it weren’t for the fact that our empires already trade freely amongst each other. A simple trip to either Tuen Mun or Bombay would have stocked a ship with goods from all ten empires alone.”

“So, what are you thinking then? Spies?”

“Would it be the first time the West has come to the East looking to do more than trade?”

Naran shrugged her mouth, understanding her husband perfectly. She was to be on her guard with the traders, but at the same time, she couldn’t quell the rise of curiosity surging through her. She had occasion to meet Westerners beyond the usual royals she endured before as overland traders following the Silk Road would sometimes stop at Urga to curry favor with the khan, but she was never allowed to sit with them, her mother far too nervous that the princess might stow away in a caravan if given the opportunity—which probably wasn’t far off. There were few things as titillating as life on the open road, but she wasn’t so sure the same was true of the open sea. Naran had never seen the ocean, and the thought of not having land under her feet was terrifying if also intriguing.

“Are you all right?” Hyungwon asked suddenly, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Yes, of course.”

He squinted at her as though he were trying to read her mind but gave up as they reached the doors to the Receiving Hall.

“Just stay by my side,” he whispered. “Be circumspect. If they ask you a question that makes you uncomfortable, you do not need to answer for the sake of decorum. I’d prefer if they left sooner rather than later anyway…”

Hyungwon looked at his wife again, this time with a much coarser emotion in his eyes, and somehow, it felt like his hand was back under her dress again.

Just then, the doors to the hall opened to reveal two white men chatting in the middle of the large and lavishly-appointed room while several servants, including Magda, Hansol, and a red-faced Hayun, waited like statues along the heavily decorated walls. A spread of tea and appetizers covered the table in the center though the guests had not touched them.

As soon as Hansol saw the royal couple, he proclaimed, “Presenting His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Hyungwon and his wife, the Princess Supreme Narangerel.”

The strangers hurried to stand and bow to their hosts, and when they rose, the one with copper hair and a matching beard met the princess’s eyes. The way he looked at her made Naran feel like he knew her. Even as his gray-haired compatriot introduced the pair of them as sailor emissaries from the island nation of Wessex, the redhead stared at her with a strange sort of smile.

“Come, Connor, quit your lollygagging. You’ll make Her Highness uncomfortable in her own home,” reprimanded the elder sailor. “I beg you, Your Highness, please forgive my first mate. He has been at sea for far too long and forgotten all his manners, it seems.”

“It’s quite all right,” Naran assured, though she couldn't shake the intensity of the younger sailor’s eyes.

Neither, it seemed, could her husband as Hyungwon laced his fingers through hers and led her to the couch across from their guests.

For a minute, nobody seemed to know what to say. Naran had yet to really see her husband lead acts of state, but judging by his ramrod straight back and firmly set lips, he was uneasy. For their part, the sailors looked confused, and the princess wondered at the sorts of welcomes they might have received in other kingdoms. Perhaps they were not accustomed to having to lead conversations with royals, and it seemed the prince wasn’t interested in making it easy for them.

“Thank you for accommodating a pair of lowly traders on such short notice,” said the gray-haired man with an awkward smile. “I am Captain Elliot Witherspoon of the HMS Psyche, and this is my first mate Connor McCarthy. We have been traveling the East Seas at His Majesty King Edward’s behest on a mission of goodwill between kingdoms. It is His Majesty’s hope that East and West might strengthen diplomatic relations through trade, particularly with the Empire of Goryeo as trade has been scarce between our nations for years. Last time we sailed into Namgyeong, Emperor Gongmin was very resistant to such a plan unless the other Eastern realms entered into such trade routes first.”

Hyungwon hummed. “And it seems they have, have they?”

“Indeed, Your Highness.”

The prince did not respond, and the sailors looked amongst each other as they regrouped. “Will the Emperor and Empress be joining us this evening to hear such good news?”

“I’m afraid not,” said the prince. “They are away from the palace on business this evening.”

“No doubt they are very busy running an empire as powerful as Goryeo. Even in the West, the might of your realm is often spoken of.”

Hyungwon just smiled wanly.

The captain looked to his first mate, but the redhead was fixated on the princess.

“I hear,” said Captain Witherspoon, “that congratulations are in order. Your wedding is the talk of the Eastern realms.”

“Is it?” Hyungwon asked flatly.

“In one way or another,” laughed the captain, “particularly in Champa.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Naran retorted and did her best to hide her smirk.

Captain Witherspoon turned his attention to the princess as he asked, “How have you adjusted to life in Goryeo, Your Highness?”

“It’s a beautiful country, certainly not like any place I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you had occasion to visit the city?”

“A bit for the wedding and once for a festival, but, regrettably, not as much as I should like.”

The captain folded his hands in his lap and sat back as silence filled the space. Naran glanced at the prince, but Hyungwon did not offer any conversation despite his insistence that they host these people.

“I confess, Captain,” she said since no one else seemed to know what to say at this point, “I do not know much of the Western empires. Is life there much different from the Eastern empires you’ve visited?”

“The West is fonder of castles rather than palaces perhaps, and the roads are more likely to be paved, but the lands aren’t nearly so vast, and the people are a great deal more interested in each other’s business because of it. That said, people are people everywhere you go.”

“Is that so?” she said. “Still, I should like to see that.”

“Indeed, you would,” interjected the first mate. “Indeed, you would…”

Captain Witherspoon glared at Connor before he turned back to the royal couple and said, “You know, Your Highnesses, we have been hosted in many great houses on this trip, but this is the first time we’ve been greeted in costumes of our homeland. I confess, it’s a rather welcome sight after so long at sea.”

“And how long have you been away from home?” Naran asked.

“These eight months.”

“Eight months! How long shall it take you to get back?”

“Another four or more. Depends on the seas. It’s not a life for everyone, that’s for sure,” said the captain.

“But for those of us who get restless staying in one place, it’s rather a dream life,” Connor added, eyes boring into Naran’s. She didn’t understand why the man kept looking at her like that, but it made her feel rather naked though not in the same way the Western gown did.

Captain Witherspoon pursed his weathered lips before he relented and took a cup of tea. At first taste, he raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You know, tea is different in just about every country we’ve visited. Isn’t that rather funny?”

“As is the alcohol,” Connor echoed. “So much to sample at every port…”

“To that end, Your Highness,” said the captain, finally turning his attention back to the prince, who had barely said a word in the last several minutes, “if you don’t mind, I should like to bend your ear for a bit on this matter of trade.”

Hyungwon looked as much a statue as his servants. Naran stole a glance at him but found that his attention was frozen on her, not either of the guests he’d insisted on hosting. There was longing in his eyes—there was no other word for it—and it made her mouth very dry. She dove for a cup of tea as well, and once she’d had her wits back about her, she said, “As you would like to discuss business, I will show Mr. McCarthy the artwork in the meantime.”

Her husband looked at her as though she couldn’t have said anything more offensive in the moment, but she was tired of doing all the work of this stupid party that he had forced upon her anyway. In spite of his frantic look, she excused herself and headed toward a portrait at the far corner of the room nearest Magda, hoping to draw some strength and sensibility from her dearest friend.

Connor followed eagerly. He did not bother with food or drink, just met her stride for stride as he fluffed out his beard. He faced her full-on now, no interest at all in the stern-faced emperor who sat squat on his throne in the painting.

“I have never met a Moghul before,” blurted the sailor as he studied the princess. “You’re a very exotic thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid my good sir has me confused, for I am not a thing at all,” Naran challenged, “but a woman.”

“Ay, and what a woman you are! One of a kind, I should say. You’re an adventurer, Princess Narangerel. What on earth are you doing in a palace of all places?”

At this, the princess turned her attention from the portrait to the man beside her. “An adventurer? What makes you say that?”

The redhead shrugged playfully, a smile splitting his beard. “I, too, am an adventurer, Your Highness. I can see it in you.”

“Is that why you look at me like you know me?”

“Ay, I do. You’ve got the restless eyes and the itchy feet. It’s why you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Your tapping foot is a perfect match to my own.”

Naran stood to her full height and stomped down her relentless urge to fidget. “I feel there are many like me back in my homeland, sir. I am not this rare breed you make me out to be. You may be well-traveled but perhaps not where it counts.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. His skin had been leathered by the ruthless sun, which made his bright hair all the brighter, especially his bushy eyebrows, and when he laughed, he looked like the merriest man she’d ever seen. She wondered if there was anything that didn’t amuse a man like him. “If that’s true, then maybe there’s a woman out there for me yet.”

The silly thought rushed through her mind that, if things had been different, if she were still in Moghulikhan, she might have passed a night with the man. He wasn’t nearly so handsome as her husband, to be sure, but Connor was bold and interesting, and it occurred to Naran that perhaps her mother had been right to fear Western men because she could see how she might be spirited away by his wanderlust.

But then her eyes slid back to Hyungwon, who was looking at the sea captain exactly as he had the many eligible bachelorettes the night the couple had met—with indifference. Sitting there with one booted leg crossed over the other and looking more like a pirate king than an emperor, he was magnificent. Maybe she was just strung out from their ruined encounter earlier or maybe it was the compounding of all the days she’d been without him before that, but thoughts of running anywhere but to him seemed impossible in the moment.

“There’s certainly no hope for me in Champa, I will tell you that,” continued the first mate, clearly unaware of her stampede of pained thoughts. “Would it come as a surprise to Her Highness that the name Moghulikhan leaves a sour taste in the royal palace?”

In her mind’s eye, Naran saw a flash of silver liquor dripping from the edge of a desk followed by the flash of her husband’s eyes staring up at her between her legs, and her breath quickened. She took a page out of Hyungwon’s book and stood tall as she faced her guest. “You might be sailors, good sir, but I think you’re doing a bit more like fishing.”

Connor laughed. “Ay, anything is possible. We have visited many realms, Your Highness, but I must say, East or West, I have never seen a royal lady so engaged with our discussions.”

“I'm sure the ladies were engaged enough but maybe not at the liberty to show you. I have never been one to be concerned with appearances, however, Mr. McCarthy.”

“Now, see, I knew I was right about you. So, how does a free spirit like Her Highness find herself as Princess Supreme of a country all about appearances?”

“Happy chance,” she said with a hollow smile, but the canny sailor saw right through it.

“A victim of your station, I take it.”

“I never said that, sir.”

“You don’t need to. When you’ve been out on the open ocean as long as I have, you can read a swell before it breaks over you. Even the calmest seas hide their true devastation. Have you ever been on the sea, Princess?”

Naran’s heart unexpectedly shook. She barely remembered how to answer as she said, “I haven’t, no. My homeland is surrounded only by land.”

Connor leaned against the wall, nearly on the painting, which had Hansol lurching forward in case of emergency, but the Wessex man was totally unbothered. “If you like, I can show you to the harbor tomorrow and take you for a spin on my vessel.”

“She’s busy tomorrow,” interrupted Prince Hyungwon, who had materialized by his wife’s side looking at least a head taller than she remembered. The prince looked to the sailor with a face blank of all emotion, and it left a heavy lump in the basin of her belly. “Please, sir, if you would rejoin us.”

Hyungwon took his wife’s hand again and led her back to the couch, and this time when they sat, he sat flush against her. His hand stayed tangled up with hers before she shook it away with a tight smile for her guests. At length, the sailors began enumerating all the ports along the Wu empire they had had the pleasure of visiting while detailing all the wonders they encountered there, but Naran could not hear any of them because the prince had laid a hand just above her knee now. She did her best to ignore it, but Hyungwon’s heat as well as his grip were impossible to ignore.

Her husband leaned across the seat and brought his lips to her ear as he whispered, “I would give anything to be inside you right now.”

Stricken, her wide eyes shot to the prince, and the princess subtly shook her head. As casually as she could, she brushed his hand away, and the conversation continued onto stories of the Da Viet coast and its bay of stony green giants, but they had barely traveled into the port itself before the prince's hand was back, this time higher on her thigh—with his pinky stroking insistently, nearly brushing her dampening secret.

Again, Hyungwon leaned to her ear and whispered, “Come away with me. Now.”

Naran shook her head again, but it took all her social graces to do so without screaming. She felt the flush rising up her chest, and with her low neckline, she knew full well it was on display for all—Connor’s stare and subsequent lip lick were all the proof she needed.

Fingers dug into her thigh then.

“Now, Naran.”

Hyungwon shot to his feet as Captain Witherspoon was mid-sentence and declared, “Gentlemen, if you will, please excuse my wife and me for a bit on an urgent matter.”

“Urgent, Your Highness?” the captain asked, aghast.

“Indeed. In the meantime, please enjoy a performance on one of our traditional instruments, the gayageum, as our staff prepares some of the coffee you so generously gifted us, and we can enjoy it together before our night concludes.” To his attendant, Hyungwon turned now and said, “Hansol.”

The servant bowed and hurried out of the room to bring back a middle-aged woman in an elegant hanbok. She scurried in and took a seat on a cushion as she perched a long, flat wooden harp across her lap, and moments later, the honeyed twang of the strings echoed in the hall.

Though the sailors looked floored by the unprecedented departure, there was nothing they could do but agree.

Meanwhile, Naran felt like a flag at the wind’s mercy as Hyungwon led the pair of them down the hall to the next room over, which was barely more than a closet compared to the hall they’d just left. No one had bothered to light any candles here, so it was cloistered with shadows and the outlines of furniture.

“What is with you today!” she snapped the first chance she got, but shock and indignance gave way to raw hunger the moment her husband spun her in his arms so her back was pressed to his chest. He wrapped both arms around her and squeezed her to him.

“I can’t take it anymore. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for days.”

“My lord—”

“Hush, darling. Are you going to tell me you never thought of me? Do you want to break me?”

As mad as she was, Naran’s arms encircled his around her chest and she melted back into him. “No…”

“So, tell me.”

“I thought of you, my prince.”

Hyungwon let out a shaky breath against her neck.

“We never got to finish what we started, princess,” he rasped as he dug through her skirts now, seeking bare skin, but the layers on the Western dress were confusing, and Naran heard a tear as frustration got the better of her husband.

“Be careful, sire!” she hissed. “I can’t go back in tatters.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Hyungwon warned. “Maybe I want you to go back there with my marks all over you and your face dripping sweat. These sailors are too familiar. They should know they can’t have everything their eyes land on.”

“My prince…”

Naran tipped her head back, and Hyungwon kissed her brow. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to tease you like before, but if you—”

His fingers glanced across her folds just then, and he let out a ragged breath.

“You’re already so wet,” he said, astonished.

“That’s from before,” she insisted though they both knew it was a lie. From the moment his hand had found a home on her knee, her body had hoped—prepared—for more.

Hyungwon rested his chin on her shoulder as he pressed her back against him. She could feel his hardness yearning for its rightful home, but as much as they should have been in a rush, her lazy prince refused to give up his intimate hold on his bride. Two of his fingertips glided up and down her lower lips, parting her just enough to spill more arousal over his digits. He found her needy little hill there and pressed just enough to have her trembling with excitement.

“You’re holding back. Naran,” he scolded. “Why are you holding back?”

“Our guests—”

“I thought you liked it when your audience leaves unsatisfied?”

“Yes,” she gasped as he rubbed her more urgently, “but these men aren't servants.”

Hyungwon growled against the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “Who cares? We'll never see them again.”

“What will they say about us at the next palace?”

Between kisses, he murmured, “They will say that the prince is very dedicated to producing an heir for his kingdom. Is that such a bad thing?”

Naran’s eyes drooped further and further, with every sweep of her husband’s fingers through her messy seam. Her voice was smoky and lost as she abandoned the last of her defenses. “No… No. It’s a good thing.”

“A very good thing.”

At last, Hyungwon removed his hand if only to bend her over the back of the nearest chair. The princess gripped the armrests, eyes wide with the panic of anticipation, and once he had positioned Naran exactly as it pleased him, he slid his middle finger into her core. Her back arched as the growing craving inside her was finally satiated.

The prince spent only a few moments priming her wet walls before he hiked her skirt properly over her hips. If anyone should open the door to the room, she would be on full display, and that only made her core contract harder.

There was the rustle of more fabric before she felt the dribbling head of her husband’s length against the inside of her thigh. Naran whimpered and glared at him over her shoulder, half in panic, half in desperation. “Wait, my prince—”

“Argue with me again and I won’t give you my cock, Naran. Is that what you want?”

He was gruff and so nonchalant about such language that it weakened the last of her defenses. With her lip between her teeth and her eyes glazed with lust, the princess shook her head.

“That’s what I thought,” Hyungwon said far too smugly, though that faded away quickly as he caressed the swell of her exposed flesh. “You are ready for me, aren't you, darling? Say you're ready. I can't wait anymore.”

In the darkness, his voice was heavenly even as his hands were wicked along the bloom of her hips.

She nodded. “For the—”

But before she could complete their mantra, Hyungwon pushed in to his hilt. Naran let out a long, low cry as the strength of his manhood nearly brought a tear to her eye. He gripped her waist and pushed her hips deep down against him so the head of his cock nestled in newfound depths inside her.

“I could fill you up right now,” he panted as he doubled over her, one hand still on her hip but the other joining hers on the armrest. “I’m that hard for you.”

“Not yet,” she begged though it was mixed with a moan, too.

“Not yet? It’s not just for the throne anymore, is it. My wife wants more pleasure first?”

“Yes…” answered the princess, only vaguely aware of how mindless she sounded.

“Even though there are men with greedy eyes waiting for her?”

The prince thrust in hard, chasing a ragged gasp from Naran’s lungs.

“Don’t care, don’t care.”

“What do you care about?” Hyungwon asked, his tongue thick against the shell of her ear now.

“Just care about you inside me. S’all I care about,” she slurred.

Naran ground her ass back against his hips while the prince rode out a series of emphatic thrusts. Each one was more determined than the last to force moan after moan from her.

Suddenly, Hyungwon came halfway up only to bring her along. His big hand splayed across her chest, groping her breast through her dress as he peppered kisses down her throat. He sucked a patch in the most visible real estate there, and once satisfied, he thrust upward at last to his wife’s grateful gasp.

With the new angle, he favored slower, deeper thrusts that pressed heavy inside her belly. His member savored her heat and tightness at his leisure while his lips continued their assault on her once-unblemished skin. At last, he pulled back, pleased with his handiwork, and Naran swore she could feel her heart throbbing underneath the new bruises.

“Make sure your hair stays up,” commanded Hyungwon as he roughly rocked into her. “Can’t show them the last ones, so I need them to see these.”

“Yes, my lord,” Naran sobbed as she gripped white-knuckled on the back of the chair.

“When we go back—when we go back, tilt your head like this—” Hyungwon’s hand moved to the crown of her head and gently pulled it toward her shoulder so that the sun-warmed tract of her neck was prominent, where his red-and-purple bull’s-eyes would be unmistakable even across a large room. “Let them see. Let them suffer.”

“Oh yes,” she groaned as he drilled more furiously with his every passing order. “Yes…”

“Don’t hold back now, darling. Not today. You're not a quiet lover, Naran. The whole empire knows your screams.”

“I’ve—ooh… I've always been able to control it. Not, ah, not with you!”

Hyungwon rumbled against her lobe, nibbling it as he ground himself in to his hilt. “You like it when I take you, princess?”

“So much.”

“You want more?”

“Yes…” she slurred. “More…”

Naran thought he’d take her harder, but instead, he pressed the both of them back over the chair and switched to a slower, more intimate stroke that ensured his shaft massaged the most sensitive, secret parts inside her. This way, he could bottom out with every thrust so forcefully that she hiccupped out her moans each time. As if that weren’t enough, his hand braced over hers on the armrest again, this time interlocking fingers, while the other splayed across the plane of her belly, pressing firmly to double her pleasure from inside and out.

Naran was stretched so full that she could think of nothing else—not prudence, not courtesy, not restraint. She sealed her hand over his on her stomach and greedily pressed back with each stab of his manhood into her velvet. Hyungwon picked up speed now—faster, hungrier, closer. More, more, more. They panted in time with one another as luxurious pressure built between the princess’s thighs.

There were no more words to be exchanged—they were well passed that point. Just the rasp of her husband’s desire for her was enough to make her climax, but combined with the way his body was consuming her and the way he took her more and more savagely, when Naran let go, she came truly undone. Her knees buckled and her body shook as a hitching cry pealed from her lips. If Hyungwon hadn’t been holding her up, she would have collapsed.

Instead, he hugged her tighter, riding out her seizing release a bit longer with stuttering plunges of his own until he squeezed her hands and pounded into her with a final exclamation of his cock unloading a torrent of his seed into her shuddering walls.

Together, they slumped against the chair, still hopelessly entangled and breathless. Minutes passed before either could form words, but at last, Naran managed, “My lord?”

“Hm?”

“You’re holding me too tightly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His arms unwound from her, and the temperature plummeted as dramatically as it did during nights on the steppe.

Naran lifted herself off his member and shuddered at the chaser of emptiness that followed. Hyungwon’s release gushed down her thighs. Though the mess made her recoil, it also made her stomach tighten and her weak knees rub together.

“I should clean up,” she said as she shuffled toward the door, but her husband grabbed her wrist to stop her.

The way his head leaned against the paneling in the thin light, his long black bangs matted with sweat and splintering his foggy gaze, made something in her chest squeeze painfully.

“Later,” he said. “Now, we return to our guests.”

“My lord, in this state—”

“Yes, in this state,” he insisted. His eyes fell to her slender wrist in his hand as he ran his thumb over the tendons there. His voice was huskier when he added, “We won’t be long.”

Naran shivered.

They headed back to the receiving room where they found the Irishmen uncharacteristically silent while Magda and Hansol looked on shell-shocked from the corners. At the sight of the young royals’ disheveled appearances, the room’s collective eyes widened, with the orange-haired sailor’s narrowing extra sharply. To Naran’s great relief, the musician kept playing; the princess didn’t think she could bear the company without the distraction.

Hyungwon sat on the sofa again, but when Naran moved to sit next to her husband, he instead tugged her to take a seat on the armrest next to his shoulder so he could wrap his arm around her waist and lean his head against her side. He smiled at the sailors as he said, “Pardon the interruption, gentlemen. Where were we?”

“We were, uh—” Captain Witherspoon glanced around the room, but Hyungwon smiled.

“What was it the good captain was talking about, my princess?”

Naran’s head whipped around to glare at her husband, and from the throat clears across from her, she understood what her husband’s question was really about. In one fell swoop, the burgeoning marks on her neck were the new focal point of the room. Her hand raced up to let down her hair, but Hyungwon caught her and shoved a cup of coffee in it, a smirk on his face.

“Um, Mau Le,” she said, her voice wavering with the embarrassment and maybe a little something deeper.

The prince poured a cup of coffee for himself, and he sipped it as though nothing unusual had happened at all. In fact, he picked right back up where they left off. “Yes, what was that you were saying about the Mau Le markets, Captain Witherspoon?”

Hesitantly, the gray-haired man resumed his description of the humid, fragrant markets of the Da Viet port, but there was much less flower to his stories now. His first mate no longer risked the princess’s attention at all and instead focused on what was left in his coffee cup.

Talk drifted back to the many wonderful exports the Wessex tradesmen could offer thanks to this sailing route, but with her husband’s lust weeping onto the seat of her dress, Naran had a hard time contributing anything to the conversation anymore let alone paying it any attention. For his part, Hyungwon had never looked more engaged.

At last, the princess could bear the distraction no longer, and when she abruptly stood, and all three men rose as well.

Red-faced, she bowed lightly as she said, “If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I will be right back."

“See you shortly, my darling,” said the prince shamelessly.

If Naran weren’t still basking in the glow of a much-needed release, she might have sworn at him, guests or not. Instead, she headed into the hall to the closest wash chamber, but before she could get there, she heard airy footsteps behind her.

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

Naran turned to find Hayun alone in the hallway.

“What is it?” the princess asked.

Hayun bowed deeply, her hands tucked reverently in her hanbok sleeves as she swung forward with the grace of a bell. When she rose, she kept her eyes downcast as was the custom with the lower-level staff. “I am very sorry to bother Her Grace, but I am wondering something.”

“Okay…”

The servant cleared her throat lightly, a wisp of a smile curling her petal lips. “It seems to me I heard an echo in the halls just a little bit ago. Did you perhaps as well?”

“An echo?”

“Oh, yes. I have a feeling Her Grace might remember hearing them quite well, as did I. There were several things I know I have heard before, but last time, instead of an echo, I heard them much, much closer, almost as though they were in my ears instead of Her Grace’s.”

Naran was too dumbfounded to form words.

“Just thought her Esteemed Ladyship should be aware,” added Hayun with another bow before she rose and returned to the Receiving Hall, leaving turbulent seas for a princess, who had known only firm land, to navigate.

#monsta x smut #multichapter #prisoner to temptation #hyungwon smut #royal au #arranged marriage #romance #slow burn #bodice ripper #third person

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beggingwolf · 1 year ago

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I came across this tiktok and it gave me something to chew on

I fully agree with the critism of newer published (some self-, some traditional) authors being too sensitive to critique of their works—I've heard the stories, I've seen the ranting goodreads posts haha—but I was definitely left with something to consider about the "culture of niceness" commentary regarding fandom

that's arguably how I operate in fandom spaces these days, ESPECIALLY around fanworks. "say something nice or say nothing at all" was, to me, the acceptable way to interact with passion projects people were doing for free. it's interesting to hear someone push back against that mindset and actively miss days of fan critique!

like, I don't know... part of me is like "if I got someone thoughtfully wording constructive criticism, isn't that a growth opportunity?" as if I wouldn't immediately be put off and affronted by someone leaving critique in the comments of a fic of mine hahaha.

I think I don't have a particularly thick creative skin, and that's definitely a result of my fandom upbringing. hell, even when I was writing crackfic as a tween for twilight, I never got critique for it. I've gotten very few comments that could ever been construed as critque, and I think I've never gotten one that was outright hateful... which is good?

but I do see the pipeline there of "fic writers participating in a culture that only validates and never critiques" to "people who cut their writing teeth on fic who are now unused to dealing with varying opinions on their work".

I do think it's worth saying that I don't think fic should inherently be held to the same standards as published books—lord knows I've dashed off a couple thousands words and slapped them onto ao3 without so much as a second glance—but I think we also should be conscientious of not trying to have our cake and eat it too.

I'm reminded of those really annoying comments online where people are like "i'Ve ReAd FiCs BeTtEr ThAn AnY pUbLiShEd BoOks" and I just go...... okay well if it can be treated as serious literature (which... maybe it can!) then it needs to be able to withstand critique, and we do not have a current culture of critique in fandom to actually put those very good fics to the proverbial test. you know??

this isn't to say I think we should start a reading salon where everyone can loudly proclaim "I HATE THIS ONE FIC" or whatever but it's a complicated dynamic that I believe I have traditionally left unturned because I figured niceness is better than unsolicited critique. and also I don't really derive joy from offering someone unasked-for feedback and potentially ruining their night haha.

I DO get a lot of joy from working with my friends in a beta capacity and being able to really dig in and offer up a harsher look at stuff, AND I think I like receiving it (when I am in the right mindset to do so, as we all have nights where it's like "JUST READ FOR GRAMMAR, I CAN'T TAKE ANY PLOT HOLES POINTED OUT TO ME RIGHT NOW!" haha), but I like receiving it from people who I am DIRECTLY ASKING and whose opinions I already respect and value. getting critique from strangers is an entirely different skillset that has to be practiced, and you have to know when to start filtering out opinions because You Can't Please Everyone

anyways this has been a lot of words to say that I have complicated feelings about a "culture of niceness" in fandom and while I certainly know I ENJOY participating in a culture of niceness, there are downsides (see: people dogpiling anyone who in the FAINTEST WAY POSSIBLE does not precisely conform to the-never-critique-fic attitude) and it's good to at least think about alternate ways to do fandom/alternate ways in which fandom has BEEN done in the past

#also the funniest thing about this is I know the fics referenced in the video. I read them for the first time like a month ago or something #and I agree with the person who got flamed lol I really only liked one fic/segment out of the entire series #anywho! interesting things to talk about

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aenariasbookshelf · 2 years ago

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Preview - untitled holiday story

In my defense, the entire story is outlined, even though I only have a few thousand words written so far. But it is the right season, and I need an entry for this week’s challenge for @darcylewisbingohq. This preview perfectly fits the ‘returning home prompt’, if I do say so...

title: ...I’ll get back to you on that when I figure it out author: Aenaria rating: this bit is Gen, the whole story is likely to be M/Explicit prompt filled: returning home characters: Darcy Lewis, her family, Steve Rogers, a whole host of other Avengers pairings: Darcy/Steve (this should not be surprising by now) tags/warnings: none for this part, but I’ll update this field as needed link: summary: In which Darcy Lewis returns home for the holidays.

Chapter One - Friday, December 20, 2019

“Yes, Grandma, I swear, I’m coming tomorrow. Yes, I’ll be there by sundown. I’ve already got my train ticket!”

That last statement is a total lie, but Darcy will never tell her grandma that.

She doesn’t have a time management problem, she swears. It’s just that sometimes other things (like helping Jane explore the universe) end up taking priority and she forgets things like buying an Amtrak ticket until she’s at the station, hoping like hell there’s still a seat available and paying through the nose for the one remaining business class ticket on the entire train. But this time? Well, the first night of Hanukkah’s on Sunday. And Christmas is just a few days after that. And everyone under the sun (or at least in the United States) is going to be traveling this weekend.

She’s so screwed.

Maybe she could rent a car and drive? It’s not that long to get to Brooklyn from the Avengers’ Compound, only a few hours. She thinks, at least. She’d have to look at a map.

So, so screwed.

Darcy shoves the latest stack of printed results under one arm, and uses her other shoulder to keep her phone propped by her ear. “Did I what?” she asks, then rolls her eyes when her grandma repeats her question. “No, not yet. I’ll get them something down in Brooklyn...yes, I realize we have all sorts of artsy villages and stores upstate, but I haven’t had time to pick up the perfect trinket for Aunt *insert name here*...why? Because work...look, I’ll text you when I’m on the train tomorrow...Okay, bye Grandma.”

She jabs her thumb down on the little red button with far more force than is needed, and drops the phone into her pocket. The sigh that she lets out is near explosive, and she resists the urge to bang her head against the doorframe to the lab. This really is a minor issue, and Darcy knows she’s making all too big a deal out of something that has a simple solution. But she’s already got that reputation in her family, the one who would be late for her own funeral if she had the chance, of being just that much of a flake because she legitimately forgot about something. And the last thing she wants to do is let down her grandma.

“Okay,” she tells herself, taking a deep breath. “Walk this stuff over to Jane in the main building, then research trains, then research rental cars. You can do this, girl.”

Jane’s lucky in that she and Darcy have a small little lab building to themselves to work out of on the main Avengers’ Compound, so that they can do work at night to their heart’s content and not have to worry about disruptions from busybodies, but there are some days when the main building has the equipment that they need. Also the 24 hour canteen there was a godsend on those days when Darcy had to make sure Jane actually fed her body and not just her brain.

It’s in this main building where Darcy overhears what could possibly be her Hanukkah miracle. It’s a little fuzzy, overheard with one ear as she’s rushing past.

“What time’s your flight at LaGuardia tomorrow? I want to make sure we leave here on time.”

Darcy literally freezes in her tracks, then walks backwards until she’s standing next to Steve and Sam, who have paused in their chatter to watch her bemusedly. “Did I hear you two say you’re heading down to the city tomorrow?” She may be perpetually late, but never let it be said that Darcy doesn’t have balls. Just because Steve may be Captain America doesn’t mean that he’s not a friend of hers (that she has a mad crush on, but she’s not going to think about that right now in her hour of need) that she can’t ask for a favor.

Steve’s eyebrows raise up, and there’s a slight smile on his face. “Yes? I’m giving Sam a ride to the airport.”

“Got room for one more?”

#Darcy Lewis #Steve Rogers #darcy x steve #shieldshock #fic #my fic #mcu #holiday fic #unmitigated fluff

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with-love-from-hell · 1 year ago

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5 Sides of Human

{Part Twenty-Five}

Genre: Mixed WC: ~3.5k CW: mentions of blood, swearing, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, prolly lots of typos lol, spoilers for season 1&2, I'm skipping over/changing some things I didn't like in the main story so it will be a bit different from canon! Series Masterlist

"Whattaya mean, like someone cast a protection spell on us or somethin'? Couldn't they have at least made it so we didn't turn inta this?" Mammon huffed in frustration.

Solomon grinned, casting another sly glance toward Storm. "Well, I don't think it would have been that easy. Besides, I'm sure you'll figure out who the kind soul who decided your lives were worth protecting is soon enough."

"Regardless, we should keep the idle chit-chat to a minimum and continue going through the levels." Lucifer sighed, looking around the room for another message.

The others shrugged, breaking off into groups to search the room they now found themselves in. Beel, Lucifer, Mammon, and Storm began wandering off to where the room began to narrow, while the others remained in the larger open area. It was eerily quiet for a moment, before Asmo broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Solomon, tell us more about the reaper. I mean, living in a place like this and coming up with all these rules...The longer we stay here, the more curious I am!"

"Hmm..." Solomon shrugged, turning from the bookshelf he had been analyzing closely. "Well, In a nutshell, I'd say that my reaper friend is a little on the unusual side."

"Even more than these idiots?" Vivi tilted her head in a gesture toward where a few of the brothers searched under some furniture.

"Hahaha! Well, we've known each other for over a thousand years now, but there's still so many things about them that I don't know."

"Whoa whoa...wait a minute..." Heart snapped his attention toward the sorcerer. "Did you just say a thousand??"

"Yeah, how old are you, Solomon?" Sarah asked pointedly, eyeing him up and down.

"Easy now, haha! Long ago, there was a time when I devoted myself to researching new forms of magic, but one day I made a...small error, I suppose. And as a result, I can never grow old or die naturally." Solomon shrugged. "So, I've lived for thousands of years looking exactly as I do now."

"Hold up, so you're actually just some crusty old man!?" Fern scrunched up their face. "What the fuck, dude!"

"An old man?!" Solomon winced, insulted by their words. "I'd like to think I keep myself appearing very young..."

"Well all of this isn't news to us. I mean, me and Solomon have known each other for so long now, You should have realized that he wasn't just some ordinary human!" Asmo giggled, strolling over to Solomon and gripping his arm tightly. "But I guess it makes sense why y'all didn't know all this stuff. You just met him a few weeks ago."

"I would say Solomon is more than just an unusual human." Belphie shrugged. "He's much different than any of you guys, or Storm. And he has so many pacts that he's probably closer to a demon than a human at this point."

"Hey now." Solomon's eye twitched in what appeared to be annoyance. "I'm just as human as any of them. I'm just...unique."

"Will you all quit fooling around?" Lucifer's sudden harsh tone caused nearly everyone to jump.

"Yeah, we found the doorway to the next level, so if y'all're done gabbin' ya can come this way!" Mammon added, crossing hims arm's triumphantly.

"Alright, alright. We're coming." Heart rolled their eyes, taking Asmo's hands and following Mammon out of the room. Vivi knelt down briefly, noticing her shoes had been unlaced during the ruckus of the previous rooms. As she finished tightly tying the strings, she noticed Solomon also lagging behind the others. Quickly, he grabbed a book off of the shelf he had been hovering near and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket.

"Hey, what did you just take?" Vivi stood, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Who, me?" Solomon smiled, shaking his head. "I didn't take anything. Maybe it just looked like I did from where you were standing."

Vivi sighed. "Whatever it was, it better not get us into any more trouble, or I'll be joining your 'friend' in beating your ass."

Solomon chuckled, walking straight past Vivi to catch up with the others. Vivi scoffed, following behind him to get though to the next room. She bumped into Fern as she walked through the door, already annoyed at the congested pileup at the entrance.

In large letters on the wall, scrawled out in blood, read "NO TALKING." The group looked amongst each other uncertainly, not knowing what the challenge of this room to try to get them to talk would be. The place they found themselves now appeared to be a long hallway, lined with suits of armor. Each figure held a long pole axe, as if in warning to those entering. Many doors lined the hall, and it would take hours to try to figure which lead out of this level and into the next.

Storm narrowed her eyes, assessing each of the doors in her field of vision. Each of them had a mark on them that almost looked like a scratch. Each was unique in color, size, and angle, but they all shared the same semi-straight formation. Well, all but one. Storm's eyes zeroed in on the distinguished door- one that had no markings at all near the end of the hall of doors. After a moment of pause, Storm turned to the puzzled group, gesturing with a tilt of her head to follow. The others hesitated for a moment, but followed after her to see what it was she was confidently chasing after.

"You know, I've been thinking..." Satan wondered aloud, glancing up to the cathedral-like ceiling above them. Before he could continue his statement, Levi wrapped his tail around Satan's pudgy head, muffling his words against the thick scales of his tail. Annoyed, Satan bit down, causing Levi to yelp loudly in pain.

"You realize the three of us have already been punished for breaking the rules, right? Even if we break another, we wont be penalized any more than we already have."

"So...that means we can talk?" Levi squeaked the words out, glancing around to the suits of armor nervously.

"I've already done it and nothing happened, so...yes."

"WOOOHOOO!" Mammon screeched loudly, barreling down the hallway past Storm.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. They seem to never shut up, even under consequences like this.

Mammon grinned as he began walking backwards, now facing Storm. "I bet your jealous, huh?"

Storm raised an eyebrow before shaking her head.

"I mean, I'd rather have the option to be quiet and stay looking like I did before than be a little D." Levi sighed, prancing up next to Storm's side. "So, are you thinking you know the way to the next level?"

Storm nodded with a smile, pointing to the unmarked door she was heading toward.

"Nah, that's clearly wrong." Mammon shook his head, bounding to a door just a few feet away from them. "Look at this one! The mark on it is big and yellow and more scraggly than the others! Clearly this is the right way to go!"

Before Storm could react, Mammon pushed the door open aggressively, revealing a ginormous boutique-looking room, covered wall-to-wall in clothing, bags, and accessories.

Satan's eyes widened. "Hey! Someone cover Asmo's mouth before he-"

"EEEEEEEEEEEE! Look at all these cute clothes!" Asmo squealed, stars in his eyes as he looked around the room.

"...Looks like I was too late."

"Oh my gosh, there's so much here that I like!!!" Asmo squawked, immediately shoving past Vivi to get to the clothing, sending her careening toward the ground.

"Asmo, You're gonna pay for that!!" Vivi roared, immediately rolling to her feet and bolting toward him. Before she could get to him, a bright light flashed from where both of them stood, blinding everyone else.

"Uh..oh..." Mammon gulped, backing out of the room slowly as the light dimmed and the figures that used to be Asmo and Vivi came into focus.

"Oh, this dress is so adorable!" The small pudgy demon gleefully smoothed the fabric between his spindly fingers. "It would look so cute on- AGUGh!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip you limb from limb, you narcissistic bimbo!" the small beast- who they all assumed to be Vivi- screamed, now having Asmo pinned against them in a headlock. Unlike the brothers, Vivi hadn't turned into a small, pudgy demon. Instead, they turned into a tiny purple and black sheep of the same size. Curled horns peaked out from her spongey coat, and the small muscles in her arms twitched as she tightened her hold on Asmo's neck.

"L-let go! My precious skin will be ruined if you sq-squeeze too tight!" Asmo choked, trying to wriggle his way out of her grip.

Satan pressed his lips together to try to stifle a laugh, but couldnt help the snort that released through his mouth. Vivi snapped her attention toward him, dropping Asmo to the ground instantly. She ran towards him, sliding backwards on the ground. With a buck of her back legs, she kicked him full-force with her hooves. Satan's tiny body flew out of the room with the force of her kick, causing the others to duck out of the way to avoid being hit.

Beel frowned, picking at his fingers nervously. As if able to hear his thoughts, Belphie came up beside him and patted his back in an attempt to comfort him. Vivi huffed, storming out of the room to diffuse her anger.

Storm glanced uncertainly toward Solomon, who covered his mouth to keep from laughing. She made a mental note to ask later about the cure for these curses, but now returned her focus to opening the correct door. The others followed as Lucifer attempted to wrangle Vivi, who was kicking around suits of armor and yelling at Satan.

As Storm predicted, the door lead to the next level. They all stepped into a hall with hundreds of stools sitting tucked under long tables. Another large message lined the walls above tapped barrels, which Storm assumed to be some sort of alcohol. The message was even larger than the last, and seemed to be more haphazardly scrawled out than the other messages they've seen:

DO NOT EAT.

"If we make it through level 4, we'll be at the chamber with the candles. Just a little further!"

Just as the words left Solomon's mouth, the room went dark. When the light to the room returned, the tables became lined with a plethora of different foods and drinks. It was as if the reaper was enticing the tired and hungry group to partake of the feast, though they all knew what the consequences of eating this food would be.

"Oh my lord...I can't believe we have to deal with this now!" Fern groaned as their stomach grumbled. "After we've come all this way!"

"Do not eat...it says Do not eat...that's what it says..." Beel stared between the message and the feast, drool forming heavily behind his lips.

"Beel...You can do this!" Storm tried to reassure him, rubbing his arm gently. He just stared on, completely transfixed on the buffet before him that he was being told to ignore.

"It's no use..." Belphie groaned.

"Hey, this reaper friend of yours...they don't have a cerberus-sized pet, right? I keep hearing this...growling?" Asmo glanced around, hopping to try to see over the tables.

"I'd say it sounds more like thunder." Heart looked toward the ceiling, trying to see if the chandeliers were shaking with the force of the noise.

"Nah, that's Beel's stomach growlin'..." Mammon shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have a bad feelin' about what's about to happen..."

Beel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. After a short moment, he opened his eyes and turned away from the food. "Lets go."

Belphie blinked in utter disbelief. "wha- huh?"

"We're almost to the chamber with the candles, right?" Beel swallowed his saliva, trying to quell the growing hunger pains in his stomach. "So...lets get moving."

"I...I don't believe it..." Belphie's eyes were wide as he stared at his twin. "Beel...Y-you're actually resisting the temptation to eat...How..."

"He probably cant resist it for long, so lets go already!" Mammon pushed past them, moving in the direction of an archway in the back of the room. The others followed behind quickly, each glancing toward Beel nervously as they walked through the winding dining halls- each one displaying a more elaborate feast than the last.

Beel mumbled to himself as they moved, listing off the various foods he saw displayed on the plates before him. Storm and Belphie stood on either side of him, squeezing his hands to reassure him they were here.

"We need to get his mind off the food." Belphie nervously glanced toward Beel's line of sight, seeing his second favorite dish piled on top of a serving platter. Droll pooled out of his mouth as Beel tried to breathe deeply, dripping down his chin and onto his shirt.

"Uh...I...I'm pretty sure Solomon made all this food, Beel!" Sarah shouted suddenly, causing Belphie to feel a shudder run up his spine.

"Yeah, and I betcha Fern helped!" Mammon added with a snort.

"Hey! Fuck you!" Fern knitted their brows together as they kicked Mammon hard, square in the ass. He yelped and ran toward Storm's legs. He turned and scowled at them as he held onto her pant leg, trying to stay as far away from Fern as possible.

"Hey, look! There's a door!" Heart pointed to the right, where a large double door was situated. A big red arrow was painted on the door, as if to signal they were headed in the right direction.

Belphie sighed in relief and ran toward the door. "I bet the candles are right through-"

His words died on his tongue when the doors creaked open, displaying another dining room. This time though, the tables were lined with various types of burgers- what they all knew to be Beel's favorite food. They all turned to the second youngest, nervous to see how he would respond.

"B-beel, the color has drained from your face..." Storm commented, squeezing his overly-sweating hand to try to get him to look at her. "Are you okay?"

Beel stayed silent, eyes wide and staring at the steaming plates before him.

"I don't think I've ever seen Beel fight off the urge to eat like this before..." Belphie shook his head, squeezing Beel's other hand. "I have no idea how he's able to do this..."

"Well, if ya ask me, it's about damn time he learned to keep that stomach of his in check." Mammon rolled his eyes. "I mean, he's always eatin'. Like a giant pig!"

"Shut up, Mammon." Vivi hissed, mimicking a punch of one fist to an open palm with her hooves. Mammon gulped, now skirting his way between Storm's legs for extra protection.

"Pig...pig...pig roast." Beel moaned, suddenly snatching Mammon up into his hands.

"Whoa...What- HEY! OW!!" Mammon yelled as Beelzebub bit into his back. "Quit bitin' me! I ain't food, dammit!"

"Beel! Stop trying to eat Mammon!" Storm gasped, moving to pry Mammon out of Beel's hands.

Lucifer's eyes widened in fear and he quickly snatched Storm's arms away, just before Beel snapped his jaws toward her. "Don't try to get your hands in there, Storm."

She nodded nervously, watching Mammon writhe in Beels hands.

"D'AAAH! He's gonn a eat me alive!!! Do something!" Mammon screamed

"Actually, he's just gnawing on him a little. As long as he doesn't bite off actual chunks, it should be okay." Belphie shrugged.

"And it might help keep his mind off of eating the food here." Sarah added, giggling as Beel bit down harder on Mammon's pudgy back.

"AHHH! IT'S NOT OKAY!!" Mammon shouted, finally freeing himself from Beel's grasp and leaping into Storm's arms. She caught him roughly, only being held up by Lucifer's support. She felt him stumble slightly as her body backed into his, thankful that he was there to keep her from falling. Lucifer grunted as he tried to straighten himself, clearly in pain from the impact.

"I can't take this anymore!" Beel whimpered, clutching his stomach hard. "If I try to hold back any more, I might hurt one of you!"

"Might!?" Mammon whined, rubbing the spots on his back where Beel's fangs punctured the skin. "We're already there, pal!"

Beel squeezed his eyes shut, growling loudly. "I'm sorry, I have to-"

Suddenly, a bright flash of light erupted from behind him, causing everyone to freeze in shock. After the light faded, a small little D with a spiney tail with fluff-like tip, curled ram horns, and glistening violet eyes blinked at them from a chair near one of the tables. In his hand, he held a half-eaten burger.

"Huh...so this is what it feels like to be a little D?" Belphie shrugged, tossing the burger aside. "You know, it's not really as bad as I thought."

"Exactly! Now you're one of us, Belphie!" Levi laughed.

Belphie scrunched up his face. "Ugh. No thanks. I don't mind being a little D, but I've got no interest in being 'one of you,' Levi."

Levi let out a yell, mimicking the action of a sword being thrust through his chest. "Belphie scores a critical hit, Leviathan takes 4500 damage!"

"Cringy." Heart giggled, shaking their head.

"Bel...Belphie?" Beel blinked back his surprise, his lips down-turned in an intense frown. "Wh...why would you...This is all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Beel." Belphie hopped down off of the chair, stretching his back.

"You only ate that because it looked like I was about to give into the temptation and eat it myself though."

"Yeah, well...I understand how hard that is...Believe me. Which is why I didn't want to watch you having to endure it. Like, if I had to stave off the urge to sleep, I'm sure I would have felt the same."

"You hung in really well, Beel." Storm smiled sympathetically, patting his arm.

"Plus, the reaper already has an axe to grind with you. If you were to break one of the rules, who knows what would happen to you?" Fern shuddered, not wanting to think of the other potential outcomes.

"So...It's no big deal at all if I turn into a little D. We can figure out a fix for this later." Belphie hugged Beel's leg, smiling up at him.

Beel sniffled as tears began running down his face. He snatched Belphie up, hugging him as tight as he physically could.

"Ack! Beel...I-I appreciate the hug, but not so t-tight! You're suffocating me!" Belphie choked, trying hard to wriggle his way loose to get some air into his lungs.

"Something wrong, Lucifer?" Solomon tilted his head at the oldest brother, who seemed to be holding his balance against one of the chairs. "You're looking...well, you're looking sort of pale?"

"It's..." Lucifer's eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he sighed. "My head hurts."

Storm turned to him, concern painted all over her face. She set Mammon down gently and reached up toward Lucifer's brow, carefully smoothing over his temple. "Another migraine? They seem to be getting worse lately."

"They're usually triggered by the stress of dealing with the problems your brothers though, right?" Solomon smirked as Lucifer ceased waving away Storm's concerned doting, glaring at the sorcerer.

"How did you know that?"

"Well, what do you expect?" Solomon chuckled. "When there's a demon I'm hoping to make a pact with, I make an point to observe him at all times."

Lucifer grimaced. "Well, stop it."

Solomon smirked in response to Lucifers annoyance as he again swatted Storm's hands away.

"In any case, yes...this headache seems to be worse than the ones I usually have...but it's nothing to be concerned about since we're almost at the fifth level. I will just rest when we get home and all will be well. Let's just keep going."

"Are you sure?" Storm stared at him, eyes shimmering with worry. "Maybe you should sit down for-"

"I said I'm fine." Lucifer snapped, shaking his head and moving past her.

"Well, the candle room will hopefully be right through that door." Solomon shrugged at Storm, though the look on his face seemed satisfied with Lucifer's current state. "Lets continue on, shall we?"

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 2 years ago

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with ears to see and eyes to hear // broadcasting from beyond the grave

[a/n] slightly longer part named after one of my favourite songs, idk but the vibe seemed to fit (at least for me it did, mainly because writing this kinda felt like a fever dream lol) Also not proof read sorry.

[warnings?] biblical references? (not to be taken seriously because irl I am very much anti-religion and all that jazz), parental death?

series masterlist available here!

“We need to talk.” is always a sentence that leaves the feeling of dread to enter your system, especially when it comes from someone you're close with. Although, coming for a parent? well that was terrifying beyond belief, so terrifying that you might as well leave the country, change your name and burn off your fingerprints, all so you don’t have to face the reality of whatever it is that you’ve done wrong now. Did you accidently put a red sock in the laundry basket with whites? Did you leave the milk cap unscrewed again? Oh god what if you left your diary laying around and your mom found out about your not so small crush on a certain and very much off limits metal head that just so happened to live 10ft away from you? what if she was preparing to give you the safe sex talk? oh god.

You could spend hours wracking your brain for a list of things you’d probably done wrong, except you weren’t even given the luxury of a couple seconds before you were pulled out into the dark dampness of the early morning, barefeet squelching on the dewy bed of moss that lined the forest floor. Unable to see where you were going you let yourself become a dead weight, simply dragged to wherever it was your mom was taking you.

If you weren’t such a child of nature you probably would’ve been freaking out by now, worried about what mysteries hid in the darkness of the morning, buried below the dirt and slithered around. Actually now that you were thinking about it you were kind of freaking out.

An overwhelming light suddenly took over your body, feet now walking on cold hard stone as the grip around your wrist loosened. A tomb of sorts stood tall infront of you, miles of thick ivy and vines wrapped around it both inside and out. The air felt thicker inside, like it was hugging your body providing a blanket of saftey around you.

“What’s going on?” words trailing off as your mom approached the broken beam that sat in the middle of the room, laying a book of sorts atop it before beckoning you over.

“Before you say anything I need you to listen to me, okay?” Awaiting comformation from you, you nodded hesitantly both curious of what the hell was happening and scared you were genuinely going crazy because there is no way any of this could be real? You’d lived in Hawkins your whole life yet you’d never seen this place, let alone experienced anything as odd as you have the past couple days. The only thing that made sense was that you had to be dreaming and if you were, well you might as well make the most of it, not as if you had anything to lose.

“You come from a long line of originals, the first and most powerful soul binders . The legend goes that thousands of years ago there lived millions of guides who were tasked with individual powers of sorts, born to guide souls to better or to worse just as the fates intended.

It is said that no harm must come to an Original for it will return in threefold, but as you know there is no good without bad and too much of one can throw the balance off, resulting in catastophe. One day mysterious woman appeared, claiming to have travelled far and wide in hope of finding refuge from an impending doom that would curse humanity.

She lied. She was the curse, conjured by the bad, simply a pawn in the hands of a higher power forced to drive apart any Original that lived. There were few Originals that were gifted with a power to grant a soulmate to those who were worthy and while most survived there was some that just weren’t meant to be.

The day of The Reckoning was one of the largest spiritual wars to arise, the Originals who had the power of soul binding were left cursed. Given an awful fate that should they have children, the first born will have their soul bound to another only for it to be teathered some time after meeting. The pain of the break would be too much to bear, either killing one soul and leaving the other to grow sour or killing both. Leaving their souls to wonder the earth in search of each other once again however, never blessed to find them, restless and weary they remain even in death.

Your mother was the first born from our family and your father was bound to her, just as she was to him. The teathering happened just before finding out she was pregnant with you, the loss painful we thought we would lose her. After she found out she was with child she made me promise I would do everything in my power to keep you safe, even if that meant leaving her after she grew cold and bitter.

She was my sister.”

Ringing bounced around your ears, vision blurring unsure of what you’d just heard. How was one meant to react to news like this? It couldn’t be real. So many questions flooded your brain, emotions swirling inside of you like a hurricane waiting to unfold, wanting to destroy everything in your path, no care about the damage it could leave behind.

If this was a dream would you be able to run away? Or would you finally wake up?

There was no room for questions or doubts, your feet carrying you across the threshold to god knows where. Running and running until your lungs began to ache, feet scuffed and bleeding from the harsh terrain, practically begging you to stop.

Trust yourself to run into a wall in the middle of nowhere. Falling over you waited in silence for this nightmare to be over, eyes screwed shut and hands clenching at the dirt beneath your body.

“Are you okay?” A familiar voice asked, concern lacing their voice as the sound of shuffles filled the air. “uh y/n right?” this time their voice was closer almost as if they were next to you. Taking a deep breath in you opened your eyes hoping to see the once four boring white walls of your room but instead seeing those chocolate button saucer eyes that haunted your memories.

“You’re the wall?” You spoke out suprisingly, your mind and mouth clearly not in the same place as you spewed out a load of nonsense about the boy in front of you who clearly was A. Not a wall and B. was very very very close to you, in fact he could probably hear your heart pounding through your chest. Were you sweating? Probably. This was the first time you’d spoken to him outside of a forced setting and here you were embarassing yourself beyond belief that even the freak wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

#with ears to see and eyes to hear series?#eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things s4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #pbs-thedesecrated #eddie x reader #x reader #gn reader

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greeneyedsnake · 2 years ago

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GES Vol 5 Status Update:

I recently got a question about the Green-Eyed Snake series on one of my other stories, and I wanted to share my response here because A: I figure at the very least I owe you all some kind of an update, and B: I think there’s good advice there for fic-interaction in general. So, to answer the question will I continue with GES?

I don't know. I have stuff written, I have lots of stuff planned, but it's hard to actually write it these days because it's difficult to immerse myself deeply enough in Potter to write a story like that without getting thrown-out of the writing by my overwhelming disgust for the author. Spite helps, and I've managed to slog through a few sentences over the past few months largely on that basis, but it's abysmally slow. So I just don't know. Which is why I haven't really responded most of the time when people ask me about the GES series, because "idk" isn't a helpful answer for anyone I feel. But: I don't know. I want to, but it's hard. The world sucks, and she's making it worse on purpose, and it's hard to focus on working in her sandbox—even with the goal of giving her a thousand middle fingers with the resulting story—because it's hard to focus past the evil she's doing in real life to work on the story. Maybe if every Republican in America suddenly drops dead of shame and stops trying to slaughter genderqueer children, or Rowling yeets herself into an abyss or has an epiphany to maybe stop being irredeemably evil on purpose, or some other such miracle happens to make the world less awful, it'll get easier. But otherwise: I truly do not know.

I'll also say that opening an e-mail from AO3 and expecting to enjoy reading someone's comment about my new LotR fic, and instead getting this, does not engender motivation to write anything. So your tip for the day is to ask writers questions like this through more appropriate avenues in the future (tumblr, dms, one of the stories in the series in question, etc) rather than hijacking some unrelated story. And maybe remind us or something you liked about that story when you do. The few sentences I have been able to eke-out this year have all been inspired by readers commenting on some chapter of GES, because their enjoyment reminds me of why I liked that story, too. Whenever I am trying to work on it, I page back through comments and messages that people have sent, and that helps me swallow the bitter pill of JKR’s existence enough to write a few more words. Every nice (or even insightfully critical!) thing that anyone has ever said about his series helps, a lot. And I know objectively that people wouldn't ask "will you continue?" about a story they didn't like reading, but you spark no inspiration like this; only disappointment. The only reward fanfic writers get is to have readers tell them what they liked about their work, so if you want to encourage your favorite writers to write more stuff for you to read, that's the best way to go about it. Not this.

So: sorry for not saying anything sooner about the status of this story, but it was because I didn’t feel that I had anything useful to say. But that’s where we are: the story is not abandoned, it’s just being drowned right now by the weight of the world.

I do want to take a moment to thank you each and every one of you for the beautiful comments and messages and encouragement you’ve given me, though. I do want to finish this series for you at some point, I truly do. I just don’t know how, or when. But someday I genuinely hope to.

Thank you for reading, and I’m sorry to disappoint you.

#green eyed snake #harry potter and the seer's prophecy #update schedule

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heliads · 2 years ago

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The Killer and the Poisoner

Based on this request: "Kaz x fem reader. Y/N attended Ketterdam University and learned which plants are deadly. After graduation, she got a job at a greenhouse in Ketterdam. Kaz notices her boss being creepy and offers to take care of him if she joins the Crows. At some point, she and Kaz start dating."

i love writing about kaz so much omg

masterlist

There are a thousand shades of green before you. To the untrained eye, they all seem the same. There are rows and rows of flora all collected in the greenhouse. Some are here to heal, others to help. Some for no purpose at all.

One, though, sticks out at you like an honest man in the Barrel, all wrong in ways you couldn’t begin to describe if you tried. It snags at your consciousness, drawing your focus until you start to turn towards it. You have to; if you don’t, the agony of waiting here any more might kill you.

Patience snapped like a wire, you reach out a hand to point out the offending plant. “That one.”

A pause, heavy as an iron manacle wrapped around your throat, and then the woman behind you scratches down something on her pad of paper. “Correct. That’s most certainly a passing score, Miss L/N.”

You can’t help a proud smile. “Not half bad, huh?”

The woman snaps shut the pocket watch she’s been using to time you. You have half a mind to tell her that the prized antique she thinks she’s been coveting is actually a barely decent fake, but neither of you really want that sort of drama right now.

“Not half bad indeed,” she hums, “that little show puts you in the top percentages of your class.”

Your brow furrows. “Surely other people have been able to pass this test?”

The woman lifts a shoulder. “Oh, they have, but none so fast as you. You’re one of our best and brightest, Miss L/N. You might as well appreciate it. Glory fades quickly around here.”

You smile at her words and leave the examination room. This little stunt isn’t the only part of your final exam, of course, you’ve already sat through written portions and verbal interviews, final presentations and extensive essays. That’s what you get for trying to graduate from the prestigious biology school at Ketterdam University, you suppose. Everything is a lot of work, even down to the final test you’ll take.

That being said, you’re able to trade the examination hall for the bright sunlight with a smile. Even without your proctor’s kindness, you know you did well. You’ve been working at this for quite some time, and this was the last piece of graded work you’ll ever do. You knew that this was going to go well, although that didn’t stop you from joining all test-taking seniors in the hallowed tradition of tossing a coin in the Scholar’s Fountain in the hopes of encouraging somebody else’s Fates to protect your exam score prospects.

Right now, though, you’re free and clear. You get your scores back about a week later, and have sufficient results to pass with a respectable margin. Graduation passes in a blur, and just like that, you’re entering your first job at a local greenhouse.

Plants are a difficult field in Ketterdam. There are hundreds upon thousands of different breeds, all requiring specific conditions or knowledge. It seems like someone turns up in the hospital every month because they accidentally doused their tea in poison instead of the proper herbs, or another unlucky fool gave themselves an allergic reaction because they couldn’t tell their stimulants from their irritants.

You, however, don’t slip up. Not once, not ever. You had your time of mistakes back in university, but you’ve learned from them. You keep your leaves in order, your flora in perfect condition. You also know which poisons are which, not just to keep yourself alive but to hurt others if necessary. And when is it not necessary in Ketterdam to have an extra weapon up your sleeve? Your tongue drips of poison whenever you need it. No insurance policy could ever be sweeter.

So you thought, at least, until you work a few months at your job at the Ketterdam greenhouse and start thinking otherwise. It’s a decent job with decent pay, no problems there, but the issue lies not with the subject material but the man in charge of you. Your boss is certainly a piece of work, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You turn a blind eye when he hovers over your shoulder, slimy and sweaty and absolutely disgusting in every possible way.

It’s easier to avoid him, and in a place as sprawling as the greenhouse, it’s certainly doable. You turn your attention to the customers and away from the rest of the staff, and you make it work. This is certainly made easier by the fact that the people who frequent the greenhouse are undeniably strange.

Least of all would be the boy who keeps dropping by. He’s never introduced himself, but then again, there’s no need. No one else in Kerch has such a distinctive cane, or carries themselves with the knowledge that they could kill you a thousand ways in a second if they so desired.

No, Kaz Brekker is perfectly recognizable. He comes in about once a month for all sorts of things; poisons and potions and medicines. You know Dirtyhands manages to get himself and his gang into plenty of tight places, so it comes as no surprise that he would need your sort of supplies every now and then.

What does surprise you, however, is his interest in you. By all accounts, you’re just another worker in the greenhouse, albeit one with more recent schooling behind you. That doesn’t explain why Kaz eyes you with cool curiosity every time he enters the shop, why his entire demeanor shifts to piercing ice whenever your boss starts lurking a little too close to you.

If there’s one thing Dirtyhands is known for, though, it’s his knack for spotting a business opportunity. He is the product of the Barrel in all its greedy glory, a boy wrought of kruge and cruelty. So, if you’re looking for reasons as to why he would pay any attention to you whatsoever, you suppose you could expect his job offer when it comes.

Kaz is alone with you on a quiet day when he first makes the call. You’ve been bringing him the plant cuttings he requested when Kaz suddenly leans over to you, eyes dark and fixated on you.

“You don’t like your boss very much, do you?” He asks out of nowhere.

You arch a brow. “He pays me.”

Kaz chuckles quietly. “Other than that. He lingers a little too much, doesn’t he?”

“At this point,” you comment, “I think you have a stronger opinion on it than I do.”

“Alright,” Kaz counters, “How about this? I can offer you a better job than him. Clearly loyalty isn’t something new to you, but this time, you won’t have to try so hard to fake it. Hopefully.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “I’m in a contract for the next few months.”

“Only if the person who signed the contract with you is still alive,” Kaz says pleasantly, “I can take care of that.”

“You’re going to kill my boss?” You ask, somewhat shocked.

“I’m going to remove an obstacle from your career future,” Kaz elaborates.

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t get it. Why would you kill someone for a hire you don’t even know?”

“I do know you,” Kaz says, an icy glint sharpening in his gaze, “Your name is Y/N L/N, you were top of your class at Ketterdam University, although it is rather an interesting coincidence that the one person who could have come near you in the rankings suddenly came down with a bout of an unknown ailment the week before exams start. It looked like a poisoning, but that’s absurd, because that student should have known which plants to avoid. Unless there was someone out there who knew more than him, of course.”

Your spine stiffens. “So you’re here to blackmail me? How charming.”

“I am never charming,” Kaz says, “only creative. I figured two incentives were more than enough to sweeten the deal.”

Two incentives indeed. A secret kept, a creepy boss dead. At last, you shrug. “When do I start?”

Few people can say that they’ve seen Kaz Brekker smile. You’re not sure that the slash of cold humor across his face is a smile, but then again, it’s the closest most come to seeing one.

News of your boss’ death scarcely makes a single headline. Not many people liked him, but even in Ketterdam where popularity isn’t everything, most customers just brushed it off and waited for his replacement to arrive. The wheels are constantly turning in Ketterdam, and few in the Barrel have time for something as wasteful as mourning a man like that. Or anybody, for that matter.

You do your part in moving on. Barely the next day, you’re unlocking the door to your room in the Slat. Kaz arranged for an empty space on one of the floors to be made into a greenhouse, and you’ve started making your own rows of poisons. Few people dare step foot in your workspace, too afraid of accidentally ingesting something that would kill them most horribly.

For some reason, Kaz isn’t one of them. In the beginning, you assume he’s just checking in on you to make sure you aren’t about to make off with his purchased cuttings and rob him blind, but he keeps stopping by. Most of the time, he doesn’t say a thing, just leans against the wall and watches as you work.

As the weeks go by, he becomes more talkative. He’ll bring a newspaper with him, crease it sharply and occasionally comment on some idiot who’s gotten himself killed, or worse, messed up their chances with foreign stocks. Occasionally Kaz dares to leave his perch by the wall and walks to stand stiffly beside you. He’ll lean over your shoulder, just close enough that you don’t brush your arms together, and ask about what this plant does, why that one requires such specific conditions.

You teased him once, asked if he was only prying for plant facts so he could do your job himself and save the cost of another paycheck. Kaz had given you such a look and scathing response that you didn’t bring it up again, but you still remember the expression on his face. It was almost like betrayal, to even bring up the fact that he might go back on his word.

No, you’re here to stay, and Kaz sees to that. You’re not the only one who’s noticed it, though. As the months wear on, strange silhouettes start to follow you back to the Slat, goons and gangsters with tattoos that don’t belong to the Dregs. Once, someone launches a flaming projectile through the window of the Slat greenhouse. You’re able to put the fire out quickly, but that doesn’t stop Kaz from almost losing his mind. You can assume that the thought of having his precious poisons go up in smoke is a loss that he’d never want to imagine, but some part of you pretends that perhaps he was worried for you as well.

About three weeks after the rival gangs’ develop a side interest in you, one of them takes more decisive action. Pekka Rollins is well known for being Kaz’s worst enemy, so of course it is the Dime Lions who decide to take a stand first. Five of them corner you one night and knock you unconscious, dragging you back to their base so they can begin a hostage trade.

Unfortunately for them, the Dime Lions didn’t count on you being smarter than you seem. Your fingers are tipped with poison whenever you leave the safety of the Slat, and within about a bell you’re leaving the rival gang’s hideout without a scratch on your person to show you were ever in danger.

If you’re calm about the whole matter, though, Kaz is quite the opposite. He’s in the greenhouse when you return to the Slat, pacing back and forth down the lines of poisons like he could find you hiding within the rows of treacherous green if he merely searched long enough.

He’s kind of right, too. Kaz looks up when the door opens and his eyes widen.

“You’re supposed to be kidnapped by Pekka Rollins,” he mutters, holding up a piece of paper you can only assume to be a ransom note. The page is practically crumpled from how hard Kaz is clutching it in his fist, the words distorted around the grip of his leather gloves.

“I decided against it,” you reply, “If it’s inconvenient for your plots, though, I can always go back.”

Kaz lets out a sound that’s either a snort or a sigh, you can’t quite tell. “I thought you were being tortured. That’s what Pekka promised, at least, that he was going to use your blood to water your own poisons.”

You nod slowly. “I’m out, though. I got out.”

“Yes,” Kaz says after a weighty pause, “you did. I didn’t know that, though. I didn’t know anything about what had happened to you other than Pekka’s threats.”

You stare at him. There’s something Kaz isn’t saying here, something he wants to say more than anything. His tongue has been cut away by years’ worth of knives in backs, though, and you can see the syllables choking in his throat even as he tries to force them out. It is something about the value of a person, you think, more than just a wage or a paycheck but how much you need them, how you could burn the rest of the world to ashes if it meant protecting them.

He manages it eventually. The paper containing news of your imminent death cracks and folds in his hand as he looks up at you. “I can’t lose you,” Kaz mutters, “not if I can do anything about it. Will you let me keep you safe?”

Dirtyhands has never needed permission for anything. Kaz does.

You nod, and you swear you can see the tension start to unravel from Kaz’s shoulders, cutting him loose at last. “Yes,” you whisper, “I will.”

It’s as close to a confession as anyone can get in the Barrel. It does well enough for the two of you. You could not need anything more, and you get the feeling that in the time to come, you would never want anything more, either. Kaz will make sure of that.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

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