#I don’t remember how long ago I started it but it’s been in progress for a WHILE

[wingedcat13]

Princess in a Tower

[Note: this one is *not* Synovus, or any particular prompt. First person, implications of violence and familial abuse, and a one-off for real I promise!]

They have not yet mopped up all the blood, when I enter the throne room.

It is not the first time I have seen the room itself, but it is the first time I’ve had a chance to inspect it. Earlier, it was still filled with the chaos of our siege; the screams of mortal men and metal against metal enough to distract from the pretty mosaics on the walls.

I ignore the remaining smears of viscera. The bodies have been removed, which is the most important bit. They will all be identified, and depending on how well the people they died to defend behave, may even see proper burials. Loyalty is a virtue, even when it is to the wrong people.

Of course, to the people bound and kneeling in this room, I am the wrong people.

As I stalk through them I hear whispers between the sharp footfalls of my sabaton’d boots. Some are muttered prayers, or incoherent cries. The rest are my names and monikers: Domine of the Northern Reach, the Wyvern-Wraith, Death-in-Red. Some get the title wrong, translating it into the local customs, and I am named both ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’ in an air of confusion. My soldiers will correct them later.

By the time I reach the dais, only one person has been brave enough to utter my given name.

“Elith Frenaye.” Four syllables, but an infinite amount of venom. That’s to be expected. At least the pronunciation is correct.

“Archinard Holbrooke.” I greet the man who was King here only a few hours ago with quiet grace and decorum. As he has dropped my titles, I am under no obligation to grant him his - particularly not when the titles he would expect are no longer his to claim.

The now-former King of Kescil is shorter than I expected, even granting the fact that he’s on his knees. He’s doing his best to keep a straight back, and his chin up, balancing as though he still has to account for the weight of a crown he’s already been relieved of. At nearly sixty, he looks remarkably fit for both his age and status; most nobles are showing their excess by now in unpleasant ways.

Archinard is balding, but he’s taken to it with grace. He isn’t the most muscled man I’ve ever faced down, but he seems to still care for himself. Still has most of his teeth, from what I can see of his sneer. Good. It’s always pathetic to execute someone people can’t even recognize as a king without their robes and jewels.

Archinard also isn’t stupid - he knows that’s his fate. He raises his chin again, and the mental image of him doing that on the headsman’s block is all that keeps me from punching him when he demands, “What have you done with my wife and daughter?”

Steadfast. I remind myself, simply staring at him while I take the time to put myself in order. The fight is over, but my nerves will take days to settle properly. Steadfast. Sure. Serene.

“Nothing yet.” I answer, politely casual as I walk past Archinard. My cape swings into him as I pass, and I swear for a moment he wanted to bite it. Perfect. “Though pretending ignorance won’t help any of you here. Yes, yes, you managed to hide them away from me.”

I turn to face the crowd again, and settle myself into the throne. My voice is steady, unhurried, and unworried, as I add, “For now.”

I don’t clarify that I will find them, or make threats. I don’t need to. There’s a moment where none of the Kescilians even breathe, and saying more would only tarnish that moment of fear. Even Archinard has paled, though his bluster will return in a moment.

Only if he’s given the chance, though, and I don’t intend to grant him that mercy.

I lean back in the throne - my throne, now - and as plush as it is, the thing is damned uncomfortable. Maybe that’s part of why Archinard is the way he is. I’ll never ask. There’s more important things at hand.

“Archinard Holbrooke.” I repeat, and where before my voice was quiet and polite, now it is pitched to carry. I was not born to inherit this throne room, but I was born and raised to a crown. All of that training is evident in the seemingly effortless diction in my voice, a layer of fraying velvet over steel. “You are relieved of the duties of Monarch of Kescil. Your life has been remanded into my care. As I am merciful, I will grant you a choice.”

‘Merciful’ is stretching it, in this instance. The crowd likely expects me to give him a choice of how he’d like to die, or perhaps a chance to try and claim mercy for his Queen and the Princess.

“You may accept these changes with dignity, and retire as Ledan - Lord - Holbrooke, with a moderate compensation from your people, in recognition of your service. Or you may be executed as the last King of Kescil.”

The first offer is tempting, but this isn’t as much of a choice as it appears. Demoting the King to a noble may allow him to think he can reclaim his crown later, but it also opens him to punishment for years of mistreatment by his now-fellow nobles, who do not need to fear a crown’s reprisal. Compensating him from his own treasury makes him complicit, and the common folk won’t forget that he took the chance to run with the gold. Recognition of his service is a joke.

Whether it’s in a rebellion, at the hands of his own vassals, in a common folk mob, or by an assassin, I will see this man dead. It’s only a matter of how long he wants to live, and in what comfort, before the axe - metaphorical or literal - falls. Perhaps I am only offering him a choice of deaths.

“I am a King.” Archinard declares, “So I was ordained, and so I will die.”

The smile I give him in return is bloodless. “As you wish.”

—-

I do not execute Archinard immediately.

If conquest was my true reason for being in Kescil, I would have. My armor was still bloodstained, I had my sword, and the man was already bound and on his knees - it would have been incredibly simple to just end it then and there. But I have promised his death to another, if she wants it, and I will stand by that promise.

My excuse to the masses is that I want to make a ‘proper’ example of him. There are speculations that I want to execute the entire royal family at once, to ensure there are no mistakes, no accidental inheritances. Others think I’m torturing the man for fun behind closed doors.

I have a few retainers who know the truth of my purpose here in Kescil - I keep at least one of them with me, always, as a guard for both my body and my sanity. That first night, the four of us share a room, prepared to sleep in shifts in the parlor of a suite, all piled in the center of the floor.

“Better than camping.” Chirps Valentine, setting up his bedroll on the plush carpet.

“Worse than camping.” Counters Ames, who distrusts the textiles and would prefer a carpet of leaves to sleep on.

Ash doesn’t bother to chime in on that debate, just exchanges looks with me over their heads.

“It is camping.” I tell them both, shoving one end of a couch - there were four of them in this room, four. Not to mention the chairs and cushions and footstools and, ugh - further against the wall. If there were hidden passages, no one would be creeping in easily.

“You know,” Valentine muses from the floor, his head propped on his chin, “I can’t wait to hear the rumors after tonight. What about the rest of you? Fan favorites? Particular conspiracies?”

Ash folds her legs beneath her, and starts stripping off her gloves and boots. “That’s not fair to Elith.” She protests around a mouthful of leather as she struggles with a strap. No one tries to help her; we’ve all learned better. She’ll ask if she needs it. “Given she knows what’s supposed to be spreading.”

“Girl-Prince invades castle, hosts wild orgy in celebration.” Ames announces.

While I’m still wrinkling my nose at that, Valentine smacks Ames with a pillow, “It’s ‘Princess,’ you foghorn, not girl-Prince.”

Ames allows the blow to knock them flat, even though I’ve seen them take much worse without so much as a twitch. “I just repeat what I’ve heard.”

“There’s no way they’re already speculating about her sex life.” Ash disagrees, “We just got here.”

“People always speculate about my sex life.” I correct her wearily. “They call me girl-Prince as an insult, Ames, you know Kescil’s weird about these things. And I were to have a celebratory orgy, I would have invited far nicer company than you three.”

“Ah,” says Valentine, smug, “But would they have accepted? Or would you have been dropping trou with just us-“

“Thank you, Ash.” I say mildly, over the sounds of Valentine being smothered.

“We’ll find her, Elith.” Ames tells me, suddenly serious. The other two stop as well. “You know we will.”

The sudden focus of their attention is more than I can bear right now, even benevolent as it is. I exhale slowly. Steadfast. Sure. Serene.

I manage a smile. “I know we will.”

None of them stop me as I roll my shoulders, checking the fit of my armor is still right. I haven’t taken it off yet, though we did clean the worst of the day’s stains off of it earlier - the rest won’t come out without sanding the chain and plate, and that takes longer than I want to be without it, right now.

“I think I’d like to see more of my new castle.” I remark, purposefully light. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

Ash moves to start replacing her boots and gauntlets, and Ames opens their mouth, but it’s Valentine who’s quickest to his feet.

“I’ll go with you.” He says, cutting off the other two’s chance to claim escort duty. If I let them, they’d still come along, but four people in the halls will have everyone still in the castle up and trying to spy. I’m not certain Valentine and I will avoid that outcome either, but at least we have a better chance.

We walk the halls of the Royal residence, avoiding one particular room. It turns out to be a quiet night.

I don’t sleep at all.

—-

They find the Queen on day three.

We’re taking an early meal in the banquet hall when word comes, carried by a page who’s had to learn the castle’s floorplan faster than anyone else. She skids into the hall, nearly flipping over a bench that’s been left askew by its last inhabitants. When she spots me, she all but climbs over the tables to get to me.

Ames, my companion for the next few hours, is halfway out of their seat with a bread knife before I recognize the page, and settle them with a hand. Even then, they don’t sit, but scan the crowd behind the page, in case she’s being chased.

“Domine!” The page pants, almost throwing herself flat at my feet. “Ser Thorrun sent me, an urgent message. Immediately there and back with a reply, Domine, he seemed sure you’d send one.”

“Peace.” I tell the page, holding out my hand for the message. My food is forgotten - Thorrun is the one in charge of sweeping the castle for any hideaways who are still here. I have four others, each tasked with a different cardinal direction, leading searches in the areas around the castle for those who fled. So far, those searches have only turned up a few servants, and the odd nobleman.

While I read Thorrun’s note, I pass the page a goblet of water. It’s brief -

Q in Weave, A+U.

Rather than send a reply, I rise. The page spills half her water down her front, and looks up at me, gasping. Ames pats her on the back.

“Take me to the Weaver’s quarters, please.” I say. I can only hope it comes across as calm.

—-

A castle goes through a truly preposterous amount of linens. Back home, the weavers and the seamstresses share a compound building, but have separate work spaces they’re free to use as they wish. It leads to arguments and lost items of clothing on occasion, but the Textiline - like a housekeeper, but head of weavers, sewers, spinners, and launderers in the Royal employ - has never complained.

I would be ashamed to show them this place.

Part of it is our fault, yes - hanging curtains are a good place to hide someone with a sword if your opponent is in a hurry, or a moron who doesn’t know to look for boots. The simplest way to avoid that is to prod them with your sword as you pass by, and that leaves a lot of holes. A lot of baskets overturned to ensure no one is crammed inside one.

But there are no windows here, meaning the whole room is lit only by candles, leaving the entire room stuffy and reeking of tallow and lye. The weaver and the seamstress must sit back to back if they hope to have any room at all. There are all sorts of cabinets around, yes, but the doors can’t all be opened at once, and it must be a headache to get anything sorted in here.

But part of the reason for that is evidently because some of these compartments have layers. And behind a second layer rack where garments can be hung, there is another false back, and there is where they found the no-longer-Queen of Kescil.

By the time I arrive, Ser Thorrun has cleared the workers from the area, and has the woman bound, sitting on the weavers’ bench.

“Tabithica.” I greet her flatly. She looks offended to hear her given name. She cannot reply, given the gag. “I presume she still has her tongue.”

The last is directed towards Ser Thorrun, a wiry man who has crammed himself into a corner to give me the space I am due. He glares at Tabithica.

“Wasn’t mine to take.” He grumbles, one hand on his sword hilt. There’s no room to really swing in here, let alone draw, but I appreciate the gesture. And that his other hand is where he can reach a knife.

“So it isn’t.” I agree coolly. A quiet request, denied. This woman is not mine to kill either, but I am holding the privilege for the one who does have that honor.

Thorrun just nods, and takes the hand off his sword hilt to point out where Tabithica was hiding. “I’ve been having some boys pace out the corridors and rooms.” He explained. “Dimensions didn’t add up. None of the mortar looked fresh, so figured there was a hidden something or other back here. Found it.”

I step forward to inspect the place that has been a Royal bolt hole for the past three days. It is rank with ammonia - evidently she did not have anyone to empty the chamber pot, even if they did bring her food. There is a bed, and a quilt, and no one else here.

I knew that. Thorrun would’ve searched the room already, would’ve told me if there were signs of her. But I could not help but look.

“Wait in the corridor.” I tell Thorrun tonelessly. He manages to kneel in the small space, bowing his head to me. He asks no questions.

When Thorrun has left, and Ames has entered in his place - the wrinkle of their nose is brief, and shows they share my opinion of the place - I straddle the end of the bench Tabithica is sitting on.

For a moment, I simply stare at her.

Will she be more likely to give me answers if she thinks I won’t understand them? If I’ve threatened her? Or, like her husband, will she want to gloat and bluster and threaten me in turn?

Something about the gleam in her eyes reminds me of iron.

I reach up one hand, and she remains still rather than flinch away. Her breath quickens a fraction, but she keeps her eyes on me, not my hand. Not fearing or cowering from a blow. Pride? Stubbornness?

The gag comes loose with a simple gesture, and I let it fall as it will, sitting back again to examine this woman who once was Queen.

For a moment, we sit in silence. I will break it eventually, if I must, but for now I am content to study her, as she is studying me in return.

She takes the offensive: “Fighting over scraps now, are you?”

It’s a reference to how my parents had referred to Kescil - a kingdom of scraps, not worth the taking. Economically, they were right. Kescil was never going to have the forces necessary to pose a threat, but they also didn’t have anything our people needed or even wanted. So for years, we let them be, and simply didn’t care whether they lived or died.

“I do not need a reason.” I say softly, and as far as she knows, it’s true. I’ve certainly seemed to kill for less. But an answer like that is still to put myself on the back foot, even with a backhanded threat woven in.

Tabithica bares her teeth, “Thorns and horses, Domine.”

My title is spat with derision, but it is the words that are the insult. Ames stirs behind me, showing the anger that I cannot.

When I was yet young, my father went riding. This was not unusual. He forged through a thicket. This was not unusual. Shortly thereafter, his horse shuddered, and died. And the unhorsed consort found himself set upon by bandits shortly thereafter.

That part was unusual.

Investigations had determined the thicket had been doused in poison it did not naturally produce. Had he taken any scratch from a thorn himself, he would have met the same fate as his horse. Instead, it was a bandit’s dagger that took his life. But the thorns are still what killed him - had the horse lived, he could have outrun them easily.

It’s unlikely the event was arranged by Kescil, but I can’t fault Tabithica for trying to take credit.

“I’m not going to kill you.” I tell her calmly.

She laughs, a thoroughly unhappy sound. “Not yet?”

“No.” I seem to agree. She expects me to threaten her with torture and fates worse than death. “I haven’t killed Archinard yet either.”

I could’ve kept that bit of information from her, but I want to know instead.

There isn’t even a flicker of relief. If anything, Tabithica seems annoyed. Interesting.

“So be it.” She sighs, “I suppose he’s gone and committed us both to dying anyway, then.”

“Where is Galatea?”

Stupid of me, really. But I don’t have time to play games with this woman - I don’t care for or about her, or her husband, and only tangentially about her country. I could’ve tried to come around to it another way, but that would’ve taken time and effort I wasn’t willing to spend on a gamble.

Tabithica looks taken aback for a moment. Her head cocks slightly, considering. Then her expression becomes decidedly vindictive. “Dead.”

Ames stiffens. I do not react.

“That’s a shame.” I inform her, as though I’ve been told the last of a wine vintage has been consumed. “As she is the only one who may bargain for your release.”

Tabithica raises her chin, but I ignore her. Instead, I rise, turning to Ames, and putting my back to the fallen royal.

“Toss the room. Ensure there are no more hidden doors.”

“And her?” Ames asks quietly.

I look over my shoulder, and think again of how small this space is, how lightless, and airless. I meet Tabithica’s gaze.

“Put her back.”

—-

On the fifth day, my inner circle is restless.

We, all of us, know exactly how long a human can survive in depravation, and we are reaching the limits of what an ill-prepared hiding place would provide the missing Princess. With provisions, she could likely last quite some time, but…

None of us have faith that such a hiding place was arranged.

I have stalked the rows of the dead thrice, made a point of speaking to every survivor and servant. My searchers have been cautioned to not be blinded by assumptions of gender, of hair color or cut.

Thorrun’s men have paced out the entirety of the castle. They’ve found a few other hidden holes, but no one within them - living, anyway, one did contain a skeleton from either some long ago siege or murder - and there are fewer and fewer places to look. Younger, agile folk have taken to exploring the rooftops. Every barrel in the storage rooms has been opened, even those that have spoiled fermenting wine or beer.

And I am unspeakably proud of her.

—-

On the seventh day, I finally enter the Princess’s quarters myself.

They’re at the top of the eastern tower, windows facing the dawn. Its light cuts through in thin stripes, divided by the protective bars and slats that prevent any enterprising climber from coming in. Or any desperate princess from throwing herself out.

The stairs are narrow and winding. The walls are only now taking on a hint of dust after a week without tending. There is a dumbwaiter, built into the middle of the tower, but it is at the base level, and empty besides.

I have been avoiding this place. I came through it once, during the initial siege, hoping to find her here - and when we found it empty instead, I’d restricted all access to it. I could say it felt intrusive to walk through her bedroom, to search through her things for clues as to where she might have gone.

But in truth, it makes me furious to see this prison.

Every step feels like a purposeful insult. Every sign of care taken with the carpets and cleaning is another reminder that she must never have been alone. The light of the dawn rising every day to tell her she was still here, could go nowhere else, couldn’t even sleep in-

Enough. There will be recompense.

But the watch heard noises here an hour ago, and that means someone has broken my edict. Possibly, it is a bird that got past the bars, but if it is a person, I’ll at least have a target for my increasingly frantic rage. Because I have not found her. I promised I would. I will.

So yes, my steps grow heavier at the top of the stairs. I am somewhat distracted, scowling, when I open the door and stride into the room.

I pay for my distraction immediately.

The rugs are decorative, lavish, and layered across the stone floor atop the rushes. One of them had been moved, and I had not noticed until it was yanked out from under my feet. My stride is long enough, and I had been moving quickly enough, to avoid being sent back down the stairwell, but even still I lost my footing.

The fall stole my breath. The collision of my head with the floor briefly stole my sight. But I could still feel it when hands grabbed at my legs, pulling the knife from my boot and climbing up my body until its blade could be pressed to my chin.

“Move and I’ll carve out your heart.”

It was a growl more than a sentence. Sounds forced through gritted teeth. My vision was returning, blurry yet, and I could not discern one feature from another. Instinctively, my hand had risen to catch the wrist of the knifehand, and by that grace alone I still had a throat capable of speech.

“My heart is claimed.” I rasped in reply. There was clattering, a shout, from lower down the stairwell - someone must have heard my fall. “The neck you’ve earned, if you’re quick.”

Another growl of frustration - my captor did not wish to be caught, it seemed - and the weight on my chest was briefly removed. I flung myself to the side before it could come back down, knife point first.

Twisting away, I blinked the last of the blurriness from my eyes, and came up on my knees. I found myself looking down at my attacker, who was still sprawled on the rugs she’d used to force me down. Long hair in a messy, ratted braid, a dress with wide skirts that hung oddly, the fear and fury in her voice -

The determination in the wild swing she took for my legs, torquing to move, dragging her legs behind her.

“My heart is claimed by a girl of stone.” I gasp, barely avoiding the knife’s edge. “I’ve come to bring her a fine carriage.”

The woman stops, panting from exertion. When was the last time she ate? Truly slept?

She wavers for several long heartbeats, not dropping the knife. Her voice is watery when she corrects me, “the finest carriage, you idiot. I told you the passphrase was too long.”

—-

I insist on making sure Gal eats and has a chance to bathe before we talk. She insists we speak before she’ll sleep.

Arranged in her wheeled chair, she looks like a portrait half-come to life. The skirts of her dress are tailor made to hide the atrophied legs, to lay nicely in the chair’s confines. Her spine is straight, hands folded, and she does not fidget. She looks more regal than either of her parents ever will, wherever they’ve gotten off to. I’ve stopped caring.

(Ames and Ash are on guard duty, while Valentine runs the word that the Princess has been found. My orders were the inverse, but they decided it was better to have two on guard - this would be the time to kill me, after all.)

“You should’ve told me it was you.” Gal scolds me, picking off a piece of bread to throw at me.

“Like you told me you were the Princess of Kescil?” I retort, blinking involuntarily as it nearly finds its mark.

Gal turns up her nose. “I had to be sure you did not covet my title.”

“And I to be sure you did not wish to trap me.” I reply dryly. There is no sting in my words, though, no true animosity. Nor in hers.

The situation is far from ideal, and I am very aware that I am, in essence at this moment, her captor. But the reality of it all has faded away, because she is here. My Gal is safe.

Maybe my friends were wise to leave two on guard.

She drops the offended act, instead staring at the tablecloth. Her expression turns drawn, and tired. I’m on the verge of trying to convince her to sleep again when she asks,

“How many are dead?”

The thought of lying to her is barely a flicker - I can’t. “Seven hundred and twelve.” I say quietly. “Excluding pending executions, and those who may yet die from their wounds.”

She looks up at me, “And how many of those were your soldiers?”

“Two hundred and five.”

Her gaze drifts away from me, and she is quiet for a moment longer. This time, I leave her to it.

“I killed them.” She says flatly.

“No. I am the one who declared war.”

“Because of me.”

“It was hardly something you asked for.”

“But I am the root cause, am I not?” She glares at me, her tone challenging even as her shoulders start to curl inwards.

“Absolutely not.” My voice is firm. I’ve taken my share of blame for deaths before, and I will consider the two hundred soldiers who died under my command my burden to bear - but the dead of Kescil are not on her head. “If you insist on a root cause, it is the King and Queen who failed Kescil - in ordering their people to fight, in not ensuring they were adequately trained and armed, and-“ my voice gentles, “-in failing their daughter.”

“I put the pen to paper.” She says quietly.

“And I swung the sword. As did they.”

I know it isn’t enough. She’ll wonder how many of their men went to fight in the name of their Golden Princess - the delicate beauty they were taught to treasure and protect. She may never be free of the memories of constant haranguing, that she was helpless and failing her family and nation for faults that were not her own, and the substitutions her mind will make about how she was, in the end, the downfall of her country.

But Galatea Holbrooke was not theirs to keep.

“Well.” She says, after a few more heartbeats of silence. Her voice is brittle at first, but smooths out just as she smooths the tablecloth. “Then I suppose we should discuss terms, Domine Hawk.”

The addition of my title to the pen name I used to write her - chosen after one of my hunting hawks nearly took down her messenger pigeon - is a needling I quite deserve.

“Whatever you desire, Galatea of Kescil.”

She raises her brows at that, “Such trust, Domine. What if I desire your title instead?”

I smile, leaning forward on the table, and for once, I don’t clink. My armor has finally been doffed, and sent for a good proper scrubbing. “Then that can be arranged, though you’ll have to be more specific. I have several.”

“And if I want them all?” She’s leaned forward too, her eyes narrowing.

“In the traditions of the Northern Reach,” I say carefully, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes, “I cannot bequeath my titles to another, nor can they be taken from me by anyone but my Liege. But… they can be shared. With a spouse.”

When I glance back at Galatea again, she’s wrinkled her nose. My hands flex, curling inward as my stomach sinks.

“You just had to go and beat me to it.” She complains, slumping back into her chair. “Six months - six! - to get you to tell me your hair color, but sure, propose within the first three hours we meet in person.”

She groans dramatically, pressing a hand over her eyes, as I slowly straighten. “That’s - not quite an answer.” I hedge, “though I understand if you wish time to consider, of course, circumstances -“

“Circumstances!” Gal snorts, giving up the last of her propriety. “My bird, you cannot possibly have earned your titles by being this shy.”

But there’s a laugh in her voice, and when she uncovers her face, I can see a sparkle in her eyes.

“Do you know what I thought, when I was hiding from your soldiers, not knowing it was you and that I was safe the entire time?”

“About that-“ We still didn’t know how she’d been hidden.

“Oh.” She waved a hand, “There’s a closed off landing about halfway down the shaft, there’s still a ledge inside just large enough for me to fit. I climbed down and back up again.”

Gal shrugs, as though she hasn’t just told me she’s done that with only the strength of her arms, and alone.

“I thought it was a shame I couldn’t even live long enough to tell you to your face that grey is spelled with an e, not an a.”

“It can be either-“ I start, before cutting myself off with a sigh. We’d been over the topic at length before, in previous letters. I’d cut a page out of a dictionary to include it and nearly been banned from my own library.

Gal just tilts her head, and waits. Her hair is loose now, mostly. She’s mentioned wanting to cut it before - I can’t wait to see how short she’ll choose to go.

“It was much less complicated, when I was simply your Hawk.” I admit quietly.

“And when I was a simple village Gal? Neither of us were exactly spy material, you know. Where would I have learned to read as a village child? Where would you have found paper and books as a hunter’s child?”

I can’t help but laugh, “Some things we just wanted to believe. But there is a difference, between a noble and the heir to a country. I promised you my help when you thought I had little more than a bow and a hunting bird - and I meant it.”

She sighs, “And I just wanted you to know who I was, before I disappeared.”

Her final letter to me had been written in haste, explaining that she could no longer lead me on, and that all contact between us had to end. She’d signed it with her full name - the first she’d ever used it. When word came that the King of Kescil had decided on a suitor for his daughter, I understood.

But then, from Gal’s letters, I knew a lot more about the King than I suspected most of his subjects had.

“I knew who you were, Gal.” I assure her, and watch her eyes widen before she catches my meaning. “I just didn’t know your full name.”

“As I knew you.” She agrees, “Enough to know you’d be foolish enough to show up if I asked you to.”

“It seemed… prudent.” I say, tracing a pattern on the tablecloth. “And if you want, I will leave. I can’t bring back your army, but I can leave a contingent of soldiers-“

“Elith.” She says, exasperated, and the sound of her voice saying my name freezes me in place. “You promised me the world, little bird. Did you mean that too?”

“I did.”

“Then I do.”

“…what?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll marry you, Death-in-Red, Wraith-Wyrven, and whatever else it is you call yourself. Because my heart was claimed by a hunting bird, and I’ll not let it fly away.”

Her half of the phrase to identify ourselves to each other, if we ever did meet.

“After all.” She says, picking at her bread again, “You did fight a war for me.”

—-

[Thank you for reading! If you’ve enjoyed, consider checking out my other writing, both here on tumblr and on Ao3! You’ll find links in my pinned post on my blog, if I haven’t come back to update them here.]

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[liviawildrose]

𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

read this to transform your life

hey guys! today, we’re diving into something that can literally transform the next 20 years of your life. why? because pluto has officially entered aquarius, and let me tell you, this is huge. if you’ve got aquarius anywhere in your birth chart like i do, you’re probably already feeling that intense energy—the urge to level up, get things done, and completely reinvent yourself. i mean, look at me: this is my second vlog today and i’ve been non-stop posting since yesterday. it’s like this cosmic shift has supercharged me, and i know it can do the same for you.

but don’t worry, even if you’re not an aquarius, this energy is hitting everyone in some way. so whether you’re ready for it or not, pluto in aquarius is here, and it’s bringing transformation on a massive scale. now, this blog is part of my series called the “game of life”, but since this pluto shift is so major, i’ve decided to make this a crossover between the two themes. we’re going to talk about how to actually use this energy to change your life, level up, and play the long game to completely transform the next 20 years and beyond. so, if you’re ready to tap into this cosmic power and take control of your future, follow along because this blog might just change your life.

just before we dive in, i want you guys to check out a blog i posted a couple of weeks ago—it’s all about the first steps to getting your shit together. it’s a great starting point for understanding how to lay the groundwork for your transformation journey. if you haven’t seen it yet, head over to blog “first steps” and give it a read. trust me, it’ll help you get a solid foundation before you dive into the next level of this process.

avatar

okay, now that you’ve got your basics down from the previous blog, let me introduce you to the game of life. this is where things get fun. first, we’re going to focus on creating your avatar. now, if you’ve read that earlier blog, you’ll remember i talked about building an alter ego. for example, mine is called livia wildrose. she’s my vision of absolute perfection the version of me i aspire to be. this is your chance to go wild. grab a journal and start designing your alter ego and how her life is. i don’t care how crazy, bold, or unrealistic it might seem this is your imagery of perfection. who is she? how does she look? how does she act? what does her life look like? write it all down. get creative draw her, make a mood board, whatever feels right. this is your blueprint. now, here’s the twist: in the game of life, you are the avatar. your current self, with all your flaws and strengths, is the player in this game. your mission? to become your alter ego. think of it like this: your avatar (you) might not have everything your alter ego has right now. maybe she’s more confident, more successful, smarter, richer, or better-looking. but that’s okay because she represents your end goal. every step you take toward embodying her, every choice that aligns you closer to her energy, earns you points in the game of life. the idea is to bridge the gap between who you are now (your avatar) and who you want to be (your alter ego). every time you make progress whether it’s a mindset shift, a small win, or a big milestone you’re leveling up. this is how you win the game.

for example, let’s say your alter ego is this ultra-rich, world-famous singer, idol, and total icon. she’s confident, magnetic, and lives her dream life effortlessly. that’s your end goal that’s your alter ego. now, your job is to build her. create her personality, her habits, her lifestyle, her goals, and most importantly, her mindset. think about it what kind of mindset does she have? does she radiate confidence? does she have unshakable discipline? does she take no for an answer, or does she turn every rejection into motivation? for me, my alter ego, livia wildrose, has a queen-like, goddess-like mindset. that means every single brick life throws at me, i’m gonna build a castle out of it. scratch that i’m gonna build a shrine. nothing breaks me; i only get stronger, wiser, and better. that’s how livia wildrose operates, and that’s what drives me every single day.

imagine you’re playing a game where you have to build a village from scratch. when you start, you don’t just dive in blindly—you go around and observe how other players have built their villages. you notice their strengths, but also their flaws. maybe someone’s village is too cluttered, or their defenses are weak, or their farms are in the wrong spots. you take mental notes: ‘okay, that’s not my vibe. i’m not gonna do that.’ this also brings me to the point that learn from other peoples mistake too. my friend right now is going through a very tough break up. and the guy is being a total asshole. and the more she talk about the relationship to me how it was, and we try to get the cues like “oh we could’ve realised back then when he said this particular thing” that he is not the one. (the fact he was a total sexist asshole) i realised that when i get into a relationship, and if i see my future boyfriend having these traits, i will leave. why? because I learnt from her mistakes of letting things slide, and not noticing the minor red flags that later became worse.

(back to the topic) then, you create an image of your ideal village in your head. you don’t copy anyone, but you take inspiration. you think, ‘this is my aesthetic, this is how i want my village to function.’ you make a mental note of all the details where the farms will go, where the population will live, how everything will flow. and then you start building, step by step, upgrading, improving, and making decisions based on the vision you created. now apply that same concept to your life. create an ideal version of yourself (alter ego) in your head. imagine your ideal life, your ideal personality, your dream self. think about who she is, how she thinks, how she acts, what her daily habits are. don’t just copy someone else’s life take inspiration. maybe you admire someone’s confidence but not their style, or their work ethic but not their priorities. fine. make mental notes and adjust it to fit your vibe. every time you make a decision or work to improve yourself (your current avatar), use that ideal version of yourself as a guide. ask yourself, ‘what would she do? how would she handle this? what choice aligns me closer to her?’ take inspiration from her and let her energy fuel every upgrade you make. step by step, you’ll start building a life that’s completely aligned with the vision you’ve dreamed of. for example in pubg. the end goal is to become a conqueror so what you do every single time when you play that game is make sure that you’re good with your teammates, you get the most kills, you win every single match, because that is what will bring you to your end goal.

the bars of life

1. health bar

health is the foundation, the core, the absolute main bar. without health, nothing else matters. it’s like playing a survival game if your health is low, you’re dead in the water, right? you can’t progress, you can’t fight, you can’t level up. every single step in your journey starts with taking care of your body and mind. health is everything. make sure you’re eating right, sleeping enough, working out, and keeping your mind in a positive, stable place. the healthier you are, the more you’ll be able to conquer in all aspects of life. keep this bar maxed out, or you won’t even have the energy to fight for your dreams.

2. physical bar

now, let’s talk about the physical bar. this is all about how your body looks and feels. how’s your physique? toned? fit? are you putting in the work to make sure your body is in shape, or are you letting it slide? it’s not just about the gym though—it’s about how you present yourself. do your clothes flatter your body type? are you dressing in a way that highlights your best features? are your nails done, your hair styled, your makeup light but on point? when you walk into a room, does your physical presence demand attention and admiration? this is about taking pride in your appearance and making sure your physicality aligns with the highest version of yourself. everything from your posture to the way you dress, this is how people will notice you. own it.

3. mental bar

the mental bar is all about your mindset, emotional health, and mental well-being. how do you show up in the world every day? what is your internal dialogue like? are you a powerhouse of positivity and productivity, or are you letting negative thoughts control you? this bar is about building a mindset that propels you forward, no matter what life throws at you. like i always say, every single brick life throws at me, i will build a castle out of it—or a shrine. i don’t care what happens, it’s all fuel for my fire. this is the mental toughness you need to develop to grow.

if you’re facing challenges—whether it’s dealing with stress, anxiety, or depression—take care of your mental health. if you need a therapist, get one. if journaling helps you unpack emotions and thoughts, make it a habit. every step you take to improve your mental health is a step toward leveling up your life. every time you choose a positive, productive mindset, you’re not just surviving—you’re thriving. strengthen this bar, and everything else in life becomes more manageable.

your mental bar is not just about surviving the chaos—it’s about learning to navigate it with grace, strength, and an unbreakable belief in your ability to create your dream life.

4. spiritual bar

the spiritual bar is your path to alignment with yourself and the universe. this is where you connect with your higher self, your energy, and your beliefs. spirituality isn’t just about religion—though it can be if that’s part of your journey. it’s about meditating, doing yoga (especially Kundalini, like i mentioned), and tuning into the deepest parts of yourself. when you start aligning your chakras and balancing your energies, you’re strengthening this bar. it’s about connecting to something greater than yourself—whether that’s through rituals, prayer, or mindfulness practices. this is the bar that ensures your spirit is nurtured, your energy is clean, and your soul is grounded. if you’re in tune with yourself and aligned with your truth, you can face anything the world throws at you.

5. financial bar

now, let’s talk about the financial bar. this is where you track your wealth, your earning capacity, and how financially empowered you are. how’s your financial situation? are you getting paid what you’re worth? are you bringing in new streams of income? every single time you land a promotion, secure a new deal, or create another source of income, this bar rises. even small wins matter—getting that side hustle going, saving a little extra this month, investing in yourself. all these things count. this bar is about actively working toward your financial freedom and success. if you’re serious about leveling up in life, this bar has to be taken seriously. wealth isn’t just about money—it’s about abundance in every area of your life. when you strengthen this bar, you give yourself the power to live the life you want

6. career bar

the career bar is all about progression, ambition, and success in your professional life. every time you take a step forward—whether it’s landing a promotion, launching a side hustle, or expanding your business—it’s a win for your career bar. it’s not just about the outcome, but about the process too. when you learn a new skill to level up in your field, or when you push yourself to take on more responsibility, this bar grows. every single action you take to further your career—no matter how small—contributes to building the empire you want. it’s about building something that lasts and ensuring that your career serves as the foundation for the life you envision.

7. social bar

the social bar is about how you connect and interact with others. it includes your relationships with family, friends, lovers, and colleagues, as well as your social media presence. every time you make a meaningful connection, whether it’s through a new friendship or strengthening bonds with existing relationships, your social bar grows. it also covers your social media footprint—every time you post something, earn followers, or engage with your audience, you’re building your social presence. the way you show up in the world, the vibe you put out, and how others perceive you are all part of this bar. what’s important is that you’re intentional about your social connections. it’s not just about quantity, but quality. how do you carry yourself? how do people feel around you? remember, you can always adjust the way you’re perceived by adjusting how you act. we’ll dive deeper into how you can shift your social presence to your advantage later on.

8. legacy bar

the legacy bar is about the impact you leave behind and how you’re remembered. while you might not need to focus on this too much at 17 (like me too), it’s still something that will guide your actions as you grow older. your legacy is like the final level of your life game—it’s the impression you leave on others, the tangible and intangible things you pass on to the next generation. think about it like this: your legacy could be how generous you were. maybe you donate to charities, help the less fortunate, or fund scholarships. maybe you leave behind a family with strong values, or set up a business that supports others and creates opportunities. or even, it’s the homes you buy and the wealth you build that your kids will inherit. that’s a form of legacy too—creating something that endures, that your children or loved ones can benefit from long after you’re gone.

you want to make sure you’re giving back—whether it’s in terms of charity, helping your community, or creating something that continues to benefit people beyond your time here. it’s about living with intention, creating something greater than yourself, and making sure that when people look back, they say, “wow, she did something good.” when I think of my legacy, I want to be known for making an impact on my country, helping its economy grow, and providing jobs. so, always think about the ripple effect your actions will have not just on yourself but on the world around you, long after you’re gone.

9. environmental bar

okay, so let’s talk about your environmental bar. this is pretty much everything around you: where you live, who you hang out with, and what you’re consuming—whether it’s people, media, or food. your environment shapes you more than you think. if you live in clutter, your brain gets cluttered. if you’re surrounded by negative energy or toxic people, guess what? that negativity starts rubbing off on you. toxicity? it’s contagious. trust me. this is why i always say: your environment is EVERYTHING. let’s say you’re stuck in a place where people are draining your energy, or your room looks like a hurricane hit it—what’s happening? your life starts feeling chaotic. but if you clean up your space, set boundaries with toxic people, and start surrounding yourself with supportive, positive vibes, you’ll see that your life follows suit. if you’re surrounded by success-driven people, guess what happens? you start moving differently too.

for example, i know my current living situation is toxic. but, once i move out, that’s going to be my environmental grace. i’ll finally have the space to thrive, away from negative energy. maybe for you, it’s as simple as clearing your workspace or unfollowing people on social media who bring you down. the key is that you’re actively creating a good environment for your growth. declutter, move people who don’t vibe with you, and make sure everything you interact with is aligned with your goals.

10. fun and recreation bar

listen, life isn’t just about hustling and grinding, okay? it’s also about having fun. and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. people always forget that joy and peace are important parts of growth. hobbies, fun experiences, and doing things that bring you relaxation and joy are just as vital as your career or health bar. sure, you might not make money from every hobby, but if it brings you peace or helps you unwind, then it’s worth it.

like me, i might not be making millions off of drawing, but damn, it’s relaxing. it’s something that i look back on and feel proud of. the point is, don’t skip out on fun. go out with friends, explore new things, travel, dance, create. don’t just work to live—live to enjoy it. make time for meaningful parties, exploring new places, or just learning something new for fun. trust me, it will make you feel whole. it’s the only life we’ve got, so might as well enjoy it. while also being productive (im sorry had to add this 😭)

11. intelligence bar

okay, this one should be obvious, but let me make it clear: your intelligence bar should always be leveling up. this is the bar for everything you do to expand your mind, whether it’s learning a new skill, reading a book, acing a test, or just getting smarter from life lessons. it’s not just about school or formal education; it’s about constantly seeking knowledge. every time you learn something new—whether it’s about physics, psychology, or how to make the best goddamn smoothie—your intelligence bar grows.

never stop learning. school isn’t the only place for growth. you’re an adult now—take control of your learning. buy books, watch educational videos, take courses that interest you, and dive into everything that can help you grow intellectually. intelligence doesn’t stop when you leave school, it grows with you, forever. always be leveling up your mind.

watch her video to get more info on this topic (she is MOTHER) literally.

cheat codes in the game of life

read this blog by me first

life is full of cheat codes if you know where to look. one of the easiest ways to hack your life and manifest your desires is by using subliminals, grabovoi codes, eft tapping and even customizing your ChatGPT. these tools are like magic spells, designed to align your subconscious mind with your goals. for example, grabovoi codes are just numbers, but when you write and repeat them, they can bring about extraordinary shifts in your life. subliminals work and eft tapping the same way reprogramming your mind while you go about your day. and with ChatGPT, you have a personal assistant that can help you navigate any life situation, offering advice and insight whenever you need it. these are your personal life hacks use them to transform your reality with ease.

okay, let’s dive even deeper into these cheat codes, because once you start using them, you’ll realize how easy it is to shape the world around you. let’s talk about altering your social image—this is like an advanced life hack that many people, especially celebrities, are already using, but they’re not telling you how. you know how celebrities act on social media, right? that perfectly curated, almost “too good to be true” persona? the thing is, that’s not really them. most of them aren’t as perfect as they look in front of the camera, and they sure as hell don’t act the same behind the scenes. think about the people who might’ve bullied you in the past. they might have treated you like crap, but when they’re in front of others? angels. they put on this sweet, charming persona to get what they want. it’s all about duality—using different faces to your advantage. so why not do the same?

you can reinvent the way people see you. perception is everything. for example, let’s say you want to be perceived like a star, like an icon. one of the biggest secrets to this is creating a unique persona—something that screams you, but is captivating enough to make others want to be around you. think about how a lot of idols have such a distinctive style or energy. that is the cheat code. they don’t just wear the coolest clothes, they embody a vibe, an energy that makes them stand out in a crowd. so, how do you do it? first, know what you want. if you want to be that calm, collected, alluring figure who commands attention without even trying, start by adopting a few things that you know fit that style. if you want that dark, sultry energy, you need to own it—the way you talk, walk, dress, and even the way you hold yourself should exude confidence.

take someone like Dakota Johnson she has this quiet-chaotic energy about her, right? she speaks slowly, her words dripping with this almost sultry vibe. she doesn’t try too hard. it’s not about being overly energetic or trying to impress; it’s about confidence, calmness, and an air of mystery. she can make something as simple as a joke feel funny and seductive because of the way she says it. that’s the magic. it’s not about being loud or brash to get attention, it’s about learning how to carry yourself in a way that leaves people wanting more.

here’s the trick you don’t need to be a different person; you just need to refine your vibe. create a version of yourself that’s like an upgraded avatar. and then, simply start to live like them. how would your alter ego talk? would they speak with more authority? would they be more laid back, or would they be mysterious? do they have a sultry, slow tone when they speak? model yourself after that, and it’ll become second nature. this is where the pluto in aquarius energy comes in if you’re an aquarius (or have aquarius placements), this is your moment. you have the power to reinvent yourself in ways that you never thought possible. take this time to shift your self-perception and how the world perceives you. you can break out of old habits, behaviors, and expectations that others might have of you. this is your chance to become the best version of you, the version that’s unstoppable.

how do you get started?

1. talk like her: figure out how your alter ego would speak. take note of the cadence, the tone, and the vibe they exude. do they talk slower? more deliberately? maybe they joke with a certain confidence that makes everyone laugh, but also feel intrigued. learn to replicate that tone.

2. dress the part: style matters. you can’t be a fashion icon if you’re always dressing like a potato sack. find a style that feels unique to you, but also gives off that vibe you want—whether it’s sleek, bold, or soft. make sure your clothing complements the persona you want to show the world.

3. be unpredictable: people love mystery. don’t always let them in on everything. make them wonder about you. embrace the chaotic quietness—be the person who seems calm, but you always have something up your sleeve. keep them intrigued.

4. embrace the duality: you can be whoever you want to be. show one side to certain people, and another side to others. be strategic about how you present yourself in different scenarios. this is how you gain control of your social image.

5. confidence is key: once you start showing up as this new version of yourself, your confidence will shoot through the roof. people pick up on energy. if you believe in the persona you’re creating, others will too. and that’s how you start changing how people perceive you.

the beauty of this is, you’re not just faking it. you’re becoming it. you’re tapping into a version of yourself that’s always been there, just waiting for the right moment to step into the spotlight. the more you practice this, the more natural it becomes. “fake it till you make”

so, here’s the game plan: figure out your alter ego, start speaking like them, acting like them, dressing like them, and above all, own it. no one can compete with a version of you who’s fully aligned with your highest self. this is the cheat code to creating your dream life and stepping into the role you were always meant to play. use mindmovie, vision board, manifestation books to keep yourself aligned with your desires and goals

yeah, seriously, take this game of life really seriously. it’s not just about coasting through, it’s about making moves that align with your goals and dreams. your environment plays a huge part in that—where you live, who you’re around, and what opportunities are available. if you’re in a place that doesn’t nurture your dreams or support your growth, it might be time to think about moving. i’m in the same boat—i know the dreams i have won’t be fully supported where i’m at, so i’m already planning my next moves. but remember, everything is strategic. you have to play to win, baby girl. don’t settle for anything less than the life you deserve. make the changes, take the risks, and keep leveling up.

life’s like a game, and there are plenty of players trying to win, but how do you outsmart the competition? it’s not just about luck—yeah, that plays a part, but it’s also about skill, strategy, and having the right people around you. you can’t level up on your own, and just like in any game, teamwork makes all the difference. think of it this way: the kings and rulers in history didn’t get where they were alone; they knew how important it was to have the right team by their side. whether it’s friends, mentors, or business partners, you need good people who can support, challenge, and push you forward. surround yourself with those who elevate you, not drain you. build a strong, skilled, and loyal team because with the right crew, you’ll always be ahead of the game. just like the environment you choose—quality food, media, and surroundings—your team matters too.

notations

life is like a mix of different games, okay? think of it like the Sims where you have the ultimate free will. you can literally do whatever you want, and it’s up to you how far you take it. want to be a singer? start posting your singing videos everywhere—Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, and even Twitter. manifest it, use subliminals, grabovoi codes, EFT tapping, and let ChatGPT help you figure out the algorithm and best ways to grow. life gives you all the tools, so use them to build your dream life.

but life isn’t just the Sims, it’s also like Chess. you have to be strategic about when and how you move. be nice but not naive, be a bitch sometimes too period. don’t throw out your best pieces too soon keep things lowkey and make others underestimate you. right now, I’m not the top student in my class, but I’m playing the long game. I’ll show people my pawns first—small, safe moves. later, when it’s the right time, I’ll pull out the knight or queen to checkmate the competition. keep people guessing. be mysterious. don’t tell anyone what you’re planning until it’s already in motion. keep your moves quiet, let them think you’re just playing small, and when the time comes—boom, you’ll show them exactly what you’re capable of.

this is where your team really comes into play. think of it like playing PUBG—if your team sucks, you suck. you can’t lead a squad full of lazy players and expect to win. it’s like trying to win a game while everyone else is just chilling. that’s why you have to be super selective with who you let into your inner circle. the people you’re building your success with need to be on the same level as you, otherwise, you’ll just drag each other down.

i’ve mentioned this before i literally asked a tarot reader to read the people around me, and she pointed out which friends weren’t good for me. guess what? those people turned out to be exactly as she said. so, don’t ignore your gut feelings. these are the people who will be there when you make it big, so make sure they’re the right ones. remember, in life, you don’t often get to choose your teammates, so be super careful who you let in. if you’re young, like 17 or 18, this is the time to build those lifelong friendships. trust me, pick wisely, because they’ll either help you level up or hold you back.

if i were to start a new life from today, this would have been the blog post that would have helped me reach that level. so, thank you so much for reading it through and through, and i hope you like it. also, i’m gonna pin this blog, and from now onwards, every single blog that you’ll see on my channel, on my account, will be somewhat similar to this. i’ll be using this blog as a centerpiece in future posts, building on it and referencing it. so stay tuned, because there’s a lot more to come, and this is just the beginning of the journey. and i’m gonna be doing all these again with you guys too. :)

also, happy 20 years of success as pluto returns to aquarius. love you guys.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending One: Queen of the Jungle

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: For Tumblr, the mature version of the endings (the afterendings) will begin sometime after I finish all the normal endings.

Note 2: Sorry this is short, I wasn't sure how to write this one lol.

In each hand you carried a bucket, filled to the brim with steaks. It was kind of nostalgic of your first time in the exhibit. It was hard to believe it wasn’t that long ago.

You hummed to yourself as you approached the lions’ area. You furrowed your brow- the rocks had been rearranged in nearly a complete circle, with just enough room for you to walk inside and approach the king of the jungle’s sunning rock.

“Hey, Leona!” you called out to the lion halfling lazily regarding you from his perch, “Dinner time!”

The pride’s leader leapt down from his resting spot and casually approached you, his movements lazy yet filled with grace. His eyes, intelligent and painfully sharp, never left you as you entered the circle of rocks.

The other lions were nowhere to be found. Confused, you searched for them in the shade of the rocks, but there was no one there.

As you reached the middle of the circle, something occurred to you. The usually-cackling hyenas were unusually quiet. The hairs on your arms stood on end. Something’s wrong.

You turned to face the circle’s exit and, within an instant, strong arms had wrapped around your stomach, pulling you back against a solid chest. You gasped and dropped both buckets as you struggled to break free. The grip did not budge no matter how hard you fought.

“Shhh, easy there, herbivore,” a voice murmured in your ear, low and gravely and filled with amusement.

Your heart jumped out of your chest. It was Leona who had spoken, but it wasn’t the Leona you knew. It was the Leona whose gaze had started to linger too long for your liking. The Leona who had always seemed too much like a predator than a human.

But he wasn’t alone. 

Now facing the circle’s gap, you saw Ruggie, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he blocked your only exit.

“Gotcha!” Ruggie snickered, “Took you long enough.”

“What… what are you doing?!” you cried, trying to twist out of Leona’s grasp, making no progress whatsoever on escaping.

Leona’s breath was hot against your neck, “You spend too much time with those other exhibits,” he spat out the word like it was a slur, “You must pay more attention to us.”

Ruggie snickered again and leaned casually against the towering rocks, his eyes tracking every movement you made, “You ignore us. Not fair, y’know? You must remember your real favorites.”

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay calm, “This isn’t funny- let me go.”

Leona chuckled, the sound vibrating through your back, “We’re not joking, herbivore. You play with fire, you get burnt. We don’t like to share.”

“Share?” you echoed, voice shaky with fear and confusion, “What do you-”

“You’re ours,” Leona interrupted sternly, “You have always been ours.”

Ruggie pushed off the rock and sauntered over, his sharp-canined grin widening as he got closer, “You should have seen this coming. We dropped hints. You’re just too silly to notice.”

Leona’s nose brushed against your hair, inhaling deeply, “We’re tired of waiting around. You stay here now.”

You began to thrash desperately in his hold, but he held you effortlessly, like a mouse in a cat’s jaws.

“You’ll love it here!” Ruggie cooed, “No more zoo. No more stress. Just you, us, and the savannah. We will keep you cool. It’s perfect.”

The reality of the situation hit you all at once. They weren’t going to let you leave. They were deadly serious. The playful smile Ruggie wore was just a mask for the possession lurking beneath.

It was too much for you, and as hopelessness began to sink in, you began to cry, “Please just let me go, we can forget this ever happ-”

“You will not leave,” Leona growled, “You are our mate. And if anyone tries to take you away…”

You gulped at the insinuation. 

Ruggie moved closer and brushed a stray tear from your cheek, “Don’t cry. We take good care of you, promise. You won’t worry ever again.”

The vast savannah, once one of your favorite parts of the zoo, now felt like a huge, hot cage.

You were no longer a researcher to them. That much was clear.

And there was no escape from the lion’s den.

[genshin-obsessed]

Can you do a Honkai Star Rail vampire au with Dang Heng, Blade, Caelus, and Jing Yuan? Pwetty pwease?

Ooh you know I don’t think I’ve done these for hsr yet o: I’m just doing general hcs but lemme know if you want something specific 💕

✩ Caelus

He’s still new to all this, maybe about five or so years. It’s definitely a work in progress for him. The incident of being turned still haunts him.

He does need to drink more often than the older ones. About four times a week. His urges are still pretty strong and he needs to be locked up on some nights.

When he started dating you, it was fine. He didn’t tell you immediately, duh, and managed to keep it a secret for a while. While he felt guilty, he didn’t know how to tell you.

Well, lucky for him— or unlucky— he ended up biting you accidentally. It was the cliche situation where you cut your hand and he just lost it. Thankfully, he didn’t hurt you too much. He bit a little hard and left a bruise though.

Your blood is by far his favorite. Most likely due to his attraction to you. He doesn’t deny it and will ask on very rare occasions to have your blood. He actually finds it satiates him longer than animal blood.

✩ Dan Heng

Much older compared to Caelus. He was actually born one so he wasn't turned. Apparently, he was turned a few lifetimes ago or something.

While he is older, he’s a more hungry vampire. Instead of feeding twice a week like most of his age, he still feeds four nights a week. He does find he needs less though, like one glass instead of a liter or so. While the urge is there it isn’t super strong except on extremely rare nights.

He didn’t have a hard time concealing his identity when he began dating you. He didn’t think it was safe for you to know at the time.

The way you found out was you decided to surprise him at his place and when you snuck in, you saw him drinking the actual blood. He tried to play it off but you weren’t buying it.

The first time he drank from you was at your request. He never asked if he could have your blood, unsure of how you’d take it. Lucky for him, you offered.

Your blood is so much sweeter and more savory than anything he’s had before and it’s genuinely ruined other blood for him. Animal blood? Might as well be spoiled milk.

✩ Jing Yuan

The oldest out of all of them. He turned so long ago he barely remembers any details. He just knows that it was a friend of his... who wasn't really a friend.

His urges are a lot easier for him to control at this age. He's seen many people bleed a lot and hasn't really lost control. Did plenty when he was younger. He feeds about once a week, he can push it out to two weeks, he'll need more blood. He's extremely careful NOT to go hungry for too long, he doesn't want to accidentally hurt someone.

He doesn't have a hard time hiding this from anyone. He can go out into the sun just fine, but not for too long and he's not constantly hungry.

You found out later in the relationship when he felt comfortable revealing it to you. Thankfully, you weren't too upset with him as it's not a secret he can just tell anyone. Though, any anger sent his way would've been accepted graciously as he did still lie.

The first time he drank from you was your own request. Jing Yuan knows the seriousness of drinking straight from the source, especially with someone he adores so much. Weird things tend to happen. While he can't turn you, there's other... things to be wary of. He does love your blood, it's so good, but he limits himself to once a month, maybe twice if you really want to.

✩ Bladie

He's still a fairly younger vampire but there's a little caveat with him that most don't have. Blade didn't turn properly which leads to several challenges. He remembers exactly who turned him and when as he had been mortally wounded and his friend was desperate to save him.

While he's done a great job controlling his urges, they will hit at the absolute worst times. Namely when he's around you. Everything's gonna be fine, he's been keeping his drinking schedule and boom, you enter the room. It's like his entire body goes into panic mode and he usually just rushes past you without so much as an explanation.

Hiding it is very difficult, actually. So, the others already know. They're the ones who supply Bladie with blood and make sure that he always has enough.

You found out when everyone else did. You just don't know that you're the one who makes his urges go haywire all the time. Bladie doesn't know why and Kafka keeps saying it has to do with something as cliche as feelings.

Well, damn those stupid feelings because one day you insisted on talking to him. The urges hit him, you refused to leave, he was yelling at you, then you were pinned on his bed with him drinking from you.

Bladie won't admit it... but your blood is 100% better than everything else he's ever had. Silver Wolf did gift him human blood as a joke and he did finish it that night but you? Whole different story.

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓞𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼

Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: You’re a sociology student writing your final thesis, you shouldn’t care whether the new DEA attaché is an asshole, you shouldn’t be getting on his nerves every chance you get, shouldn’t be dreaming of him the way you do, and you certainly shouldn’t be bent over his desk in the middle of the night– letting him fuck you senseless.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, big girthy age gap [reader is in her early twenties Javier is in his mid 40s], petnames [sweetheart, girlie, baby, babygirl etc], smut, explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy kink, dom!Javi, mean brat tamer! javi, sub!reader, major size kink, reader is a menace and a brat, cheek pulling, like two spanks and a slap, minor choking, degradation, name calling, fingering, semi public sex [in his office], rough sex, unprotected P in V [don't do it you’re better than them!!] let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: Lotsa porn, lotsa plot. Filthier than I’d like to admit but here we are. Javier is emotionally unavailable but I don’t care. Enjoy nasties. Mwah 💗

Masterlist

My old man is a bad man, but

I can't deny the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past

He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

You were sure you looked nothing short of unstable– the way you were smiling to yourself as you hit the ‘submit’ button on the first checkpoint of your research paper. The past few months had been absolute chaos, and you weren’t really sure what was worse; the fact that your workplace had become an HR nightmare, or the way you were enjoying every goddamn second of it. 

Not long ago you’d been lucky enough to pack your bags and board a flight to Bogotá, where you were going to be writing your final sociology thesis. You’d fought tooth and nail with the department for this opportunity, and the fact that you were finally going to be there doing the work you’d always imagined– it was a dream. While you were initially a little weary of having to go through the American embassy to access records, and archives, you knew this was the best deal you were going to get, so you pushed your hesitation aside and took them up on their offer. You were obviously aware the department was going to give you hell for it– your work would be put under immeasurable scrutiny, they were going to bother you with emails all day every day, snoop around your work through their contacts at the embassy, and take any chance to fly you back. But it didn’t matter; it was going to be a dream. 

Impressing the ambassador was your top priority, impressing everyone around you really was. For as long as you could remember your bright smile, hard work and sunshine attitude had only worked in your favor. If there was one thing you enjoyed, it was the great privilege of being all your professors’ favorite student. That’s how you’d even convinced them to let you travel thousands of miles away on the university’s dime in the first place. 

The world of academia was hard, especially when you were starting out, everyone you dealt with wasn’t a progressive professor who valued your opinion despite your age and gender. Sometimes you needed help from the sleazy HOD, or the grumpy receptionist and neither cared about your expertise on Helmut Schoeck. It didn’t bother you, all you cared about was the quality of your work, and you were not going to let anyone get in the way of it. So, if good work and behaviour didn't get you what you wanted you just used your batting eyelashes, innocent pout and harmless bribes– the receptionist had mentioned liking strawberry shortcake nearly two years ago in passing, and that information sure as hell came in handy when you needed to get your paperwork sorted out. 

Boy did that skill of yours come in handy during your time in Bogotá

No one was going to make this experience anything but splendid, you were going to get to the embassy, meet the ambassador, charm her and all her coworkers in no time, make some trusted allies and go about your research unbothered and unfazed. You were determined. It was going to be a dream. 

That was until it was an absolute nightmare. The moment your plane’s wheels hit the tarmac you were slapped with wave after wave of absolute frustration. Your phone was inundated with missed calls from an unknown number, and when you called back you were promptly informed by the Ambassador’s secretary that due to spacing issues you were being relocated to the DEA offices at the far end of the embassy. 

Great, nothing better than being around a bunch of cops 24/7 .

You hadn’t made it three steps off the aerobridge before two men– both of whom looked terribly out of place in their baseball hats, grabbed you by the arm and dragged you through the airport. You wouldn’t say the word ‘accosted’ was dramatic when describing the way two employees of the American embassy had apprehended you. They didn't seem much older than you were, but they sure as hell thought they ran the damn place. When you thought about elitist diplomats thinking they were doing god's work you could be sure you imagined Agent Daniel Van Ness and Agent Chris Feistl’s faces before you’d even met them. 

“Ow! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Van Ness pretty much tossed you into his suspicious, unmarked vehicle, and as if you weren’t sore from your excruciatingly long flight you were sure you were going to need some ice packs when you got to your service apartment. “Okay, let's not make a scene, as I said we were told to get you as soon as you got off that plane” Feistl started the engine with one hand, and put the other one up in mock surrender. 

“Didn’t know kidnapping was part of the Ambassador's agenda in Bogotá” .

The car ride to the embassy was mostly quiet, and you took the time to enjoy the beautiful Colombian city as it came into view, clear your head and mentally plan for your stay. That was, save for the two men’s grumbling about a certain Javier Peña. “Yeah, we miss this meeting and Peña’s gonna be on our ass for the next week” You’d quickly learnt he was a little bit of a hero in the DEA world, whatever that meant– took down Escobar and all. And if you couldn’t loathe him more already he was now promoted to attaché. From what Van Ness and Feistl told you  he sounded like a character– hard ass, stubborn, insolent, the list went on and on. This Javier must really be something

How bad could he really be? Probably some grumpy old guy you’d run into once in a while at the water station or fax machine. He’d pay no mind to you; some irrelevant college student. Besides, you’d win him over with your signature smile. Who knew maybe you’d even become friends? “Well Im looking forward to meeting this Javier Peña” 

 “No one has ever said that. I don't think his mother said that when he was poppin’ out.” 

And boy were they right, Javier Peña really was something. The elevator doors opened to what would soon become a familiar sight– Javier trailing the ambassador as she tried to escape him and the DEA offices. “With all due respect, if I wanted to be a babysitter I would've taken up a job with the RIPs”  She turned to face him, her back to you. “Agent Peña, I'm going to repeat myself one more time, and I really shouldn't have to, but please stop referring to them as the “RIP’’s ”. Talk about professionalism, you definitely weren’t expecting whatever the hell this was when you thought of diplomatic work. 

Noonan almost unceremoniously bumped into you as she skirted away from Javier, raising her hands in absolute elation now that he had to take care of you, and couldn’t bother her any longer. “There you are, perfect! Agent Peña show her around, and please, be nice.” She all but pushed you into him, and you heard Javier helplessly and pathetically yell after her as she walked to the elevator. “I still need that clearance ambassador–” 

Despite the fact that he was looking at you like he wanted to tear you apart you didn't let that distract from the absolute marvel Javier Peña was. If you didn’t know any better you’d be on your knees for the man, and you couldn’t trust that you did. With the way his hair sat messily ruffled atop his head in soft curls, falling dangerously close to his eyes, or the way his now crinkled button up from the tiring workday hugged his forearms, who could blame you? Who knew, maybe you even liked the way he looked at you? 

You shot him your signature smile, and extended your hand to introduce yourself. Forget about Noonan, she’d probably retire soon anyway, it was his approval you really wanted now. With brows raised he took his time assessing you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over your body, or the way he chewed on his lip as he did so. Feeling a little, or maybe very, hot under his gaze you shifted uncomfortably, still holding your hand out politely, but all you got from him besides his shameless gawking was a condescending chuckle, and he was turning away and walking back inside. 

So he really was an asshole. 

You stood in shock for a moment. Was this some sort of odd hazing process at the embassy? What the hell was going on? His voice zapped you out of the absolute embarrassment of an interaction you just had. “You gonna stand there all day?” God he was such a prick. You’d barely been there two minutes and you were already on Van Ness and Feist's team. You couldn’t even imagine what life would be like if he was your boss. Or could you? 

Your gaze hardened at the realization. If there was one thing you were not going to do it was lust hopelessly after a man who didn't even want to give you the time of day, someone who thought he was so much better than you were. You were not going to inflate his already massive ego by crooning for his praise, no! You were not going to let him wield that kind of power over you. 

You watched as he walked through the office, the man sucked the air outta the room with the way he quite literally strutted across it. Practically dragging yourself behind him you tried your best to compose yourself, you were not going to let Peña and his asshole ways ruin your stay– he was going to like you, going to give you the time of day– and if hard work and a good attitude didn’t do it, your batting lashes certainly would.  

—

Swimmin' pool glimmerin', darling

White bikini off with my red nail polish

Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples

You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh, yeah

In the subsequent days you surprisingly had made yourself quite at home in the embassy– after all you did spend almost all of your day there. Van Ness and Fiestl soon became great friends, and would often drop by your workstation during breaks, or to invite you out for drinks after work. Things were going rather well, there was nothing much to complain about. The people who worked at the embassy were really friendly, and many of them took a liking to you. If charming your way into everyone's good graces was still your plan it sure as hell was working. 

You’d even met a certain blonde haired, blue eyed office heartthrob. While they were both certainly easy on the eyes, Agent Murphy was otherwise little like his partner, he was friendly, helpful, and generally in a good mood. Hell he even wished you ‘good morning’ when he got into work everyday. In due time you could even say Steve Murphy had become somewhat of a friend, he was quite fond of you– then again everyone in the office really was. 

That is almost everyone. 

Progress in the Javier department of your life had barely made moves. He was such a dick. On your second day you remember knocking on his door and politely asking if he could sign some papers that would get you some cultural records in Bogotá. You didn’t know what response you’d been expecting, but he'd essentially told you to leave him the hell alone.  

You wondered if being such a bitter jerk was exhausting. “Now girlie, runalong..” And with that he shut his door. You didn't want to let it affect you, but it did. You crooned for his attention, but he was so cold and detached, and nothing seemed to get through to him. The smiles, the ‘good mornings’, the way you’d offered to drop his files at the Ambassador's on your way there, it did nothing. He only smiled at you condescendingly, and at one point even joked about how he wasn’t sure you were capable of making it to the other side of the building. 

“Don't worry your head about these files, wouldn’t want you wandering around, lost, tryna find Noonan’s office.” 

Not to mention how he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about your “silly little paper”, how your work was “cute” or “funny”. God, you couldn’t stand it. The way he leaned over your desk, jumbled up your resources while he carelessly looked through them. With his messy, loose tie, and his sideways smile, and warm, comforting brown eyes, and that mocking teasing tone…... 

—- 

My old man is a tough man, but

He got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam

And he shows me, he knows me

Every inch of my tar-black soul

“If he can’t drink it, or fuck it, he’s not interested.” When Feistl had told you that on your first day you scoffed, but it proved to be valuable, and unbelievably, true information in no time. Unintentionally Javier had condemned himself to an eternal state of perdition, you were not giving up, and this time you were going to drive him crazy. 

He surely wasn’t prepared for the little menace you became in the following weeks. You only felt pride when you’d catch him looking at you– embarrassing how he couldn't keep his eyes off. You and your cute little dresses, skirts, those you didn’t initially plan to wear to the office. His glare almost burnt a hole in your back everyday at midday, hotter than the afternoon sun peaking through the blind covered windows as you sat on Van Ness’ desk, laughing at something Feistl said. If there was one thing worse than an HR violation, it was an HR violation with a girl nearly half his age.

You’d found a fancy for discovering his ticks, new ways you could push his buttons. When you weren’t calling him sir as you addressed him, or taunting him with your dopey eyes and girlish smiles you were making his life a lot less convenient. 

“Where the hell is Peña” at least twice a week Stechner would all but slither into the office, talking about congress people, funding and how the DEA was raining all over his parade. As much as you hated the man, he was your trusted ally in trying times, especially when you decided breaking the office’s unspoken rule was going to be your new favorite pastime. That rule was of course, never telling anyone, especially his colleagues, where the hell Javier Peña was at any given time. 

So when Bill walked up to you and leaned beside your desk you faithfully pointed to the filing room you knew Javier was quite literally hiding in. When he walked, more like stormed out with Bill you were sure he could break you in half, the way he was looking at you, but you had given up lying to yourself, you loved it. Every morning he’d come into the office and have to find other places to escape to– from Noonan and Murphy and all other accountability. But for a cop he was pretty shit at it, and you always found a way to tell where it was he'd gone to. It also helped that nearly everyone enjoyed it when Javier had to deal with the bureaucracy, it was free reality tv, and you could be sure if you didn’t know who or what he was trying to avoid, someone else in the office surely would.

You had simultaneously become a great asset to Steve Murphy, who was, more than you expected, willing and enthusiastic about getting shit done, shit that Javier’s stubbornness would only prolong, especially because he knew the mix of Peña and the CIA was anything but productive. Whether it was distracting him while he got support for their missions, or rushing to answer the phones and covering for him and making Javi deal with Noonan you were always game. Murphy was always appreciative. 

“Steve’s out right now, but Javier’s in his office if you’d like to speak with him…” Steve pretty much cackled behind his desk as you handed the phone’s receiver to Peña, and watched as he exhaled heavily through his nose, using every bit of restraint he could possibly muster not to kick the two of you out of the building. He settled for flipping Murphy off instead. 

As someone who wasn’t an embassy employee you pretty much had free reign over the place, and you knew it only made Javier more upset knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. You were thoroughly enjoying your time in Bogotá, you knew Javier was thinking about you, you knew how much you got on his nerves, you loved the way he’d glare at you, boss you around, get annoyed at your little antics. You craved his attention and you were finally getting it. 

Though every once in a while you’d feel a little pang in your chest, at the way he’d roll his eyes at you, be his regular mean self. But you shoved that feeling aside, you did not want his approval. That would be pathetic. You just wanted a little payback.

—

He doesn't mind I have a flat broke-down life

In fact, he says he thinks it's what he might like about me

Admires me, the way I roll like a rolling stone

Javier had been avoiding you like the plague for a good two days. That was after he overheard a conversation you were having with your supervisor he wasn’t really meant to be a party to. You remember twirling the cord wire between your fingers as you updated her over the phone. “Yeah, I need to get to the congress library, they have all the copies there.” You pushed the speaker button, letting go of the receiver to sift through the piles of printed paper on your desk. “Do you have access, did the embassy get you an ID? I spoke to Noonan but she’s busy babysitting her employees.” You bit back a smile. Javier and Murphy sure were a handful. 

“No, of course they didn’t. They don’t give a rat's ass” Frankly, you were exhausted from having to get or find somebody to do anything around there. Noonan was practically no help until the dean was breathing down her neck, for people who had been working in Bogotà for years very few in the embassy knew the directions to anyplace that wasn’t a bar, and everyone was far too busy kissing each other’s ass to get things done. “The DEA can go, can't they? Get one of em to take you” Before you could respond you heard the rattling of the water cooler behind you, and you caught Javier’s half shocked half annoyed expression in the reflection of the window as he scrambled for a paper napkin to wipe the water off his dress shirt.  

“Hmm, I didn’t think of that…..that's a great idea” 

That was on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent turning in the opposite direction anytime you approached him, sneaking past you on his way in and out, and begging Murphy to take that trip to the Congress library instead. On Thursday you were sure you won the lottery. 

Both Murphy and Carillo in the same room, and better yet in the office before Javier had made his grand entrance. They stood over what looked to you like a large map, arguing about something with far too much energy at eight in the morning. You saw this as your little opening. Where the hell was Peña? 

Turns out he was with the Ambassador.  

—-

Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom, Château Marmont

Slippin' on my red dress, puttin' on my makeup

Glass room, perfume, cognac, lilac fumes

Says it feels like heaven to him

“And you’re going too?” Ambassador Noonan sat back in her chair, twirling her pencil between her fingers, looking expectantly at the irate face in front of her. You thought you’d spare Agent Peña his white lies, answering promptly in that sweet voice of yours.  “Yes, Agent Murphy told me, and besides, if he's around I can access all the archives..” You shrugged your shoulders and shot her your most persuasive smile. “Government ID an’ all” . You almost felt bad for Peña, the way his friends were so quick to rat him out. But then again he’d stirred up enough petty fights over the years so that nearly everybody was quick to get their petty revenge. That jerk was planning to take his little trip to the library– with Carillio of all people, and he was going to leave you behind? Not anymore.

“Well, I don't see the problem, just take her to the goddamn library. Jesus Peña why is everything so difficult with you.” Javier shot you a glare you could only describe as deadly, but you could only giggle at his exasperation. He rose from his chair, leaning on her desk, like he was trying to seduce her into getting out of this situation. You wondered how Noonan showed so much restraint, if you were her you’d be giving into anything he said no questions asked. 

“Ambassador, really, all that is below my paygrade, don't ya think?” Your mouth fell agape, and you turned to him to find he was smiling, looking directly at you. Asshole  “This whole conversation is below my paygrade. You’re bothering me Peña, get to work..” and with that the two of you were practically kicked out of her office and thrown into the hall,  where in the deafening silence you heard the large wooden doors slam behind you. 

You were lucky there was no one else around, especially when he practically slammed you against the wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Tryna fuck my whole day over baby?” You had to physically fight yourself to not give into the death grip he had on your shoulders, to hold yourself up as he caged you against the corridor.  “I just really need these papers, and only you can get ‘em for me ” You bat your lashes at him, and he pressed his forehead against the wall beside you in complete frustration, sighing. He knew that wasn’t true, and he knew you did as well. Any intern could have gotten them for you, but who was an intern in comparison to him? 

“I won't bother you again, promise” you bit your lip and held your pinkie finger up in what Javier saw as practically an act of war. His hands moved from your shoulders to grab you by the waist as you looked up at him. Despite your smiley exterior you were all giddy on the inside, especially when he leant beside your ear and warned in his low whisper, thumbs drawing circles on your flesh. 

“You're playin’ with fire baby..” 

— 

I'm off to the races, laces

Leather on my waist is tight, and I am fallin' down

I can see your face, is shameless, Cipriani's Basement

Love you, but I'm goin' down

As much as you wanted to bother Javier during his little snoop session with Carillo, you still had a job to do, so you shoved your brattiness aside for a few hours and got to work finding the documents you needed from the archives. You were honestly expecting a medal for your self restraint, because once you were done you waited patiently till he strutted outside after his meeting, barely holding up the heavy box with all your findings. You’d been standing there for almost two hours, and the jerk hadn’t even given you a heads up so you could sit inside.

“Finally.” He rolled his eyes, and like he was running some sort of marathon didn’t bother even helping you, speed walking across the parking lot as you stumbled and struggled behind him– attempting to keep up. 

“We gotta get back, now.” 

You buckled your seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway, and relaxed against your seat as you caught your breath. “Where’re we going?” He turned to you and smiled, but it was in that signature condescending way that he always did. Meanie You thought to yourself. “We are not going anywhere. You are going back to the office, and I am going to take care of something you don't need to worry about.” You didn't know whether there was any use still being offended by his patronizing attitude, he could’ve just said you were going back to the office, but that was too normal, too dignified of a response for the great, cartel busting Javier Peña 

“I could come.” He laughed at your pout, as he turned to look at you, rounding the corner. “Baby, don’t ya’ think that's a little ambitious comin’ from someone who got winded carrying a box across a parking lot.” You scoffed, yes, it would've been nice to have some help. “Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is you're going to do, anyway” Wanting to turn away from him you looked out the window, but that only lasted so long. 

“If this lead comes through, everyone in Bogotà’s gonna want everything to do with it.” You watched as the setting sun drenched your surroundings in a golden glow, and you couldn’t look away from the way Javier’s brown eyes too turned into pools of gold as the sun caught them. His voice a low hum just a little louder than the radio he habitually played as he drove around. It took a special type of maniac to go on missions off the clock. 

“Who’s it for, the lead?” He hummed, and smiled to himself as he spoke, that look on his face you couldn’t quite place– like he was just waiting for his opponent to slip up.  “One of the big guys. You should meet him when we bring him in– you’d get along–  he's a pain in my ass” 

You turned your gaze from the opening embassy gates to meet his eyes, your own narrowed into slits as you stared him down– he was smiling, and you hated it. “Mean.” He shook his head at your irritation, and wordlessly pulled up into the driveway. “Now, you're gonna take those files, and you're gonna sit your bratty ass down, and you're gonna work on that silly paper of yours” You were halfway out the door, lifting the giant cardboard box off the floor of the car with embarrassing difficulty.

Great, there was another thing he could berate you for. 

“That's a lot of instructions..” Your voice was muffled behind your paperwork, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it when he tried to boss you around. 

“Well here's another– don't touch anything while I'm gone.” He laughed to himself as he caught your rolling eyes peering at him over the top of the box, that being the only part of you that was really visible to him. Waiting for you to make it to the entrance he watched as one of his colleagues, one of the many heading out for the day, took it from you, and helped you inside. 

The low hum of the radio replaced the sound of your voice, an old spanish tune coming over the static as he drove out and away from the embassy. 

—

God, I'm so crazy, baby

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island

Raisin' hell all over town

Sorry 'bout it

“Didn't I specifically tell you not to touch anything” You lifted your head in the direction of that familiar voice, irritated as usual, but also a little more gruff, a little more tired. For a moment you regretted annexing his office while he was away. You watched as he sauntered in and towards his desk, opposite the little workstation you’d set up on a spare table where he’d dumped his tie and blazer for when the Ambassador popped around. He propped his hands on his desk, leaning against it to meet your gaze. 

God did he look good, the day had taken its toll on him, but it was only doing him favors. That soft brown hair had been ruffled out of place, and that crisp button up sat wrinkled on his back, loosely and messily tucked into his navy dress pants, sleeves haphazardly rolled up his forearms. While he looked like he worked a regular nine to five, from the little you knew about his job, an intentionally minimal amount, you were sure the unkemptness was the result of some high stakes chase, raid or whatever it was he’d set his head to doing that day.  

“‘M not touching, I just needed the AC” He rolled his eyes, but his neatly hung blazer and rolled up tie caught his attention from across the room. “See.. Untouched” You shot him that smile that you knew drove him up the wall, and he shook his head, now concerned more with sorting the paperwork splayed out in front of him. “Must be real hard, highlightin’ all that paper” He pointed to your reference material. As bad as the day was, it wasn't bad enough to persuade him to stop being a jerk.  

The place was a mess, and he couldn’t leave it this way till the morning, that would be a hit to his professionalism far worse than any of the shady shit he’d done over the years. He didn’t have time for your childish antics. At least for the moment. It’d been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to get it over with. Boy did he look like he needed to let off some steam, and while at first glance your actions were doing anything but helping him relax, couldn’t he see you were just begging for him to use you for exactly that? 

Maybe it was because he was tired of your shit, or because he was far too preoccupied with his work at the time, or because the office was dark and quiet and cold, but the next few minutes passed in uncharacteristic silence. You gazed up once in a while to see Javier’s scrunched brows sort through an abundance of filing. He’d sigh heavily every once in a while, and you could only wonder what or who, besides you, got on his nerves that much. You were almost eager to eliminate the competition. The world drowned out in the white noise of shuffling documents and clicking pens and you were once again lost in your paper. 

Every part of you really wished he wasn’t such an asshole. What had you ever done to him anyway, for him to be so cold and mean? You couldn’t pretend you had nothing to do with it, you'd egged him on beyond measure, but you’d only ever wanted him to like you. Okay maybe you thoroughly enjoyed his irritation, but you only really ever wanted his attention. Pathetic.. You thought to yourself. You pretended he wasn’t bothered by you taking over his office for a moment.

“Done yet?” You hadn’t even realized how or when Javier had crossed the room and made his way in front of you. His fingers danced on the edge of your laptop screen. You didn’t feel like answering just yet, so you typed away at your keyboard for a while longer. The silence wasn’t appreciated, and you could feel the exhaustion radiate off him like heat. You caught him fiddling with the pens on your desk, and skimming over some of your printed material from the corner of your eye, and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter when he chucked it back on your desk in what you assumed was complete disinterest. He was going to try harder to get your attention. 

You weren't prepared however when he practically slammed your laptop shut, forcing you to stop ignoring him. Talk about disrupting the workplace. Groaning, you rested your chin in your palms and peered up at him through dopey eyes. A man who had been driven to the edge, that's the gaze you met. It was not going to affect you, that muted rage, that wrought iron glare. You promised yourself. But your desires were already betraying you.. you rubbed your thighs together to alleviate the ache. 

“There a problem?” With a tone that set his last teeth on edge you kept up the facade, against your better judgment. It was just too much fun not to. When you looked up at him through your lashes you could almost see the slight tick in his jaw, and your mind wandered to what other ways you’d like this type of view. “Yes, in fact there is. It's 1am” He leaned forward, dangerously close, to the point you could feel the warmth of his breath fan against your lips, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You caught the faint smell of cigarettes off his disheveled clothes, the scent of whiskey on his lips. You felt your breath hitch, but you hoped he didn't notice. How naive, that was. 

“And” Your eyes darted to his mouth momentarily as you spoke, voice wavering. He raised his brows, almost to tell you not to push him any further than you already did. It was too late, however. Whatever this was had spiraled far out of your control, and he could see the way you squirmed under that commanding gaze of his. Your brain was screaming at the attention, and you had to inwardly yell at yourself to stop being so needy. 

“And?” Your brows furrowed, your lips forming that signature pout when you heard him mock your tone, your voice.  “I've had a long day, baby, and I wanna go home” You huffed girlishly at his ridicule, the way he liked to humiliate you by throwing your attitude back in your face with his snide imitations, his raised brow and faux sympathy. He talked like one does to a misbehaving child. In that patronizing, explanatory melody. You watched him chuckle with slitted eyes, though you were slowly turning to a puddle underneath it all.

“Go home then Mr. Peña. I'm not stopping you am I?” You watched his eyes darken, and you weren't even sure that was possible, but you didn’t have much time to think because before you knew it he was pinching your cheeks between his fingers, his other hand still holding him up on the table. You could only whine under his rough touch as its effects licked between your thighs. He laughed when you mewed at the sting. 

“Oh but you are. You're just beggin’ me to stay, aren't ya’ baby?” Your soft and pathetically unconvincing ‘no’ was muffled as he squeezed your cheeks in his large hands, yanking you in his direction as you fruitlessly attempted to free yourself from his grip. Unable to help yourself you were almost crooning into his touch, your body basically begging him to rough you up. “Such a fuckin’ brat. Runnin’ your mouth all day, showin’ up in those clothes, fuckin up my schedule, acting like a whore” His soft whisper made you shiver, your skin now on fire. He spoke slowly, and every syllable made you want to drop at his feet with a vigor you could only be embarrassed of. He made you feel small, made you feel helpless under his touch. 

You wanted to push back, wanted to defy his accusations.“‘m not a whore” He smiled at your whining, and if you were delusional, and you were, even hopeful,  you’d say he did so endearingly. But Javier Peña didn’t care about endearments, and after the way you’d acted you’d be crazy to think he thought there was anything endearing about you. “Right baby. You're not. Gotta pay girls to act this way ‘round me. But look at you. Didn’t spare you a fuckin dime.” 

He had let go of your face, and had in a moment, quickly and uncaringly dumped you on the table in front of him. You let out a soft “ow” when you felt your knees bump the wood before your legs were dangling off its edge. You were far closer to him now, and if you had felt small before you thought you were only shrinking in comparison to his domineering frame– physical, mental, everything. Your brain was mush, your body was mush, and you could only lean into his touch– benevolent or not. 

In an uncharacteristically gentle gesture he patted your cheeks with the palm of his hand, lightly, as if to soothe the sore flesh, but it only made the way he pulled them mockingly far more jarring. “Know what that makes you babygirl?” He paused for a moment, knowing you couldn't answer, looking down at the way your eyes were now welling with tears at the pain, and reveling in the sight. 

“Makes you a little slut” 

You wanted to respond, wanted to defend yourself, but you could only settle for grabbing his dress shirt in the balls of your first. The fabric of your panties had pretty much soaked through, and you felt it cling to you uncomfortably as you shifted on the table to pull him closer. Practically begging for his touch. 

He let go of your face, but he didn’t plan on being any more gentle. He knew there was nothing you could do, nothing you could say at that moment, and he took full advantage of your silence– telling you everything he’d wanted to scream in your face for the past month. It was even better now however, because as a fun bonus, for his superhuman self control, you were even pleading for him to do so. He could see it in your eyes, feel it on your hot skin, the way you subtly rolled your hips against the table to ease the pang between your thighs. He reduced you to a dumb, empty headed bimbo, with his words alone. He couldn't help but rub it in a little. “Aw baby, no words for me? Where’s that snappy mouth now?” That faux sympathy was back again

His hands rubbed up and down your sides, moving to toy with the buttons of your top as he spoke. Fiddling with them he popped the first few open, enough to expose the swell of your breasts to the cool of the air conditioned office. With lust blown eyes he trailed his thumbs along your collar bones and then down to your admittedly skimpy lingerie– you gasped when he yanked it down, practically tearing if in a swift motion. He admired you for a moment, held you in place when you squirmed against him, wrapped your legs around his waist. 

You shifted on the desk, leaning your face against his torso, looking up at him,  pleading with your eyes. “Like you better like this, clothes half off like a desperate slut that couldn’t even wait to get undressed.” He paused, still admiring, tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs. “Oh, and fucking quiet”  he flipped you on your stomach, your legs dangling of the table when you writhed under his punishing grip– pushing your face down against the wood, bending you over it. “Whaddya think baby?” 

As if he had enough of just looking you felt him flip your skirt up with his vacant hand, and yelped when his palm came down harshly on the flesh of your ass, the sting only egging on your tears of desperation. “You know what I think baby? Think I needa fuck some manners into you.” He smoothed his hands up and down your warm thighs, fingers finding the soaked fabric of your panties as you moaned and sighed above him. He knew what he did to you and he loved it. “Can pretend there's anything in that head of yours besides the thought of goin’ dumb for me”

You lifted your head to look up and behind you, you’d give anything to witness the sight you’d touched yourself to for the past month, but Javier was quick to slam you head back back to where it came from, and send your eyes rolling back into your head as he shoved your soaked panties aside and roughly pushed two fingers into your sopping cunt. "Fuck, look at this tight little pussy, can barley take my fingers." He groaned in your ear, leaning up against you as his digits fucked you at an agonisingly slow pace, just barely soothing the burn of desire building in your core. “Bad girls don’t get a view.” Light headed, you could only squeal, could only hide your face from him as he leaned over to catch a glimpse of your knitted brows and that pout. 

"Y'know how messy y'are baby? Feel how this pussys cryin' for me, drippin' all over my hand?"

You kicked your legs in protest, salty tears streaming down your face and pooling at its side on the wood beneath you. He wasn’t happy when he found you pushing back against his fingers, grinding helplessly on them. For a moment you thought your wish was granted, but he was only yanking you off the desk so you could have your back flush against him, and he could get his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Still languidly pumping his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy he turned your face to meet his, and sneered as his palm collided with the side of your cheek. 

Smack 

“Watch it” You wanted to be a brat, wanted to defy him, but it was all too much to handle at once. You felt fuzzy all over, and who were you kidding you were always going dumb for him. Besides, how could you even keep your mind steady, not when you felt his hard length against you. You gazed right up at him, pushed back against him, eyes rolling back into your head as you did. He only laughed. “Oh baby, think it's gonna be that easy? Think ‘m gonna let you cum jus’ like that? After you've run me up the wall?” He squeezed your breast in his palm, bending you back over the table, now more gently, extending the olive branch, giving you a chance to repent. “‘M not a needy slut like you baby, those little tricks ain't’ gonna work” Javier was an asshole, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting to ruin you. But first he wanted to have a little fun. 

“Please, please, promise I'll be good.” He hummed, pretending like he was debating whether he was going to give into your pleas yet. He wasn't. He wanted to soak in the sight– you splayed out on his desk, begging him to fuck you sensless, his hands roaming your body torturously teasing you as your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping for him. 

“So now ya wanna be good? Well baby I'm not buyin it yet. Gonna take a lot more convincing than that.” His fingers found your clothed cunt once again, drawing soft circles on your clit. You wailed, knuckles going white when you gripped the table edge in front of you. "Feels good doesnt' it babygirl, I know, feels so good when you finally fucking listen." You pushed back against his fingers, practically humping his hand. The tears were back, and he loved them. “Aw, poor baby, too much?” He wasn’t asking, and you knew he didn’t care what you had to say anyway. He wanted one response, and you were far too wound up not to give it to him. 

“Please please please. Won't be a brat, wanna be your good girl.” He kept you waiting and distraught, fingers still rubbing you through your panties as he spoke, knowing very well you could barely concentrate when he touched you, the squelching of your wetness only drove you towards the edge. “Now babygirl, you're gonna listen, and you're gonna listen good, and do exactly what I say. Ya hear?” You nodded your head vigorously, but a smack to your ass reminded you to use your words. “Yes. promise” He laughed. “Such an easy little slut.” You heard the jingle of his belt behind you. 

You shivered when you felt his cock drag against your drenched cunt, tip bumping your clit with every pass as he wet himself with your slick. Your hips moved frantically, unable to get enough of the friction, but he held you back just enough, to where you would remain unsatisfied and frustrated.“Say" I'm sorry daddy. I'm sorry for being a tease.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and the command alone was enough to send you over the edge. 

“‘m sorry for being a tease daddy ” 

“Say “I'm Sorry for being an easy whore”” 

“M’ sorry for being an easy whore” You’d never been more shy in your life, forget around Javier, who could never guess you had it in you. “That’s my good little slut.” But the way he was speaking to you, teasing, mocking, telling you what to do, what to say– you were hot all over with humiliation. You hid your face, pretty much smashing your forehead against the table, making sure no matter how far he lent he couldn't see the way you were coming undone under him. 

He could probably sense it, though, especially by the way you reacted to his little praise. “That's it babygirl. Comin around now are we?” You didn't want him to have that on you, but you were lucky, in a way, because he didn’t care much to tease you anymore. He grabbed your hips harshly and with a rough thrust of his hips he was fucking you into the mahogany desk, your ribs bruising as he held you down against it. He wasn’t wasting any time, wasn’t stopping or going slow to let you adjust, he was reminding you of how tightly you’d wound him up.“So fuckin tight” his voice was a strained whisper behind you, and you made a noise you could barely recognise as your own at his words. “Hurts” you were whining again,this time at the sting,  and you knew he didn’t care but you couldn’t help yourself. “Yeah baby hurts when daddy stuffs you full of his cock? My poor thing.. But you like it don't you babygirl? Like it when I stretch you open” he wasn’t wrong. The feeling of him splitting you open had turned you into a puddle, a moaning mess. “”S too big” his hands smoothed up and down your back erratically.  “I know baby, I know, but you’re gonna take it aren’t you? Gonna take it how I give it to you dirty little girl?” You were, you took it how he gave it to you. “Gonna ruin this pretty lil pussy” He squeezed the flesh of your hips till you squeaked, the pain only adding to the pleasure as his hips smacked against yours. 

You felt your legs shake as his cock pounded your aching pussy. “Jus’ needed daddy to fuck all that brattiness outta ya huh?” You nodded your head and he cooed at the way you melted into his touch. “Oh baby, that’s it, just like that.” Gazing up with hooded eyes you caught his reflection in the glass of his office window, half illuminated by the dim lighting– his own face scrunched up with pleasure. The sight only had you fucking back against him. You felt like jello, your heart pitter pattering at his little praise. 

“My good little slut” 

Wrapping his arm around you he grabbed your face roughly again, dragging you up and against his chest again. 

“My slut, hear me?” 

Yours, yours, yours 

Your brain was a fog, and the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you, making you clench around him as that burn built in your core– a string of incoherent “daddy’s” being the only thing you could manage to get out your mouth.  “My dumb fuckin baby, my whore, squeezin’ my cock”. You repeated like a broken record; “daddy’s, daddy’s daddy’s”, the feeling of your slick running down your thighs making you go dizzy. 

“Look at you, daddy’s little cumdump” your cheeks were burning, your eyes barley staying open. He pulled your face up from the desk. “Can barely look straight huh baby? Gettin all cock drunk on me.” You made out his dark eyes in the reflection. But you couldn’t bear to meet them. It didn’t matter. He was always looking at you.

“Only for you daddy”

Your release was building, like an inextinguishable fire, your pussy throbbing with need, just begging for it, and he knew it too, the way your walls quivered around him, the way you were moaning and panting, whispering soft calls of “daddy” when he held you against him. “Gonna cum babygirl? Gonna cum on my cock, bent over my desk? When ’m usin’ ya like a fuckin toy?” 

Your body went lax in his arms as you came, your lips parting in a wordless cry, eyes fluttering shut. “That's it… cum for me”. You cherished that almost gentle encouragement as you came undone, tummy swarming with butterflies as you shook in his arms. He was still fucking into your sensitive pussy, pushing you further into the desk as he neared his release. You heard a strained curse behind you, before he was fucking you full of his cum in deep, hard thrusts, your legs dangled off the table as you milked his cock. Shivering at the feeling you closed your eyes, his spend leaked out of your sore pussy when he pulled out, dripping down your inner thighs obscenely. You heard his belt jingle again as he caught his breath behind you, and you felt silly for the way you missed his warmth when it was replaced by the chilled office air. He quickly shifted your panties back in place, making sure you stayed stuffed full of his cum. You winced when he smacked your pussy lightly. Raising your head you caught his reflection again, but you hid your face back against the desk almost immediately when you saw the way he admired his work in the reflection, like he could see the way he’d fucked the brattiness out of you. 

With closed eyes you hummed as he turned you over and sat you on the desk. Now that you’d finally got Javier’s attention you were satisfied– all sleepy and fucked out. You wished he’d hold you, but you had to remind yourself fucking you hadn’t taken the asshole out of him. He was still Javier. Hardass DEA attaché Javier. You sat there for a while, and when you opened your eyes you saw him picking up his blazer and briefcase. 

“If you're not up in 10 seconds I'm leavin’ ya here.” He was back to usual in a moment, and in your fuzzy little head you heard a well meaningness in that tone. “In those messy panties.” You pouted at his words, once again, and he watched as you hopped off the table, rubbing your eyes as you gathered your things, albeit clumsily–your knees wobbly to the point where you could see Javier’s smirk behind you as you shoved your laptop into your bag. 

Turning off the table lamp he motioned with his head for you to get moving along, and you rolled your eyes at him as you walked out the door, stumbling slightly as you did. He gave you what you now recognised as that look, brows raised, and you didn’t have the energy at the moment to be combative. 

Maybe you didn’t want to be. 

“Come on now, runalong”

—

My old man is a thief, and

I'm gonna stay and pray with him 'til the end

But I trust in the decision of the Lord, to watch over us

Take him when He may, if He may

I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

And we're off to the races, places

Ready, set, the gate is down and now we're goin' in

To Las Vegas, chaos, Casino Oasis

Honey, it is time to spin

Boy, you're so crazy, baby

I love you forever, not maybe

You are my one true love

You are my one true love

You are my one true love

Let me know what you think please!! I’d love to hear your nasty thots. I really hope you lovelies liked it. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work. You keep me writing! Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗💗🐝🐝

[starsenha]

[10] FIRST IMPRESSIONS - progress

synopsis: riki was a big fan of your group Devilish, but when he met you for the first time, he made a very bad first impression and now you hated him. rumors started to spark saying how you hated each other and to calm the rumors, the company decided to make you two hosts a variety show together for two months. wc: 1,3k

The third episode of the variety show had been the longest filming day yet, and honestly, you couldn't take it anymore. You and Riki had spent hours interviewing Meovv, a newly debuted girl group that came to promote their first comeback. The group's members were bright and bubbly, but their energy exhausted you, as well ad the fake smile you had plastered on your face.

You sat across from them, maintaining your polite and attentive demeanor. Riki was also struggling with their energy. As soon as the director yelled, "That's a wrap," you stood, thanked the staff and the Meovv members with a small bow, and quietly slipped out of the studio. Riki noticed but decided not to say anything, choosing to stay back and what with some of the crew.

Behind the studio, you found a quiet corner surrounded by tall trees where you could feel the cool evening air. Sighing, you leaned against the wall, your head tilted back as you closed your eyes. You loved what you did, but sometimes, it took just too much energy.

About ten minutes later, you heard footsteps. Opening your eyes, you found Riki standing a few feet away, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

"Figured I'd find you here," he said causally.

"You followed me?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Followed is a strong word. I just....guessed," he said with a sheepish grin. "You looked like you needed a break."

You turned your gaze back to the darkening sky. "It's been a long day."

He leaned against the wall next to you but was careful to give you space. "Yeah, those girls have endless energy. I don't know how they do it."

"They're probably running on adrenaline," you said, your tone soft. "They're still new. Everything's exciting for them."

Riki nodded. "True. But I don't think I've ever been that energetic, even when I debuted."

That earned a small huff of amusement from you, which surprised Riki, but he decided not to comment on it and thought it was the moment.

"Can...Can we talk for a bit?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You sighed a bit, "Sure, sunbaenim."

He winced at the formality but didn't comment on it. Instead, he took a step closer. "I just...wanted to talk. About, uh, stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, like..." he scratched the back of his neck, clearly struggling to find the right words. "Like how you probably don't like me very much."

You didn't respond immediately. "I wouldn't say that, sunbaenim. I respect you as an artist and as my senior."

"Okay, but like," Riki said, his voice almost pleading, "you definitely don't like me. And i get why. I've been...kind of a disaster." You didn't deny it, which made Riki laugh quietly. “But, uh, I think part of the reason you don’t like me goes back to that first time we met. At the music show.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, but your tone remained neutral. "What about it?"

"You remember, right?" Riki asked, glancing at you. "It was, like, two years ago. Your group had just debuted."

You nodded slowly, your gaze turning to the dark sky. "You told me I was an 'okay' dancer." Your voice was calm, almost sounding unbothered.

He winced at your words. "Yeah. That. I...I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly, his words stumbling over each other. "I swear. I dodn't think you were just 'okay'. I thought you were amazing. I just-"

“Then why did you say it?” you interrupted, your tone sharper now. “If you thought I was amazing, why didn’t you say that?”

Riki ran a hand through his hair, his nervous energy making him shift again. “Because I was nervous! Like, really nervous. I was a fan, and I was so freaked out about meeting you that I just… messed it up. I didn’t know how to act, so I said something stupid.”

You turned to face him fully, your arms still crossed. “You were nervous?”

“Yes!” Riki said, nodding emphatically. “I mean, you were—are—this incredible dancer, and I didn’t want to sound like I was just fanboying. I wanted to look cool, but instead of being cool, I made it worse and came off as a jerk.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression softening ever so slightly. “So, you didn’t mean it?”

“Not even a little bit,” Riki admitted. “You’re one of the most talented dancers I’ve ever seen, and I’ve thought that since day one. I just… suck at expressing myself sometimes.”

You were silent for a moment, your gaze searching his face for any sign of insincerity. When you finally spoke, your tone was quieter. “Why are you telling me this now, sunbaenim?”

“Because we’re stuck working together for seven weeks,” Riki said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “And I don’t want you to hate me the whole time. I’d like for us to at least get along. Or, you know, tolerate each other.”

“Thank you for explaining,” You said finally, your tone softer but still measured. “I… appreciate the clarification.”

“You’re welcome,” Riki replied, grinning slightly. “Does this mean I’ve earned a little less of the death glare on set?”

You raised an eyebrow, but there was a glint of amusement in your eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

Riki chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Noted. But, seriously, I’m glad we talked. I was starting to think you had me on some kind of blacklist.”

You tilted your head slightly, pretending to think. “I wouldn’t call it a blacklist. More like… a warning list.”

“Wow,” Riki said, clutching his chest dramatically. “And here I thought I was climbing my way into your good graces.”

“You’re at the bottom of the list,” You replied coolly, though your lips twitched as if suppressing a smile.

Riki leaned back against the wall, looking up at the sky. “You know, this reminds me of something.”

“What?” You asked, curious despite yourself.

“Well,” he began, a mischievous grin forming, “it’s like one of those rom-coms where the leads start off hating each other, but then they end up being best friends—or more.”

You stared at him, your expression deadpan. “This isn’t a rom-com, Riki-sunbae.”

“Riki,” he corrected, glancing at her hopefully. “Just Riki.”

You didn’t respond immediately, and he continued, trying to break the silence. “Besides, if this were a rom-com, I’d have some dramatic rain scene to win you over, and I left my umbrella at home.”

You blinked at him for a moment, and then, to both your surprise, you laughed. It wasn’t just a small chuckle but a genuine laugh that lit up your face for a brief moment.

Riki froze, his eyes wide as he stared at you. “Wait… did you just laugh? Like, actually laugh?”

Your laughter trailed off, and you looked almost as surprised as he did. “What? No. That wasn’t—”

“No, no, you totally laughed,” Riki said, pointing at you triumphantly. “I made Yn laugh. Someone call Dispatch. This is breaking news.”

You rolled her eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward again. “Don’t let it go to your head, Riki.”

“Hey, you called me Riki. No ‘sunbaenim.’ Progress!”

You blinked, realizing your slip. “It was a momentary lapse. Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” Riki said, beaming. “You’ve already made my day.”

You sighed but didn’t correct yourself, your tone more teasing than annoyed. “You’re so easily pleased.”

“Only when it comes to you,” Riki replied, his tone light but sincere.

You glanced at him, your expression softening for just a moment before you pushed off the wall. “We should head back. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Riki said, following you but unable to hide the triumphant grin on his face. “Just don’t trip on the way. I’m not catching you again today.”

You gave him a side-eye that was more amused than annoyed. “You’re really pushing it.”

“Maybe,” Riki said, walking beside you. “But I think I’m finally getting somewhere.”

previous / m.list / next

TAGLIST: @pkjay @d-dilemma @heartheejake @lunaritex @dreeki @inishij @rikirritated @whoiss4m @sleepyxxhead @aanniikkaa @right-person-wrong-time @aespaqq @starry-eyed-bimbo @nerdywitchcrown @yuniesluv @lovestruck-sky @ariluvssssss100 @rei4sunoo @wildtigerlili @jakef3ver @seungminsapuppy @kittsnewera @regalfox @rairaiblog @pairinnn

[blamebrampton]

Books talk to each other. Mostly because practically every writer is also a voracious reader, but also because books arise out of times and places and we share a lot of our worlds these days. So it’s unsurprising that several novels I have hugely enjoyed over the past few years share the theme of the antiheroine who is past all giving of the fucks. Naomi Novik’s powerful dark sorceress kept on her own tight leash in the Scholomance books was a joy to follow; Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow slashed her way into my heart and now Sarah Rees Brennan’s Long Live Evil has added to a list of beloved antiheroines that probably started for me with Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair.

Coincidentally, when considering how to describe Long Live Evil without significant spoilers, I realised that it shared several major themes with Vanity Fair. Young woman unfairly treated by fate decides to embrace her slut era to survive a war zone – both very accurate and wildly inaccurate for both. LLE opens with main character Rae in a hospital bed, teasing her sister about a book series they both adore. Rae is taking refuge in the story they have shared over years because it is one of the few things they have left: she is losing her fight against cancer and has been losing parts of her life, family and memory as that fight has progressed.

My personal hospital experiences have all been to do with major traumas rather than illness, which I vastly prefer because if you don’t die in the first couple of days, you usually start mending and you can immediately make plans to make the best of whatever you’ve broken. Rees Brennan, however, famously wrote a very funny, very horrible, ‘Kids, you won’t believe what shenanigans your girl’s been up to now, it’s only stage four Hodgkins lymphoma!’ post on her Tumblr or LJ (someone who has been hit in the head with taxis fewer times than me will doubtless factcheck that in the notes) about seven or eight years ago and then faced the very serious business of trying to live. The hospital scenes are painfully authentic, as are the stories of people who have left Rae as she slipped further out of everyday life.

For Rees Brennan, a loving family and peer group were there to hold her as close as they could. For Rae, only her beloved little sister, Alice, and Time of Iron, their favourite fantasy series, remain. They read the books together, remember adventures cosplaying and watching the musical, they wonder about the final instalment; for Rae it’s a joy she can still share (even if she doesn’t remember as much as she should), for Alice, it’s her two greatest loves. When a strange woman offers a door into the world of the book and a possible magical cure to Rae, she wants it as much as she disbelieves it.

Stepping into Eyam, the land of Time of Iron, Rae finds herself in the body of a villain doomed to die the next day. No worries! She’s thought and fought her way out of worse scraps than this in her past as a head cheerleader, let alone while battling cancer. She can use her knowledge of the plot to change things! If only she remembered more of the books…

Portal fantasies are common enough, but not all play by the same rules. This isn’t Narnia, where the magical world is more real than our own, for Rae, the world of the book is nothing more a tool to get her hands on the cure. She doesn’t need to care about any of these people, they’re not real. Most of them speak in a formal language that relies on the conventions of fantasy literature (there is an ongoing, warm-hearted skewering of all Game of Thrones-esque texts running through both the story and the in-text ‘quotes’ from Time of Iron) and half the characters are known more by their descriptions rather than their names. So she will play the Beauty Dipped in Blood, with her questionable morals, impractical clothes and centre-of-balance-distorting boobs for the weeks that will pass until the cure is available. Whoever she has to shuffle in the plot to secure a place beside that cure, she will shuffle. While she’s not out to kill anyone, it’s not as though they were ever really alive. Not like her. If she has to be the villain to survive, she will be an impeccable one. The people will cheer evil on!

Obviously, little goes to plan. Rae’s illness has taught her cruelty, but she hasn’t forgotten what it is to be kind. Even as she manipulates her role into ongoing main character, she realises that’s not how anyone gets a happy ending. That’s not how she can live with herself. As she comes to think of the other people in the story as real, they become more so, both in how we read them and in how they impact the story. Rae remembers what it is like to make friends, which she never meant to, but, oh, the luxury after years of watching people slip away!

As in previous novel In Other Lands, Rees Brennan has a long list of fantasy tropes to embrace and undermine, and her deft touch with humour is as evident as ever here, but her publishers call this her first adult novel and there is a shift in tone from her previous works. Anger is more real and lasting. Consequences are more significant. Understanding is reached for, even if it’s bitter. One of my favourite things is that she lets her female characters rage, but never judges those who can’t, whether because they’re too powerless or just too tired, and her male characters are allowed to be people if they choose to be — which all but the most vainglorious do.

I hadn’t paid much attention beyond checking the release date for the book, so didn’t realise it was the first in a series. For me, it worked perfectly as a standalone novel, even with the unended threads, which would have perfectly balanced Rae’s unfinished life. That said, I am very happy to know we will spend more time with these characters in the future. I want more. I do want to know if there is a hope for Rae, if this is the fever dream of a fading life, if this is the story Alice has told to ease her sister from the world or something else. There are a dozen characters I hope for, at least three happy endings that would bring joy. But don’t wait for the next books: sink your teeth into this one and believe what it says about the importance of listening to stories rather than just falling in love with characters. Though if you find yourself cheering on Rae, or her servant Emer, the elusive Eric, Horrible Hortensia or almost any of the others, I am the last person who will judge you.

[w3irdo666]

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS

PART 1/ PART 2/ PART 3

Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!reader

Letter count:2666

Warnings: mention of depression, i dont think anything more.

Notes:I slightly changed the course of events to make it more convenient to write, sorry!!!

Two angels were sitting on a bench in a small garden filled with different types of flowers. In front of the bench there was a fountain with clear, almost mirror-like water, giving the air a slightly damp taste. “I...I’m not sure if I can...you don’t have to be on my side, my idea is stupid-” Lucifer didn’t have time to finish when his words were interrupted by the girl’s soft laugh. She smiled and took Lucifer’s hands in hers, soft as plushie, warm hands, making Lucifer's heart beat a little faster. "Don't worry Luci, I will always be by your side, no matter what happens. It's my decision and your idea is not stupid. If they don't hear you... It will only show their stupidity." Her calm, kind voice added confidence to Lucifer. He smiled and looked away for a few seconds, but then moved his gaze back to the girl next to him. "Yes, you're right.. Thank you." His eyes looked into yours, radiating warmth.Moving closer, the girl hugged Lucifer. It was a warm, encouraging hug. “I will always support you, no matter what. I will always be by your side.”

Lucifer's sad gaze was directed at the new rubber duck he had just made. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Small, clear as glass, tears formed in the corners of his eyes, remembering his last moments in heaven, before his expulsion. Y/n. This girl was his friend, always supported his idea, was ready to give every part of herself to support Lucifer. Where are she now? How is her life? Is she happy? He does not know. "I will always be by your side, no matter what." Lucifer sobbed, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his suit.These words are ingrained in his head. He no longer really remembers her face, but he definitely remembers how soft her hands were. Her radiant smile.. He almost forgot what her laughter sounds like.Her beautiful, plump scarlet lips, which he always wanted to know what they tasted like. She was a ray of light in the darkness. How beautiful her wings were when she flew with him...Years of suffering, loneliness, depression.. during all this time he tried forget about her, because thoughts about her hurt him even more....

Trying to distract himself, he started making rubber ducks, "how pathetic". He thought.

Somehow finding the strength to get up from his chair, the King of Hell headed to his bed. The bed cracked slightly, feeling the weight of his body when Lucifer fell onto the soft mattress of the bed.

"You can't just go ahead and banish him! How dare you!" Tears flowed down the girl’s cheeks, burning her skin. Her voice almost broke from screaming. But no one wanted to hear her. No one cared.

Lucifer turned over on his back, his gaze staring at the ceiling. He would have continued to lie in deathly silence if the silence had not been broken by the unexpected ringing of the phone, causing Lucifer to flinch. With a quick movement, he rose from the bed and grabbed the phone.

"Daughter..?.... Daughter! Daughter calling!" Seeing the contact's name, Lucifer's sad face burst into a joyful smile and he almost dropped his phone. Charlie, his daughter is calling him! After a slightly awkward conversation, he said that he would be at Charlie’s hotel in an hour. After hanging up, he took a deep breath and smiled. The sadness that had been gnawing at him a few minutes ago was put on the back burner...

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his strength. He would finally see his daughter, after a long time. He couldn't screw it up.

Part 2 in progress!! Hope you enjoyed!! :D

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Aug 24th

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1. Hi! For 3 grueling days I've been on a hunt for a fanfic where Lan Wanji and Jiang Cheng go back in time and change everything! I remember that at one point that WeiWuXian is exposed for hurting himself after Jiang Cheng yells at Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan for bing shitty parents and runs off crying where he is later joined by Jiang YanLi and WWX. Also that YZY immediately regrets everything along with JFM. And then a disciple says that he's never heard heart wrenching sobs before. Please help. It's a wonderful read. Thank you!!! @makkachinno

FOUND? Brother-In-Law’s by Loveable_Psychopath (M, 332k, WIP, JYL/JZX, wangxian, JC/WQ, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, Memories, Butterfly Effect, Sexual assualt, Self Harm, Self Doubt, BAMF JC, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Everyone Lives au, PTSD, good parent YZY, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Warning: JGS, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Second Chances) chapter 29 for the screaming part and the cying is the next chapter

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2. Hi!! For this fic finder :

Its a fic i read long ago , wangxian was alr an established couple, It was after the canon series had ended i beleive and wwx has an identity crisis abt being mo xuanyu and theres a recurring theme of the burial mounds haunting him and it talks abt his ptsd (specifically I remember of cannibalism? The fic was maybe dead dove too..)

Wwx wld sleep walk aswell and during one of his sleepwalking episodes he didnt recognize the juniors and thought he was a teenager.

In the end i think he revists the burial mounds?

Thank you for the work you put in for the fandom!💗💗 @jnxi839

FOUND? Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Feels, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, LWJ just wants to sleep with his husband, Protective JC, WWX Sees Dead People, LJY pulls through, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is tired, LWJ literally just wants to sleep with WWX again is that too much to ask for??, Soft JC, Yunmeng Siblings Feels)

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3. Please help find fic

Wei wuxian cursed to be close to Lan wanji and stops feeling pain. Open ending. Curse gets progressively worse as fic goes on. They have to stay at an inn during the fic because wei wuxian hurt his foot. @opalkittencat

FOUND? Tether by Annerb (M, 161k, WangXian, Cursed LWJ, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Family Feels, Yin Iron, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, aftermath of a war)

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4. hi!! i’m looking for a fic and it’s driving me crazy bc i’ve read it more then once. but it’s a modern au and it starts with llan zhan going on a random date and getting stood up. and wei ying pops up to sit with him and make him feel better since he’s alone. and immediate wangxian love ensues. and at one point point they overhear the guy talking and basically being like “haha that guys so boring i told u he would go out with me. i didn’t even show up.” or something like that. ofc that’s a complete paraphrase but that’s the general vibe of what the guy says . i don’t think the fic was very long. oh! lxc is also very protective in it but i can’t remember how. so sorry this is so vague i rly cant remember more of it. hoping anyone could help 😖 but totally understand if this is not enough info to find it. also tysm for all u do! this blog is so helpful!

FOUND! Blooming Days by Atsushiis (G, 7k, WangXian, LWJ & LXC, LWJ & MM, Modern, College/University, Meet-Cute, First Dates, First Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, LWJ Has Feelings, Let LWJ talk about his feelings agenda, Romance, Falling In Love, Wangxian are softer than a baby bunny, gratuitous handholding, Give LWJ hugs agenda, LWJ Protection Squad, Spanish Translation Available)

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5. so I remember this ff- it was on Wattpad (idk if y'all do Wattpad) if it was a sort of modern au with WWX as a teacher, one of his students have a crush on him, but he leaves and a sub (Lan Sizhui) is covering for him, I really remember that the class took a field trip to cloud recesses, where they found out about WWX and LWJ. Sorry if it was not so specific. and it is totes find if y'all cant find it, but the cover was sort of a Wangxian modern fanart, if that would help? @bitter-lemonzz

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6. I have been searching for the fic for so long but cannot find it. It was about Wei Wuxian accidentally being pushed into a pond by Lan Wangji and then it's angst. I think Madam Yu was a supportive figure for WWX in this fic. (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) @yilinglaobunny

FOUND! i won’t say i’m in love by kazzywx (E, 18k, WangXian, rape/non-con, A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Miscommunication, Angst with a Happy Ending, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, skippable NSFW scenes, wwx’s is basically meg from hercules with his “i wont say im in love” shtick, Hurt WWX, Boypussy, WWX Has a Vulva, Intersex WWX, Dubious Consent, Feminization, Mating Bites, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Mpreg, WWX & WQ Friendship, WWX & WN Friendship, Possessive LWJ)

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7. Hey, someone told me that you could help me find this fic. It's a short story...might be a one shot where after the canon wwx sets wen ning up on various dates and at the end wen ning finds 'the one' that he tackles (if I'm not wrong) because of some misunderstanding. Also I think the final male character that wen ning shows interest in is from another famous fandom. It's all sweet and cute. Please if you know this story or can find this story, let me know...I've been searching for a long time. Thank you so much! You are doing an amazing job❤️ @madarmy

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8. Hi! I am looking for a specific canon au fic where soulmates are announced by an angry goose. Like, literally, when soulmates meet a goose pops up out of nowhere and heckles them until they recognize (? fall for?) each other. I think it was during the Cloud Recesses Lectures and Lan Qiren kept getting interrupted because geese kept popping up between the students. I remember honking geese breaking the quiet and calm of Cloud Recesses :D

FOUND? 🔒💖 No Matter What I Do I Feel The Pain (With or Without Goose) by Trickster_Angel (T, 3k, WangXian, Soulmates, The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Crack, Not tagging animal abuse but they have to fight off the geese, Not Serious, Humor, First Kiss)

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9.Hi! So, I've looking for this fic that take place when wei ying is in the burial mounds with the wens and decides to end his life, and wen ning is the one that tells lan zhan of it, and he has a panic attack? anxiety attack? and it leads to everyone helping the wens while they grief ... (sorry if there is misspelling, second language) @belenleal2111

FOUND? To Offer a Heart by WhiteCrane (M, 111k, WIP, wangxian, major character death, Sad WWX, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, soft wangxian, Cinnamon Roll WN, WWX Whump, WQ is a good sister, WN is a good brother, everybody loves wwx, yunmeng siblings, Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Taking care of WWX, Give WWX a break, Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Changing Perspectives, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Redemption, Sibling Bonding, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad and Sweet, Tragedy, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF JYL, BAMF WQ, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Everyone Needs A Hug)

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10. hello! I hope you're doing well 🌷 I'm looking for a fic where female! WWX is getting married to the second son (Lan Zhan) of the esteemed Lan family who are well known tea merchants. Nie Huaisang is female too. Uncle Jiang arranges this marriage for Wei Ying. The fic starts with Uncle Jiang saying "Wei Ying, I accepted a marriage proposal for you you're getting married next month". Jiang Cheng keeps saying UNKIDNAPPABLE! because that's why the Lan Clan extended a marriage proposal to Wei Ying cos she's impossible to kidnap. WWX and LZ don't know each other prior to this. They have a summer wedding and the makeup auntie puts 3 layers of thick white face powder on WWX's face and tells her not to touch her face after which wei ying immediately feels the need to scratch her face off. Lan Zhans hand is a bit damp when he helps WWX into the palaquin cos it's hot as balls and he's sweating under 3 layers of robes. Wei Ying said she can't wait to become a dowager cos she'll get to wear clothes that are her style (darker). Someone tells wwx to not stand up too straight and she folds into an exaggerated slouch and then yelps and straightens up again when MianMian (her handmaid) slaps her butt. Sorry, that's all I remember! Thank you please help me find this 🙏🏼 @darkchocobun-blog

FOUND? a harmony between qin and se by Alaceron (E, 62k, WangXian, Gender Changes, Historical, Female WWX)

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11. Hi Mods! I am looking for a wangxian fic with these details:

-YilingWei Sect wangxian AU

-WWX takes MXY and his mom (Mo WeiYa) away from Mo manor to keep them safe but he has to go to Koi Tower for some reason about Meng Yao...

-Mo WeiYa imprints on JGY and makes WWX take him back too and treats him like a kid

-there was also a part where WWX said something about taking MXY under his wing and LWJ assumes he's gonna marry his mom and adopt MXY but ofc he was wrong

-JGY later becomes his deputy in his sect despite WWX trying to find a different one...yes JGY was corrupt before and WWX doesn't trust him.

-it was a multichap (I think) and complete (I think). Help?

FOUND!🔒 if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect)

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12. This is an odd ficfinder request, but I remember there was a VERY long fanfic I read a while ago on AO3 where the author gave the Meishan Yu a motto that went something like "We remember what is owed." I thought it was "Things to do with Flute During Wartime" but I can't find it in there. Anyone have any ideas? Thank you for ALL you do, mods! <3 <3 <3 @kimboo-york

FOUND! could be any of a few by stratisphyre but is likely the exploration of a courageous heart (all this unexpected glory) by Stratisphyre (T, 54k, JYL/LXC/NMJ, Canon Divergence, Not Everybody Dies, (but some canonical character deaths), Childhood Sweethearts, Arranged Marriage, Threesome - F/M/M, Kidfic, Hurt/Comfort, JYL Best Jiejie, Friends to Lovers, Sibling Feelings, Not JFM friendly, Enormous Amounts of Head Canon, Multiple Pov, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Past Abuse)

NOT FOUND! the other long stratisphyre fic with that Meishan Yu motto as a line in the fic is in stillness, clear water to the bottom by Stratisphyre (T, 40k, CSSR/WCZ/LQR, LQR & Madam Lan, LQR & WWX, Sect Leader Nie/NHS's Mother/NMJ's Mother, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/F, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Everyone lives, (mostly), (not you QHJ), Family feelings, Madam Lan lives, references to past rape)

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13. trying to find a specific fic! it's a modern au roommates-to-lovers. the most specific thing I can remember is that Jin Zixuan is the one who asks Lan Wangji to let Wei Wuxian stay in his spare room. thanks in advance! @strinak

FOUND? ❤️ the best of you by sysrae (E, 41k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, slightly undernegotiated kink, but in a very soft and consensual way, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JFM and Madam Yu’s A+ parenting, Dysfunctional Family, Mental Health Issues therapy is good actually, the most tender of railings, Reference to animal attacks/animal cruelty, descriptions of past violence)

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14. Hi! In 2021 (approx) I read a fanfic where Lan zhan tries to save, (through a simulation that has Wei Ying's soul) wwx but always fails in the attempt, it is not until Wei Ying becomes aware of this and both confess to each other, that they manage to save everyone and wangxian stay together until old age and the time of his death as companions. However, this occurs within a simulation and wangxian says goodbye. The fic ends with Lan zhan leaving his seclusion but with his mind at peace knowing that he had a chance to be at peace and happy with his love and is ready to raise a-yuan.

I remember reading this on Wattpad and in Spanish. But I always wondered if it was on ao3 and it was actually a translation. Please, if you have any information I would be happy to read you. Saludos

Pd: Sorry for Google traslate

Enviar comentarios @ppninonom

FOUND? my apple tree, my brightness by trickybonmot (E, 5k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Angst, Not A Fix-It, Not a Time Loop Either, sweaty sex, sweat as lube, Come as Lube, But don't worry they're cultivators, LWJ's Regret, LWJ in Seclusion, Hopeful Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Not a ton of comfort but some!, Grief, Healing, [Podfic] my apple tree, my brightness by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash), [Podfic] my apple tree, my brightness by nonminus (nonplussed))

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15. Hi. I saw this ao3 fic on twitter but it refreshed before I could save, I only remember a few tags it was a wangxian case fic where they look after three ghost children, I guess it was The Untamed post canon fic. Can you help? Thank you.

FOUND? a home carved of love by omegawangji (T, 12k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Child Abandonment, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Baby Acquisition, wangxian adopt ghost (corpse?) babies, Soft WangXian, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pining LWJ, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Found Family, Getting Together, First Kiss)

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16. For fic finder: Hello! I am looking for a canon-au fic where Wei Wuxian was able to use demonic cultivation to create shadow copies of himself, kind of like Naruto shadow clones. He used this to fight in the Sunshot Campaign and there was a cool scene where he took down a Wen supervisory office all by himself by having a ton of hims fight each Wen soldier. There was also a scene where he dueled with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng had to cut down all of the clones before finding the real Wei Wuxian. I think this technique caused his soul to shatter after death, but I could be wrong/confusing multiple fics. Thank you for your help!

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17. Fic finder request plz!! It’s a fem Wangxian in an omegaverse setting where Alpha NMJ has Alpha LWJ visiting and they invite WWX over. I remember at the end, LWJ came into the kitchen to get fancy water for WWX and wanted to know what snacks she liked. I can’t remember anything else. 😭😭😭

FOUND? good friends by plonk (Not Rated, 11k, NMJ/WWX/LWJ, WangXian, Modern, Gender Changes, A/B/O)

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18. Hi!! It's my first time asking here!! I've been trying to find a fic where wwx makes the cultivation world forget abt the wens and him, and by consequence the baby lwj is pregnant with!! I will be so grateful if u guys could help me find it!!

FOUND! could be this threadfic (locked to followers)

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19. Hi, there's this one canon divergence fic I read where WWX inevitably becomes part of the Burial Mounds and has become pretty vampire-adjacent and he thinks of himself as a monster. When LWJ finds out, there are multiple times in the story where he cuts his hand/arm and pours the blood in a bowl so WWX could "eat."

At some point in the story it's revealed that WWX was transported to Diyu before he died and yeah. At Wangxian's wedding he invites the overlord(?) of Diyu and even tho he didn't go, he was amused by the invitation and sent someone else to be there for him LMAO 😭😭

Can you please help me find this fic? I also highly rec it! Thank you!

FOUND!🔒A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX's questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding)

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20. fic finder req: a really sad post canon fic. it's a hurt/no comfort sick fic, where lwj falls ill with what eventually turns out to be a terminal illness (maybe a blood curse of some sort?). I think lwj falls unconscious at some pt, and they use the incense burner to spend lwj's last moments tgt with family and wwx. wx tries and fails to find a cure for it, and only succeeds many years after lwj dies, working closely w the gusu healers. the fic ends with them meeting in the afterlife, where lwj has been waiting for wwx. I've tried all the tags I could think of, but it's lost among my countless bookmarks... i haven't been able to find it and I'm worried it's been taken down. please help!

FOUND! I will be gone by seachronicles (M, 28k, WangXian, Angst, Sickfic, Hurt LWJ, Hurt WWX, Sick LWJ, LWJ Whump, WWX Whump, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, but a lot of hurt, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Reincarnation, POV LWJ, POV WWX, Sad WWX, Sad LWJ, Married WangXian, Major Illness, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, but very briefly)

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[angelyuji]

yandere superman headcanons

tw kidnapping, "nice" guys/incel behavior (kinda), isolation as punishment, manipulation, yandere stuff... the usual

yandere clark kent x gn!reader

diana prince is next guys I LOVE WOMEN!!! lemme know abt any tags i miss or just any other superman thoughts (yandere or not) cuz i love superman a lot

hes so big and buff and strong

hhnhsdngnnhnhnngnfhgnnngngn

sorry

ive been obsessed with superman and lois recently and i thought to myself “i need him so bad id do unspeakable things”

ALSOOOOOO have u guys seen the new superman??? ohmygodddd HELLOOO SAILOR

anyway here we go :)

sweetest kindest angel alive… at first glance

actual clark is genuinely the best sweetest guy in the world and i don’t think that would technically change but if anything he’d start buying into the incel/nice guy pills and that’s what would warp him

he’s literally sooo sweet to you (i cant get over how much a of cutie pie clark kent is)

ok pause lemme start from the beginning

when he first met you, he was e n a m o u r e d like he thinks youre the most beautiful person in the world type stuff

at first, the relationship is normal, you guys are friends, study buddies, coworkers, yk normal shit

he’s still super in love but hes kinda aware that its one-sided and he can’t make you like him

you guys are super close friends tho

but as his crush progresses, he starts to consult more than his friends and normal relationship advice, he starts to consult incel chatrooms and subreddits

he wants to go further than friendship with you, but all the guys in these chatrooms are telling him awful things abt u. for example:

‘hi! requesting help for getting out of the friendzone with my friend’ i’ve been friends with them for a long time, but i see them as more than a friend. ive had to watch as they date all these awful people and i just want them to see me more than a friend. any advice is appreciated!

– dude these ungrateful bitches are never gonna see u

– people like them never see the good guy until its too late

– u just gotta make them like u, nobody understands the nice guy until u make them

– all of these responses are so weird, just be normal and flirt a little!

ur stupid fuckign idiot nice guys don’t get a chance till u make them give u chance

women are so fucking stupid

reading all these “helpful” comments really warped his mindset

he went from innocent farm boy to incel misogynist becuz

they have to be right! like why else have u not given him the time of day as more than a friend

so soon, ur gonna notice these changes

he went from being supportive bestie to making snide comments, putting you down, making moves on you that you clearly don’t want

ur hurt, heartbroken, your friend became something unrecognizable

u’ll ask for some distance, just to think abt if u want to continue the friendship and clark will realize that he can’t make you like him from just this

so you’re gonna go home, take a nap, and next thing you know you’re getting snatched from bed by freaking superman

he genuinely believes he’s done the right thing

he’ll bring u to the fortress first. he has everything set up already, so u wont freeze or starve to death

i wont bore with the details but he would NEVER lay a hand on u

that’s NOT my superman

its more like

“i need you to eat something.” clark begs you, his eyes filled with worry. he had crouched down next to where you sat. clark had given you free-reign around his fortress, but you chose to sit in the corner near the entrance.

“fuck you.” you turn away from him, anger dripping from your voice. you haven’t eaten since he brought you to his ice castle, but you can’t remember how long ago that was. you missed home, your friends, your family. you missed freedom. you hear clark sigh.

“you’re gonna get sick if you keep going like this, (y/n).” his hand touches your face and you slap his hand away. you know there was no way you could hurt superman, but he holds his hand looking hurt, and you feel a twinge of guilt. he holds out a bag from Big Belly Burgers and places it next to you.

you scooch back, your back hitting the wall, not willing to back down. “i’ll eat if you let me go.” you feel like a child throwing a tantrum, but you would do anything to go home.

you see him rub his forehead in frustration, “this isn’t working.” he mutters to himself. you don’t say anything, wanting to see what he would do. instead of trying to fight you again, clark picks up the bag. “i’ll come back when you’re ready.” he says.

“come back? what are you talking ab-” in one blast of air, clark was gone and you were alone.

days had gone by, you felt like you were going crazy from the solitude and the hunger. thankfully, clark had left mountains of water bottles for you, so you tried to fill up with those. it wasn’t enough, you had started to miss your kidnapper’s company after many conversations with yourself. all you could do was sleep or stare at the wall, blankly. after a week, you couldn’t take the isolation. “clark?” you call out, weakly. not a moment passes before he appeared before you.

his eyes were filled with pity and worry, “are you ready, sweetheart?” his hands cup your face and you lean into the warmth, nodding.

he could never hurt you. that entire week away was killing him, but the commenters were right. you just needed to know that he was all you needed.

[ki-yomii]

i'm thinking about you | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, sugadaddy!yoongi, sugarbaby!reader, mild daddy kink, teasing, against the window, confessions, begging, pet names, gentle dom!yoongi, feelings

➥ summary | “You got all dressed up and pretty for me? Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

➥ notes | 🫡 i too would like to sue min yoongi. i left this pretty ambiguous as to what it is yoongi does for a living so imagine whatever you like (canon, ceo, etc).

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Tucked away in a Seoul high rise, you stand before a wall of windows and watch the bustling nightlife down below; the hazy glimmer of neon lights entrancing as people move from bar to bar in dense groups.

So high up, nearly touching the clouds themselves, it feels like a completely different world. The ground below so small and insignificant as your thoughts drown in nostalgia and fancy French wine (from a brand you can’t even pronounce).

You tried the robust blend several months ago on an outing to one of the exclusive restaurants around town, and promptly fallen in love with its sweetness.

You figured it would be a once in a lifetime try - one you’d remember fondly years later - only to be surprised as Yoongi bought out the winery as a belated birthday present.

Now there’s always a bottle ready and waiting in his apartment for whenever you visit. In fact, Yoongi plans on taking you to visit the French countryside sometime soon, take you on a tour of the vineyards and let you sample the lush grapes straight from the vine for yourself…

All because you mentioned liking it in passing when he asked.

He certainly knows how to make you feel special - money no object when compared to your heart’s desire.

When you first started this relationship, you were only expecting it to last for a few months, just long enough to catch up on your debts.

Now it’s going on two years and you couldn’t be happier albeit slightly disappointed it hasn’t progressed to more. But you’ll take what you can get.

After all, Yoongi’s been so good to you - for you.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

You hum, taking another slow sip of your wine as broad palms slide over your hips. Fingertips brush the tops of your thighs, tease at the silk of your dress.

“I wasn’t hiding, you’re just bad at looking,” you say with a grin, “think you might need to get your eyes checked, Grandpa.”

Yoongi snorts, his breath puffing across the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?” He drags his nose along the curve of your shoulder, inhaling deep. “Fuck, you smell good. The Valentino?”

“Mhm,” you reply, hiding your smile behind the rim of your wine glass. “And it’s okay, isn’t it? Because I’m your brat.”

Before he can snark back, you offer up more of your neck and grind back into his hips, luxuriating in the low moan that vibrates through his chest, and the twitch of his cock against the soft fat of your ass. 

Hands clamp down on your waist, tugging you more firmly against his chest and Yoongi growls. You shiver from the sting of his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Careful, baby,” he warns, voice full of smoke and whiskey, “Don’t start something if you can’t keep up.”

“Don’t you like it though?”

You pout, rolling your head back onto his shoulder to gaze at the sharp lines of his profile. Your eyes greedily track the flutter of his lashes, the swipe of his tongue across his plush lips.

“I thought you would.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and husky where its smothered in the curve of your shoulder. “Such a smart girl. You’re right,” he peppers kisses up the side of your throat, “I do love it.”

You hum, eyes closing as the world spins softly.

Your head is pleasantly fuzzy, the expensive scent of his cologne pleasant and clouding your thoughts with every inhale. The stem of the wine glass rolls between your fingers, the glass long since empty.

“Hn, now that’s interesting. What’s this, baby?”

Broad palms inch the hem of your dress up until the fabric pulls taut around your hips, cool air teasing over the soaked lace between your thighs. The lingerie you chose for tonight is on full display, tiny and sheer; barely covering your mound. 

“You got all dressed up and pretty for me? Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, “all for you.”

Teeth nip at the corner of your jaw as Yoongi grabs the empty glass from you, and sets it on the table. You watch in the glass as the dark blur of his reflection shifts behind you, before a strong forearm hooks over your hip and a broad hand dips down between your thighs.

“Mhm, that’s right. You’re my gorgeous girl,” Yoongi says, his voice rumbling against your ear. “Aren’t you?”

Fingertips sneak beneath the lace, the back of his hand stretching out the waistband as he slips into your panties and brushes over the hood of your swollen clit.

You’re so wet, he glides over the top of your slit nice and smooth, the callouses providing rough friction to slippery, delicate flesh.

Pleasure hooks behind your navel, and your gut clenches hotly. You shudder, your shoulders curling in on yourself as you whine, “Y-Yoongi!”

He tsks, using the ball of his thumb to grind down on your clit harshly, “You know better than that. What do you call me when we’re like this, baby?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your hips trying to jerk away from the uncomfortable pressure.

“’m sorry,” you mumble, nibbling at your bottom lip, “’m sorry, Daddy.”

Yoongi rumbles in approval, his touch softening until he’s gently stroking back the hood and gliding down to rub along your folds. “Good girl.”

The praise shoots through you, makes you widen your stance and rock back against his growing erection. Your ass cradles his cock, and you feel him twitch as the soft cut of his suit drags over your bare skin.

“Shit, you’re so wet already.”

There’s no doubt you’re leaving a damp patch on the crotch of Yoongi’s expensive slacks, but between the talented flicks of his fingers and the rolling thrusts of his hips, you’re beyond the point of caring.

If anything, you know the evidence of how soaked he gets you riles him up even more. He loves when you’re wet and messy.

“So fucking perfect for me,” Yoongi husks, “Can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy gushing around my cock.”

You squirm, arch your back. “Please,” you say, “Want it so bad.” It’d be a lie if you said you haven’t been wet for hours, thinking of all the wicked things you’d do tonight. Yoongi’s been on a trip overseas, and video calls can only satisfy you so much. You’ve missed being with him in person, being pampered and loved so sweetly.

Not even several months ago, you were surviving on a diet of ramen, and string cheese. You lived in a shitty apartment with three other girls, and nearly all of your money went towards bills.

Living paycheck to paycheck, you were surviving - and barely at that. Everything you did revolved around how much it cost, if you could afford it, if you wanted food or fun.

More often than not… you couldn’t, so you went without.

Now finances are an abstract concept.

There’s new designer dresses for every day of the week, shopping trips to Myeong-dong, tiny entrees that cost more than a month’s rent, and a beautiful Seoul apartment you share with a man that utterly loves to dote on you.

Min Yoongi is, without a doubt, one of the most selfless, magnetic people you’ve ever met. And you adore him for all those reasons and a million more.

“Please.”

The pleasure all at once too much and not enough. Your pussy aches, swollen and tender. You’ve gotten so used to cumming on Yoongi’s cock that without it, it’s hopeless to try - left clinging to the edge by your fingernails.

“I need - I can’t -”

“Shh, it’s alright.” A chuckle, low and dark with satisfaction sounds close to your ear. “I never said you couldn’t cum, so go ahead.”

“No, I can’t! Need you, Daddy.”

“Mm, I didn’t hear you. Come on, tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

“H-hah, want your cock. Shit, please, please, please. Give it to me.”

At your response, Yoongi retreats.

The loss cuts through you, your pussy throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Slick soaks your shaking thighs, and your knees wobble. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’re making a mess on the hardwood. Normally, you can’t control yourselves once you get your hands on each other. Whether it’s because of the time you were apart or something else, this teasing is exquisite torture.

You don’t know how to handle it - have never had to before. Yoongi’s very giving, and while he’s made you work for it before, he’s never made you beg - not like this. ”No, no, no!” You protest, squirming in the arms caging you against the window, trying to wiggle him back to where you want him. “Please…”

“Are you saying my fingers aren’t enough for you?”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yoongi - Daddy - please,” you grab one of his hands and shove it between your thighs, “feel how wet you make me. I love your fingers but I wanna cum on your cock. It’s been so long...”

Groaning, the man presses a kiss to your temple, “Shit, I missed this. Missed the way your sloppy little pussy feels around my cock.” Before you can share the sentiment, his hands disappear and the sound of a zipper comes from behind. Anticipation swells, stoking the embers of your desire.

A palm plants itself between your shoulders. It presses down, and you go with the movement, cheek coming to rest against the chilly glass of the window as Yoongi bends you over.

He rubs a thumb along the length of your neck, peppering the exposed skin with kisses. You shiver, the points of contact prickling with awareness.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, “and I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you. Ready baby?”

You nod, not trusting your ability to speak, and then your panties are tucked to the side once more.

He’s suddenly right there and you lose your ability to breathe. He works the fat head of his cock into you inch by inch until he’s seated deep inside.

You both release held breathes with a moan.

Your hands slap the glass, fingers scrabbling for purchase, weak-kneed. You’re so full of him. The burn of the stretch adds to the pleasure coursing through you.

Yoongi’s no better.

Hands knead your ass as his body shakes with restraint. He does his best to give you time to reacquaint yourself with his size but even he can’t stop the tiny flexes of his hips.

A bitten off, wounded sounds escapes him when you unconsciously clench down, walls milking his shaft.

“Fuck baby, you can’t do that, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Daddy, please, I want it,” you whine, tentatively rocking back into the cradle of his body. “I can take it. Promise.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Baby…”

“Come on, Daddy, give it to me.”

Another clench has his restraint snapping. He kicks your feet apart. Hands like steel bands lock around your hips, strong fingers grabbing hold and jerking you back onto his cock.

He sinks deeper into you with the movement, every possible inch buried inside.

He groans, low and filthy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper.

“Just remember you asked for it, baby,” he grunts. “Now hold on cause I’m not stopping even if you cry.”

He sets a brutal pace, hips rutting forward without mercy. All you can do is hold on for the ride, trapped between the hardness of his body and the smooth glass that’s quickly becoming foggy and smeared with condensation.

The lights of the city glitter like stars in your eyes as Yoongi takes you apart piece by piece, the sloppy sound of him fucking you fast and hard, his deep moans and your breathy sighs echoing through the apartment.

“Hng, not gonna last long,” he says through a grunt, his head dropping between your shoulders with a pant. Even so, his hips never miss a beat. “Gonna cum.”

“M-Me too.”

Every throb has your toes curling. Your head goes fuzzy, the insides of your thighs wet with slick. You’re in a tailspin, headed right for the peak.

Yoongi groans, “Fuck, I love you.”

The confession has your eyes snapping open and cumming unexpectedly hard. You shatter, body tensing up, mind going blank.

The revelation of Yoongi’s words float at the edge of your consciousness. You’re vaguely aware of a blooming warmth, and cum dripping down the backs of your thighs when he pulls out. The world is hazy as you slump against the window like a doll whose strings have been cut, forehead resting against the cool surface.

Yoongi is plastered against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder. His breath fogs up the glass beside your face.

“You don’t have to say it back..” He presses a kiss to the jut of your cheekbone. “I don’t want you to say it unless you mean it.”

Your eyes crack open, and you meet his gaze in the reflection. A small smile curves up the corners of your lips, and you stroke the likeness of his cheek in the glass.

Your gaze is fond when you reply, “Love you too, Yoongi.”

[embersofnovember]

CLIPPED WINGS

summary: stryker's taken you hostage with the means to find a way to eliminate half the global population. logan doesn't like the idea too much.

warnings: injury, slight gore(?), referenced/implied trauma and torture, strykers lowkey an obessive weirdo for a bit, a little ooc oopsie, reader's pov (part two is logan's pov), not as epic as the summary sounds i fear

wc: 1882

you aren’t sure what scares you more: the aching in your side or the realisation that you’re still here. surrounded by four rust stained walls, you’d grown to sleeping on the stone cold floor and counting each crack in the ceiling, each drop of water, each beat of your heart. 

   how long have you been here again? 

   they named you x twenty seven, whenever you were first brought here. you weren’t sure why. they all stare at you with cruelty, like you’re some insect, a weapon they only care to use against your own kind. the front man, stryker—the only name you cared to remember as each guard said his name—speaks of his ideas. his fascination, his disgust, his intense desire to eliminate what he believes, the ‘worst half of the population.’

   his own son. 

   you see other subjects—mutants—just like you and scott and logan and you wonder. 

   you saw him once. jason. you stared at him like he was one half of you and you were one half of him: exhausted. a mutant in a large base with no concept of time and a monster at both of your feet.

   you were just the end of a beginning. a ‘cure.’ an ‘experiment.’ 

   naturally, stryker didn’t talk to many people about his ambitions. you were there to fill his void, someone to talk to and not give any response back. of course, you did at first, but the longer it went on, the less fight you had in you.

   “i remember wolverine all those years ago. even if he doesn’t remember me.” he sighed, observing you as a guard strapped you down to a table, fingers unforgiving, leather tight and a dull ache in the back of your head. 

   “i used to think he was one of a kind.”

   it isn’t that your ability is exactly dangerous. not uncontrollable like scott’s, or anything like that. you could tell what people felt. an on or off sense. in a way, it felt like a curse. you could feel what others felt, but people couldn’t do the same for you. you didn’t blame them; how could you when no one asked for any of this? feeling a presence mere miles away isn’t an ability you admire, or cherish, but it isn’t one you despise. 

   which is why you’d been sent out to scout around an area with scott. a snowy area that didn’t leave very good footprints. the cold was blistering, the tips of your own fingers tingling. one of you took a wrong turn, and the fog had grown so dense it was hard to see three feet in front of you. 

   now you’re here, and they’re trying to rid you of your ability. the start of a global killer. 

   they’ve already made so much progress. 

   you don’t know where scott is; stryker tells you he’s dead, but that can’t be true. cyclops, leader of the x-men, couldn’t be dead, but now as you sit here curled into a ball on your side wondering if everyone forgot about you, you’re starting to think otherwise. 

   yesterday, they beat you within an inch of your life. the day before that, they pricked and prodded you, the day before that they didn’t let you sleep. blood used to make you feel faint. not anymore.

   moral of the story, thinking about logan is the only thing keeping you sane. 

   the drops of water are endless, irregular. the beats of your heart fall slower and slower as each day goes. stryker’s voice is firm in a similar way to logan’s, but logan’s is deeper. it’s more gruff, more honeyed. you think of the times where you both would sit on the roof of the mansion silently, slowly learning to become more and more comfortable with everyone else. as they beat you, you think of the first time logan finally gained the confidence to sleep in your bed, or when you slept in his. as they make you bleed, you think of the time where he had a nightmare and his claws nicked your forearm, because it’s a lot better feeling pain from someone you love than someone you hate. 

   when the door slowly swings off its hinges, you stiffen. you didn’t want to be vulnerable at all. though, after a while, it was hard. you shrink in on yourself, have no choice but to live through the throb in your shoulder. 

   at least two of your ribs are broken. every breath is more of a wheeze. the position you're in, curled into a ball on your side with your back facing the long, metal door in the corner, you hug yourself a little more. it’s a protective shell you’ve learnt to build in case a guard comes in and kicks you with combat boots thick enough to crush your skull for the fun of it.   

   no, you think to yourself. not again. 

   the second a hand is on your aching shoulder, you’re scrambling, wincing in pain like a wounded animal as you shuffle back on a bruised hand and a dislocated shoulder. you attempted to put it back in, but with a sore wrist, you could only do so much. 

   “hey!” a voice says in a hushed whisper, like consoling a hysterical and understandably upset child. this time, the presence doesn’t seem so daunting. intimidating, but not cold. gruff, but not as sinister as stryker’s.

   “i made him like that, you know,” stryker grinned, flexing his wrist and pushing it into a fist as if to show who he was hinting at. 

   “made him what he already had been. an animal.” 

   you hear the voice and for a second you don’t think it’s real. how could it be? after… days, weeks, months. it doesn’t feel real, but when you shift the shaky arm obstructing your sight a little, and you see his dishevelled appearance, it’s almost too good to be true.

   the tufts of hair pointing outwards. the fuzz of his beard. the crease between his eyebrows that’s never gone away. 

   “lo?” you whisper out. 

   and at that, logan doesn’t really know what to do when he feels his heart sink further in his chest. 

   “‘s me, baby, it’s logan,” he nods, as if assuring both you and himself. 

   though you’re still unsure, this time you don’t let yourself pull away when he reaches out again, hands a lot more softer than before. sure, you flinched, and logan had grimaced at that, but the wonder in your eyes makes your vision swim a little, because he’s really here. 

   “it’s you,” you manage to say. throughout your time in the underground base, over time you spoke less and less. only when spoken to, which, even then, wasn’t often.  

   despite everything, it’s still you. 

   his beard looks a little more grown out than you remember. his teeth are the same shade of white. his skin is as rough as always, like his personality, similar to the way he retreats back into his far more reserved ways after a bad day, and he’s here. 

   “lemme look at you,” he murmurs in that drawl of his. a hand cups your jaw. a tender thumb grazes the apple of your cheek and you’re too busy gazing at him. it’s as if you’re trying to commit him to memory. eyes are darting all along his face, looking at every feature and trying to figure out which one you missed most.

   logan’s been able to stomach a lot of things, but he isn’t sure if he can stomach this. 

   even when they tried to take away your abilities, you can still feel. although it exhausts you every time, you still can, and you feel the shock settle in his regenerative blood vessels when he swallows. for the first time in a long time, terror. it’s subtle, but you pick up on it. 

   “fuck,” he whispers under his breath. you didn’t hear it. he looks up at you, eyes not lying or being able to conceal the sheer amount of both relief and dread that’s washing over him in a violent wave. he’s never liked water. “think you can walk f’me?” 

   a silence engulfs the two of you. the door is still open. maybe it isn’t a trap. you really are being saved. a wave of relief crashes over you so intensely you almost feel as though you could live without the burden again. despite the shrieking alarm outside in the halls (that you can’t really hear anyway) and the crimson flashing from the alert, you can’t believe it. unable to trust your wording, or your head, you nod.

   which you end up regretting, anyway. 

   logan hooks an arm around your waist, the other pulling your arm behind the back of his neck to support most of your weight (since when did you grow so light?), but not even when he holds you to his side, it doesn’t help. your legs are giving way, your knees numb and you can’t help the strangled noise in the back of your throat.

  it’s three poorly strung together words. it’s murmuring in the background as you lay on a table, unable to move partly in fear of what would happen if you did. it’s smelling the damp and using it as your only comfort for when it got a little too cold. he’s trying to be careful, but he’s desperate. 

   “i’m gonna carry you, okay?” he murmurs, but you don’t even take it in before he’s already curling an arm under the back of your knees and your back, lifting you into his arms like you were nothing more than a sack of flour.

   he feels warm. strangely like the sun, even if his personality reflected everything but that. you’ve always been tempted to fly a little too close to the sun.

   “i can walk—“

   “don’t.” his voice is demanding—the smallest waver hidden in the very back of his throat, near his tonsils. he’ll bleed for you. over and over. for a second, he wonders if you can hear the pounding in his chest, but he pushes the thought away like everything else in his life, and he walks.

   he walks for a while, it seems.

   past dead bodies, oddly splayed out in ways that similarly reminded you of yourself. flickering lights and crackles of sparks. electricity. shouting. gunfire. 

   “you came,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. it had been a battle trying to convince yourself everyone still remembered you after stryker was breathing it down your neck. 

   “‘course i did,” he murmurs, more focused on the fact that you’re alive and breathing rather than listening. he’s more focused on getting you out so he can look at you and love you like breathing. his eyes are clouded, darkened with unwarranted and directed anger. 

   he’s oblivious to who stryker even is, but you’re not, and faintly, before you pass out with agony in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks, you feel the taste of snow on your tongue.

   snow, one that reminds you of the last moments you were with scott before this all happened. purity, a nice cold chill that shakes your already trembling bones. 

   “don’t ever do that again.” 

   and whatever he means, you don’t plan to.  masterlist!!

[insomniac4000]

Harry Lewis was never one to frequent coffee shops, preferring a tea especially if it was made with Guernsey milk but on this particular Wednesday morning, the cosy little café around the corner from his flat in London had called to him. Maybe it was the smell of freshly ground coffee before a shoot, or perhaps the allure of a quiet moment away from the endless hustle and bustle that defined his life as part of the Sidemen. He wasn’t sure. But as he stepped into the café, shaking the last remnants of sleep from his mind, he certainly hadn’t expected to be thrust into a whirlwind of nostalgia.

The place was nearly empty, save for a couple of people scattered around. Harry ordered his usual a chai latte and stood off to the side waiting to collect. As he waited he pulled out his phone, intending to catch up on messages or maybe scroll through Instagram, but before he could even unlock the screen, a voice from the past broke through the low hum of background chatter.

“Harry?”

He looked up, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes fell on a face he hadn’t seen in years. There, standing just a few feet away, was Violet, the girl he’d dated well, sort of dated back when he was 17 and still living in Guernsey. Time had softened her features in a way that made her even more beautiful than he remembered, with her warm brown eyes and that same infectious smile that had once brightened his days.

“Violet?” he stammered, his surprise evident.

She laughed, and it was a sound that immediately transported him back to those carefree island days. “What are the chances?” she said, stepping closer.

“Small world, huh?” he managed to say, standing up awkwardly, unsure whether to go in for a hug or just keep his distance.

They settled for a brief hug, the kind you give an old friend you haven’t seen in far too long. When they pulled apart, Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“What brings you to London?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I moved here a couple of weeks ago for work,” she explained. “Needed a change of scenery. Guernsey started to feel too small after a while, you know?”

Harry nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. “Yeah, I get that. London’s a different beast though. How are you finding it?”

“It’s overwhelming, but in a good way,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “And it’s been a bit lonely, to be honest. I don’t really know anyone here.”

“Well, you know me,” Harry said, the words tumbling out before he could second guess them. “We should catch up properly sometime.”

Violet's smile widened. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers, promising to set up a time to hang out soon. As Harry picked up his drink and left the café, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just happened. He sipped his coffee, his thoughts lingering on the past, but now also considering the possibilities of what might lie ahead.

True to their word, Harry and Violet arranged to meet for dinner that weekend. Harry had picked out a small Italian restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the East London, a place that was cosy enough to talk but not too fancy to feel pretentious. As he waited for Emma to arrive, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in years. It was ridiculous, he told himself they were just old friends catching up. But a small part of him wondered if this dinner was something more.

When Violet walked in, all doubts were momentarily pushed aside. She looked effortlessly chic in a simple black dress, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Harry stood to greet her, feeling that same rush of familiarity and attraction he’d felt in the café.

They talked and laughed over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, reminiscing about their teenage years in Guernsey. They recounted old memories skipping stones on the beach, late night chats on the cliffs, the awkwardness of their teenage romance. But as the evening progressed, the conversation naturally shifted to the present.

“So, what’s it like being in the Sidemen?” Violet asked, swirling the last of her wine in her glass.

Harry chuckled. “It’s mad, to be honest. I never imagined things would blow up like this. We’re always busy, always filming or planning something. But it’s fun, you know? The guys are like family at this point.”

“That’s amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed. “I’ve watched some of your videos—my little brother’s a huge fan.”

Harry grinned remembering the then six year old. “I’ll send him a shoutout in the next one.”

Violet laughed, shaking her head. “He’d love that.”

They continued to talk late into the evening, long after their plates had been cleared and the restaurant had started to empty out. There was a comfort between them that made the hours slip by unnoticed, a feeling of rightness that neither of them had expected but both felt.

As they left the restaurant, stepping into the cool London night, Harry walked Violet to her flat. They stood outside the building for a moment, the conversation lulling to a comfortable silence.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Violet said, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“Me too,” Harry replied, and for a second, he thought about leaning in to kiss her. But something held him back a mix of uncertainty and the remnants of his own insistence that this was just a friendly reunion. So instead, he simply smiled back. “We should do this again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she echoed her words from before.

With a final smile, she turned and disappeared into her building, leaving Harry standing alone on the pavement. He walked back to his flat, his thoughts swirling. What had started as a casual dinner with an old friend had left him with more questions than answers. He liked Violet—more than he’d anticipated. But was he ready to explore that, especially with how complicated his life had become?

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Violet began hanging out more regularly. They went to museums, explored different neighbourhoods, and even attended a couple of small gigs together. It was easy and fun, and Harry found himself looking forward to their time together more than he wanted to admit.

Of course, the rest of the Sidemen began to notice.

One afternoon, Harry was at the studio ready to record a Sidecast, when Simon walked in, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Hey Bog”

Harry glanced up from his phone. “What’s up?”

Simon plopped down on the couch next to him. “How's your new girlfriend?”

Harry felt his face heat up slightly. “We’re just friends catching up.”

“Sure, mate,” Simon said, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt. “But you’re not fooling anyone. We’ve all seen how much you’ve been smiling recently. And the fact she's a woman and you're actually talking to her”

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like that. We’re just having fun, that’s all, and I already know her which helps with the awkwardness.

Simon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And how long do you think that’ll last before one of you catches feelings?”

“We dated ages ago, man,” Harry protested. “We’re past all that. We’re different people now.”

“Yeah, well, just be careful,” Simon said, more seriously this time. “You know how these things can get complicated. But if you like her, don’t be a muppet about it.”

Harry didn’t respond immediately, instead pretending to focus on his laptop screen. But Simon’s words echoed in his mind long after their conversation ended.

Weeks passed, and as summer turned into autumn, Harry found himself increasingly conflicted. Despite his insistence that his relationship with Violet was purely platonic, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart beat a little faster whenever she was around, or the way his thoughts drifted to her whenever they were apart. Still, he pushed those feelings aside, determined not to ruin what they had by overcomplicating things.

Then came the night that changed everything.

It was a Friday, and the Sidemen had decided to hit the town for a rare night out. They invited Violet to join them, and she agreed, much to Harry’s excitement and slight anxiety. The group met at a trendy bar in Soho, and as the drinks flowed, so did the laughter.

Violet fit in effortlessly with the group, charming everyone with her wit and easy going nature. Even JJ, who could be notoriously hard to impress, seemed taken with her. Harry watched as she bantered with his friends, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt content, like everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

As the night wore on, the group decided to move to a club nearby. The music was loud, the lights flashing in time with the bass that reverberated through the floor. The alcohol had loosened Harry’s usual reservations, and he found himself dancing with Violet, their bodies moving in sync with the rhythm.

At some point, they drifted away from the rest of the group, finding a quieter corner of the club. The mood shifted subtly what had been light and fun all night suddenly felt charged with an undercurrent of something deeper.

Violet looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the colourful lights of the club. “I’m glad we bumped into each other that day,” she said, her voice barely audible over the music, leaning into Harry's body more.

“Me too,” Harry replied, his voice low.

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading into the background. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Harry closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It wasn’t a planned or carefully considered move just a moment of clarity in the middle of a chaotic night. And as soon as their lips met, Harry knew it was the right thing. Violet responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as they deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it?”

Violet laughed softly, her forehead resting against his. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The next morning, Harry woke up with a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He and Violet had left the club together, talking and laughing all the way back to his flat.

Now, in the early light of day, the reality of what had happened began to sink in. But instead of the panic or confusion he might have expected, all Harry felt was a quiet certainty. He liked Violet a lot. And maybe it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

He turned to see Violet still asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content. Harry watched her for a moment, feeling a swell of affection that took him by surprise.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up, seeing a string of messages from the Sidemen group chat.

Simon: “So, Harry, you and Violet, huh? Called it. 😏”

JJ: “Don’t mess this up.”

Ethan: “About time, lad! Proud of you. 😂”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ teasing. But instead of feeling embarrassed or defensive, he found that he didn’t care what they thought. This was his life, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he was making the right choice.

He set his phone down and turned back to Violet, who was beginning to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and when she saw him, she smiled.

“Morning,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” Harry replied, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence. Eventually, Violet shifted, propping herself up on one elbow.

“So, what happens now?” she asked, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing that this was the moment to be honest, not just with Violet, but with himself. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I do know that I don’t want to pretend anymore. I like you, Violet. I’ve liked you for a while now, and I want to see where this goes if you do too. Ever since I saw you in that coffee shop I just keep thinking back to us. We never really gave it a serious go when we were kids and then I moved, I think I want to take this more seriously.”

Violet's smile widened, and she reached out to take his hand. “I’d like that.”

[aimedis]

SPECIAL - DAVID & DARLIN' | WIP WEDNESDAY !!

teenage david & darlin' siblings au (+alive gabe lololol) | yes, this is a work in progress. i started it over a year ago and have been stopping and restarting for so long 💀 it was meant to be a multi-chapter fic (of around 15 chapters) and i never got past 4 😭😭

cw - darlin' angst, mentions of toxic relationships (quinn & darlin'), sibling arguments, teenagers doing teenager shit (sneaking out & getting drunk), lots of cursing and name-calling, no sam or any of the mates because of the high school setting

wc - 1.8k

David never really considered himself a rebellious child, and compared to his sibling and packmates, he really wasn’t. Then again, it wasn’t as if he'd never done things he wasn’t supposed to. But those things were spread out enough for him to blame it on teenage impulse.

At least he was self-aware.

But sneaking out was one thing he could never justify to himself or wanted to do in the first place.

Yet here he was. Sneaking out.

Asher got invited to this party a friend of a friend was hosting and was told to bring whoever he felt like. David and Milo were obviously the very first and only people he thought to invite. They were the only people he knew would come with him or at the very least not snitch on him.

The situation he was now in came back to his inability to say no to Asher. Surely this counts as peer pressure.

They were at Asher's house that Friday night, under the guise of a routine sleepover. They stayed until his parents fell asleep before sneaking out the front door and into Asher’s father’s car.

The whole car ride was quite uneventful, Asher and Milo having a conversation about something while David sat in the back trying to ignore the anxiety pooling in his stomach.

It had been all of twelve minutes after they’d arrived before Milo slipped one of those cliché red solo cups into his hand. David didn’t hesitate to down the whole thing.

He heard Asher and Milo laugh at him and felt the slap on his back when he was done.

David leaned back onto the couch with a small groan, barely audible amidst the noise of the music playing throughout the house. He could already feel the tension bleeding out of his body as the alcohol heated his body.

When he turned his head, Asher and Milo were already laughing while downing their drinks with their arms intertwined.

It was gonna be a long night. 

────────

Of course, nothing in their life goes correctly.

Of course, the night after they broke up with Quinn would be an absolute shit show. They didn’t even care that he was showing up to this party, they just wanted him to stay on the other side of the house for the next five hours while they tried to forget about him.

But when does anything go their way?

They were just sitting on the couch on their phone waiting for a friend to come back when Quinn appeared in front of them, menacing aura and all. They had half a mind to ignore him but then he just had to start running his mouth.

They only really caught the comments on them being a traitor, a worthless dog and a disappointment to everyone who ever cared about them. The alcohol in their system was making their comprehension fuzzy.

They don’t remember what they said in response but by the look in Quinn’s cold undead eyes, it pissed him off. And that made them feel good. 

Quinn kept yelling and yelling and Tank found themselves yelling back once again. They didn’t know if anyone else was paying attention to both of them and frankly, they didn’t care, if people wanted to watch how much of a clown Quinn was when he felt threatened, they could.

Tank enjoyed the feeling of being the only one to make Quinn lash out like this. 

It was kind of special.

────────

David groans softly as he steps out of the house, the owner of which he didn’t even know, loud music pounding against its walls, not helping his budding headache. 

He pulls out his phone and forces himself to call his Dad’s contact before he can talk himself out of it.

He knew this was a bad idea

You would think being the oldest and most level-headed teenager in the pack would make him resistant to Asher’s stupid ideas. But alas, he’s just a teenage boy who was bored on a Friday night with a social butterfly as a best friend. 

Gabe picks up the phone, his voice groggy from sleep. “David?” 

“Uhm, Dad?” David winces at how nervous he sounds.

“Something wrong, buddy? Are you boys alright?” He asks, worry starting to make itself apparent in his tone and David feels guilt building inside of him.

Yeah, this was a really bad idea.

“I-” He closed his eyes and inhaled a sharp breath as his vision blurred, “I’m really sorry in advance but I need you to pick me, Ash and Milo up.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment before Gabe spoke up again, “Okay.. why?”

David had to take a few deep breaths to calm the panicked feeling in his stomach before he could continue. “One of Ash’s friends was hosting a party at their house and the three of us snuck out of Ash’s house to go. Ash and Milo are both wasted and I’m not sober either so I called you. I’m really really sorry..” 

The sigh of disappointment from his father made him wince.

“Send me the address, I’m on my way.”

David swallowed hard and nodded before realizing Gabe couldn’t see him. “Okay. Thank you.” He whispered back.

“Thank you for calling me, David.”

David didn’t say anything before Gabe hung up. He sent the house address quickly before he stepped back inside the house. Asher and Milo were in the same position they were in before he left, draped across each other on the couch giggling about absolutely nothing.

David collapses next to the both of them, “My Dad’s on his way.”

There was no reason for that to be funny, quite the opposite actually, but for some reason, Asher and Milo started laughing hysterically. David rolls his eyes, immediately regretting it because of how much worse it makes his headache, and buries his flushed face in his palms.

“It’s not even funny, I’m so dead,” Asher snickers into Milo’s side.

Milo replies with a cackle and David groans quietly.

This night could not get any worse.

────────

David had all but dragged Asher and Milo outside when his father had gotten there, stumbling a bit himself but he got the three of them to the car where his father was standing. 

Asher and Milo’s obnoxious laughter stopped as soon as they saw their Alpha standing tall and pissed outside the house. David could’ve rolled his eyes at the way both of them hung their heads and mumbled a “sorry, Gabe”, climbing into the car with their figurative tails between their legs if he wasn’t scared shitless himself. 

He avoids his father’s eye contact as he walks around to the passenger side after closing the door. 

David expected his dad to enter the car after them and start the car and the lecture, but he looked up long enough to see him still standing against the car and watching the house. David was about to open his mouth and ask what he was doing when he saw Tank leaving the house as well and walking towards the car. 

“Sovereigns above…” Gabe sighs heavily, leaning against the car in exasperation, “Are you kidding me?” 

Tank huffs and opens the car door without looking at Gabe, “Yes, yes I know. You’re such a bad kid, you could’ve died and I wouldn’t know blah blah blah. I was gonna call you, promise.” 

Gabe seems to roll his eyes as they get into the car, “Anyone else in there I should know about?” 

No one in the car says anything so Gabe takes it as his turn to get in the car. 

David turns in his seat to look at Tank putting their seatbelt on, “What are you doing here?”

They look over at him, raising an eyebrow, “I could ask you the same thing, Davey.” They spit the nickname out like a curse. 

“Don’t call me that.” David’s look turns sour, “But I asked you first.” 

“Parties aren’t exactly your scene, I think my question is more important.” 

“You don’t have friends, who invited you?” 

“Fuck you, I have more friends than you do Mr. Grinch-looking ass.” 

“Are their names Jack and Shit?” 

“Do you want to get beat the fuck up?” 

“You can try.” 

“You ugly toad-“ 

“Wet dog-“ 

“Both of you.” Gabe cuts in sternly, “Cut it out. You’re both in trouble and you’ll both have to explain what on earth you were doing at that party without telling anyone.” 

“I think that means you and me are out of the water-“ Asher whispers to Milo.

“Both of you too. I’ve called both of your parents already.” 

“Shit...” Asher laughs anyway. Milo sinks lower into his seat as if he was trying to hide from the world, as if the gravity of the situation had just caught up to him. 

David huffs and leans back into the seat, looking out the window with a new resolve. 

He’s never hearing Ash out again. 

────────

Gabe opens the front door and lets both teenagers into the house before himself, closing it after he enters. 

David and Tank were both still bickering with each other in the entryway as they took their shoes off. 

Asher was dropped off first, thanking and apologizing to Gabe a final time before he slipped out of the car and strolled up to his door. David saw him say something along the lines of “I’m so sorry Mommy” to the doorbell camera by the door and actually rolled his eyes that time. 

Milo’s mom was already at the door by the time Gabe had dropped him off, Tank had snorted at all the colour draining from Milo’s face as he left the car, stuttering through a “thank you, Gabe”. 

The remaining three could hear Marie yelling at him through the car even without their heightened senses.  

Gabe was silent the whole car ride home and so were his two teenagers. Up until they got home. 

“You still haven’t told me what you were doing at the house,” David breaks the silence between him and Tank. 

Tank folds their arms and leans against the wall, “And you still haven’t told me what you were doing there.” 

He rolls his eyes, “I still asked first.” 

“I still think my question is more important.” 

“My question is automatically more important than yours.” 

Tank narrows their eyes, “And why, exactly?” 

“I’m older than you,”

Tank scoffs, “Meaning what?” 

“Meaning that you answer my questions first.” 

“All because you popped out of the womb a year before I did?" 

“Exactly.” 

“Well none of that’s gonna matter when I put you six feet under since you wanna be first so bad, dipshit-" 

Gabe sighs heavily, “Both of you, stop provoking each other. Phones on the counter now.” 

Both of them glare at the other before moving to set their phones on the kitchen counter with little hesitation. 

“Thank you.” Gabe nods and moves to sit at the kitchen island in front of both teenagers, “Now…”

────────

that's all for now! there's actually a lot more of this fic/idea written, this is just the most coherent lol, let me know if you guy want more of it

if there's errors in it then that's not my problem 😁 (this will probably be a wip for literally ever lmao)

[scrubbinn]

_____ HRT: 15 months: “Human”

“Hey Mayday. How's my girlfriend doing today?... I hope you can hear me in there. I'm recording another tape for you in case you forget everything again. I just got back from the doctor, they ran some tests, still couldn't figure out what's up with my knee. I think maybe I'm just cursed, with this broken human body. I guess you don't have to deal with that now huh? Lucky.”

“It just sucks, you know? Not a single medical doctor in Canada can tell me what's wrong and then when suddenly, magic exists, it gets regulated so you can't use it for medicine! Ugh. Rules are dumb, why do we even have them. Also sucks that I have to walk here every time I miss you. Which is a lot. Why does everything have to be so shit?”

“Speaking of shit, you should have heard me go off on that doc when you first started… cocooning? I’m blanking on the word. But I just went off on that man, It felt so good just to throw everything back in that pompous jerk's face! He had it coming, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to go off on a medical professional. He does have his uses, I suppose. You weirdly seem to like him, and at least he can put in enough effort to care about your physical health. But you should have seen how he reacted to you, he makes me so, so, so, AAAAARG! Sorry, you don't like yelling right?”

“You know, when I heard about you passing out nearly half a year ago, I thought, this is it, I'm going to lose her forever. I guess I did, when she decided to forget me. That's not fair, I just, I can't help still being mad about it. After everything we went through, and everything you went through with our friends and family. This really meant more than all of those memories put together? God you're such a dummy. I wish I could understand you.”

“Getting to meet you all over again, I didn't hate it like I thought I would. No matter the memories, it really was still you. Just, a little different. Sorry I kept pushing you to remember something… Maybe it was wrong of me. But every time I saw your face, your eyes looked back like they were trying to remember anything. It made me kind of happy, like I was important enough that some small part of you didn’t want to let go of me. I thought we were making progress. But if we have to do it again when you come out. I might actually start to hate it.”

“...Hey, you are happy right? This is what you wanted, yeah? You know I'm ok with you not being human. When you told me you were thinking about this, I supported it. Though, I'm still having trouble getting used to it. I don't really know how to feel now that you're like this. I just, I want what makes you happy, and I know you want the same for me. It's just been difficult right now. To keep smiling. I… I went to that sushi place we were going to go to. They had really good unagi. I ate so much I could barely afford the bill, haha. I know if I go there again without you, it's just going to taste like nothing. If you're not there with me, what's the point? This moment. The world has color again, I can taste things again when I'm in this room, and it hurts so much because you're not here. I'm sorry I… I'm trying not to cry in front of you hun. I'm sorry.”

* * *

“You don't mind if I stay here tonight do you hun? I don't really feel like walking back home right now. When I’m with you I- um, hello?”

“Oh didn’t realize anyone else was here? You’re Abigail right?”

“And your May’s mom right?” Are you here to see her?”

“Yes, I haven’t actually checked in since I heard the news. Is that. Her?”

“Pretty sure yeah. Unless there’s another girlfriend shaped cocoon that I missed. D- Do you need a tissue?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you… Pardon, but would you be able to answer a question? I don’t really understand this whole therian thing. I’m still a little shocked when Mich- Mayday said she was doing this sort of thing in the first place. I’m fine with it, I support her. But, did she need to do this?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well I mean, did she need to change? Isn’t it just safer to hide? She’s doing such a brave thing but there are so many people that might hurt her. It's my job to worry about her, and I know this city is better and all with this sort of thing, but what if she gets attacked when she visits, what am I supposed to tell my sister if she asks what Mayday is up to. My family doesn't even know her name is Mayday now.”

“...Oh. Oh, this is weird seeing it from an outsider perspective.”

“I'm sorry? What do you mean?”

“It's that you don't get it, I mean I forgot it until now, but you don't understand. It would have been more dangerous if she didn't do this. She's in pain, her gender, Her body, her species. They don't match her brain. It's not like it's a choice either. She's hurting. Her staying human, she might have made worse choices. Ugh, I'm sorry hun. I should have realized how much this means to you, I'll be here, for real this time. I'll be here for y…

Oh my god, it's tearing. G-g-go! Get a doctor!”

“What? Oh! Uh, right!”

“Hun! Can you hear me? It's me! Follow my voice!”

“A…b…i…

Mimic HRT: 15 months: “no longer”

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