#I just had to get this off of my chest ok

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Moonlit Moments 🌙✨

an: ok so ik I literally said I need ppl to send reqs bc I’m brain dead and can’t think of anything but I thought of smth. ALSO this is my second ever fic plssss be kind I promise I’ll get better ;)

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✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙○♡๑•୨୧-┈┈┈-୨୧•๑♡○•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

The bathroom was a haven of soft light, scented with lavender and vanilla. Steam curled around the edges of the clawfoot tub, a swirling cloud promising relaxation. You hummed softly, testing the water temperature before adding another generous dollop of bubble bath. The scent intensified, creating a sugary, cozy aroma.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind, a chin resting on your shoulder. "Smells good," a familiar voice mumbled, still thick with sleepiness.

"All for you, love," you grinned, turning in her embrace. She was wearing the silky pajamas you'd picked out – a celestial print of deep blues and shimmering silver moons. You were wearing the matching set, of course. "Ready to unwind?"

She nodded, her eyes already half-closed. "Been waiting all day."

Carefully, you peeled off her pajamas, hanging them on the nearby hook. Stepping into the now-overflowing tub together was a symphony of giggles. You settled behind her, your legs tangled together.

"Mmm," she sighed, leaning back against your chest. "This is nice."

"Thought you deserved it," you said, threading your fingers through her dark hair. You'd both had a busy week, and this was a chance to reconnect and simply be.

"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes closed.

You reached for the collection of sheet masks you'd laid out on the vanity. "Which one first? Hydrating or brightening?"

"Surprise me," she mumbled, her voice muffled.

You chose the hydrating mask, carefully smoothing it over her face. "Feels cold," she giggled, wiggling slightly.

"Just for a second," you said softly. "Now hold still, sleepyhead."

After applying your own mask, you grabbed the small speaker from the counter. "What kind of music are you feeling?" you asked.

"Whatever you pick," she replied, her voice lazy.

You chose a mellow playlist of acoustic covers, the soft melodies filling the space. Time seemed to slow down as you both soaked in the warm water, enveloped in bubbles and fragrant steam.

"Hey," she said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Yeah?"

"What's your favorite thing about… I don't know… us?"

You thought for a moment, tracing patterns on her arm with your fingertips. "Probably the quiet moments like this," you said honestly. "Just being together, content and comfortable. No pressure, just… peace."

She turned her head slightly to look at you. "Me too," she said softly, nuzzling her face into your shoulder. "It's nice just to be normal, you know?"

You understood completely. The world saw her as a superstar, an icon. But with you, she could simply be herself.

Later, after rinsing the masks and patting your faces dry, you applied a rich moisturizer. Climbing into bed, the sheets cool against your skin, you pulled her close. She tucked her face into the crook of your neck, her breathing already evening out.

"Goodnight," you whispered.

"Night," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Love you."

"Love you more," you replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As the moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the soft features of the woman you loved, you knew this was a memory you would hold onto tightly. A simple, perfect night of love, laughter, and a little bit of self-care.

hope you enjoyed

— 💙

[wendichester]

Darling! How are you? How is your week?

🍄 here

You said I could send more asks… so I’m going to reaaaally use that! Hope that’s ok :)

Hear me out… Dean an HER are undercover in a bar/roadhouse whatever to gather intel… SHE has to sing on stage because of reasons (you’re the genius writer you’ll figure it out 😘) and she sings “rhinestone ring” from Abby Cone cause she’s cheesy and her and Dean are idiots in love who have to talk about their feelings eventually?

Can be fluffy can be steamy… you decide

Luv ya 🍄

⋆˚˖° rhinestone ring,

summary. serenading dean in the middle of a case because the tension between you two is becoming unbearable

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 957

notes. first time hearing this song but it clicks so well with dean imo ehe thanks for the request lovely 🩷🍄

This is not what Dean signed up for.

He leans against the bar, whiskey in hand, watching as you step onto the stage, bathed in warm, golden light. The roadhouse is packed tonight—truckers, bikers, hunters, all of them turning to watch as you adjust the mic stand.

He should be watching the room. Keeping an eye out for their mark.

Instead, he’s watching you.

Your eyes flick to his before the music starts, and even from across the bar, Dean can see the teasing glint in them. You’re loving this.

He grits his teeth, rolling his shoulders. This is all part of the plan—cozy up to the locals, get the information they need, maybe shake a few hands and flash a few flirtatious smiles. The singing part? Not in the original game plan.

But you took one look at the stage, grinned like you had a secret, and next thing he knew, some gruff-looking guy was handing you a guitar and calling your name into the mic.

Now, Dean watches, breath held, as you bring the mic closer and let your voice pour into the room.

"Some girls want a big old diamond on a hand they hold too tight, Some girls wanna be in a fairytale, that’s just not my style..."

Your voice is smooth, soft but full of warmth, curling around every word like honey. Dean swallows hard, his fingers tightening around his glass.

He should have known you’d pick something like this.

You smirk as you get to the next part, eyes locking on him.

"I just want a rhinestone ring, Buy it with a neon glow, From a pawn shop down on Broadway, We’ll keep it on the low..."

Dean can feel the heat creeping up his neck. The crowd is eating it up, nodding along, tapping their fingers against their beers. They don’t know that this is for him, that you’re looking right at him like the words mean something.

He hates that his chest aches at the thought.

Because this is just a job. Just a cover. Just another night spent pretending.

Right?

You keep singing, strumming along to the melody, your voice turning sweeter, softer.

"I don’t need forever, just tonight with you..."

Dean exhales sharply. You have got to be kidding him.

He pushes off the bar, needing to put some space between himself and whatever the hell this is stirring up inside him. He moves to the edge of the crowd, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

You finish the song with a little flourish, sending a wink in his direction before handing off the guitar and hopping off the stage.

The bar erupts into applause.

Dean doesn’t move.

You weave through the crowd, stepping right up to him, eyes shining with amusement. "Well?"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "That was real cute."

"Admit it, Winchester." You nudge him with your hip. "You liked it."

Dean huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re a damn menace, you know that?"

You grin. "And yet, you love me."

The words slip out so easily, so casually, that you don’t even seem to realize what you just said.

But Dean does.

His heart stutters, his smirk faltering for half a second before he covers it up with another sip of whiskey.

You tilt your head, watching him. "What?"

Dean sets his glass down on the table behind him, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Nothing."

But you don’t let it go.

Your fingers brush against his wrist, just for a second. A fleeting touch. A spark.

"Dean," you say, softer now.

He clenches his jaw, eyes flicking over the room—looking for an excuse, a distraction, anything.

But there’s nothing. Just you. Just this.

"You ever think about it?" you ask, voice quiet, hesitant.

Dean exhales sharply. "Think about what?"

Your lips quirk up. "A pawn shop ring. A neon glow."

His chest tightens. He should lie. He should. But when he looks at you, standing there with that damn knowing look in your eyes, he can’t.

"Yeah," he admits, voice rough. "Maybe."

You stare at him like you’re waiting for something else, something more.

And hell—maybe you deserve more.

But all Dean can do is shake his head with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "We should get back to work."

You study him for a beat longer before nodding. "Yeah. We should."

Neither of you move.

Dean swears under his breath before grabbing your hand and tugging you into the shadows of the hallway leading to the back of the bar.

You barely have time to gasp before his mouth is on yours, hungry and desperate, kissing you like he’s been dying for it.

And maybe he has.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, like you knew this was coming. Like you knew all along.

Dean presses you against the wall, hands gripping your hips, feeling the way you fit against him like you were always meant to be here.

"Thought you didn’t do fairytales," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile, breathless. "I don’t."

His lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck. "Then what the hell was that song about?"

You laugh softly, tilting your head back to give him more access. "Not every love story needs a fairytale ending."

Dean pulls back just enough to look at you. "And ours?"

You search his face, your fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw. "Ours is whatever we want it to be." You shrug slightly. "As long as you're next to me, I don't really care,"

His breath catches.

And maybe a pawn shop ring and a neon glow don’t sound so bad after all.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ���— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32

[homuraakemis]

Ok, I need to get this off my chest, because it really annoys me when people blame Vi for having sex with Caitlyn because they think she should have known that Jinx was suicidal and gone after her. And it also annoys me when people say that she is "stupid" if she didn't realize that Jinx was suicidal. Because no. She is not stupid for not realizing it.

People severely overestimate the amount of time that Vi spent with Jinx after she got out of prison. She reunited with her sister in that tower and spent less than five minutes talking to her before the Firelights attacked. Then, she meets Jinx on the bridge and they don't talk, Jinx only shoots at her. Then Jinx kidnaps Vi, and when Vi wakes up, they spend around 10 minutes talking before Jinx kills Silco and blows up the council, and Jinx is gone again. The next time Vi sees Jinx, it's in Janna's temple and they only exchange a few words before they start fighting. Before Act 2 of Season 2, Vi didn't even have half an hour to talk to her sister and get to know her again. She didn't get the chance to know her sister beyond the simple fact that her sister has changed into a terrorist that needs to be stopped, but she couldn't possibly know all the details of Jinx's mental issues from such a short time she actually had to spend with her sister. The longest time Vi actually got to spend with Jinx after being released from jail was when they went to get Vander and spent a few days in Viktor's commune. And during that period, Jinx was in a much happier and healthier mindset, so it would not have been obvious to Vi that she had been suicidal.

I've seen people give some arguments that Vi should have known because of a few reasons, but I really disagree with all of them. The reasons I see people give as for why they think Vi should have known are: 1) Jinx blowing up herself and Ekko; 2) Jinx telling Vi in the tea party "you're the reason I'm still alive"; 3) Jinx telling Vi to kill her by saying "Go on. I'm ready. I'm glad it's you. Had to be you"; 4) Jinx's grief after Isha's death; 5) Jinx saying that she will break the cycle. And I don't agree any of these are enough for Vi to know for sure Jinx is suicidal:

1) Jinx blowing up herself and Ekko - Vi didn't see what happened in that bridge. She was carrying Caitlyn and only turned around to look back after she heard the explosion. She didn't see that Jinx deliberately tried to kill both herself and Ekko; she only saw an explosion, but that explosion could have happened for any number of reasons during the fight. Jinx could have tried to kill Ekko and got caught up in the explosion by accident. Basically, Vi didn't know what happened.

2) Jinx telling Vi in the tea party "you're the reason I'm still alive" - this line doesn't have to be interpreted as someone being suicidal. Vi says pretty much the same thing to Jinx ("I spent so many nights in that shitty prison [...]. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you"), but that doesn't mean Vi was suicidal, only that Powder was the reason she kept going, kept hope. Vi probably interpreted what Jinx said the same way: she was the reason Jinx kept going, but that doesn't automatically mean Jinx was suicidal.

3) Jinx telling Vi to kill her by saying "Go on. I'm ready. I'm glad it's you. Had to be you" - Again, Jinx being suicidal isn't the only possible interpretation that Vi could have of this line. Jinx says this after Vi has her defeated and pinned down, so she could very well just be saying this as a way to accept death with dignity, not because she is suicidal.

4) Jinx's grief after Isha's death - a person can grieve and be sad without being suicidal. You don't jump to the conclusion that someone is suicidal just because they're sad.

5) Jinx saying that she will break the cycle - how exactly is Vi supposed to know what is this cycle that Jinx is talking about? Sure, we as the audience saw her conversation with her Silco hallucination, but Vi didn't. And even if Vi knew that Jinx was talking about the cycle of killing, breaking the cycle doesn't mean "killing yourself", it could simply mean walking away and leaving. Hell, when I watched the scene, I actually didn't think Jinx was going to try suicide, considering that right before that she had said to ghost!Silco that "killing isn't mercy", so I actually thought that she wouldn't think that killing herself would break any cycle. So if it wasn't completely clear that Jinx was going to kill herself even to me, who was privy to the whole conversation in Jinx's head, then I hardly blame Vi for not knowing.

I know some people might still argue that Vi should have remembered what Jinx said in (2) and (3) and pieced things together, as well as Jinx saying the line "doesn't matter what I do, I just can't seem to die" (this one does seem more concerning). However, not only they are not conclusive evidence that Jinx is suicidal, Vi probably doesn't even remember that Jinx said those things. Both were extremely stressful situations for Vi. During the tea party, she was focused on trying to apologize and get through to her sister, then she was panicked that Jinx might kill Caitlyn or that Caitlyn might kill Jinx. With all the stress Vi was under, I very much doubt that months later, Vi remembers the specific line Jinx said that might maybe suggest that she was suicidal. The same goes for what Jinx said in Janna's temple. Again, it was a highly stressful situation for Vi, and again it's highly likely she doesn't remember every detail of what her sister said after so many months.

So to sum things up: Vi had around half an hour of actually speaking with her sister between the time she gets out of prison and the time they fight in Janna's temple. She didn't have time to actually get to know her sister and her mental problems beyond the surface level, and yes, while it can be argued that Jinx said some concerning things that might indicate that she was suicidal, many of them can be interpreted in different ways, and Vi might not even remember exactly what her sister said after months have passed. The next time Vi does manage to spend more than 30 minutes with her sister while looking for Vander and in Viktor's commune, Jinx is in a much happier and healthier mindset, so again, it would be difficult for Vi to see that she was suicidal before. So no, Vi is not "stupid" or "bad at understanding mental health" for not knowing that Jinx was suicidal, she simply never got the opportunity to actually get to know her sister again.

And as we see in the sex scene, it's clear Vi didn't know. She tells Caitlyn "I was an idiot to trust her", which suggests that she believes Jinx simply betrayed her, that she was wrong to believe that Jinx had changed for the better, and Jinx is yet again probably going to do something violent. She clearly didn't realize her sister was suicidal.

And I wish people had a little more empathy for Vi in this scene. Think about this from Vi's perspective: she spends 7 years of her life in prison, being beaten up, with the only hope of reuniting with her sister. Then, when she gets out of prison, that very sister that was her hope is working for and killing people for the man that killed her family and is ruining Zaun; and then her sister also tries to kill her, kidnaps her, emotionally tortures her with the idea that she might have decapitated her girlfriend, and then asks her to kill her girlfriend. Jinx hurt Vi a lot. Vi has many feelings of betrayal and resentment towards Jinx that many people in the fandom don't really recognize. But because Vi is Vi, she is very loving and forgiving towards the people she loves, and as soon as she sees Jinx showing empathy towards Isha, she is eager to believe that Jinx has changed and wants to forgive her sister. Only for her sister to punch her, lock her in a cell and disappear when Vi tries to help. Think about how betrayed Vi must have felt here. Jinx hurt her so much, and when she gives Jinx yet another chance, Jinx betrays her again.

Yes, Vi is wrong here: Jinx didn't really betray her, Jinx did change for the better and is actually thinking about Vi's happiness when she locks Vi in that cell. But from Vi's perspective, this is yet another time where she tries to reach out to Jinx and gets burned in return. So of course Vi is feeling hurt and betrayed. Of course Vi is not immediately thinking about whether Jinx is suicidal or not, because right now, Vi is actually focusing more on her own feelings of hurt. And I wish the fandom would have some empathy towards Vi and allow her to have her own feelings, allow her to feel hurt because of Jinx's actions, instead of demanding that Vi should be paying attention to Jinx's feelings instead.

When Caitlyn arrived and told Vi that she allowed her to free Jinx, that Vi didn't lose her, that Caitlyn didn't blame Vi for what she did, think about the emotional relief and happiness Vi must have felt. In Vi's mind, she felt hurt and betrayed thinking that she lost not only her sister, but that she would lose Caitlyn as well for having chosen to help Jinx. So learning that she still has Caitlyn's love and support? No wonder she was so overwhelmed with joy. No wonder she needed to seize that moment of happiness for herself and let herself enjoy it. Because just like Vi had said before, that she was done blaming herself for her sister's mistakes, she is now also done chasing after her sister if her sister refuses her help. So she chooses to stay with the person who, despite also having hurt Vi in the past (though not to the extent Jinx has), is choosing to stay with Vi and support her. After everything Vi suffered, and after all that she has sacrificed for others, especially for her sister, she deserves to have a moment to focus on her own happiness without having people in this fandom pointing fingers at her for not martyrizing herself and going after her sister yet again.

[sewersaga]

HOPEDRUNK EVERASKING: moze, jing yuan, aventurine x reader

header art creds: nixeu on patreon! pls go support them bc this is almost exactly how i picture reader lol

pairings: foxian reader x unnamed individual (for the plot,) foxian reader x moze, foxian reader x jing yuan, foxian reader x aventurine(end game), (all separately but in the same timeline she's an old slutty fox ok)

warnings: implied sa/coerced sex, trauma tm, sexual cotent (the closest i'll EVER get to smut, too much yapping, none of the pairings except the last one are healthy so if you're a moze or jy stan idk what to tell you, no names are used on purpose but it's pretty obvious who's who, the first man is not a canon character!! read this for more context on the last few paragraphs

word count: 11.5k

When you were a little girl, you dreamed of a fairy tale romance.

You’d hide your face behind your books, pretending to study the various medicines and their uses so not as to fail your tutor’s harsh examinations, but your mind was worlds away. Back then, nothing was off limits, nothing too selfish, too rash, too inconceivable. 

Yes, a noble youth would indeed one day sweep you off your feet, and take you far, far away from this life filled with pressures and scorn. It was a naive little dream, but it was all yours nonetheless. 

At night, awake amongst your schoolwork and your notes, you’d imagine what such a man would be like. He had to be handsome, of course. Charming. Being rich would be a nice bonus, too.

He had to be able to make you laugh when the expectations of your family made you want to curl up in a ball and cry. And when you inevitably shattered, he’d have to be willing to piece you back together again. 

When you were a young adult, freshly graduated and bright eyed, you learned that real life romance didn’t work that way. You couldn’t just conjure up an image of your ideal suitor and expect him to materialize before you like magic. Still, your heart had an irksome little tendency to attach itself to the wrong people. 

The first one came to you, bruised and bloodied. 

Battle had wrought upon him its fair share of injuries, crimson red in various states of drying smeared upon his tanned skin. Despite his condition, the only wound you were tasked to stitch was a small gash on his chest, a few centimeters below his collarbone. 

Despite not being new anymore,  the contusions your brother assigned you to treat were nothing more than busy work for someone of your knowledge. You got the feeling he wanted to keep you as far away from the horrors of war as possible, but one didn’t need to see dying men to hear their mournful cries. 

The man winced as you stitched his laceration closed, casting his gaze somewhere behind you, fixed upon the dead and the dying that surrounded him. “Did you need more painkillers?” 

He blinked, turning back to you as if remembering your presence. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh,” You spoke softly, your hands never halting their ministrations. The wound was small enough that you were already almost done, and considering his overall condition, the pinching pain of the needle was probably the least of his worries. “You flinched, so I thought I was hurting you.”

“It’s not you,” You felt his gaze upon you, and hyper focused on your work, you refused to look into his eyes, afraid of what you might find there. “Have you ever seen a patient die?”

You stopped abruptly, his sudden inquiry leaving you sufficiently rattled. “What?” You looked up, but his attention was elsewhere, focused upon the other wounded patients in various states of agony. Realizing he wasn’t going to elaborate and meant exactly what he had asked, you sighed. “Not one of my patients, no. But in this line of work, people are always going to die.”

He laughed, and you bristled, tying off a surgeon’s knot with more force than intended. “Aren’t you too young to be speaking like that?” He craned his head to look down at you, his tail swaying slowly behind him with mild amusement. “How old are you, anyways?”

“Not much younger than you,” You replied, beginning the final stitch. “Haven’t you ever learned it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” He chuckled again, and you poked the skin of his chest. “Stay still, or I’ll never finish.”

“What if that’s what I want?” He asked, rather brazenly, and you shook your head almost subconsciously. 

“I don’t care what you want,” You tied off the final knot. “And unless you want to end up like those dead patients you care so much about, make sure to keep this clean.” You put your instruments to the side and he leaned back, letting out a sigh of relief. You realized then that despite what he had said, the process had been rather painful, if not uncomfortable at the very least. “And try to stay alive, alright?”

“Sure, sure. I look forward to seeing you again.” He stood up, stretching with a light groan despite the mangled state his body was in. You watched him limp away with mild horror as he threw you an absentminded wave. 

“You won’t.” You stated resolutely, but he was already too far down to hear you. 

He was right, of course. You saw him again on many, many different occasions. Sometimes he’d have a minor wound that just absolutely required your attention. Other times he requested a consultation with his favorite medical professional over whatever splendid meal your brother and the other cooks had prepared for dinner. The night he stole you away from the camp, you realized you’d fallen for him.

You watched him under the waning moonlight, sharing a bottle of rice liquor he’d somehow taken from the field hospital. He’d worked his way into your heart rather easily. But it wasn’t a bad thing then, your vulnerability, your propensity to fall wholly and completely.

“You’re such a liar, [Name].” Despite addressing you directly, he didn’t meet your gaze, his own fixed upon the stars. 

“What do you mean?” He took a swig of liquor. There were so many stars that night. 

“You act like you don’t give a shit,” You scoffed abruptly, snatching the bottle from his loose hold. The liquid burned your throat. You weren’t yet used to drinking, and your mind felt clouded with a heady sort of fogginess. “But you care about every single one of those patients more than anyone else.” 

“I don’t.” You shake your head, blinking away your disorientation. You stared ahead, and your head felt so heavy that your body began to lean upon him almost subconsciously. “I don’t care.”

“You’re a liar,”  He repeated, much softer. His hand cautiously wound its way upon your back to adjust you to an upright position, but found itself more comfortable around your waist. You didn’t move, nor did you complain. “It’s not a weakness, you know. Caring about people.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You spoke bitterly, but hardly above a whisper. He was so close then that you could hear every breath, feel the rising and falling of his chest. He lifted the bottle to his lips with a shaking hand. “If I care about them, and they all die, then what does that leave me with?”

“Your heart,” He was so close then. Your head felt so heavy. The stars were blurry and bright. “Your empathy. Lose that, and then there would really be nothing left of you.” 

“You have the wrong idea of me.” You were hardly aware of the way you were nuzzling yourself further into his side, conscious only of the warmth of his body, and barely of the words he spoke almost directly into your ear. 

“You can say that, but you know that I’m right,” The hand around your waist pulled you closer into himself, as if such a thing were even possible. Your vision was hazy, and every sensation felt amplified. “I like you, [Name].” You parted your lips to respond, but they were met with the mouth of the bottle that he held to your lips. You swallowed as he tilted it upwards, no longer feeling the pain of its acrid taste upon your tongue. His free hand found your chin as he set the bottle somewhere on the ground beside you, wiping a stray drop of liquor from your bottom lip. 

“I like you, too.” You said those four words for the first time, your face in his tight grip. He kissed you, tasting like rice liquor and fallen stars. 

He wasn’t anything like that imaginary lover you’d dreamed up as a little girl. Not even close. But still, you loved him, and he needed you. 

You had information he didn’t have, secrets discussed in clandestine rooms by ailing officers receiving treatment. You had a body to keep him warm at night, his grip upon you as tight as it was that night he kissed you under the stars. You gave him everything you had, even when the only thing you wanted was to be left alone.

Or, perhaps, the only thing you wanted was to be wanted. It didn’t matter, because everything soon came crumbling down, coating you in ashes and stardust. 

There was so much death, so much destruction. Had you known he was working with them you would have never—

But you had. You had unknowingly done the worst thing you could have ever done. And it was already done. They were already dead. There was nothing you could do to save them. 

So, you had no choice but to leave. Traitor, rogue, fool. All of these descriptors could be attributed to you. But they could never call you a liar, for you had never loved him with anything less than your whole heart. 

The second one appeared to pull you from the endless shadows of the abyss.

Some years after the disaster, you remained in the most desolate corners of the Yaoqing in an impromptu self imposed exile. Every night you’d lay down restlessly, tortured by the cries of the dead and damned echoing in your ears, and every morning you’d wake up with their blood between your teeth. It was an unbearable sort of existence, but every cell of your being knew that you deserved it. 

And you knew that you weren’t the one who suffered. Not really. You knew it was your cross to bear as the one responsible to live with the guilt of what you had done. Running away was selfish enough, and you found the endless punishment of remembering your misdeeds each and every day to be more than fitting. 

And thus you punished yourself, every single day. Cold river baths, freezing nights spent underneath the elements, deadly medicine trials. You’d do anything to feel a fraction of the pain and suffering you’d indirectly wrought upon others.

Yes, you’d continued to hone your skills even under such circumstances, collecting medicinal herbs and creating various antidotal elixirs in the subconscious hope that one of them would kill you.  It was a self centered, cowardly wish, but it was all yours nonetheless. 

Each night you spent in exile, those long dashed dreams of romance turned into feverish vignettes of death. It teased you, seduced you relentlessly, and each time you awoke in a cold sweat, wasting away further and further by the day. Your obsession with self deprivation quickly grew out of hand, and you hadn’t realized how sick you were becoming despite the evidence making itself known upon your person. 

One night, you danced with death itself. It held you like you were the finest treasure in the world, kissed you like you were too good to give up. Death dripped venom upon your lips, and you swallowed it like sweet ambrosia. 

And then, it disappeared into nothing, crow-feathered and equally as fleeting. 

You didn’t wake up that morning. Or the next one. Or the morning after that. 

They told you that you’d been asleep for five days. The kind folks of a small village on the fringe of the Yaoqing had diligently cared for you, patched up the wounds from your exposure to the elements and nursed you through your medicine and hypothermia induced fever. 

They didn’t know who you were, of course. News traveled slowly to this region, and to them, you were simply a weary, sick traveler in need of their aid. 

It took a while to get them to tell you how you’d ended up here in the first place. Your impromptu research “base” had been far from all facets of civilization, you’d made sure of that fact. And of course, you weren’t exactly in the state to ask many questions when you’d first woken up. 

Once your fever had finally broken, the woman caring for you became candid about the good samaritan who’d saved your life. “He was an odd gentleman. Didn’t say a single word. Dark clothing, hood over his head, ashy hair. Brought you here cradled in his arms like you were a treasure.” You weren’t sure how to respond. 

You left early the next morning while the village was asleep. The night was so quiet, and with the whispers of your deal with death at your heels, you made for the forest from whence you came.

It took an entire day to make it back to your previous spot. Whoever the man was who brought you to your caretakers had to have had either superhuman speed, strength, or both. Not to mention the gall to disappear before you could thank him properly. 

It didn’t matter. Now that you were healed, you were ready to settle into your old routine.

But you realized while collecting some herbs for an antidote that it seemed a little odd to continue your pursuit for reprieve when someone, mysterious as he may be, had put so much effort to drag you from the abyss with his bare hands. 

Almost subconsciously, you dropped the handful of plants you were holding. Your body moved on its own while your mind remained preoccupied, searching every dark corner of the area for some sort of sign. The wind obfuscated your search, rustling the leaves of the trees, and your shadow taunted you with its insistent presence as the sun set in the westward direction of that little village.

Having thoroughly run through your options, you stopped in the middle of a clearing. You noticed for the first time after your long day of travel that you were exhausted, and suspected that perhaps you hadn’t fully healed from your bout of illness. Instinctively, your gaze drifted to a patch of the herbs from earlier just a few meters away from you, the bright flowers seeming to beckon to you. You stood up, intending to heed their call. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to—

“Looking for someone?” A quiet, almost uncertain voice spoke from the farthest reaches of the clearing. You froze, lithe fingers brushing against the leathery petals of the poisonous flower. 

Frightened and suddenly hopeful, you glanced over your shoulder only to find no one there. You turned your attention back to the flowers, and the wind pummeled at your back with unknown urgency. A ghostlike tap on your shoulder, and you turned around to find him standing behind you. 

Tall, hooded, clothed in dark hues, and ashen haired, he looked exactly as the woman had described him. Despite having shown himself to you, there was an air of insecurity to him, as if he was unsure of exactly why he’d done what he did. 

Still, he tilted his head at you inquisitively, seemingly content to stay silent until you’d given him an answer. 

“Yes,” He didn’t react, continuing to stare at you in that odd, unreadable way. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He returned your question, his gaze flickering toward the patch of foliage behind you. “And after I took you all that way to the village.” 

“It was you.” You responded incredulously rather than answer his question. “I’ve been wanting to thank you, but they say you disappeared before I even woke up.” You tilted your head at him, mirroring his actions. “Why?”

“There was no further need for my presence.” He stated bluntly, once more glancing behind you. You fidgeted with your hands behind your back like a guilty child. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh,” You were sufficiently caught off guard by his lack of willingness to allow you to skirt around the question. “Well, I thought I might have left some things back here. Medicines and such,” You unwittingly and rather tellingly gestured to the plants that seemed to be so very intriguing to him. “Just wanted to come back and check.”

“Wrong answer,” He stated matter of factly, and your eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t have much with you, but I left all your belongings and medicines with the villagers.” He blinked, his expression as unchanging as if he hadn’t completely called your bluff. “I made sure to warn them that one dose too many could kill the average Foxian.���

“How did you manage to carry me and my stuff too?” You quickly redirected the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest and sincerely hoping to distract him from discovering the real reason behind your return. 

“Simple. I have pockets.” He showed you the insides of his cloak, which were indeed outfitted with handy storage pockets. “And you aren’t exactly hard to carry.”

You reluctantly decided to continue your interrogation, much to your shared dismay.“Well, how did you find me here in the first place?” This particular question seemed to succeed in making him uncomfortable and he blinked quickly, seemingly caught off guard. “And why did you bring me there?” 

He closed his eyes momentarily, sighing resignedly. “I just happened to be passing through. You were unconscious, so I brought you to the nearest village.” He turned over his shoulder, walking back in the direction of the wooded area. “You ask too many questions.” 

“Well, thank you.” You called after him, quieter than intended. He didn’t respond.

He made it a few more steps towards the dense thicket before stopping abruptly, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to follow me?”

You hesitated. “Where?” 

“Back to the village. You’re still sick.” He stated as if his intentions were entirely obvious. You blinked, incredulous. 

You followed him back, of course, complaining and bitching. Because he was right, you were still sick. And he had to carry you most of the way there, which was rather awkward because this time you were actually conscious. 

But the main reason you allowed him to take you back to the little town was because he hadn’t properly answered your question about why he even saved you in the first place. Because there’s no way he simply stumbled upon you in the middle of a desolate forest, far from the rest of humanity, to say nothing of cell service. A part of you wondered if he just wanted someone to be indebted to him.

You weren’t sure, but you didn’t get that impression. He was blunt, but undeniably kind, stolid, but somehow charmingly awkward. And if testimony from the villagers was to be believed, he was most talkative around you and others could hardly receive even a grunt from him. 

And after profusely thanking the kind folks that had so selflessly cared for you in your hour of need, and a week’s worth of well needed rest, you felt significantly better. Of course, your physical condition was back in good shape, thanks to a superfluous amount of meals cooked by your host and devoured by you (and that man never seemed to have an appetite, if the amount of his food he tried to discreetly add onto your plate meant anything,) and you regained some common sense. 

Yes, after some time with the villagers, who were entirely content with living a simple life far out of the reaches of the Xianzhou modern conveniences, you learned three simple truths. 

The first. What use were you to anyone if you suffered until you were nothing at all? You quickly busied yourself with day to day tasks—doing laundry, helping make meals, treating the scraped knees and skinned elbows of the children—and you learned that the better state of mind you were in, the more you could do for others. And that mysterious companion of yours seemed to have a sixth sense for whenever your guilt and self-loathing began to take over, and was so good at distracting you that you didn’t even know you’d been distracted until your attention was successfully diverted. Sometimes at night, plagued by images of the horrors you’d seen unfold before you, you’d hear rustling by your bedside. Thinking you were imagining things, you’d close your eyes again, only to open them blearily and find him standing by the window, his back towards you. You didn’t know why, but the fact that he stayed with you even then made it easier to fall asleep.

The second. Isolating yourself made things impossibly worse. Your unfounded fear that everyone could smell the evil on you and would treat you like a pariah was proved false daily by the kindness of your hosts, who treated you like a member of their own family. And even when the villagers left you alone, that crow feathered weirdo remained stuck to you like your shadow. As annoying as it may have been at first, it kept you away from your own thoughts, even if you were just sitting in comfortable silence. 

“Do you ever even sleep?” You asked one night across the still darkness, his back turned to you as he gazed out of the small window at nothing in particular.

“I don’t need to.” He didn’t turn around, but you knew you still had his full attention.

“Everyone needs sleep.” You teased lightly, tiredly.

He sighed. “Let me rephrase that. You need to sleep more than I do.” 

“I think I’ve done enough sleeping,” He didn’t respond, but you caught him glancing over his shoulder at your form in the small makeshift bed, sitting upright amongst the pillows. “Do you want to sit with me?” You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to ask. You were even less sure what possessed him to agree, fixing you with an uneasy stare before awkwardly sitting beside you on the pallet.

You stayed up the entire night talking. Or, rather surprisingly, he did most of the talking. Neither of you discussed anything important, but his calm company was soothing, and as he spoke quietly of ordinary things, you found yourself closing the distance between the two of you. You moved gently, slowly, and at the same pace he unstiffened, allowing you to rest your head upon his shoulder.

You fell asleep like that sometime during the early hours of the morning. And perhaps you were dreaming, but you swore you felt a gentle hand stroking your hair as you drifted off.

And thus, the third truth was the most frightening. A part of your heart had attached itself to that man, for as eccentric as he was, he never left your side. At first, you attributed your feelings to the sole fact of him having saved your life, but as the days crawled on, that irksome flutter in your chest persisted. And the more time you spent with him, the more he began to talk, and the more you began to listen. You were never any good at that before. But with him, it came as naturally as breathing.

The first time you kissed him, he melted into you.

He had been laying beside you on the pallet, having become more comfortable with the casual intimacy and reassurance the two of you shared. Your faces were close, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breathing fanning across your face, how it quickened when you brought a gentle hand to the cut of his jaw. You spoke his name softly, and it seemed like he stopped breathing completely. “Thank you.” You whispered across the pillow. Then, you pressed your lips gently to his. 

Yes, he melted into you like it was something he was waiting for his entire life. And perhaps it was, because his existence seemed like a terribly lonely one. And every time he shut his mouth for fear no one would listen to a word he had to say, the piece of your heart he carried with him wrenched in his hand. 

He held you so tightly that the both of you feared if he let go you’d shatter. You were the first to relinquish your grip.

You left the village after a nondescript period of time, preemptively mourning the loss of the simple life shared with its inhabitants and your unorthodox benefactor. You’d all mutually decided it was the best decision for you, and although your next destination was as of yet unknown, you found yourself caring for the implications of the future less and less. 

It wasn’t out of a sense of nihility, though. In fact, it was quite the opposite, for that man who stayed by your side day in and day out had managed to possess your thoughts enough that you were unable to think of a future that didn’t have him in it. 

So, you traveled, sticking vehemently to the fringe towns on the outskirts of the Yaoqing where whispers of the current events of the more inhabited areas were few and far between. You slept beside him in their various inns or in the houses of generous townspeople, his watch by the window relinquished for an insistent focus on the way you breathed while you slept. 

You didn’t really know your way around your homeland, having only left the city on the grounds of your self banishment. So he led the way, sometimes carrying you, always holding your hand as you forged an unknown path with no destination in particular.

At least, that was the impression he had you under. 

“Looks like we’re getting closer to civilization.” You commented offhandedly, having just checked out of a month’s long stay at a riverside inn. The place had been lovely, and you relinquished your cold baths for warm soaks in the hot springs (which had taken an insurmountable amount of convincing for him to join you, which he only did when you reminded him that you had already seen him naked, a fact that left him sufficiently flustered.) 

He simply grunted in response, and you furrowed your eyebrows, for he usually was more than willing to entertain even your most frivolous remarks. Yes, something was different that day, and he’d hardly spoken a word to you despite maintaining a loose hold on your smaller hand. “Am I allowed to ask where you’re taking me?”

He didn’t answer. Your stomach twisted as you came to a horrifying realization. How stupid you’d been to not realize—

“We’re heading towards the city, aren’t we?” Thinking aloud, your words were less of a question, and more of a conclusion. He stopped abruptly, lowering his head. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” He spoke almost shamefully, his gaze still fixed upon the earth. “You know it’s what’s best.”

You dropped his hand, betrayed now that he had finally confirmed your suspicions. “I don’t know that. You know I’m never going back there. Who sent you? I should’ve known that they would do this.“

“[Name],”  He turned to face you. You didn’t say anything. The wind rustled through the trees. He sighed. “It was General Feixiao. She—“

“General? So she’s a general now?” It was your turn to cut him off,  scoffing bitterly with your venom tipped canines on display. “A promotion or two, and she’s sending her crows to take me back there. I should’ve known.”

“I don’t know what you think you know, but you’ve got it all wrong.” He almost looked hurt, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All of this to bring you back to the place you never wanted to see again, and to think you’d fallen in love with him—

How foolish you’d been. How idiotic for you to have been led astray by that wind that rustles feathers and claims naive hearts. 

Dusk approached. Your shadows lengthened. “I’m leaving.”

“If that’s what you want, then I can’t stop you.” He spoke, sounding bereaved. You wondered if he knew he still held your heart in his hands, the pumping blood cascading through his lithe fingers. 

“It is.” Perhaps you were a liar, for you knew what you wanted at that moment, and it wasn’t to leave him here, hope-drunk and silently begging you to stay. 

And it was your duty to deny yourself of the things you desired. 

You walked back into the direction of the woods as the sun set, the abyss claiming you once more. Your dreams dissipated like shadowy wisps as he left for the city, taking a piece of you with him.

And you left, as you’d promised to do, for you’d never lie to him the way he had to you. Not ever.

The third one offered you wisdom in a golden chalice, and you drank it gratefully, the warm wine burning your tongue as it slid down your throat.

The Xianzhou Luofu was positively the last place you’d ever expect to end up following your retreat back into the darkness. But alas, you had concluded that as long as you stayed on the Yaoqing, there’d always be someone trying to drag you back from whence you came. And you weren’t going back there, not ever. 

Getting there was the first challenge. Luckily, some of that man’s directional expertise had rubbed off on you, and you managed to head due south, following directions from the inhabitants of the places you stopped along the way until you made it to a smaller port city. 

When you smuggled yourself amongst the cargo on an unattended ship— something that would likely be next to impossible these days, you suppose— you had no idea where the vessel’s final destination was to be. You could’ve ended up on an entirely different planet for all you knew, and you didn’t care. The only thing you knew for certain was that you had to go, and it didn’t matter to you where. 

And you’d definitely underestimated the difficulty of the trip. You thought after traversing almost the entire perimeter of the Yaoqing, you could handle anything, and frankly, you had incorrectly concluded that you were small enough to hide comfortably on the cargo ship. 

You’d been terribly wrong. And funnily enough, you also failed to consider what would happen if the ship wasn’t as unattended as it had been once it finally arrived to its recipients. Luckily, it wasn’t a very long trip, but it was long enough to bring that thought— along with a sense of insurmountable dread— to mind.

And how incredibly stupid of you it had been to fall asleep halfway through the ride. 

You were shaken awake an unknown amount of time later by an uncomfortable prodding. You sat up straight, fluffy ears standing at attention. You rose fast enough to hit your head on a nearby crate, and looked through hazy eyes at a pair of Cloud Knights, one staring at you with alarm, the other seeming amused. “This piece of cargo wasn’t on the shipment list.” The latter sheathed his sword, the hilt of which must have been that mysterious poking that had woken you from your deep sleep.

You blinked the shock away, recovering as fast as humanly possible. “Double check that list. You must not be looking close enough,” You deadpanned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, stretching out your legs. “Gonna tell on me?”

His companion spoke, a hand resting nervously on the hilt of his own blade. “We’re required by nature of our job description–”

“I don’t give a fuck about your ‘job,’” You groaned, standing up, brushing the dust and cobwebs from the peachy fur of your tail. “Are you turning me in to your boss or not?”

The nervous, younger looking Knight turned to his companion for an answer, who shrugged in response. He turned back to you, and despite the bite to your voice, you realized you likely looked thoroughly disheveled and even more exhausted despite your little cat nap. In fact, if you could see his face, he likely would be looking at you with unadulterated pity. “Zhi Peng, look at her. We can’t just…”

“Haitao. Zhi Peng,” A deep, coarse voice sounded from the distance. Both knights startled, sharing a brief glance that remained unreadable behind their helmets. “What’s so interesting over here?” The man known as Haitao cursed under his breath. Zhi Peng looked like he was about to wet himself. 

“What do we do?” You whispered, but neither man responded verbally, and while Haitao shifted to cover your smaller form, Zhi Peng remained frozen in place, horrified. “Is that your supervisor or something?” 

Haitao simply nodded. “What are you two doing?” The supervisor called, and his voice sounded closer. 

Your eyes widened with fear. Haitao cursed again. “Just stay quiet.” 

“Zhi Peng, tell me immediately what is happening?” The supervisor hissed, and you heard the meek knight in question let out a strangled cry that sounded oddly like he had been grabbed by the breastplate of his uniform. 

“The cargo. There’s a stowaway in the cargo.” Zhi Peng managed through a choked voice, and there was a thud as he was released upon the ground. You scoffed quietly, your sharp canines digging into your bottom lip. Didn’t take the fucker much pressure to cave in, did it? Although you did feel bad that he’d been tossed around on your behalf. 

“Haitao. Is this true?” The knight who had you trapped beneath his form glanced once more at you, and then at his officer.

Then, he grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, shifting to reveal your presence. “Yup. Found this little fox hiding amongst the military shipments.” 

“Mother fucker.” You hissed. His grip on your arm tightened as he dragged you in the direction of the disembodied voice that you’d heard earlier, which belonged to an even larger man in a slightly different uniform. Just your luck to get discovered by the most spineless little grunts out there. You couldn’t have been captured by an officer, or even a general?

The larger man scrutinized you, his shielded gaze lingering upon you for longer than you were comfortable with. “I know who this is.” 

You blinked. “That isn’t possible.”

“Yes, it is. You’re the nurse that deserted the Yaoqing army all those years ago,” You froze. So he did, indeed, know who you were. Again, just your fucking luck. “We keep close military contact with our allies.” 

“I prefer ‘medic,’” You deflected, shooting Haitao the nastiest look you could muster as you attempted to wrench free of his grip. “Even ‘practitioner' is acceptable.” The man refused to relent, and you let out a noise akin to a snarl as your bicep began to burn.

“I don’t care what you are,” The officer brushed you off as easily as swatting a fly, and your eyebrows furrowed with further annoyance at being treated so trivially. “Do you two remember your orders for a fugitive situation?” He addressed his two underlings, who vehemently nodded with a chorus of yes sir’s.

“Fugitive situation?” You protested, unable to ignore the way Zhi Peng flanked the unoccupied side of your body. “That’s not what this is.” The other soldier grabbed your other arm, although significantly gentler than his companion. 

Ignoring your objections, the officer continued to deliver orders to his men, who began to march you behind him as you headed somewhere entirely unbeknownst to you. 

You asked quite a few questions on the way there. Where are you taking me? Am I going to jail? Will there be a bathroom? Are you sending me back to the Yaoqing? I’m hungry. Although the last of which was more of a statement. 

The point being that none of your objections nor your questions received competent answers. And the moment you reached an area you would later learn to be called the Exalting Sanctum, the soldiers on the other side of you promptly let go of your arms. Before you could even massage the pain of their grasp away, their officer had grabbed you again. “You two are dismissed. The General will know what to do with her.” 

The knights bowed respectfully to their supervisor before departing, both sparing you a second glance over their shoulders, one you met with a look that hopefully conveyed just how much you despised them. Once they were out of earshot, the larger man grabbed you by the back of the neck. “Now listen here,” You yelped as he leaned down, his gruff voice directly in your ear. “The General has requested you be brought directly to him for whatever reason. I personally couldn’t give less of a shit what happens to a traitor like you, but clearly he finds you useful in some way,” You were unable to control the tear that spilled from your watery eyes at the pain of his large hand tightening around your neck. “So you better not fuck this up for yourself, alright?” 

You didn’t move, warm teardrops streaming down your ruddy cheeks. Realizing he wasn’t going to relinquish you until you responded in some way, you nodded, with quite a degree of difficulty considering his hand was still indeed wrapped around your neck. He released you, and you fell to the ground, coughing. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath before taking you inside.

“General,” He led you up the carpeted stairs in the General’s office, the deep red color suddenly foreboding as the man’s words echoed in your mind. What use could the General of the Luofu possibly have for you if not to punish you for your desertion? You were so stupid, in fact, in a lifetime of stupid decisions, this was by far the stupidest thing you could’ve ever done— “I’ve brought the Yaoqing’s fugitive.”

The Cloud Knights stationed along the landing of the stairs didn’t spare you a passing glance as you approached the General’s desk. The man let go of you, instead shoving you in his direction before bowing chastely. “I know it’s been a while since we discussed the protocol for her discovery, so I thought I’d bring her here for you to decide what to do with her.”

White haired, long-lashed and heavy-eyed, the General regarded the man before him with complete disinterest. “Thank you,” His gaze landed upon you, the sorry state you must have been in, and his serene expression faltered momentarily. “But, please, remind me where in the protocol it states that it’s acceptable to treat a woman so barbarically,” Slowly, tiredly, he rose from his desk, approaching you where you stood shakily upon your sore feet. “It’s deplorable.” 

For the first time, your impromptu captor was speechless. “Sir, I…”

“No explanation is needed. You can expect further disciplinary notice in the next few days.” The General refused to even meet his eye, his attention instead focused concernedly upon you. “You are dismissed.” 

He didn’t say anything to you immediately upon the other man’s departure, still scrutinizing your visible condition— the bruises on your arms from the Cloud Knights, the dirt and dust still clinging to your clothes from the cargo ship— and you sighed. “Am I under arrest, General?”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “Not at all.”

“Then what’s my punishment?” You shrugged, shifting your weight. “You know, for treason.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, and for some reason you got the feeling that you two were each having completely different conversations. He gestured to the chair behind his desk. “Have a seat.” 

“That’s your chair.” You raised an eyebrow, and he simply nodded in confirmation. Realizing he wasn’t going to continue until you sat down, you sighed, doing what you were told. Your feet were killing you from being cramped up for so long, anyways.

Once you had made yourself comfortable, he began to speak. “You’re not under arrest, nor are you receiving any punishment.” 

“Then why did you request for me to be brought here immediately upon my capture?” You fiddled anxiously with the fabric of your clothes, anticipating his response. “With all due respect, General, sir, it’s a bit confusing.”

He stared at you for a moment, unreadable, before suddenly bursting out into boisterous laughter. “Ah, it is, isn’t it?” Your mouth fell open, surprised by his swift change in demeanor, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Allow me to explain. I’m well aware of your talent as a medical practitioner. And considering that you currently owe a debt to the Xianzhou Alliance’s military, well…” He gently rested his palms upon the desk, leaning over you in a way that was more expectant than imposing. “We’d like you to work with our branch of the Alchemy Commission.” 

“Me? Work for the Alchemy Commission? That’s all?” You were unable to suppress the breathless, incredulous laugh that escaped your lips. “Forgive me, sir, but that’s a rather light punishment.” 

“I already said you weren’t being punished.” He raised an eyebrow, simultaneously amused and concerned. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know. But there’s one thing I don’t want.” You bit your lip, considering the possible ramifications of telling him exactly how to torture you most effectively. “If you don’t intend to punish me, then don’t send me back there.” 

“Right. You were rather lucky to end up here, aren’t you?” He chuckled once more, and who knew the Luofu's General was so good-natured? You supposed a man like that needed some entertainment to liven up his day. But it wasn’t going to be you. 

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” You scoffed bitterly, absentmindedly moving your hair from behind your shoulders. You saw his eyes widen in shock, and realized with embarrassment that your subconscious movement had exposed to him the bruise that the brute of an officer had left from his grasp upon your neck. “Oh. Ignore that. That officer of yours got a bit too handsy.” You shrugged, despite the tears you’d swallowed down after the initial incident threatening to rise back up in your throat. 

“That seems to be putting it rather lightly, don’t you think?” His good mood was effectively dashed, his worried gaze fixed upon your neck. Suddenly self conscious, you moved your hair to cover it once more. “And rest assured, after his behavior today, he is no longer any officer of mine. That isn’t how my men operate.”

You scoffed, recalling the behavior of the low ranking Cloud Knights before you’d even met the officer. “If you sincerely believe that, you don’t know your men at all.” You gasped sharply upon realizing the ramifications of your words, quickly backtracking. “Forgive me, that was incredibly disrespectful. And I’m already in this position—” 

“It’s alright. I suppose I do have some more work to do on the ground as opposed to sitting up in this stuffy old office all the time.” He sighed, offering you a small, reassuring smile. 

“Sir, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this place is beautiful.” You gestured to your comparatively luxurious surroundings.  “Not exactly what I’d call ‘stuffy.’” Anything beats that dusty shipment container. 

“Anywhere can become stifling if you spend enough time there. Beauty has nothing to do with it. I’m sure you know that just as well as I do.” He laughed awkwardly, almost self-deprecating. “Ah, look at me, rambling on again. I’ll alert your supervisor at the Commission of your arrival. Your lodgings will be arranged at a nearby inn, so go wash up and get a good night’s sleep.” He reached for a spare piece of paper that rested upon the surface of his desk, quickly scrawling the name of the inn for your reference.  “Your work begins at sunrise tomorrow.” 

You gingerly took the paper from him, folding it gently before sliding it protectively into the pocket of your shorts. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such generosity, but thank you. Sincerely.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ll pay off your debt soon enough.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Neither of you moved. As if realizing the impropriety of his actions, he quickly retracted his arm, instead offering you a small nod.  “Go.”

You rose from your— his — chair and made for the exit, already envisioning the hot shower and warm inn-cooked meal you were going to have. Suddenly remembering the constraints of respect, you froze halfway down the stairs, turning to offer the General a stiff, clumsy bow. 

You left with his almost-fond chuckle at your heels, intending to scrub the remains of your idiocy from your skin. 

The Luofu branch of the Alchemy Commission was significantly different from the one back home. Although the work hours were just as insane, its employees genuinely enjoyed their jobs, if your master was anything to go off of. 

Dark brown haired with cutely pointed ears and deep ruby eyes, Lingsha was incredibly skilled, and just as well-composed. She smelled lovely, too, a fact you noted as she showed you where each of the supplies were located.  As she explained the rules with which the Luofu’s branch operated, you found your mind wandering elsewhere, wondering what kind of woman you’d be if only you had a calm spirit, to say nothing of impulse control. 

“I diagnose ailments a bit differently. I’m sure you’re familiar with aromatic therapy?” Lingsha spoke as she stood before a presently empty cauldron. A nice, herbal scent lingered around it, and you concluded that she had to smell so nice from working around aromatics every day. 

“Yes, we use it quite a bit on the Yaoqing. I’m definitely not as skilled as you are, though.” Your intentions on your first day were to emphasize your competency without seeming too confident. The last thing you wanted was for your new boss to think you were trying to outshine her in any way.

“Anyone can learn, and you already have the background, so don’t worry about that.” Lingsha had mercifully not seemed to glean that impression from you, treating you with kindness despite you really only being there to work off a debt wrought by your own stupidity. “I can’t teach you how to utilize the cauldron, though.”

You nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

Despite your feigned eagerness to get on the job, she tried to breach a different, non-work related subject with you come lunch break. “You know, I once traveled far from home too.”

Unimpressed, you chewed your braised pork. “Really?”

“I followed my master when she was banished. It was quite jarring at first, but I learned so much and improved my craft.” She picked at her food with her chopsticks, seeming to favor attempting to connect with you over shared circumstances more than eating. 

“I see.” You, on the other hand, did not much enjoy having your meal interrupted by useless talking, no matter how good the intentions behind it may be. 

She sighed, noticing your unwillingness to converse. “All of this to say, I understand how you feel.”

Do you? You found yourself wondering, almost shamefully, for the woman’s intentions were clearly to make you feel more comfortable working away from home. But being young and irrational, you couldn’t help but believe your situation was undeniably unique. 

Of course, it wasn’t, nor were your experiences anything special. And realizing this, you kept your mouth shut, simply nodding in respectful acknowledgment of her statement. 

You finished the rest of your lunch in silence, your new mentor finally recognizing that you weren’t quite in the mood for conversation. You did, however, catch her sending a few fleeting glances your way, sometimes concerned, sometimes curious. 

The first day of your impromptu apprenticeship ended with barely any further words exchanged between the two of you. You parted ways with a few polite goodbyes, and you beelined for the closest restaurant with a myriad of conflicting thoughts swarming your mind. 

And the work did get significantly more bearable the longer you did it. Even the early mornings were alright, considering you had to get up in the wee hours of the morning back as a medic for the Yaoqing. Not to mention, with the minor ailments being the only ones Lingsha initially sent your way, you felt like you were back at the army hospital with your brother stifling you beneath his scrutinizing glare. It was all rather banal.

You weren’t the only one bored almost to death by day to day work, however.

The first time the General stopped by your office for a check up, you were on your best behavior. Convinced he was only there to observe your progress, you prepared to conduct a thorough examination  that addressed all of his concerns. 

“So, you’re telling me you’re experiencing extreme drowsiness.” You read from your notes, taking this far more seriously than you should’ve. He was indeed a patient, after all, and an important one at that. Even if he was just bullshitting you, you were under a medical obligation to heed his concerns. 

“Yes, doctor. My eyes are simply too heavy to hold open.” He spoke dramatically, although you got the sense he was holding back a laugh. 

“I’m not a doctor,” You simply stared, incredulous. “And there’s not much I can do for you in that regard. I can make you some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” He smiled up at you, although even with him being seated you were nearly at eye level.  “Come to think of it, I have the most wonderful tea set at the Seat of Divine Foresight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a walk from here, don’t you think?”

“If you don’t want to travel all that way, I can bring it here.” He rose from the chair, towering over you once more as he made for the door. 

“Oh, you wanted me to drink the tea with you?” You began to follow him, and he sent you a mirthful glance over his shoulder. 

“You were the one who suggested it after all.” He noted, almost offhandedly, and you paused to consider the offer. 

“Well, I suppose I could take a lunch break right about now.” You also supposed that he’d never intended to leave the clinic without you, anyways. 

Agreeing to let him steal you away from your duties was a mistake. Because one lunch break became two, which became three, which became entire shifts once you realized Lingsha could easily handle the steady trickle of patients herself, and the General would always provide her an excuse for your absence— however ridiculous it may be. 

You met with him a few times outside of those sleepy afternoon hours, too. Once he realized your passion for fine Luofu cuisine, and having an impressive appetite of his own,  he took you to all of the best spots, and watched you fondly as you inhaled your meals. You’d share drinks afterwards, and without fail, he’d walk you back to the inn, sometimes with a gentlemanly hand hovering over your back so your tipsiness didn’t get the better of you on those tricky stairs.

And that was all it was, communion, camaraderie. Until the night you invited Lingsha along for dinner and drinks by way of apology for shirking your duties. 

You had far more of that familiar rice wine than usual, likely due to anxiety that the woman in question hated you for your truancy. After a few shots, you were limber and loose, your inside thoughts spilling from your tongue as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

The General, despite his size and tendency to be able to hold his liquor, seemed a bit more far gone than usual, too, if the way he laughed and spoke quite louder than usual in response to your jabbering was anything to go off. Lingsha, in contrast, drank slowly, mindfully, sipping at her beverage while eyeing the two of you with a mix of concern and amusement. 

And neither of you really noticed when she gracefully ducked out, citing her early shift in the morning as her reason for departure. Your witty banter continued, your knee brushing his beneath the table, his much larger hand resting atop yours on the wooden surface. 

You kept drinking, of course. And things progressed. Very quickly. And you were, as always, horribly stupid. 

You remember him paying the bill, taking your hand as you stood up, swaying on your feet. The night was humid and starless, the condensation in the air contributing to the haze in your mind. He had a loose arm wrapped around your waist as you started in the direction of the inn. 

You remember, rather boldly, asking instead for a tour of his place. You remember him agreeing. 

His house was quite spacious. You stumbled past the entrance and he caught you, laughing intoxicatedly. You didn’t make it past the kitchen before he had you leaned up against the counters, his face centimeters away from your own. He was saying something, but your brain wasn’t registering. Rather than responding, or even asking him to repeat himself, you raised up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

Yes, things did progress rather quickly from there.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t remember— or enjoy — anything you partook in. In fact, you recall being rather entrenched in bliss as he had you pinned beneath him, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips to pull him impossibly closer. Your long nails clawed at the skin of his back and you were too far gone to tell him it was too much, or not enough, you weren’t really sure. Whatever the sensation was, it was incredible, your toes curling as he mouthed at the sensitive skin at the junction of your neck, a deft hand sliding between your bodies to push you over the edge. 

It was too much. And it wasn’t enough.

You woke up the next morning, somehow satisfied, moderately hungover, your face having been buried in his broad chest. Naturally, he was still fast asleep,  breathing serenely beneath you as long lashes brushed against his cheeks. 

And naturally, you sat up, oriented yourself, dressed, and left. 

It wasn’t anything you’d ever done before; slept with someone you cared about and left without another word. But you had a feeling it was the only way to do this without ripping yourself apart again, without leaving a piece of yourself behind beneath his once-pristine sheets.

And despite the way every single thing between the two of you had been turned on its side after a single night, you found yourself sitting behind his desk once more during your lunch break as he smiled down at you, gaze lingering on the poorly concealed marks just above the neckline of your shirt. You tugged it upwards as you’d been doing all day, but it was no use, for he leaned down to kiss you as if there weren’t numerous guards stationed around the entrance.

And you let him, like that’s how it was between the two of you all along.  

Which was to say that those breathless nights spent at his place after work became a frequent occurrence. And when you’d show up early to work the next morning, half asleep and abnormally chipper, Lingsha would only raise a suspicious eyebrow before telling you to rewash your hands and get to work. 

“I’ve always been quite curious if a Foxian’s sense of smell is as refined as mine.” Your mentor commented offhandedly after the two of you had just seen off a young Foxian patient who was experiencing abnormal tail shedding. Lingsha had performed some aromatherapy and sent the poor girl home with some oils to apply to the area on a strict regimen. 

You shrugged, your fingers absentmindedly and protectively rubbing through the silken fur of your own tail. “I wouldn’t say ‘as refined,’ but I’ve certainly got a good nose.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, peeling off her gloves. “Really? So can you detect the scent of other people on yourself?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as your hands continued working through your fur, unsure of the relevance behind her line of questioning. “Sometimes.”

“So, you must be well aware that you smell entirely of the General.” Your ministrations froze.

 You turned slowly to face her, only to see her expression as unchanged as before, examining her pristine cuticles as if what she’d said was the most normal thing in the world.  “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s not an unpleasant smell, it’s just so overbearing that your scent is layered all the way at the bottom.” She diverted her attention elsewhere, assuming an air of nonchalance as she began to rearrange her bottles of scented oil.  “What did you do, roll around in his bed or something?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, only to close it once more. “...No comment.”

“Aeons above. There’s my answer.” Lingsha groaned, setting a glass vial down with slightly more force than was necessary. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” You responded coyly, the embarrassment giving way to an unfamiliar yet deep seated urge to make her even more uncomfortable as a twisted form of deflection.. 

“That’s not entirely true. I want some answers.” 

And boy, did you answer her many, many questions. In fact, the remainder of your lunch hour was spent detailing the progression of the affair between you and the General. You were mildly disappointed that you missed out on spending the time with him, but you figured you could make it up to him in a rather meaningful way later that evening. 

Besides, the look on Lingsha’s face as you spoke— an amalgamation of shock, incredulity, and curiosity— was well worth it. And if the woman didn’t trust you before, she sure did now that you took the time to describe your sex life in intricate detail— in response to her insistent prompting, of course.

You met up with him that evening. And the next. And the one after that. And despite your habit of slipping out in the early hours of the morning like a creature of the night, you stuck around one morning. 

It was the dawn of your weekly day off, and you were positively exhausted from work and a myriad of other, irrelevant things, no thanks to the man who slept soundly beneath you. And even though you’d slept well enough yourself, you couldn’t help but feel restless as your cheek rested against the bare skin of his chest. 

You knew this was casual. It didn’t mean anything. Both of you understood that. But as you watched him sleep, your thumb absentmindedly tracing the mark beneath his eye, something familiar stirred in your chest. You didn’t want to leave. 

The feeling persisted as you ate breakfast with him, neither of you acknowledging just how far from the norm this was. It intensified as you stepped into the shower beside him, unwilling to leave each other alone for even half a system hour. It threatened to swallow you whole when he brushed your hair, large fingers raking through the damp strands as you leaned into his touch, horribly infatuated by the whole situation. When he kissed you in the pavilion after you walked him to work, you felt like you were drowning. 

What a stupid woman you were, you thought as you sat on the arm of his chair, his free hand wrapped around your waist as he pretended to focus on whatever dull paperwork sat on his desk. When the Master Diviner walked in, his grip tightened despite the look of unadulterated distaste she sent your way. “I had something important to discuss with you, General, but it seems you’re presently occupied.” Her words were dripping with acrimony, but you were too far beneath the waves to care. 

He hummed without sparing a glance towards the small woman. “Yes, I am presently inundated with paperwork,” His large palm slid further downwards, digging into your hip behind the desk. “If it can wait, we can discuss whatever it is at a later time.” 

The woman blinked, inhaling sharply at the shameless display before her. “Fine. I’ll come back at a much, much later time.” The General’s gaze remained fixed on the paper despite his attention clearly being elsewhere, if the hand caressing your backside said anything. “Or never.” Fu Xuan muttered to herself as she left, likely wishing to take her brain out and wipe it clean of the last five minutes. 

The more he made it clear he didn’t care who knew what existed between the two of you, if anything, the more you fixated on it until it was all you could think about. You’d been burned once, twice, by relationships wrought by your own selfless devotion, and you’d fallen into this one while caught in the throes of your own greed. So perhaps, it had to be a sign that this could work? 

And no matter how hard you tried, you could not stop yourself from craving his complete affections, in sharing every aspect of your life with him. Even though he was so often unreadable, you knew deep down that a part of you had stuck with him. You only prayed it was significant enough to last. 

One night, you held his face in your hands as you straddled his abdomen, and despite holding some of the control, you let him take everything from you that you had to give. When the both of you were thoroughly satisfied, he kissed you like you were his, and in all ways but one, you were. 

Your mouth didn’t give either of you much time to bask in the afterglow, for the moment you’d shifted to untangle yourself with him, it spoke without your common sense’s consent. “I’ve been thinking.” Perhaps this was a bad time, but you supposed there never was an ideal one for these sorts of conversations. At least you’d waited until he wasn’t inside you any longer. 

“Have you?” He said, his voice still low and rumbling in a way that made you shift uncomfortably atop him. “What about, my dear?” He pulled you down so your chest was flush against his, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your temple. 

You let out a quick gasp, trying to disguise the way his affection had left you reeling. “Us.” 

“What’s there to think about?” He responded good-naturedly, teasingly tugging at your tail.“We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but…” He clearly hadn’t yet grasped the seriousness of your train of thought, for his wandering hand abandoned the fur of your tail to grab a handful of your backside.  “Hey.” You warned, swatting it away as he laughed, unashamed.  “I guess I should start by asking this. What do you want from me?”

He blinked, his expression sobering as he finally caught your drift. “Whatever you’re willing to give.”

You scoffed. Despite your heart hoping otherwise, you should’ve known he’d dance his way around your questioning, ever-skilled at circumlocution.. “That’s a cop out.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re asking.” He clarified gently, his hands rubbing soothingly up your sides. Your annoyance deflated significantly, your body welcoming his touch. 

“Fine. I’m asking if you want me to be your girlfriend. Partner. Whatever you want to call it.” His hands halted their ministrations as he looked up at you, his expression indecipherable. 

“Where is this coming from?” He spoke after a beat had passed, tilting his head at you with what seemed like genuine confusion. Whatever it was angered you, because if he really had no idea what you were talking about, he must have been fucking you with his eyes closed. Because it was clear as day to the Cloud Knights, Lingsha, Fu Xuan, everyone who saw the two of you together, what was happening. 

“The fuck do you mean, ‘where is this coming from?’” Your annoyance morphed into a sense of betrayal, spilling from your mouth like murderous venom. “You take me out to dinner multiple times a week, I sit in your office all day like your little pet, I practically live at your house.” Then, the betrayal melted away to hurt.  “And still, I can’t tell exactly how you feel about me. That’s where it’s coming from.” Your sentence ended far softer, far more vulnerable than you intended it to. 

And he noticed, for a large palm came to cup your cheek in his hand, ready to wipe away the angry tears that threatened to fall. “[Name]—“

You pushed his hand away. “Answer my question,” You intertwined the hand you’d used to reject his touch with his own, still unable to part from him no matter how obstinate you felt he was being.  “We can take things slow if that’s what you want. No labels, or anything. I just need to know how you feel.”

You’d barely finished your sentence before he pulled you down to kiss him, slow and sweet. “I thought it was abundantly clear how I felt about you,” He spoke almost against your lips, your fingers still laced together, pushed up against the headboard. “You’re an incredible woman, [Name]. Witty, headstrong, beautiful,” His free hand brushed your bangs away from your face, coming to rest once more on your cheek.“But I cannot give you that which you desire.”

You hesitated, blinking confusedly at him.“What do you mean?”

“You know what you want, a trait that is inexorably admirable,” He paused, his gaze flickering away from your own to collect his thoughts. “But I know who I am, and it won’t be any good for you.”

Another cop out. Your canines dug into your bottom lip as you felt the pressure of your returning tears behind your eyelids. “You’re not being truthful.”

“I am.  I only want the best for you.” So that was how it was. Fine. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself any further by crying in front of him. You had lost so much in that moment, but you couldn’t let go of your fragile pride.

“I think I should go.” You dropped his hand, leaning back upon his thighs. 

He swallowed, looking reluctantly away from your watery eyes. “Perhaps that may be what’s best.”

You left that time, defeated and embarrassingly heartbroken. But it didn’t stop you from going back to him quite a few times, somehow convinced that what you desired deep down would change. But never once did you expect him to mold himself to your expectations, shouldering the blame for the failed relationship all upon yourself.

You were foolish then. For believing you could ever rid yourself of the desire to be loved wholly and completely. For believing you could change yourself rather than choose a different man to love. For suppressing your own heart beneath layers of impenetrable armor.

He taught you many things about yourself, rather inadvertently. You learned you could be alright on your own. You learned that love and sex were a gamble, a way to gain leverage on others without revealing the vulnerability that lay within your own losing hand. And you learned to stop denying yourself of the superficial little things you wanted, because you’d concluded that your heart’s deepest desire could never be fulfilled.

These lessons were incredibly valuable, and you held them close to your heart even as you sat aboard the mysterious Astral Express, gazing out the window at the vastness of the universe with your palms laying defeated in your lap. 

The fourth one took you entirely off guard, two lightning strikes in an open field, an asteroid upon a barren planet, a winning ticket out of a million losses. The chances of finding him in this life were astronomically low. But he was miraculously, blessedly lucky. 

Alisa would know more about this than I do. That is the thought that always crosses your mind in situations like these, when you watch him on the rare nights he sleeps peacefully, and something in your chest overwhelms you so much you fear you might die in his arms. You’d spent ages telling yourself you were never meant for love, and that little girl’s dreams of a fairy tale romance were never yours. But here you are, not only deeply enamored, but literally engaged, evidenced by that bewilderingly expensive gemstone on your ring finger. 

You can’t help but feel like you’d experienced everything in your life just for this terribly mundane moment, if not just for the way he looks fast asleep.

And perhaps you know more about love than you care to admit, for you’d proven your past self wrong on several occasions. You were alright on your own, sure, but you are far better with him by your side. Maybe you’d gambled your way into his heart, but your vulnerability is no longer a weakness. And now that you have the one thing you’d always desired, everything else is background noise. 

He means everything to you, you realized then. He is your heart, your ultimate weakness, your one in a million. You couldn’t leave this time, for there is nowhere else to go. 

You rotate the gold band on your finger absentmindedly, curling yourself even further into his body. He subconsciously pulls you closer, and you hide your face in his chest, smiling fondly to yourself. You hope he knows he’s stuck with you forever now. This love is blessedly and irrevocably yours. 

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, mention of drinking

I frowned at the phone as dean hung up on me. Rolling my eyes, I went back to the research that was spread out on the table in front of me. I huddled in on myself as I turned a page. The bunker was always cold. Instinct told me that there was a ghost nearby but the rational part of my brain told me that the bunker had been checked over time and again, turning up nothing.

“forget this.” I muttered as I got up. Wandering to deans room, I went to his closet. I grabbed the first thing I touched and threw the flannel on. I trudged back to the library and continued researching.

“Honey we’re home!” Dean called as the door to the bunker opened. “I’m gonna head for a shower right away. Damn vamps squirt.” I laughed as Sam came into the library.

“nest is clear. Town seems to have another problem though so we’re going back tomorrow.” He said. I nodded. “Cas is staying there to keep an eye on things.” I nodded.

“based on what you described, sounds like one of the horsemen coming back. But I can’t tell which.” I shrugged, pushing the sleeves of the flannel up again. “And I wanna say that’s impossible but then again…” Sam nodded before sitting down across from me to take over.

“you’re lucky you didn’t go today.” Sam said as I got up. “One of the vamps knew about you. Said you were going to pay for the sins of the winchesters.” I nodded slowly.

“that’s why dean was covered in blood.” I said. Sam nodded. “Couldn’t let them get away with that. Thanks Sam.” I smiled at him before heading over to deans room. I knocked on the door before opening it. I smiled and bit back a laugh at dean sprawled out on the bed eating pizza. Beer bottle balanced on a chair next to the footboard. “Well isn’t this a sight?” I teased as I closed the door behind me.

“if you think this is a sight, look at you.” Dean said, mouth full of pizza. “Where’d you get that flannel?”

“stole it from your closet earlier.” I shrugged, playful smile on my face as I made my way over to the bed. “Got cold in the library.” Dean smiled as he looked me over, grabbing my arm and gently pulling me into the bed with him. Dean tucked me under his arm, pulling me close as his chest rested against part of my back. He intertwined our fingers and tangled our legs together.

“it does get pretty cold in here sometimes.” He grumbled. I nodded as I turned to kiss his cheek.

“still can’t shake the feeling it’s a ghost.” I shuddered. “No matter how often we check this place out. Just seems like something ain’t right here.” Dean leaned his head against mine. I looked at him with a pout.

“I don’t think you want pizza grease in your hair.” Dean chuckled. I made a face and he nodded. “Thought so.”

“tombstone again?” I asked. Dean nodded.

“yeah. It was the only thing bearable to watch if we’re being honest.” He said. Taking a drink, he put the empty pizza box on the chair before wiping off his face. “Ok. How about a proper kiss now?” Smiling at him, I dipped his cheek as I kissed him.

“much better.” I sighed happily as he tugged me close.

“I have to say…this looks much better on you than it does on me.” Dead commented, playing with the collar of his flannel. “Maybe you should keep it. And steal my clothes more often.”

“oh i already do.” I laughed. Dean gave me a confused look. “Where do you think your grey Henley went?” He looked way from me for a second.

“son of a bitch.” He muttered. “Shoulda known it was you.” Dean chuckled as he kissed me again. “Well what’s mine is yours darling.”

“you say that now…” I teased. Dean wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against him.

“And I’ll always mean it sweetheart.” He said, kissing my head as we settled in to watch the movie.

[lolvampira]

NATHAN SEXPLOSION — reuploaded!

elvira is typing . . hello!! originally i wrote this fic ages ago in like 2023? i think? i posted it on ao3 under the same name but since im making this acc from scratch i decided to reupload it on here so there’s more traction LOL besides i want there to be an example of my writing on my acc so like yeah! again, this is old and I PROMISE my writing has gotten better LOLOL so yeah! comments & reblogs appreciated! >_<

synopsis . . nathan explosion x fem! reader | after seeing you talking to skwisgaar, the swede’s smirk makes his stomach turn, a fiery pit of jealousy burning in his stomach, so he takes you back to his room to remind you that you’re his.

warnings . . nsfw! jealousy sex, skwisgaar is an opp kinda but it’s okay cuz nathan dicks you down lol, pussy eating cuz idc if he doesn’t like eating pussy he does to me ok.. he slaps you but like it’s a sexual way like you’re getting off to it.. breeding, mating press, idk what else i didn’t read through it bc it’s so old and ill die LOL

His eyes narrowed as he watched you from across the party. There you stood, talking happily to Skwisgaar, laughing along to whatever he was telling you.

Taking a sip from his beer, Nathan grunted, an uncomfortable hot feeling filled his chest. He had been trying to suppress the feeling all night long. Unconsciously, he knew that you weren’t flirting with Skwisgaar, you had no reason to be. But somehow, his blood boiled from jealousy as the minutes ticked by.

It annoyed him, Skwisgaar could be talking to any of the other groupie sluts in this god forsaken party, yet there he was. Talking to you.

His girlfriend.

It pissed him off, what the fuck were you thinking? He could see Skwisgaar staring you down, with his height, Nathan could see the way his gaze focused on your chest and how good that cocktail dress looked on you.

He hated how Skwisgaar had a smirk curled on his lips as his eyes were lidded, it was like he was trying to seduce you. It reminded Nathan of all the failed dates he’s had before because of his dildo band mates throwing themselves at them.

But this was different, you were his partner . Not some first date, not some woman that would bend over for the slightest hint of attention the rest of the band gave you.

Looking away, Nathan scoffed as he leaned back against the couch was was sitting on, taking a few hefty gulps of his beer, hoping the alcohol would hit sooner.

Nathan tried to clear his head, repeating to himself that he didn’t have to worry. He didn’t need to be jealous, you were just being friendly with Skwisgaar, besides just the night before he had you babbling like a brain dead slut over his cock.

Skwisgaar couldn’t compare.

Yeah, he couldn’t compare. Nathan thought, taking another long sip from his beer, effectively emptying the bottle. Glancing back at the two of you, Nathan’s heart rate spiked at the sight.

Skwisgaar had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close, way too close as he talked. If he would’ve held the beer bottle any tighter it would’ve shattered in his hand.

That was his last straw, he was practically seeing red. If he didn’t work with Skwisgaar he would’ve started a fight right there, instead, he stood up abruptly and walked over to the two of you. Taking long and fast strides, he was quick to reach your side, placing his hand on the small of your back.

You had just been laughing at a joke Skwisgaar had thrown, something about some fan that had tried to climb onto the stage when he did his solo. It was lively and oddly enough, the Swede was humorous when he wasn’t boasting about his guitar skills. Just then, you felt a large hand land on your back, you laugh stopped and you glanced to your side. Expecting some random person, but instead you saw Nathan.

A smile was quick to appear on your face, but Nathan wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was looking, or more so glaring, at Skwisgaar, you didn’t notice his intense glare though.

“Nathan! Skwisgaar was just telling me some fan stories, they’re crazy!” You said happily, leaning into his touch. His green gaze finally moved down to you, he grunted in reply. “Uh, yeah.” He grumbled, sliding his hand to your hip and pulling you close to his chest.

“..Yeahs, those dildoes ams crazies.” Skwisgaar added, his gaze focused on Nathan, the glare he shot him was hard to ignore. Scowling, Skwisgaar let out a grunt, “Anyways..amsts goings to goes.” Skwisgaar said, Nathan squeezed your hip.

At the Swede’s words, you pouted, but didn’t press further. “Okay! I’ll talk to you later, I had fun!” You said with a warm smile, waving at Skwisgaar as he walked away, not having issues with finding another woman to talk to.

Now, it was just you and Nathan.

Looking back up at Nathan, you noticed how his jaw was clenched and his gaze followed Skwisgaar, as if making sure he was actually gone. Raising your eyebrow, you nudged him. “Nathan?” Barely sparing you a glance, Nathan squeezed your hip. “This party is boring, let’s go.” He grunted, taking your wrist and practically pulling you away.

You didn’t have space to argue, so you followed.

Walking down the long hallways of Mordhaus felt like an eternity, while you two walked, Nathan’s grip on your hand was firm and rather tight.

There was a tense silence between the two, you had tried to start some sort of conversation about the party, but you made the mistake of bringing up Skwisgaar. In turn it made Nathan scowl and go quiet, you did notice how he squeezed your hand more at the mention of the Swede.

After what felt like forever, you two finally arrived to Nathan’s bedroom.

“What’s up with you?” You asked, sitting at the edge of Nathan’s ridiculously large bed. You weren’t an idiot and it was clear that he was annoyed, angry maybe?

Walking over, Nathan pushed you down onto the bed, “Nothing.” He grumbled, towering over you.

“Nothing?” You hummed, letting your legs spread to accommodate him, did he think you were dumb? With a smile, you hummed, “You’re being extra brooding, what happened?” You pressed.

Nathan slipped on top of you, both of his hands landing next to your head. “Nothing. Shut up.” He replied, his long hair falling and framing his face, with that, he pressed his lips against yours.

The pace was quick and sloppy, a bit of force behind it too, but you didn’t mind.

Moaning into his mouth, you moved your hand and gripped his shoulder, after a few seconds he pulled away. Letting you catch your breath while he went down and started pressing kisses down your neck.

The kisses were open mouthed, his tongue pressing against your skin before he sucked.

With your small cocktail dress, it had a plunged neck line. It was black and it hugged your curves nicely, your chest was exposed so Nathan had lots of space to lick and mark.

Whining, you could feel his lips against your collarbone, sucking on your skin, making sure to leave a visible hickey.

That way, Skwisgaar could see that you belonged to him.

“Mm..Nathan.” You moaned softly, your legs loosely wrapping around his hips. A rumbling groan left Nathan’s lips, one that came from deep down in his chest.

The way you moaned his name made his head spin and his blood surged down to his crotch, his jeans applying pressure to his hardening cock. Making him feel suffocated.

“Fuck.” He grunted, moving back, his hands gripped the neckline of your dress. It was plunged and brought out your tits nicely, being held up by some meek spaghetti straps. With a rough yank, Nathan pulled the dress down, exposing your tits.

They bounced at the force, you yelped as the cold hair hit your breast. Your nipples perking up quickly, “Nathan! This dress was expensive!” You squealed, instinctively covering your chest.

“And? I’ll buy you a new one.” He grunted, shooting you a glare before moving your arms away and latching his mouth to one of your perky nipples.

You were about to complain, but the warm feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple made you moan softly instead.

Nathan grew eager with his tongue, alternating between both nipples and leaving hickies. His hand slipped down to your thigh, his rough fingers slipping up your dress, pulling the skirt up.

His fingers pressed against your underwear, toying with your clothed clit, making your body twitch, “N-Nathan!” You stammered.

Nathan’s gaze fell on your face, pulling away and standing at the edge of the bed, his hands hooked under your knees and yanked you forward. Leaving you lying against the edge of the bed, Nathan was quick to roughly pull down your panties, not even caring enough to take them completely off, they just stayed hooked on your right ankle.

Dropping down to his knees, Nathan made space between your legs, you shivered as his hot breath fanned against your soaked cunt.

“Nathan..”

You mewled, you weren’t sure what had him this filed up. A sharp gasp left your lips as you felt his flat tongue against your cunt, licking from your slit up to your clit.

Your hips squirmed, Nathan was never a big fan of eating pussy, so this had your brain fuzzy. In Nathan’s mind, his only goal was to outshine Skwisgaar.

He’s heard stories about the Swede, about how he gives the best head to whichever woman is lucky enough to receive it. Nathan wanted to mentally prove to you that he too could give you great head.

It’s not like you ever doubted that, but still.

This was all mental for him.

Rolling his tongue in a circular motion against your sensitive clit, your breathing was breathy and whiny. Fuck, he was good.

Your thighs struggled to stay open and accommodating to the fact your boyfriend was eating you out, but Nathan didn’t care. In fact, as your thighs squeezed his head, his hands held the outside of your thighs, keeping your legs locked around his head.

All you could do was moan shakily, whimper out his name, and roll your hips up. Thrusting up to try and keep his face pressed against your cunt.

Nathan made it his job to have his nose pressed against your clit whenever his tongue messed with your insides, but also alternating between sucking on your clit while his fingers slipped inside your cunt, curling up and pressing on your sensitive spot.

While his tongue pressed and lapped up your clit, Nathan moaned against your pussy. Hearing you whine and cry his name was making his ego grow as much as the bulge in his pants.

So much so, that while he kept sucking and licking, his hand slipped down to his pants. He palmed his bulge, groaning in need.

He wanted to fuck you so fucking bad.

He could feel his cock throb against his pants, but before shoving his cock into you, he wanted to have you cum on his tongue. A need to taste your slick made his movements more eager.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before a bundle of nerves began to build in the bottom of your stomach. Your hand came to push his head down, gripping his long black hair tightly.

Your hips kept rolling against his face, begging for friction. You gasped and whined, your cunt feeling sensitive, the feeling was too much. His flat tongue makes it hard to keep your composure, “M’cummin!” You weeped, rolling your head back as your thighs squeezed his head.

Nathan’s nails dug into your plush skin, devouring your pretty cunt.

The knot that had built up was getting tighter and tighter, to the point you couldn’t hold back. With a sharp moan, the knot snapped and a wave of ecstasy washed over you.

Your back arched and your thighs remained clamped against Nathan’s head while you tugged on his hair, struggling to catch your breath as your hips kept pressing against his mouth to ride out your orgasm.

Nathan’s sharp gaze focused on you, watching as your body twitched and trembled under his touch.

Finally, your body relaxed. Moving your legs, you spread your legs and your body practically went limp. Your head rolled back, your eyes slipping shut as your legs occasionally twitched. “..Fuck.” You gasped.

Nathan pulled back and he stood back up.

You still laid on the edge of the bed, your tits exposed and your skirt pulled up to your stomach, your glistening cunt exposed to the eyes of your lover.

Nathan stood at the end of the bed, watching you hungrily as his hands slipped down and quickly undid his pants, his hands practically trembling.

You watched as he did so, he was quick with his movements. Eager even, with ease he dropped his pants and his cock sprung out. It was throbbing, standing tall in all its glory, precum coating the tip.

The sight of his cock made your stomach turn, filling with butterflies. You practically drooled, Nathan wrapped his hand around his shaft, pumping his cock over and over, groaning softly as he did so.

Taking a hold of your knees, Nathan pulled your body closer to the edge, holding you up for easier access to your cunt.

You gulped, Nathan’s cock prodding your cunt, teasing you. With a whine, your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re soaked.” Nathan groaned, his face flushed as he felt your slick coating his cock. “Stop teasing!” You cried, needing his fat cock to stuff your cunt.

Nathan adjusted his position, spitting on his fingers before rubbing the spit down his thick shaft, mixing it with his precum.

Without proper warning, Nathan shoved his cock past your cunt. Stretching your walls to make space for his girthy cock. A loud cry left your lips at the feeling, your own cries mixing with Nathan’s guttural groan.

The feeling of your warm walls wrapping around his cock, hugging him snuggly, made his cock throb. Your cunt was slick and welcoming.

He adjusted your legs to be wrapped around his hips and his hands held your hips, nails digging into his skin. Pulling your hips back, Nathan pulled his cock back and then shoved back in.

Thrusting his hips, Nathan pounded into your cunt.

Your body bounced against the bed due to his brute force, your hands gripped the bedsheets desperately as your moaned, a string of babbles and curses slipped past your lips.

What has gotten into him?

Your tits bounced freely, the sound of skin slapping was loud, his heavy balls pounding against your ass.

In Nathan’s mind, the egocentric thought of ‘ Skwisgaar couldn’t fuck her like this ’ was taking over his mind, watching as your face contorted in bliss, the way your eyes rolled back and shut, and not to mention the whiny cries that left your lips, it was filling his jealous ego and making his thrusts become harsher.

You could handle it.

Stopping his thrusts, Nathan stayed nuzzled deep inside your cunt. Roughly, he grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed your legs snug against your chest.

He had you folded into a mating press, the new position made your eyes widen, before you could even get a word out, Nathan pulled back and slammed back in.

“N-Nathan!” You cried, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he put his weight down on each thrust. The angle making it easy for Nathan’s cock to repeatedly hit the spongy spot inside you that has your brain melting.

Babbling, you couldn’t produce a coherent sentence, all you could do was struggle to talk as your brain gave out.

Nathan was doubled over you, his thrusts filled with a hard force, he had you folded and he wasn’t letting you move. He was grunting and groaning, those noises coming deep from his chest.

You’re the best pussy he’s ever fucking had.

He was practically drooling, the way your cunt fluttered around his shaft, clenching down while you mewled. It was like a fucking drug, shots of electrifying pleasure coursed through his body, making him shiver.

Moving one of your legs over his shoulder, Nathan moved his hand and wrapped it around your delicate neck. His large hand squeezing around your neck. His nails digging down against your neck, biting your lip, lidded eyes stared at Nathan as he squeezed.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut.” Nathan grunted, landing particularly harder thrusts inside you, making you moan like a horny slut, just like Nathan said.

His mind was clouded, the mental image of you smiling and laughing at whatever the fuck that Swede told you fueled his anger and frustration.

Nathan let out a noise, one very similar to an animalistic growl, “Fucking greedy for attention.” He rambled, “Hanging on the arm of some dildo and for what?” He groaned, “Laughing at some, uh, stupid stories like a groupie slut.” Nathan squeezed.

You whined, your eyes fluttering shut, his words barely registered.

“But you know that no one can fuck you like this.” Nathan growled, watching as you nodded your head desperately. “..No one can have you acting like a brainless slut,” He moaned, “Nobody but me.” He practically snarled, still pounding into your squelching pussy.

You could only nod, struggling to even muster up a vocal reply that wasn’t a moan or gasp.

Nathan didn’t like that, he wanted to hear you say it.

Stopping his thrusts, Nathan narrowed his eyes, you whined; you didn’t want him to stop! Nathan moved his hand and with a swift motion, he gave you a slap across the face.

Fuck.

A moan of pleasure from the sting left your lips, “C’mon, say it.” Nathan growled, his voice guttural and deep. His eyebrows furrowed, feeling your pussy clench around him after he slapped you, of course you liked that.

Your brain was melted, lidded eyes glanced at Nathan, a fucked out smile coming to your lips.

“..N-No one can fuck me like you can, Nathan.” You said, smiling like a fucked out slut, your words made Nathan’s chest fill with pride. Yeah, that’s right.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, that was hot. Really fucking hot, gripping the bottom of your thighs again, Nathan plunged back into your cunt.

That familiar knot from before was coming back, your body felt hot, a thin sheet of sweat was covering your skin as well as Nathan’s.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you cried. “M’so c—close!” You stammered, your eyes shutting tight as your head rolled back to the side.

Nathan shut his eyes too, focusing on his thrusts and his own pleasure, he gripped your thighs tightly, enough that it would bruise in the morning.

His balls felt heavy, a similar knot filling in his stomach, the primal urge to shove his cum deep down inside your greedy cunt making his mind run wild.

With a long cry, you came. The climax hit you hard, your back arched and your toes curled, one of your heels slipping off as your legs trembled.

Babbling out curses, you sobbed. The pleasure was too much, it was overwhelming for your body, Nathan’s thrusts had gotten sloppy.

“God, fuck .” He groaned, your walls squeezing down on his cock, as if you were milking his cock. His thrusts were heavy and uneven as he desperately chased his orgasm, your walls fluttering as your body trembled from overstimulation.

It didn’t take long for Nathan’s climax to hit, pressing your thighs against your chest, he pressed his body down. Placing his body weight on top of your smaller body. His balls tightened and his cock twitched, his cum coming out in hot spurts.

It was thick and milky, staining your walls and filling you up to the brim.

His body was pressed above you, his head nuzzled into your shoulder as he panted and grunted. Breathing heavily as he slowly thrusted, riding out his orgasm.

There you two laid, sweaty and fucked out.

Nathan’s cock stayed nuzzled inside your cunt as it softened, your arms lazily wrapped stood his neck, holding him tightly against you.

Nathan let go of your legs, letting them relax, you moved them and lazily wrapped them around his waist, savoring the feeling of his large body resting on top of you.

[roxygen22]

Bus Stop (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Nic: Good morning

You grabbed your phone from your nightstand before you had even fully blinked the sleep from your eyes. A message from Nic was waiting for you. You giggled and kicked your feet in excitement as you held your phone to your chest. Last night wasn't just a dream, after all.

You: Morning!

Your fingers typed wildly.

You: You're quite the early bird.

Relunctantly tossing the warm covers away from your body, you got out of bed to start your morning routine, bringing your phone along so as to not miss anything. As you leaned over the sink to brush your teeth, you felt it vibrate on the tile counter. Just seeing his name on the screen made your heart beat a little faster.

Nic: I try to start the day with a run or bike ride. Just got back inside. Gotta hop in the shower and get ready for class. What time is your lunch break?

Blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of him being soaked in sweat or lathered up in soap. Too soon, you cautioned yourself. Thank goodness he couldn't see you.

You: Usually at noon, unless a mtg runs long.

Nic: K. I'll give you a call on my way to the station, if that's OK?

You bit your lip. How to sound positive but not TOO eager...

You: Yes, please :)

The morning crawled and meetings droned on and on. Several times you caught yourself daydreaming, staring out the window or drawing abstract shapes on your paper instead of taking notes. As the clock ticked closer to noon, your knee bounced under your desk in nervous excitement, impatiently waiting for your phone to light up.

Like clockwork, your phone buzzed in your hand at 12:00 on the dot as you ran out to the rear courtyard for a semi-private spot to talk.

"You are quite punctual," you answered. Nic chuckled.

"I've been holding my phone in my hand just staring at it for a solid two minutes waiting for the right time. How has your day been?"

"Oh, [nervous laughter] I'm not exactly sure. I spent most of the morning off in la-la-land. I had a little trouble paying attention."

"Funny you should say that. I had the same problem in class."

"Oh, yeah? What were you thinking about?"

"You first," he teased.

"No, you."

"Alright, since we're not in person to settle this with rock-paper-scissors like mature adults, how about we both say it on three?"

You laughed. "Ok. I can appreciate a good compromise. 1...2...3..."

"You."/"Last night."

"Really?"/"Really?"

There was an awkward pause that was probably not as long as it felt. You broke the silence.

"I was stoked to see your message this morning. Confirmation that I didn't dream the whole thing up," you admitted.

"I haven't had a fun evening out like that in ages. I...I felt like- like you were just so easy to talk to."

"I had fun, too," you replied. "I, uh...I dreamed about that kiss. It's been - a while - since I've been kissed like that."

"Me, too."

"Dream or a long time since the last?"

"Both."

"Awwwww!" you vocalized. "Well, you don't have to wait that long again." Your boldness startled you, so you started backtracking in a panic. "I mean, if, uh, that's what you want. Because that's what I want. I mean...," you trailed off and groaned as you smacked your forehead with your palm. "I'm going to shut up now."

"Please don't," Nic replied. "It's adorable when you ramble when you're flustered."

"You do seem to have that effect on me." The tops of your ears burned with embarrassment at your admission.

He chuckled. "So I've noticed."

After a beat of silence, you asked, "So, just curious, how long has it been for you? It's been just over two years for me."

"Almost four years. I've been trying to work on feeling whole on my own before getting involved with someone again."

"Kudos for putting in that work on yourself. My ex did not. He projected a lot of pent-up baggage onto me. I've been on a break since. It was toxic and lasted longer than it should have, and I've been in no rush to get mixed up with the wrong person again.

"But now?" Nic eagerly implored.

"Nowwwwww I think I could be persuaded by the right person," you hinted.

"Ah, I see." He paused. "[Y/N], I...," he cleared his throat. "Do you like Italian food?"

Somewhat taken aback by the jarring transition, you stuttered, "Y-yeah, I love Italian." You worried that you threw him off by mentioning your ex. Maybe it was too much too soon?

"There's this great place near the bus stop where I usually get on at Lexington and 1st. I was thinking we could go get a bite to eat tomorrow after work?"

Whew. Maybe you didn't scare him off after all. "That sounds delicious. I'd love that."

"Great! I'll meet you at the bus stop and walk you over. But for now, you should probably actually eat something on your lunch break. I just made it to the news station and need to go get settled in."

You pulled the phone away from your face to check the time. You only had about 10 minutes left. "Alas, responsibilities befall us all. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow. Bye, [Y/N]."

"Bye, Nic."

You ended the call and stared down at the dark phone screen in your hand. The fading excitement felt like you were crashing from a sugar rush. You slowly got up from the bench and shuffled back inside to get your food.

Your coworkers were standing at the ready to interrogate you. They knew you generally hated talking on the phone, but this time, you were all smiles.

"Tell us all about him, honey," the receptionist, Henrietta, demanded. "We need some excitement around here."

"What? How did you...."

"Dear, you have lovesick written all over your face!"

You blushed hard. Before you knew it, you were encircled by colleagues rolling over in their desk chairs as you recounted spotting Nic on the bus and working up the courage to say hello, and how magical that first unexpected date and kiss were last night. Once they were done peppering you with questions and chairs were rolled back to desks, Henrietta came up to you and gave you a hug.

"I'm glad you are finally putting yourself back out there after that jerk, Matt. You deserve to find love again, and he sounds like a wholesome guy."

"Thanks, Etta." You patted her arm and gently squeezed. "Time for me to come down out of the clouds and get back to work, I guess."

Small text exchanges throught the rest of the day kept you going, but you craved to hear Nic's voice again. Tomorrow felt like forever away. You knew you'd need to distract yourself with a rare visit to the gym that evening to pass the time and wear yourself out.

You were walking to the bus stop after work when you felt your phone buzz in your bag. It was a long, repeated vibration - someone was calling you. You fumbled through the main section of the bag, cursing yourself for not putting your phone in the pocket it belonged for quick access. Once in hand, you stared at the screen. Nic?

"Hello?"

"Is now a bad time?"

"No, not at all. I just wasn't expecting to get to talk to you again today. I'm off work and walking to the bus. How was the rest of your day?"

"Not bad, but I have to say it definitely peaked at lunchtime. I wanted to hear your voice again."

You chuckled. "Same here. Sounds like you are walking, too."

"The meeting isn't far from the station, so I like to get more steps in if weather permits."

"Maybe your habits will rub off on me."

He didn't respond, but you could hear him breathing on the other end of the line.

"Getting up early routinely and going for a run, walking instead of taking the bus or taxi. I have a gym membership, but I'm the worst about actually going," you added.

"Oh," he replied, followed by anxious laughter. "Hey, I made it to the meeting spot. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok. Have a good night!"

"Bye, [Y/N]."

<><><><><>

There was no message waiting for you the next morning. Trying not to think anything of it, despite the strange end to the last two conversations, and to keep things balanced, you decided to send one yourself to start things off.

You: Morning!

You had already made it to work and started on your case load before Nic responded with a simple "good morning" in return three hours later. You were elbow deep in paperwork and couldn't break away to message again until lunch, which was later than usual.

No additional texts. And no call. Desperately trying not to overthink, you reminded yourself that he said he would talk to you later, so there had to be at least some intent to make contact. He had given you no reason not to trust his word, but you couldn't take it any longer.

You: Sorry for the radio silence. It's been a busy day prepping for a case.

Nic: No worries. At work, too.

You: Still on for dinner? I should be at your stop about 5:40

Nic: Yep, see you soon

You chalked his stilted, near transactional messages up to being busy at work. For once, you were grateful for the hectic pace at work to keep your brain from spiraling. At the end of the day, you gathered your things and took a deep breath before leaving the office. You reminded yourself that you were beyond capable of handling whatever the evening threw at you.

You boarded the bus and mindlessly watched the scrolling marquee of upcoming cross streets. Your heart rate surged with each stop that brought you closer to Nic. What if he wasn't there? What if he was acting strange because he's planning to cut things off?

The next stop was yours. You stepped off and looked around once you cleared the bus and breathed a sigh of relief to see Nic leaning against a nearby pole. One worry down. He walked over toward you.

"Hi," you said, trying to sound chipper.

"Hey." He bent down and gave you a small peck of a kiss on your cheek. He looked...sad. Not the greeting you had hoped for. "Ready to eat?"

Truthfully, no. But you weren't going to fill him in on your anxieties yet, so you just nodded and walked alongside as he led the way to the restaurant in silence. Something was obviously up. You could see an Italian restaurant sign up the street, but he paused before you made it there.

Nic stepped over to a nearby bench and gestured for you to sit beside him. You did so nervously, clutching your bag in your lap so he couldn't see your hands shake.

"Hey, listen," he started. "Before we, uh, go in, I...I need to tell you something. I owe it to you and to myself."

Your eyes widened. "Oh, God. You're not, like, still married or something, are you?" Your voice raised, garnering attention from passersby.

"What? No, oh, no no, not that." Nic reached out as if he wanted to hold your hand, but hesitated before pulling it back to his leg. He looked around to see if anyone was still paying attention and took a deep breath before locking eyes with you. "[Y/N], I am a recovering addict. I have been sober for about three years now."

That is not what you expected. Your brain churned through a thousand different responses, trying to figure out the right thing to say to such big news. Before you could say anything, he continued.

"I go to NA meetings every Wednesday evening. They reminded me that... that...if we are going to get to know each other, I need you to know me. Who I am. That is part of my identity and daily challenge to continue to be my best self." His shoulders fell as he looked down at the sidewalk away from you. "I also...I wanted to give you a chance to end this early if that is too much. You deserve to be with the right person, and I understand that that may not be me."

Nic jumped slightly when you hooked your finger under his chin to lift his head up, where you met him with a soft smile.

"That is nothing to be ashamed of," you replied slowly. "Thank you for sharing. I know that couldn't have been easy, but at least now I better understand why you weren't talking much today. I thought...I thought maybe I said something wrong yesterday."

"What?! No! Oh no, I'm so sorry that I made you think that." He pulled your hand up to his lips to kiss it. "You- you're a breath of fresh air. A fresh start with someone who isn't stuck on the image of the old me."

You released a deep breath you didn't even know you had been holding. "I must admit that I can't even begin to know what your journey has been like. Or will be like. But I'm willing to take things one day at a time to find out."

"One day at a time is all I can ask for." Nic gently leaned his forehead against yours. "Thank you."

You were enjoying the closeness until your stomach betrayed you with a loud grumble. Now that your worries had eased, you were terribly famished. Nic sat up and wiped a tear off his cheek, laughing as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He stood and held his hand out to you.

"Hungry?"

"Starved," you replied as you stood and followed him toward the restaurant once again. "So what's good here?"

"Well, I prefer their spaghetti over their penne..."

<><><><><>

The End

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002 @itshonestlynotme @parkbabyj @genesis-margarita @superlegend216 @crypticslytherin

[calmlb]

can we as a society please stop calling Dazai the “demon prodigy” like it’s canon??? IM BEGGING

his canon nickname is so underused too… i mean c’mon, the “black wraith of the Port Mafia??” idk if i’ve ever even seen it used in a fic 😭

[my-darling-boy]

It’s horrible how my design course has killed my enjoyment in creativity because all they want is finished pieces founded in nothing but a spontaneous mark just to hang at some concrete art gallery or to sell to some “join our revolution” comfy business-casual company with a prison cell wellness room. I’m not saying that it’s “not art” —cos that’s a different post altogether— it’s that the ethos behind this particular formula for art education is ruining the way we think about creation.

Design courses (and other art courses I’ve heard?) are no longer teaching artists or designers techniques, drawing skills, art fundamentals and allowing them to find their own voice so much as they are only instructing how to tic boxes alongside pushing corporate and classist motivated style/methodology bias aimed at producing workers, not creatives, not to mention providing Adobe with endless funds for their despicable scam programs. That’s it. My creativity is only a means to money for them, and if they can extract the process of creation from me without the complex creative intimacy involved in it, they know they can churn out products and services faster and it’s concerning some lecturers don’t seem to be aware this is what they’re teaching? Like they’re buying into industry propaganda?

And the whole time it’s sold to you like you can be some trailblazer when the irony is they’re usually either prepping you for cubicle work or for some misguided high horse creative team pumping out design solutions completely divorced from the reality. I’m tired of all the talks about sustainability in a vacuum with no conversation about nuanced designs that factor in broader social and economic perspectives which lack thereof is leading to sustainable products being sold at a price only able to be afforded by wealthier people who are causing said economic and social problems and contributing to the rapid obsoletion of trades and crafts. Lecturers and speakers don’t seem to think that’s any of our concern and should just worry about producing the design for the hypothetical Bluetooth powered organic hairbrush or using the twigs to make the pattern for the £85 fabric square.

Like? Can I please make something that actually resonates with people outside the circle jerk of egotistical creatives and corporations? Something charming and maybe idk something that doesn’t make me want to tear my miserable portfolio in half with my teeth? And they’re like Mm nope sorry it has to be an extreme close up of a mark making abstract leaf you made from a recycled trash bag inspired by a stalled urban space which we will force you to price at £100 during your exhibition 5 people will bother to attend and no you’re not allowed any other style cos this isn’t the Dark Ages :///

I think the worst thing my lecturer ever said was, while looking around the room of our class work reduced down to a series of cubes and splatters and abstract typography, “Wow, I love how you can’t tell what anyone’s [main artist discipline] is!” Like awww conformity at the expense of a person’s individuality to make pieces for airport hallways and rich people’s living rooms wow so cool heehee like girl that’s not good?? Why on Earth are you complimenting us for that? Like I get it, I thought this course would boost skillset as an illustrator (as we were told), turns out the degree is really not for me, fair enough to anyone thinking that, but forcing students to produce modern abstract art because you think it’s the ONLY Logical Pathway for the future of design, judging them intensely for doing a different style, and thinking producing financially inaccessible art + design is the solution to things like climate change and community severance is an objectively bad take.

[pixlokita]

Can I be real honest and admit how much it saddens me that Instagram doesn’t even let me check if my friends or mutuals liked a post or story without slapping me with “insights” and how good or bad I’m doing regarding my content. I? Don’t care? God forbid I just want to share drawings or funny stories just for the heck of it . why does everything have to be about your account’s performance.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[barbieaemond]

I’ve rewatched ep3, specifically Rhaenyra and Alicent last scene and I must say, it’s still the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen on tv.

[ovenproofowl]

a lot of people have said it, but I’m throwing in my two cents just to get it off my chest.

Picard season 3 was . Bad . For a LOT of reasons . It felt like - as many before me have expressed - a self-insert fanfic with the dullest self-insert in history.

Jack Crusher wasn’t much of a character but he could have had some promise if they hadn’t spent an aggravating amount of time having him decree how different he always felt, you guys. Did you get that part? He’d always felt different. That sort of dialogue might have flown if we were dealing with Picard’s adolescent son, but instead we’re dealing with a 24 year old played by a 35 year old who looks every bit his age. (It was a hard 24 years, we must assume.)

The reason that Jack Crusher didn’t work for me personally, though, wasn’t because of how cliché his character was. I would have let that pass much easier if it wasn’t for the big ol’ elephant in the room. And that is simply that :

JACK CRUSHER WAS NEVER NECESSARY

Jack may have served a purpose to the storyline that was presented if only because he was the sole reason there was a Big Bad to be defeated in the first place. Everyone wanted to kidnap him, he brought the old gang back together just to protect him and then later save him from said Big Bad which was also actually .. him. Everything Was About Jack. But I’m not talking about the main plot. I Really Don’t Want to Talk About the Main Plot. Ever. What I want to talk about is what Jack represented that made him so unnecessary:

He was intended to represent Jean-Luc Picard’s only reason to start living.

Personally, that really, really offended me. Picard didn’t need to have a biological kid to have a purpose. In fact, it’s been established time and time again that he wasn’t ever really dad material. More of a... weirdly intense uncle. For a while, he wasn’t a fan of kids at all. Eventually, though, Picard is seen to warm to the idea of letting children within his general vicinity. This starts in TNG and continues on in season 1 of Picard. The Only Categorically Good Season of this whole. show.

In season 1, we see flashbacks of Jean-Luc’s relationship with a young Elnor, how he would read him stories and have sword fights with him. He was an absent father to an adopted child he hadn’t even realised he’d adopted and yet Elnor still fought for his hopeless cause. In much the same way, Picard meets Dahj and then later, Soji. He feels a kinship with these androids because of their connection to Data. He wants to protect Soji becase he couldn’t protect Dahj and Soji even canonically questions whether she should allow Picard to act as her father figure before she begins to remember where she came from. Both of these dynamics were infinitely more interesting and a lot deeper rooted. Soji and Elnor were both young twenty-somethings without parental guidance but found that guidance through Picard. Soji had her connection to Jurati, too, and Elnor had his with Seven and Raffi and that’s what made the whole group so intriguing to follow. They all had interesting connections to each other that had so many avenues to explore.

Unfortunately, the show decided to more or less write Soji and Elnor out of the story come season 2. Elnor was killed off for the majority of the season and only brought back by Q intervention in the last episode. Soji wasn’t even a part of the story at all. And do you know what’s sad about that? What’s really sad? Season 2 was trying to sell us the exact same message as season 3. That Picard needed a reason to live. But, like, not that reason. Not the reasons he’d already been given in the form of his found family with his Romulan and android adopted children, or even the rest of the La Sirena crew. No no no, we can’t have that, better get rid of them. This time, Laris is the focal point. Picard had been avoiding a romantic relationship with her because of a never before mentioned dark history surrounding his mother’s suicide. Because, sure, at this point, why not? While we’re at it, let’s also kill off Rios in the most slap-in-the-face out of character way possible and fling Jurati at the Borg for good measure just so she won’t be around for season 3. Her character development into the Borg Queen was pretty intriguing, but we’ll totally ignore that they even exist post her departure, just for funsies. Oh, and Soji and Elnor? Best not mention them at all come that third and final season. Otherwise, people might get the crazy notion that Picard already had a reason not to hunker down and die at the vinyard at the tender age of 104.

Season 3 picks up where season 2 leaves off in that Picard is now in that aforementioned romantic relationship with Laris. Except, no he isn’t because he immediately gets an emergency call from his ex and literally never sees or talks to Laris ever again. There wasn’t even a throw-away line or implied reference to her, but by now I’m sure you know the reason for that.

That’s right, folks. Because if we were allowed to remember Laris and what she meant to Picard, then we might just remember that other thing. Say it with me now!!

JACK CRUSHER WAS NEVER NECESSARY!!

In summary, there were so many brilliant options to give Picard for signficant found family dynamics, but the show just wasn’t interested in any of them. Season 3 wanted a Picard who had given it all up, who was ready to die because he’d never had a family to pass on his legacy. They wanted him at his lowest so that we’d all rejoice to see him return to the TNG crew. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a massive TNG fan and I could rave about the fan service and nostalgia porn for hours on end. If season 3 had stood alone as a singular unconnected event, it might even have been passable as a warm hug from old and beloved characters with some fun new spins to their stories along the way, juust so long as you didn’t squint too hard at the actual attempt at plot writing going on in the background.

But the fact of the matter is, Picard season 3 came far too late into the game. Season 1 held the building blocks to something new and interesting. By the end of season 2, it was becoming clear we were never going to see those blocks stand. By season 3, those blocks were just scattered headstones in a graveyard.

They teased us with the potential new show of Captain Seven and her Number One Raffi Musiker and that might have just been okay. . .

. . .If the La Sirena Crew had been allowed to be a part of that future.

In closing: Picard season 3? Too little, too late, mate. 👎🏻

[hold-him-down]

y'all. GUYS. LADIES. FOLKS.

the sunshine court is 100% to our tastes over here on my side of whumblr and i simply CANNOT BELIEVE this woman took every whump trope i love and published a whole ass book with them I can't think of a single chapter that wasn't DIRECTLY TO MY TASTE including, but not limited to (with spoilers under the cut):

being so upset he pukes? twice?

noncon drugging

medical drugging/chemical restraints

noncon

whumpee thinking the caretaker is the new whumper

whumpee thinking everyone is the whumper

self deprication

tears

broken bones

whumpers gettin' THEIRs dammit

exhaustion

waterboarding

scars

isolation

i stg i could go on forever

THE FOUND FAMILY OF IT ALL

THE LEARNING TO BE LOVED OF IT ALL

i can't. i'm gonna give the first three a proper reread (which isn't explicitly necessary to read this but you will be confused to all hell if you go in blind, but you could probably get by), and then read this bad boy again. and again probably, so if you don't see me for the next month you can assume i'm doing this.

[pamesjatterson]

On my hater mindset again

[daltonsnightmare]

MacGyver (2016) s3e15 K9 + Smugglers + New Recruit | Cold Open