#almost. there are probably a few that question him / his loyalty and motives but they never get any proof / don't last too long

[nonsupe-a]

a lot of s4 is unknown mostly cause i haven’t gone digging and it’ll probably stay that way but thinking about the fact that shiloh probably has to bury himself deep in all of vought + h0melanders bullshit to burn all ties that could lead to an easy victory for him,   stalling any process as much as he can.   having to deal with all that Nightmare aftermath of half the tower blowing up in wake of s0ldier boy and maeve.   dealing with the congresswoman immediately after.

thinking about how shiloh won’t get to rest any easier in s4.   how much more he’ll give of himself and how he’ll be even more go go go,   playing the sides to his advantage when and where he can for that end goal.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Could I request for Zevlor to be persuaded by gn reader to go on a picnic & they accidentally confessed their feelings to him as they were trying to reassure him that they're happy to spend time with him?

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Zevlor is a busy man - there's no doubt about that. From the moment he wakes up until he falls asleep, the only thing on his mind are the lives dependent on him. Which isn't exactly bad, although it might get a little, well, overwhelming for everyone involved.

A wise person once said that "duty is given by others, responsibility taken by yourself". But Zevlor seems to have misunderstood that rather questionable quote and so he treats most things around him as his responsibility. It's not that he wishes to be in control, he just cares a little too much for his own good, never wanting to leave things up to fate if he can help it. And if there's someone who knows how fickle fate can be, it's Zevlor.

He's been looking progressively worse these past few weeks. His red skin began to look sickly ashy, bright eyes lost their twinkle. Once strong hands tended to lose their grip from time to time. Zevlor painted a picture of a man not only exhausted but tormented by his own mind and the awful thoughts that lie within.

Which is precisely why you've decided to take matters into your own hands. If Zevlor doesn't want to take care of himself, always saying that there's no time for such unimportant things, you will do it for him. At first, the idea elicited a rather juvenile embarrassment inside you but then you found it to be motivating. The things we do for the ones we love...

Zevlor is forced away from the scattered manuscripts in front of him as the heavy basket filled with fruit, meats, cheeses and fresh bread is set on the table with a loud thud. He lifts his gaze, only to give you a questioning, confused look.

"You look to be in dire need of unwinding," you state. Whether your plan works or not is now up to your rhetoric.

The tiefling's expression softens. A small, hesitant smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps I do," Zevlor answers with reluctance. "But there's still much I should tend to. I can not lie back while so many have entrusted their lives to me. It's too dangerous."

You cross your arms on your chest. "Last night, when you were peacefully sleeping, no calamity has befallen your people. I think they can manage on their own for a few hours."

"We surely can!" yelled a tiefling who was just passing by.

Zevlor steps away from his desk, no longer hanging over things that probably ruin the aforementioned peaceful sleep. The turmoil inside his head is easily visible - part of him wants to stick with the worries that keep him up at night, while the other side of him yearns to lose the anxieties for one afternoon.

The tiefling look away for moment, fiery irises staring off into the distance. Then Zevlor's eyes come back to you but their softness has turned into something sombre. One way or another, there's immense doubt inside the man in front of you.

Zevlor offers you a kind, albeit awkward smile. "Still, a figure of your sort ought to have their company sought out by many more important people. Do not waste your precious time on an old man like me."

But he's going to have to try harder than that to dissuade you:

"Alright, you do have a couple years on me," you give his statement a half-hearted nod, "but that's hardly the most important thing about you, Zevlor. Why, dear Gods below," you dramatically put a hand on your chest, "wouldn't I want to spend my free time with a man whose patience, loyalty and virtue make me want to be a better person?" Your statement elicits a nervous chuckle from Zevlor. He'd be embarrassingly flustered and red in the face if it wasn't for his already fire-like shade of skin, "A man, for whom I began to feel lo-" You hang your voice the moment you realize what word almost left your mouth. Zevlor looks at you with raised eyebrows, disbelief written all over his face. Shame and embarrassment creep up on you as you feel your face heat up. Unable to look the man in the eye anymore, your gaze drops to the floor. "I didn't mean to just drop it on you like that. Can we pretend I didn't say it?"

Then, you feel a warm anxiously brush your cheek. It hangs against your skin for a moment, as though its owner is pondering his next move, before quickly retreating. "I'd rather we don't," Zevlor answers softly.

[tiredassmage]

14, 19, 24 of the soft asks for Tyr?

[Soft OC Asks]

14. What's the most touching gift they've ever received?

I'd say not to be a sap, but these are the soft asks, so probably Theron's trust. His confidence. Physical items have a definitive impermanence and even risk in an agent's life and Theron chooses repeatedly to not only stand at his side, but advocate for him. Of course there's no greater gift than trust and respect when Tyr has always found it in short supply as a Cipher.

Theron's one of the few he trusts to see him and to stand by him with no ulterior motive. If he goes reaching for Theron's hand, he knows it'd take hell and high water for Theron not to reach back. And he knows Theron would try everything in his power to do it anyway.

To speak of more physical objects though, it was unexpectedly touching that they went through the lengths of locating the Phantom after five long years. Seeing that ship back over Odessen was the first time Tyr realized how much that ship had become home - as close to it as he'd ever felt to naming it a place. The halls of that ship saw some of his best and his worse and always held people that, in the end, he found he could count on. It was a sorely desired link back to what life had been before everything had fallen apart - more than just a link back to the war before Zakuul, it's one of the last physical links he has to Imperial Intelligence and, try as he might, he's not been quite able to excise a painfully nostalgic sense of loyalty to the old guard he once knew and served before Operations was silenced and restructured to the Sith's needs.

19. What's a guilty pleasure of theirs?

Tyr has made unscheduled runs into orbit above Odessen several times on the Phantom when the pressure of the Alliance and the war feels just a bit too suffocating. A part of him truly has fallen in love with the planet and the elusive sense of peace that whispers through the trees to him. Sometimes, it's enough to slip off base and race a speeder out along the ridge, to feel the crisp winds sting his face and spend hours watching the sun set over the mountains. Sometimes, the lingering loss drives him into space to take in from a distance what they're fighting for and to slip away from the constant demands of being Commander.

He's gotten an earful several times from Lana about the risks and left a few confused traffic control officers trying to defend giving unexpected clearance for his departures in his wake that he usually has to deal with upon return. He doesn't like to worry them and he knows well the dangers of going off-script like this, but the way the weight lifts off his shoulders when his hands rest over those controls takes any question out of the matter: it's time.

And since I feel DEEPLY in my emotions for something that's supposed to be SOFT, damn it, Tyr!!!! He's... got a bit of a streak for fast times on speeders in general that it might make him almost flush a little to admit to. And at this point, he's been piloting the Phantom for so long that it practically feels like breathing - or dancing. Admitting how attached he is to that ship is nowhere in his plans. Ever.

24. Does your OC wrap themselves into a burrito to sleep or do they get tangled in the sheets?

Tyr can run a little warm at night if he involves too many blankets in a burrito, so tends to get tangled around a few sheets. Of course, the best answer is dragon piling with Theron. It's always a toss-up who has limbs entwined around who; Tyr's fallen asleep with Theron practically underneath him, lain across his chest or stomach, and tucked against his back or chest all relatively equally. He'd admit that he's grown rather used to having Theron at his side if he ever asked; given everything they've been through, the nights that they're apart are generally a bit harder for him to fall asleep.

[8ever-after]

Adding on because I feel like procrastinating,

Another thing that genuinly makes rise!Leo stand out to the other Leo’s and makes Splinter’s choice suprising is that this is the first Leo to not WANT to be Leader.

They don’t just switch Raph and Leo’s role in the family, they delve into what would change if Raph and Leo switched ages and both of them can fill their own essay. On Leo’s end they switch from honing in on one of his character traits, his discipline (which is definitly still there just not as strong); to his loyalty to his family/new york/the world.

This is the main reason that Leo isn’t leader yet, Leo doesn’t question Raph the way that previous Raph’s question previous Leo’s. Leo, maybe more than anyone, puts his faith in Raph, and wouldn’t ever try to take the role from Raph. The only reason that he would become leader would be if their dad told them, but why would Splinter ever do that - oh wait…

This is what makes him a bad leader at the start of the movie, he has to be the leader because of his faith that Splinter knows what he’s doing, but he’s spent the past few years following Raph, he doesn’t have as much practical experience as him, and from what we can tell from the start of the film, he and Raph probably haven’t had an actual conversation about it. All this makes him unprepared for the kraang fight.

Imo, Leo still isn’t really ready for the position of leader because of my above point. I just don’t see him truly being comfortable with it until him and Raph get time to actually talk about everything thats happened in the past year. This is probably stuff that would’ve been delt with in a hypothetical third season though (In my perfect world Leo would’ve gotten the leader role after the inital shredder fight and we could’ve actually seen time in between Leo becoming leader and the Kraang fight, then the Rise movie could’ve been about Raph and Mikey or smting (Sunset duo amiright lads))

Leo is consitantly my favorite turtle (I’m biased towards the blue and purple ones) but I can (begrudgingly/j) accept that not every Leo need to start as the leader, or and I fully agree that it shouldn’t be his only storyline. While I’ve thought of a bunch of differnt ways to write Leo (AUs my beloveded), Rise turned out almost perfectly (I got bones to pick with Nickelodeon). OP, I totally agree with all your points on why Leo WOULD make a good leader, he knows his brothers inside and out. Like him knowing that they would all be ok while he is dealing wtih Big Mama during Shredder fight #1.

Another thing that will make him a good leader, that discipline that i mentioned earlier still being there? Yeah it’s just not focused on ninja stuff. I’d be remiss to just brush this Leo off as being lazy, he just doesn’t have much motivation to work hard yet. Unlike other iterations (and something that i thought rise should’nt have changed) these turtles have been above ground for much of their life, and they only want to be hero’s after they almost lose to Draxum in the first episode. None of them have the discipline towards ninjitsu of the other iterations, but Leo is framed as the sporty/competitive one in this iteration, and he defintily wasn’t winning 5 Lair Games in a row in his sleep.

Conclusion: I definintly think that Leo’s grown, I just think he’s still growing.

P.S. sorry for the essay in your notifs op

A RANT:

THE NEON LEON

(I) A rise to leadership

Pun intended bc Leo would love it

Has this been done yet? Of course, but i love ranting about my favorite characters and boy, rise tmnt has so much to rant about (well, the whole tmnt franchise has enough material to speak for HOURS buttt rise lives forever in my heart so yeah i'm biased). Might talk about mutant mayhem in the future idk.

Leonardo Hamato/Splinterson has always been the leader, the one that carries the weight of carrying the team and following splinter's steps as the next "head" of the family (as said by splinter in the 2012 tmnt). And yeah in much of the versions of the turtles, this is a very important aspect of his personality, it's his literal purpose; it's the catalyst for a lot of the narratives and storylines seen across the tmnt universe: His fights with Raph, his anxiety, his inferiority complex, his constant wish to be better, how he sometimes neglects (or simply goes against?)his brother's feelings in order to keep them and the team itself safe.

Being the leader is both the weight and medal that comes with being Leonardo, that sisyphean task that we will always see try to accomplish over and over again.

So if we want to explore why he is a great leader... shouldn't we take that weight off his shoulders?

And that my people, it's what rise does perfectly. The best way to prove that Leo is a great leader? To show us how he can handle the team from the shadows, let us see how well he knows his team's strengths and shortcomings.

But don't just make him want to be the leader, no no, show us why we should all trust him to.

First of all: Leo panicking at the face of danger, might be useful sometimes.

Honest to god: i think the rise writers and animators are amazing. They're so GOOD at showing us important pieces of the characters even without directly saying it.

First of all, he doesn't have a fight or flight response because he straight up waves his ōdachi directly at anything that attacks him and his brothers (bro has kill om sight sense, he literally sliced warren one time, remember?). He will always have the advantage, even when surprised. Also the way he lightens up the situation with his witty banter and one liners when stress is too much? Extra points for keeping team morale up👍

Or in a different case, leo's panic when the mad dogs get in trouble upon a stronger rival. Why is it great? Because even though he's losing his absolute shit, he's able to act and take the next conscious step; even when it's used for laughs: He calls for his father when his family is in danger. It may sometimes be a funny gag ; like in "Flushed but never forgotten" or soul fucking wrenching like when they're attacked by shredder and RAPH IS PROTECTING DONNIE AND LEO SCREAMS AND I- *ehem*. But he knows splinter it's capable of defending them, he trained them after all (this may be arguable when talking about season 1 splint but well, he still recognizes his father as a ninja and his master).

And thus, the next marvel of Leo:

B) He's completely aware of the team's abilities

He's a middle child, he has seen everything, and the most perfect example of it: Many unhappy returns.

BOY IF THAT'S NOT THE MOST AMAZING DEMONSTRATION OF LEO'S LEADERSHIP AND STRATEGY IDK WHAT ELSE YOU'RE LOOKING FOR

He trusts his siblings completely, sure he looks out for them and supports them when needed (while being sarcastic about it), but he knows they're amazing at the hero thing.

I wouldn't doubt it if Splinter; being with Leo most of the episode saw just how in control he was of the situation and went: "dude...why are you not the one leading the team? You're...actually so smart wtf????"

C)He knows how to dial down his brother's enthusiasm and calls out his father's faults (and sometimes hypocrisy)

Remember the paper thieves episode?

That's peak leader Leo

The whole team was full on trying to get killed for the lols, and what does he do? Pulls them to the side and explains why they should start with something more simple and gives a speech on why focusing on the "easier task" it's still a good hero job (look out for the small/weaker ones, right?)

Not only that, but he's the one that constantly calls out his dad's mess ups, remaining by his brother's side and defending them (THIS IS NOT A SPLINTER SLANDER, I'M SAD DAD SUPPORTER AND I WILL TALK ABOUT IT LATER) seen as one of the YouTube shorts or when splints nags then about keeping secrets from him: he stands for his team, "you are not supposed to do that/you do the same thing you yell at us for"

He both inspires and defends his team, and hey; a leader is not the one that orders, but the one that motivates and supports you.

D) He's their personal hype man

Cue back to point B, he is amazed by his siblings abilities, even if he dies hide it sometimes. Remember when mikey wanted to go on a solo mission? He's fully on board and never doubts mikey is in control of the situation (sure he does go to "save him" with the others later on but come on, you all heard the call and saw Raph panicking. He trusts him but he's still his little brother y'know?)

He knows Donnie is an absolutely genious and is completely aware of Raph's dedication to the hero gig and responsability.

April and Splints? He knows they're completely capable of holding their own and willingly helps them when the situation calls for it.

And this is it please be free to add anything you might like and tell me if i'm making sense??? Idk i just love him a lot😞

HECK EVEN CASEY, A LITERAL BOY HE JUST MET. He is aware of casey's passion and abilities; i mean, if his own future self trusts him as the only one capable to fix everything, why shouldn't he?

Conclusion: Leo quite literally grew to deserve the role of the leader.

[d6rkroom]

— ‘𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼.’

finn mcnamara x top!male reader. (wc; 1.7k)

#a/n: this took way longer than it should've, my apologies fer’ that! BUT THANK YOU ELIAN FOR GIVIN’ ME THE GENERAL IDEA FOR THIS, I HAD A TON OF FUN WRITIN’ IT! YER’ BIG BRAIN AS HELL!

warnings. forced breeding, dubcon, mentions of cheating, possessive behavior, degrading k., dumbification, brat taming, sex infront of a mirror, manhandling, belly bulge, cum inflation, implied mpreg.

it was expected, it was only a matter of time before his olden behavior caved in on him and he relapsed right back into those sickly habits from nothing more than a year prior.

finn mcnamara was a slut. a dirty, good for nothing cheater. you knew his loyalty was short lived— his drive for exploration and choas secured that lucid notion in your brain ever since the two of you had started your dating journey.

how naive were you to untrust your heart with him, so utterly idiotic.

there you were, fingers curled around the doorknob as you lay in wait for your boyfriend to take note of the new presence clouding the room. your face was sheathed in coats of not shock, nor distaste— just inflicted with an expressionless disappointment. whatever bit of rage that fogged your mind swiftly dissolved along with his sexual mate that accompanied your spot on the bed.

nonchalant as ever, he sent a sloppy smile your direction; probably as a result of whatever poor pounding he just received from the rather small looking guy who was just in your room. pathetic, he couldn't even wait a few hours for your attention so he tossed aside his pride and let his greedy hole get creamed by someone at least half your size.

“satisfied with yourself, whore?” a satirical snear contorted your lips. one he knew a little to well, one he could tell apart from your usual one. the one you would often flicker as the two of you conversed. he knew you loved him, as did he; yet, the outcome of pushing your buttons was one he couldn't shake the craving for.

“hah, as satisfied as ever— sweetheart.” his first mistake was underestimating your tolerance for his bullshit. the second was letting that sour chuckle rip past his throat.

he was already exposed, clothes abandoned along side his dignity. letting such a inexperienced and second option hook-up ruin his beautifully stretched hole was baffling to you. was he really that desperate to have his ass filled and feel full for the remainder of the evening? you already knew the answer to your own inquiry.

he sputtered out a few words that glazed past your ears and straight out the back of your head. you had no care to hear any other soft attempts to convey how what he committed was mistake or how his body was now yours for the night. you had tunnel-vision set on his spend, plump ass that was already wiggling in the air— contrast from his cheek, which was pressed into the matress.

you give a harsh smack on the milky flesh, making finn’s lower half jolt in retaliation; halting his train of thought and stopping his tongue mid monologue. his hands instinctively sink into the pillow beneath his neck. you shift your weight, prying his thighs apart and spreading his cheeks wide open; the perfect view. the head of your cock, flushed red and throbbing gives a few pokes at his pulsating rim which is already venting around nothing.

you give his hole a few, firm slaps from the length of your shaft. beckoning that bratty inclination from out from beneath him— you wanted to hear those lips bark out your name. persuading you to rock in and out of his useless body.

“you want that? my cock to just slip right inside you without need for an apology? without regard for what i just caught you doing in, our bed?”

you almost give in, but you're smarter than to let finn get what he so desperately wants, that easily. rubbing your palm into his hips, small pats connecting with the side of his abdomen insinuate he fetches the mirror from the corner of the bedroom. no words were required in the exchange, he knew his place— plain and simple. and he sure as hell knew what you silently commanded he do.

an exasperated groan grumbles from the depths of his chest, his tongue clicked in annoyance at the sudden expectation for him to remove himself from his lewd position. so stupid, he throws away your years of love to get fucked by some stranger and then complains as you whisk him away from the sheets. he had driven you to your witt's end.

“excuse you, cunt? did i just hear you protest, after cheating in my bed, in my house? don't forget who owns you.”

his blood ran cold and the hairs on the back of his neck sprung to life with an accompanying chill that relished up his spine. his shoulders visibly cringed at your tone as he wasted no time flipping over and hoisting the mirror slowly to the foot of the bed. with the reflective piece of glass now fitted nicely as it leaned against the bedframe— finn crawled atop the messy array of sheets.

“y/n look.. m’sorry don't-” he wasn't allowed to finish, at least not anymore he wasn't. you weren't going to let him disrespect your authority under your roof any longer.

without thinking your hand reaches to unbuckle your belt, fingers toying with the zipper and button respectively. tugging your pants and boxers down without caution— you carded a few free fingers into his messy, mop of hair. digging into and only making it a much more noticable mess than before as you yanked his face to meet yours.

you felt a guley glob of spit collect under your tongue, shooting the wad right between his eyes; saliva leaking down the bridge of his nose and bleeding onto his upperlip. you knew how he adorded being tossed around like trash, better yet, treated as such. he was getting off to this, his eyes pooling wide with lust everytime a vulgar insult leaped from behind your teeth.

he tries not to let his words slur as you play with his still, very tender asshole. breath hitching every step of the way as you spin him to face the direction of the mirror. his hole was still lubed and wet from his previous visitor, giving you very easy access with little push or resistance.

his eyes roll back, you keep your gaze attentive on his decoy on the other side of the glass. your fat cock streaching him out has his lips parting to release a squeal of appreciation, a lavish burn following close suit as you sink deeper inside of him. he's not regretting his choice to unturn his devotion towards you; not yet at least.

“getting off to this slut? look at yourself, i haven't even started to really fuck you yet. pathetic.”

finn’s eyes are trained on his reflection, the look of tragedy curling over his spit-slicked lips. he could feel how deep you were, reaching spots he didn't even know were there. he can also make out the veins on your cock dragging along his walls and you're right; he is getting off to this. it felt so good— he felt so good— it all was good.

you rut into his ass like a feral animal, grunting cocktailed with sour remarks to keep the tension rising. instinctively he clings onto the fabric beneath him for dear life, knuckles fading from bright red to a pale white. through the fog of pleasure clogging his mind, he can only keen out an audible ‘yes’ to all of the questions and words that jumbled from your mouth.

with your eyes fixated on the way his skin ripples and jiggles against your hips, the fat riding up onto yer’ waist with the brutal pace you keep. he attempts to protest with how close he feels himself getting, only to be cut off by one hard slam after another— cock drilling into his tight little hole with intentions to impregnate him.

concepts of his usualy flat tummy growing round and bloated as you fucked it full of your little swimmers now press into your mind. each seed racing to see which will be the one to knock up your boyfriend; rendering him yours forever. your vigor prevails, motivated by the sole image of your slut giving birth to one, maybe two of your genetic creations. your offspring.

finn wonders if the cheating scandal really has your stamina skyrocketing, that is until through the intoxication of your speed— he realizes. fuck, you don't have a condom. he can't get pregnant, as much as he'd want to settle down with you he has way to many jobs that would release him from employment if they found out he had a baby in his belly. you wouldn't do that to him, would you? you knew how near and dear traveling from place to place, job to job was to him. was this punishment?

“sweeti- ah! y/n c-condom!”

even with his tongue tripping over ever other word, you could decipher the clutter of gibberish all too well. he had figured out your plan to breed his tiny body.

“oh? that silly thing? i gotta make you my wife, remember? just a stupid little whore who can only work from home. nobody wants to fuck a pregnant bitch. maybe that'll teach you to keep it in your pants.”

“n-no— ah-! fuck..”

your words sent tingles over his scalp, squelching noises resonate through the air mingled with your bitter laughter. drool starts to seep from the corners of his mouth and tears begin to well up in his eyes as he watches his mirror double get impailed by the outline of your cock. he knows soon that a small child will fill the roll of your shaft, he can't do anything but try to resist as the idea of your warm, stick love flooding his womb only grows on him.

at this point, all finn is doing is whimpering on your cock, degrading making the pressure behind his thighs hotter and his ass tighter. that familiar knot twisting in his lower stomach begging to snap as you roll into his prostate with a hunger glistening in your eyes. you flip finn on his back and catch his bottom, wet lip between your teeth and tug with the push of your hips. eye contact is never broken as your hot load spurts long and sticky ropes through his ass and into his belly. so full, he's so positively full as he feels your genes enter his boy womb— effectively impregnating and painting his gummy walls with white fluid.

soon a bunch of mini you’s will roam the empty spaces in your home and you'll start the perfect family together. you had planned to make him your bitch for quite some time, but the cheating only sped up the inevitable. finn sobbed into the crook of your neck; protruding tummy poking at your abdomen as he loosely attached to you.

the whole ordeal would be burned into his brain and yours, the mirror serving his eyes a sick reminder that he was now tasked with carrying your kid. forever.

[drabbles-mc]

Lie To Me

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Request by Anon:  Nestor but with the angst prompts 28: Move out of my way before I make you, 37: Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again, and 47: You deserve so much better?

Warnings: angst, language

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This angst doesn’t have a happy ending, unfortunately. It was a tough one to write, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Also, if you were curious, prompts are from This Post

General Mayans Taglist (I don’t have one specifically for Nestor lol): @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @garbinge​ @amandinesblogofstuff​ @bucky-iss-bae​

You weren’t usually one to show up unannounced to Nestor’s place. You knew what kind of life he lived, and that it wouldn’t always be smart or safe to just pop in whenever you felt like it. But things had felt so off lately. He got distant frequently because of work, but it wasn’t that. This felt calculated, intentional. You were used to getting late replies and going to voicemail every now and again, but lately it felt like he had been purposely dodging your attempts to get in touch with him. Your initial instinct was to try and reach out to Miguel, because you knew that it was work that was keeping Nestor tied up, but the more you thought about it, the less you wanted that man knowing anything about your personal relationship with Nestor. And that was how you ended up making the decision to drive over to his house in the middle of the night, knowing that he would be home by that point.

Sure enough, there were dim lights on in a few of the windows. You took a deep breath as you parked the car and cut the ignition. You walked up to the front door, not bothering to knock as you took out your copy of the key and let yourself in. Usually, he came over to your place, and the key he gave you was for emergencies, but you didn’t care. It might not be an emergency like he was thinking, but you felt like you were on the brink of breaking down.

He heard the door opening and instantly grabbed his gun, pointing it at the door as he stood up off the couch. When he realized it was you, he immediately lowered his weapon. He couldn’t hide the frustration on his face, though.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too,” you mumbled as you closed and locked the door behind you.

“Everything alright?”

You threw your hands up in exasperation, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Nes?”

There were a few beats of silence as he tried to figure out how to approach the situation. He knew you well enough to know that you weren’t just going to walk back out the front door without some answers. Half of you wanted to step in and wrap your arms around him in a hug, and the other half wanted to shove him hard enough to send him stumbling backwards a few steps. Neither half won out, though, and you let your feet stay glued to the floor at the entrance of the living room.

“I told you, shit has been out of hand with work,” he knew even as he was saying it that it was a cop-out, and a weak one at that.

“Yea. You told me that about two fucking weeks ago!” you shook your head, feeling tears starting to sting at your eyes, “I’ve been sitting home worrying about you. Every time you let me go to voicemail I’m always left wondering if it’s because you got fucking shot or run off the road or something horrendous that I don’t want to even try to imagine,” you ran your hands over your face, “Something’s gotta give, Nestor. I need something.”

“Nothing I say is going to make you feel any better, Y/N. I have no good news to give you.”

“You not being dead in a fucking ditch somewhere is good news to me,” the lump growing in the back of your throat was forcing you to focus on your breathing, “You get that, right? Radio silence freaks me out. A call or a text just saying that you’re alive and in one piece would make me feel better.”

“Well,” he stepped closer to you, holding his arms out slightly, “I’m alive. I’m in one piece. Feel better?”

It wasn’t like him to be so intentionally short and cold with you. It almost felt cruel, and you wondered what you did to make him act this way. Your tears began to spill over onto your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly, not wanting to be reduced to a mess so soon into the discussion. You didn’t want to seem that weak for him.

“What is so wrong with me wanting to know that you’re alright?” you wanted to yell, but your voice was soft.

You were met with silence. You could tell from the look in his eyes that his mind was racing with everything that had been going on the last few weeks when he hadn’t been communicating with you. You knew that it was probably serious shit—that was never something that you were trying to deny. But even in the depths of everything, finding five seconds in his day to text you that he’s wrapped up in shit with the Galindos but that he’s alive shouldn’t have been an impossible feat.

“I try not to think about you when I’m working,” he finally said with a slow shake of his head, “When everything is fucking falling apart, I can’t afford to be thinking about you. Because then it doesn’t feel like the work is worth it, and that’s not a mentality that I can have when my ass is on the line.”

His words hit you and it felt like they had knocked the wind out of you. For you, Nestor was something to motivate you through the tough times. Sure, tough times for you were drastically different than for him, but the sentiment was still the same. If you weren’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him, then what was the point?

“Then what the fuck are we even doing?” your voice broke as you buried your face in your hands.

He stepped in close to you, pulling you into his chest. He cradled the back of your head with his hand, softly kissing the top of your forehead. With a heavy sigh, he spoke, “The things we deal with, the things I have to do…I want you as far away from that as possible. When I’m doing the things that are asked of me, things that would make your skin crawl, I can’t be thinking about you. Because all I would think about is how you deserve so much better. And that would fucking break me.”

You pushed back off of his chest so you could look up at him, cheeks wet with tears, “There’s no better, Nestor. I want you, this, us. That’s all that matters to me, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to try and make that work. But I can’t be the only one doing that. I can’t keep this together by myself. You need to give me something.”

There were so many things that you wanted him to say. You wanted him to promise that it was all going to be different, that he was going to try. You weren’t foolish enough to believe that things would change overnight, but the attempt to start would mean the world to you. You just wanted some reassurance that when push came to shove, he’d choose to fight for you, for the relationship the two of you had worked so hard to build.

“Things aren’t simple for me, Y/N,” his hand rested tenderly on the side of your neck, thumb running back and forth along your jawline, “you know that.”

You kept your cheek rested against his chest, “Do you love me?”

His body tensed, “What?”

You pulled back, looking up at him, “Do you love me?”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly, “You know it’s not that sim—” his sentence was interrupted by the sound of his phone going off.

Both of you turned and saw it buzzing on the coffee table. Your heart sped up, wanting to see if he was going to choose whatever it was over what the two of you had. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek, praying that he was going to let it fall by the wayside so the two of you could talk and try to figure everything out.

“I need to get that,” his voice was low, and you knew that he knew he wasn’t making the choice you wanted. You shifted and stood in front of him, blocking him from the low table. He sighed and tried to step around you, but you continued to block him. He shook his head, “Y/N, please.”

“You’re really going to do this? Now?”

“Move out of my way before I make you,” he couldn’t meet your eyes for more than a moment as he shifted you out of his way.

The phone call was quick, and from only hearing Nestor’s half of the conversation you couldn’t try to piece together anything that was going on. It was the side of his life that you didn’t get to be a part of, and in that moment, you truly didn’t give a damn what the issue was. You just wanted him to be present in the conversation with you and he couldn’t even give you that.

Despite the anger pooling inside you, you asked, “All good?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Nes, please—”

“Stop,” he was still quiet, but his tone was harsh, “Stop. Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to. Anything you ask me right now is not going to make you feel better. And I’m not going to do that to you. I can’t afford to be honest with you right now.”

Tears started to fill your eyes, “Then lie to me,” you closed the distance between the two of you. You stood directly in front of him, close enough to touch him but you didn’t, “I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

Nestor searched your face and you could see it in his eyes that there were a million thoughts running through his head. You knew that he was caught up between what he wanted, and what he was actually capable of. He wanted to give you everything that you were asking for, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. For as much as he cared about you and wanted to protect you, his loyalty was somewhere else. You didn’t know if that would change down the road, but there was part of you that knew that neither of you were going to wait in limbo for him to figure it out. It stung, though, and you could feel that it hurt him too.

He leaned down, cupping your face and pulling you into a rough kiss. You let yourself get lost in it despite the tears that were streaming down your face. You moaned quietly as one of his hands slid down to grip onto your waist and pull you as close as he could manage. Being pressed up against him so tight felt like home and you could feel the knot grow in your stomach at the thought that this might be the last time you got to have that feeling.

He pulled his lips off of yours, allowing both of you to catch your breath as he continued to plaster your cheek, jaw, and neck in kisses that felt needier than anything you’d ever experienced before. It sent jolts throughout your entire body as his fingertips pressed harder and harder into your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured against the skin of your neck before placing another kiss there, “I love you.”

You shut your eyes tight and leaned completely into him, trying to burn the memory of this into your brain. You knew he was lying, but it still felt good and that was all you cared about in the moment. You rested one hand on the back of his head as he buried himself further into your neck.

You choked back a sob, knowing that one of you had to be honest, “I love you too.”

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 13

Maul x Apprentice Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

WARNINGS: Pretty sure I got the layout wrong for the Sundari palace but I don’t care. Canon typical violence. Divergence from Canon (obviously by now) mentions to smut

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       Just over a month is all it had taken to gain the complete loyalty of the Mandalorian people. If you were being honest with yourself, you were almost surprised. Not in the fact that Maul had been able to accomplish this but at how quickly he had achieved it. The Death Watch members that had remained as your guard had always wanted the head of Satine but now half of the citizens called for it as well while the other half wanted her in prison for life. A month was all it took to remind the people of their rich history and culture that they had all but forgotten Satine had stolen from them. Farm lands were seeded, armor was being forged again, their religion and martial arts were being taught in the schools once again and everyone felt safer than they had in years. They hadn’t realized what they were missing until they had it again. Once they were on track to total planetary independence once again, they wanted nothing more than for the woman who stole it from them to pay.

    Maul smiled to himself; his people wanted revenge. How could he not oblige even if it didn’t simultaneously serve to accomplish his ulterior motive? It was time. He had sent Kiara down to the prison with a long-distance communicator so she could falsely convince Satine that she was there to aid her. Before she could get her whole message to her old lover, Kiara destroyed the device. All Obi Wan knew was that the only woman he had ever loved was in danger. Although he thought the perpetrators were members of the Death Watch. He remained ignorant of what he was really going to be walking into.

    With Savage out praising Kiara for a job well done, you and your lover were sparring in the court yard just the two of you. Sparring with your lover and Master had become your favorite activity to do together. Well, second favorite you thought as you felt one of the many lovely bruises on the inside of your thigh throb. If you had to describe Maul in a single word it would be passionate. He drew from the well of his hearts more than he probably knew himself. Whether he was making love to you, commanding a room or sparring; every action, every word was embodied by his very soul.

    It wasn’t even about training anymore so much as it was a dance with him. The red of your sabers sparked as they clashed and hissed with his joking mock growls as they slashed through the air. The twinkle in his eye that matched yours was permanent during these moments as your bodies glided around one another. The bond you had nurtured during your time together made anticipating one another’s moves effortless. It made victory or defeat almost impossible. Without intervention the two of you would be locked in this dance for all eternity much like an asteroid floating through space. Yes, that’s what it felt like in this moment; drifting through the universe with him.

    Days had passed since Savage had trained with his brother. Time between his teachings had grown as the responsibilities piled on both of their shoulders. Savage actually appreciated this, it allowed his relationship with his brother to be just that, a brotherly relationship. Not that of Master and apprentice but not quite equals either. That would come in time. Maul hadn’t grown up like Savage did so the idea was still a foreign one and as far as exploring bonds and relationships went, most of that energy was directed towards you.

    It turns out, ruling an entire planet was taxing and time consuming to say the least when done properly. Big surprise. As an attempt to lift some of the weight off of his shoulders Maul had appointed his brother to take the brunt of running the crime syndicates in his name. Savage flourished in his leadership role. He was so intimidating at first glance that no one in the underworld dared question or go against him. Maul only had to be present for the occasional formality and big picture decisions.

    The intervention necessary to end your deadly dance came in the form of an intrusive anticipation of Obi Wan’s arrival. When you stumbled your footing, Maul caught you in one of his strong arms and sheathed his saber with his free hand, breaking the trance the two of you had been in for gods know how long.

“My love, are you alright? I haven’t seen you fumble during that particular form since Dathomir,” he ran his free hand across your cheek and if you had a weaker resolve, you would have sobbed at the way he looked at you in this moment. Genuine adoration and worry gleamed in his golden eyes. He looked into you as if you had hung the stars themselves and commanded every ocean in the galaxy. You steadied yourself and cupped his cheek, mirroring his own actions and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Yes, Maul I’m alright. I’m just a little distracted I guess. When do you think the Jedi will fall into your trap?” Maul smiled at your lack of patience.

“I’m not sure, the message was only sent out to him during the early hours of this morning. Soon I would imagine. A few days at most, a few hours at the earliest.” You looked off to the side and sneered, “should I ever be captured you wouldn’t wait days to come and find me.”

He actually laughed out loud at this as he pulled you into a tight embrace and you seared the memory of his laughter as deeply into your mind as you could.

“My love I would never had let you out of my sight long enough for us to be parted in the first place,” he cooed into your ear as he pressed kisses into your hair.

    The funny thing about irony is the fact that you can truly only understand the weight of it in hindsight. If he could go back to any minute between your sparing session and that he had a multitude of possible courses of actions that would have altered the current horror he was facing. He should have put you on a ship and sent you away, temporarily or permanently it didn’t matter as long as you were far away from Mandalore that night. You had even mentioned wanting to take a trip with him to a world covered in sand beaches. He should have left with you right then and there when you suggested it. Even if nothing could have been done to alter the course of what had occurred, he wished he had held you a little tighter, kissed you a little longer, told you he loved you one more time before night fell.

    He hadn’t sensed his old master’s presence until it was almost too late. His eyes widened and he ordered you to hide your force signature like he had taught you and to run. Run as fast and as far away as you could. You had never been one to argue with him during emergency situations, you had trusted him to make the right calls when it mattered most. Perhaps he should’ve kept you by his side in that moment. He didn’t know. He wished you had never come back.

    You had felt Maul’s immediate panic the moment you sensed another strong presence, when he told you to run you didn’t hesitate to follow his order. Leaving your lover and his brother, your best friend alone in the throne room to face an unknown foe broke you in a way you had never broken before. You slipped behind the throne and plunged yourself into the hole beneath it that led to an escape tunnel and ran as silently as you could through the hidden passage way that fanned out through the palace.

    You exited the tunnels from behind a tapestry that hung from the stone wall near one of the many side entrances. A ship you didn’t recognize was landing, rather poorly, not far from your location. You did however recognize the Jedi that came running out of it. When his eyes locked with yours you felt his rage radiate from him but his voice remained calm when he spoke.

“So, Maul is behind the coup. Where is Satine and where is your Master?” he held the hilt of his saber in his hands but didn’t ignite it just yet, thumb hovering over the activation button.

“Otherwise occupied at the moment. Your timing is impeccable I must admit,” your hands hovered over your own dual hilts strapped to each leg. Both of you waiting for the other to make an aggressive move, you circled around one another. You couldn’t let Kenobi pass you, not now. Not while your master was dealing with this new threat. You had only heard Maul speak of his former master on two occasions. Both of which had a spark of the emotion you felt through him when he told you to run. If he really was battling the powerful Sith Lord he couldn’t risk Kenobi coming and adding an opponent to the list. The answer to the true question that glinted in your mind would decide the outcome of the night. Did the Jedi fear your Master or his more?

    Both you and the Jedi snapped out of your unblinking stare when a flaring pain ripped through the force. He turned to you, “what in the name of the force was that?”

You gulped in worry of your lover’s condition. You couldn’t run you had to help him. His last order was one you could not follow, “his master is here.”

“Dooku is here?” You actually gave yourself a mere second to scoff at his ignorance, “Dooku was not his master. Dooku is the apprentice he took when you debilitated Maul.”

    Obi Wan stood there in shock. The council had started to suspect that Dooku was in fact not the Master but the apprentice. If the true Master was here, the man who orchestrated the clone war, and Maul was fighting him in this moment; perhaps they could end everything right now. End the war, stop the never-ending meat grinder and save the lives of the clones he cared for; his commander. As if the both of you thought the same thing at once, you took off running back to the throne room together in a temporary alliance but when you arrived it was empty.

    One of the massive windows was shattered and you could hear Maul’s cry pierce through the night. You hesitated, knowing your lover didn’t want you in this fight. To his credit, the Jedi did not hesitate along side you. He leapt through the opening and you watched through wide eyes as he landed between a cloaked figure and Savage, blocking a blow that would have undoubtedly killed the golden Zabrak. As Kenobi engaged with the mysterious figure you searched the courtyard for your lover, the same place the two of you were sparring in this morning. You found him laying crumpled, aftershocks from being electrocuted still caused tremors. You leapt down beside him, worry causing your mental wards to slip. You reached for your beloved Master while Savage and Kenobi battled Sidious. Maul’s eyes widened when they focused on your concerned face.

“You can’t be here. I told you to leave, you have to leave now. You have to be gone already,” he pulled himself to his feet with a groan and pushed you behind him in the same way he had shielded you from Savage in the past, “Go. Now.”

    The cloaked figure force pushed his two attackers into the stone wall, knocking them unconscious from the impact. A light trail of blood followed their wake as they slowly slid to the ground in slouched positionings. The hooded old man turned his attention to Maul, no, to you.

“So this is what you have truly been hiding from me my former apprentice. Not this planet, not the little clubs you have taken over in the underworld; this creature.

“You will not harm her,” Maul ignited his saber once again and kept his body covering you. You crouched behind him, both weapons held in a reverse grip one behind you, at the ready to slash forward and the other shielding your Master’s abdomen. Not unlike the wolf that protects her mate’s throat during a stand-off.

Sidious cackled coldly, “I have no intention to do so,” he pointed his eyes back to you while you narrowed yours at him, “you have great power girl and it is being wasted by your current tutor. He is not a Sith. He is a poor excuse of an assassin who should’ve died long ago. Despite his survival he failed. Do you really think you can learn anything from a man who had to have a witch put him back together piece by fleshy piece?”

    You did not answer. You allowed him to continue his monolog, stalling for time so you could meld with your Master, minds dancing with one another in a sort of battle meditation. If you were to succeed you had to work as one, both extensions of one another. You weren’t ignorant or arrogant enough to deny the utter weight of the power before you. This wasn’t a battle for you to win, this was a battle for you to survive.

    Sidious realized what the two of you were doing and lunged, saber going straight to Maul’s chest. You flicked the wrist of the arm that guarded him and parried his strike allowing Maul to take a step forward to block his Master’s second blade. You spun around him with the weapon you had ready behind your back but were blocked before you could make contact with his throat. Thus began another dance. If you had allowed your mind to wander you would’ve wondered if the sight could have been considered beautiful. A total of five crimson lightsabers swung and clashed in violent sparks leading trails of light in their wake. Ground was given as equally as it was gained, despite the perfect mind meld you were performing with your master and the decades of training between the two of you it seemed like all you could accomplish was to keep up with Sidious.

    Just as the Jedi and the other Night Brother were starting to stir Maul’s concentration was interrupted by concern for his brother the effect was immediate and brutal. You weren’t in position to be able to block Sidious’ swing that took Maul’s good leg at the knee nor the lightning that sprang from his finger-tips. You howled in rage, watching your Master crumple to a smoking pile, barely clinging to life. He wouldn’t survive another hit like that. Sidious turned to sneer at you as if he could read your thoughts. You sheathed your blades and flipped over the top of him just as lightning left his fingers again. You dropped your hilts and stretched both arms in front of you absorbing the energy directed to kill the man you loved. A new kind of rage boiled in your soul, clenching your teeth and flexing your legs to keep you grounded you did not halt or block his blast but rather, absorbed it. Allowing it to fuel you. Your hair billowed around you like you stood in the center of a hurricane; your eyes blown with the power that coursed through your veins. You barley noticed how Savage ran to his brother’s aid while Obi Wan sat frozen equally in awe and in horror.

“That’s it my newest young apprentice, let the hate, the fear and the rage fill you up. Harness it, use it.”

“I will never be yours old man,” you growled with the effort to stay awake, “you will never win this.”

“Why my dear, I’ve already won.”

    Your power had depleted as soon as he spoke, allowing the shocks to reach you with no defense. You could accomplish a great many things with the force but your well wasn’t nearly as deep as Sidious’. Your vision darkened in the corners and slowly seeped until all you could see was the black and feel yourself falling into bony arms. It was seeing you fall that finally snapped Kenobi out of his trance and Maul awoke just in time to see his master absconding with his apprentice, his love, the woman he was to ask to marry him. His defeated cry rang through the air as did his anguish through the force. He tried to give chase behind the Jedi but you and your captor was long gone.

    This was not a battle to win, this was the battle you had to survive and thanks to your sacrifice, for now you, your master, his brother and the Jedi did just that. Survived an encounter with power and death themselves.

Tag list, please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@the-grey-jedi​

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[theunchainedmelody]

Vanessa x Yami One-Shot

So... I got sick and tired of the lack of attention this rare pair gets so I wrote a one-shot for it. WARNING: This Story is VERY, VERY ADULT AND LEMONY. Also, it’s probably not the most feministic writing. So I apologize if any of it offends people as I was writing it for myself and it’s not my intention to be problematic. If you want to support me, leave a comment here or leave a review at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905101/1/Witch-s-Lust-The-Seduction-of-Captain-Yami

"Witch's Lust" The Seduction of Captain Yami

The rose-haired witch was staring intently at a bottle of wine standing criminally unopened in front of her. As she wondered whether to uncork it, she swirled around her wine glass, of which, now only a small burgundy pool at the glasses' bottom remained. Her velvet glove slid around the glass's stem as her mind drifted off. Vanessa Enoteca had been drunk for most of the day and was now suffering through the remnants of a hangover. She rested in her lingerie, happily presenting to the men in the room as she lay sprawled out on a sofa in the main room. Here, most of her squad was gathered, engaging in all sorts of merrymaking and violent duels. This company was spread out through a fireplace-lit chamber filled with sofas, dining tables, and tapestries.

The sound of Magna and Luck engaged in a magical battle was ringing in her ears. It was almost as loud as their voices as they quarreled. Vanessa let out a sigh as she half-regretted her choice to drink so early in the day. Just this once, perhaps she should have taken her day off to go and meet some dreamy man. Yet in the end, it was easier to stay here and lazily lounge about the mansion. That was when she heard her beloved captain come marching into the main room. The stomping of his boots alerted her to his presence as he marched in with his usual swagger. Her eyes wandered to Captain Yami as he looked over the Black Bulls. For some reason, she felt a bit pained seeing him. It was not as if she adored him any less, but from what she had gathered, he had met with the Blue Rose's captain Charlotte several times recently for some sort of secret missions. As Charlotte's crush on him was obvious, the entire situation made Vanessa uncomfortable. She was not so naïve as to be clueless about why she felt this way. She had a crush on him herself, perhaps even something akin to love. Unfortunately, Vanessa was too lazy to do anything about it. She sometimes casually flirted with Captain Yami or even the other men in the Black Bulls. With Captain Yami, it had never led anywhere as he never seemed to care about her playful confessions or flirtations.

In any case, her drunken gaze ate the eye candy in front of her. Yami was so incredibly handsome it should have been illegal. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with messy black hair, a bit of stubble, and a cigarette in his mouth. His rugged, virile masculinity was always pouring out, most evident in how his muscular pecs looked painted on upon his sleeveless white shirt. This was to say nothing about his incredible height, his muscular shoulders and biceps, those veiny forearms, and his handsome, rugged face. His sexiness further oozed out in how he carried himself, with a macho, laid-back attitude containing a sharp, fighting spirit. She certainly wasn't the first woman to think so about him and she doubted she was the last.

She heard Yami say in his deep baritone, "Alright. Listen up. We've got a mission. Some new bandit gang has been assaulting one of the big-time merchants and the nobles want us for an armed guard. I'm sending two of you out on this."

Once the members began to scramble for his attention as they always did, Vanessa found herself unable to understand a single sentence between them. Everyone was raising their hands frantically and shouting in unison. It served to heighten the sharp pain from her hangover. She moved over to the table with a bottle in hand, wanting to sit closer to the captain in case he chose her for this mission. However, she had an intuitive feeling he wasn't going to. For some reason, Vanessa felt less playful and jubilee than she would have expected. After all, she was infamous for being a lighthearted party girl, especially after drinking down a few glasses of wine.

Magna said, "Come on, Captain! I'm the man for the job. I haven't busted skulls in ages"

Yami said to Magna, "No way. You hit the last merchant we guarded over the head when he insulted you!"

When Finral offered his services for the chance to speak to the female merchants, the Captain answered with, "No way. If you're just going to flirt with the female merchants, you might as well stay home then."

It was the same response for Asta, Charmy, and Grey. He then looked over to Vanessa, sitting attentively at the table beside him. She pointed to herself with a rather humble look, the captain being the only man she'd ever act so meek around.

She said quietly, "I suppose the same goes for me since I'm always drunk?"

Yami's arms crossed and he said, "You're no use to us when you're all tipsy."

Vanessa's eyes lowered and she said, "Ah. I'm very sorry, boss."

Like all the Black Bulls, she admired him and fought for his affection. Still, she felt a bit sadder at his remark than she usually would. What had gotten into her?

That was when her Captain added, "But when you're sober, I'd say the opposite. You tend to have a level head. You're the most reliable one here."

His praise warmed her heart. She couldn't help but blush and beam happily up at him.

"Ah. Thank you, Captain" she said.

Despite this compliment, Yami didn't pick her on account of her hangover. Instead, he opted to send Noelle and Gordon on the uneventful mission.

______________________________________________________________

One month later….

Vanessa, Asta, Charmy, and Yami were all out on yet another mission. It was a busy week for the Black Bulls. Vanessa found herself hoping she would get a star accolade if she performed well enough. It wasn't like her to much care for such things but lately, Asta had been something of a motivation for her, as he was for all the Black Bulls. As Asta and Charmy were asleep in the spacious squad tent, Vanessa found herself alone with Captain Yami. It was rare to have this man alone to herself like this, and so she was quite enjoying it. The pink-haired witch felt more like herself tonight, perhaps thrilled because she got picked to go with Yami on missions several times lately. She had been able to show off her red thread of fate and the samurai even complimented her!

At the moment, Vanessa was drinking down more alcohol as Yami sat on a separate log to her left while smoking a fresh cigarette. She smacked her lips happily as she finished a sip of booze. She was a bit tipsy, albeit not fully inebriated, as they were still on a mission, and she needed to stay alert.

Yami said quietly, "Oi. Don't get drunk now."

"Aye aye, Captain," she said with a playful salute.

Vanessa showed her obedience by corking up the bottle. That was when she saw Yami gazing up at the starry sky, admiring the dazzling canvas of stars, planets, and galaxies that enveloped the heavens above them. She smiled at seeing the captain unusually lost in thought. Normally, he didn't seem to be thinking of much at all. She didn't consider him stupid, but he was a simple, honest individual. Vanessa didn't dislike that in a man. Yami was her type after all. Perhaps it was because he was her first encounter with a man, but he remained the golden standard. Just like back then, she continued to love his broad manly frame. She remembered the day he broke into her birdcage. It stirred something within her when she had him so close to her, an overdue awakening for her as a heterosexual woman. And now, she had Captain Yami to compare every other man to in her endeavors. She was happy to sleep with attractive gentlemen now and then, whether they be pretty boys or hunks, but the captain would always be the prize.

Vanessa giggled a bit as she remembered that nostalgic first meeting. She thought of it often, ever since her last encounter with the Witch Queen. That destined day, Yami showed her she could walk on her own two feet. What Vanessa now valued above all else was freedom. The freedom to enjoy all the pleasures she desired. The freedom to fight for her friends. The freedom to grow stronger. The freedom to seek a happy ending and rewrite her fate. In the end, she always did what she wanted. Even her loyalty to the Black Bulls was something she had chosen willingly. Her loyalty to this man was entirely her choice.

Now, as Vanessa looked over to Yami, she realized how comfortable she felt around him. Even so, this was not to say he didn't get her heart racing the closer he was to her face. She often found her heart beating madly when he was beside her. However, as he blew out a puff of smoke and paid her no attention, that was when it struck her…. the danger of being so casual with the captain. Likely, Yami saw Vanessa as no more than a little sister. Her heart raced when around him, but his heart did not race when around her. It was then that an even more disconcerting thought entered her mind.

In that moment, what WAS he thinking about?

Perhaps…

Perhaps he was thinking of another woman…

The witch shook away the infantile thought. Whether he was thinking of Charlotte or some other inane topic, one thing was for certain: Vanessa was not on his mind. Never once, had he showed an ounce of attraction or interest in her. The witch's eyes became sad. Her eyes darted over to the far-off tents. They were still zipped closed, meaning it was unlikely anyone would hear what she wished to ask him. And so, Vanessa finally decided to ask him the million-dollar question.

"Hey Captain, I heard you've been doing missions with the Blue Rose's captain. You're not getting a crush on her, are you? Those Blue Roses don't seem friendly to men. Haha."

Yami stared at her unamused and she regretted her lighthearted jabs. Of course, she was prying for information but this all left her feeling like an idiot.

At last, Yami asked, "Hmmm? Who told you that?"

Vanessa jabbed further and said, "I heard from a little birdie that you said she and you can get married when you are both old and alone. I'm so jealous. Charlotte's a lucky lady. Fufufu."

Yami again stared at her blankly, not flustered in the least.

He said, "I was mostly joking. Even if she has a crush, she doesn't say much."

Vanessa felt a bit of relief at his responses, but they were still far too ambiguous. She decided she needed to be absolutely sure of the situation. As such, she decided to risk her own attempts to woo him by saying, "Is that so? I thought she was your type. You like strong women and she's a captain. And she's ranked first in looks according to the Magic Knight's survey. But I suppose I was mistaken. You're such a hard man to read. Heh heh."

Propping up Charlotte hurt terribly, but Vanessa had to bear with it.

Yami rubbed the back of his thick, dark hair a bit awkwardly and said, "I'm not sure what to say. I haven't thought about any of that seriously. I'm not looking to date her or something. My love is battle, booze, and sword. And I'm busy looking after you brats."

He flashed a cheeky smile at her. Vanessa couldn't help but smile in response. He hadn't said he was uninterested in Charlotte, but it seemed that interest wasn't serious. And if it was, he wasn't going to make any moves within the next century or so. She decided to not pry further lest she expose her jealousy. Instead, she put a gloved hand to her cheek and smiled lazily. Honestly, she was impressed she had managed to get him to speak so much about his emotions and thoughts. Yami rarely opened up about anything. It seemed there was some depth to him he was hiding, much as she had suspected for many a years. Just as she was ready to return to sipping her glass of wine, Captain Yami added one last comment that would shatter everything.

"And besides," said Yami, "I don't know what's up with this bullshit survey you're talking about, but I honestly figured you'd be ranked first. Men are always looking at you starry-eyed, right?"

Suddenly, her cheeks were burning red. He had never complimented her looks before, even if his wording was a bit indirect. Again, she decided to test the boundaries of their relationship to see if she could hear the words she wanted so desperately for him to say.

"Oh?" asked Vanessa playfully, "Captain, you're making me blush. But there's no need to try and cheer me up. I placed fourth. I couldn't be happier."

She wasn't.

Vanessa had placed fourth because she was lacking in feminine charms, appeal, and a sense of propriety. This was not to say she was terribly insecure about it. She was far from desperate for male validation, even if she enjoyed the attention. Even Yami's affection was something she could live without. But right now, she started to doubt that last part. It was frustrating to know she didn't have a chance in winning him over. The sinful witch's advances on the captain couldn't compete with what a pure maiden like Charlotte could offer him. Her love was inferior and she was undesirable as a romantic partner. Men were happy to bed her, but she'd never gotten a confession in her life. And so, in this moment, she simply waited for the captain to shoot her down. It wouldn't be the first time he ignored her flirtations. It was her destiny to lose in the battlefield that was love.

"I wasn't trying to cheer you up," Captain Yami answered, "I was just telling the truth."

His tone was rather stern. Vanessa was both flattered and a bit afraid to see Yami's grave tone of voice aimed at her. Had she teased him too much? She didn't want him mad at her. Vanessa couldn't stand the thought of upsetting or disappointing Yami.

He continued in a casual tone of voice, "Don't worry about some shitty poll. Everyone knows that the most beautiful witch in the Magic Knights is the Black Bull's 'Lush of a Witch'. That's obvious, isn't it?"

Vanessa couldn't help but blush furiously. Her hands clenched together as she felt utterly embarrassed. She hoped he didn't realize just how flustered she was. Never in a million years did she expect to get this compliment from him. He saw her platonically, right? But his comment, while not particularly sexual, seemed a bit personal, didn't it? He was saying HE found her the most beautiful, right? She wondered if she should play it off with a tease, but decided yet again, to push her luck. Just maybe, she could change her fate tonight.

"Oh my, Captain," she said with a playful hand to her cheek, "You think I'm the most beautiful?"

She swore she saw Yami get flustered for once in his life. Not red in the cheeks but just a bit hesitant to answer. He then took in another breath of tobacco and sent a cloud pouring out from between his lips. He played it cool, as always.

He said slowly, "I said that, right? But don't push your luck and get a big head. You're part of my squad because of your abilities, not your looks. Save those worries for when you're off-duty, Vanessa."

"Of course, Captain," she was with heated cheeks, "I'm flattered you think so."

Vanessa was positively ecstatic now. Sure, he didn't have feelings for her, but if he found her attractive, that was a good start. In a way, his chivalry made her love him even more. He honestly respected her enough to not take advantage of her. He also respected her abilities as a mage, as a member of the Black Bulls. Perhaps she even met his qualifications for a strong woman. Even if she was not a frontline fighter, she was a competent witch who had won her fair share of battles. The lustful witch, with her insatiable thirst for the opposite sex, decided to risk it all for this man. And so, she sought to seduce her beloved captain. The ultimate prey.

______________________________________________________________

Later that night…

Crickets and frogs in some far-off bog kept the silence between them from being wholly unbearable. After another several minutes, Vanessa stood up and brought her bottle over to beside Captain Yami. For a moment, she was frozen behind him, staring down in petrification. Her mind momentarily froze as she wondered what to do next. Vanessa was sweating. What had gotten into her? She never froze, even in the company of a particularly gorgeous man. But this was Captain Yami we are talking about!

Just as Yami was about to ask what was up with her, the scarlet-haired witch sat herself down beside him on the log.

"Want a drink, Captain?" she asked playfully.

"Eh? Alright," he said casually.

He drank from her wine bottle and she took a swig herself. She truly wasn't like Charlotte, blushing from indirect kisses from Yami. She was just herself… Vanessa. And either he liked these parts of Vanessa or he didn't. In any case, Vanessa wasn't going to wait timidly any longer like her rival. Besides, Captain Yami would never make the first move. She'd never even see him with a woman before. She wondered why that was. Vanessa decided to learn where she stood in all of this, or rather to wrap her red thread of fate around him. Only this thread didn't require Rogue, only her womanly charms.

Vanessa slid her gloved hand behind his muscular arm and looped her arms around it until she had him wrapped in a loving embrace. He gazed over at her with a raised eyebrow. She placed her head on his shoulder. He didn't recoil or pull away. Even so, her actions could be mistaken for one of her casual flirtations, especially after the nice things he had said. She'd never gone further with him than this. It was time to cross the line!

Enoteca released her grip on his bulging arm muscles and placed her hand on his pec. It was so firm, ready to burst out of his shirt. It drove her mad with desire. She let her hand cling to his chest as she began to rest her cheek on his shoulder. There was no denying what she was trying to do, right?

"Hmm? What are you trying to do?" he asked blankly.

She said in a soft voice, "Captain, you must know I've got a huge crush on you. I've had one since you rescued me from that birdcage."

She lovingly stroked his pec and let her hands rub on the tree-trunk limbs he called arms. He stared forward like before, but she could feel it. His heartbeat was increasing.

Yami said calmly, "You know we can't. I'm your captain. I can't abuse that power."

Vanessa said, "What if I want it? If the sex or dating doesn't work out, we can just go back to how it was before."

Yami replied, "We can't go back, Vanessa. You're my beloved subordinate. I care about you. You should find a good, honest man to take care of you."

She exclaimed passionately, "Captain, you're the man I love! Only you."

She swore that for a moment, Yami flashed her the slightest hint of a blush.

"You're drunk," he said.

"Captain, you're so mean," she whined in a girly voice, "Just reject me outright. Say if you don't want me. For a man of few words, you sure dance around things."

Yami rubbed the back of his hair and said, "Want has nothing to do with it. I'm your captain. There are boundaries we can't cross."

Vanessa asked slyly, "So if I wasn't your underling… Are you saying you would?"

He didn't answer.

She leaned up to his ear and began to speak in her most erotic voice, "If I was in a different squad, would you get excited if you saw me in this outfit or in nothing but my lingerie laying on your bed? Waiting for it? Begging for it?"

He seemed frustrated now and rubbed his head as he said, "You look sexy as hell all the time. In your panties or your uniform. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said as she leaned up and kissed Yami on the lips. She put her hands on each side of his face as she pressed her lips against his. She was kissing her beloved captain. Vanessa felt his cheeks heat up even as he kept eye contact. She decided to do the same and give him "fuck me" eyes as she tasted his lips. At last, he kissed back.

"Mwuah," she said as they smooched.

Her heart was racing and her body was warm with fever.

"If you don't tell me to stop," she said in a breathy voice, "I might just go all the way, Captain. Fufufufu."

She giggled as her hands now roamed down his neck, laying loving kisses upon it. She tugged on his ear with her teeth like a predator tasting its meal. This man could break her in his arms, but right now, he seemed to have turned into jelly before her. Her hands wickedly fondled his muscles and ran across his delectable collarbones. She let her lips leave nude-pink lipstick kisses on his white t-shirt. Vanessa then traced her fingers over his abdominal muscles as she slid down and got onto her knees, a position she only took when devouring a man. She let her hand wrap around his bulge, and to her delight, her beloved captain seemed to be stiffening up. But she needed to truly impress Yami if she was to make him go absolutely wild for her. For that, she would use her man-pleasing skills until he was unable to think of any other woman than her.

"Wait," said Yami, "Those brats will see."

Are you getting flustered, Captain? How cute.

Vanessa said, "Then you better not moan too loud for me, Captain."

She was disobeying him. It was exciting to finally get what she wanted with the captain. However, she decided to pause a moment. Despite her desire to seduce him, she wanted his consent in all of this. And so she remained between his legs, dangerously close to his crotch as she gazed up at him patiently, awaiting those magic words. If he wanted her to stop, he merely needed to say so.

At last, he whispered, "Fine. But keep your voice down."

The witch sported a wicked smile. She slid down his pants and smirked at the sight of his fundoshi. She then slid aside his loincloth as her eyes widened.

This is Captain Yami's… cock

Vanessa licked her lips excitedly at the delectable sight in front of her. She hoped she wouldn't drool as anticipation left her starved for him. Her captain was well-hung indeed. She couldn't wait to kiss it. To taste it. To suck on it. To lick it. To swallow it. For it to stuff her full. Instinctively, she moaned as she slid her tongue on the underside of the shaft. She was already wet just from a taste of the erotic cock before her. It was almost instinctive how she devoured it hungrily. However, his veiny member wasn't yet at its most magnificent. Vanessa began to play with it in her skillful hand, rubbing her thumb over the bulbous head as she pulled back his foreskin. She then swirled her tongue around the glistening tip of Yami's throbbing erection. He was erect for her! She had succeeded in turning him on. She looked up to see Yami was panting a bit now. Inside, his rigid emotions were shattering.

He thought, "Damn. She's good at this. How many men has she done this with?"

The sight of Yami's ever-growing lust for her turned the witch on to no end. As did the taboo of sucking her captain's cock, a man who was practically family to her and the Black Bulls. There was also the thrill of getting caught. Vanessa did enjoy the idea of another man watching, but she knew if her comrades woke up, it was over. Even so, she wanted to make him moan and growl for her. She tasted his delicious manhood before wrapping her lips lovingly around the thick head and tasted his sticky precum. She then lay kisses down the underside until she reached her captain's balls, both of which were brimming with semen meant to impregnate her. She licked each testicle and wrapped her lips around them lovingly, sucking on them gently. Vanessa played with his balls in one hand now as she returned to his monstrous penis. Something so big… She would surely choke on it and it was sure to break her. Even so, she couldn't wait to find out if it would fit inside her womanhood. She decided to show him just how good she was at pleasing a man. She took his dick into her mouth and laid it on her tongue. She then sunk downward and let his shaft slide down her throat. The lustful witch was deepthroating her captain's entire cock, the man she was smitten with! It was like a dream come true for her. Vanessa couldn't help but moan as she took him in inch by inch until she swallowed him down to the base. She left his veiny dick covered in a wet froth of saliva. Her eyes were heavy with a fever for his manhood, and she let her finger rub against her clit. Without a doubt, this was the hottest blowjob she had ever given.

At last, Vanessa released his shaft from her mouth and asked him in her sultriest voice, "How does it feel? I'm quite proud of my blowjob skills."

He said both angrily and weakly, "Damn it. I'm going to lose it if you keep doing that."

"Then lose yourself to it, Captain!"

Vanessa slurped and tasted it hungrily before deepthroating the entire shaft once more. She was bobbing her head now. She could already tell the captain's manhood was throbbing and ready to burst. She giggled, somehow knowing he was not used to climaxing so soon. Unfortunately for him, there was dark witchcraft at work here. This witch's lascivious tongue was trying to drain him. She was kissing the head of it when she suddenly felt Yami's powerful hand wrap around her head. The young woman blushed as the muscular man forced her down onto his massive girth.

"Mmmmph!" she moaned both in surprise and in arousal.

She choked on it a bit as he handled her so roughly.

"S-Sorry," he said, "I lost control."

Vanessa giggled as she resumed her work and let him hold her against his crotch, making her worship it. He tasted utterly amazing. She licked his manhood lovingly now until it was left twitching and sensitive. As Yami began to rub her hair warmly, she let her tongue swirl around the head again. At last, she saw his dick twitch madly and the captain's teeth smashed together before he let out a growl. The untamed muscles of his body tightened, and his legs jerked forward violently.

"Fuck," he groaned, "Uggh….:"

Again, he forced her to swallow his cock as he climaxed. She lovingly took in every drop of this man's thick, fertile seed. The taste was salty and masculine. It bubbled as she drank it down, much of it getting stuck on the walls of her throat. Vanessa took down every drop for him, showing off the indisputable fact that she was a swallower, not a spitter.

"Mmmmn" she let out amidst licking her lips, "How was that?"

Yami said, "I doubt anyone can compete with that, Vanessa."

She loved when he said her name.

Her captain thought silently to himself as he recovered, "That's enough though. We can't go any further."

Vanessa said," Ooh. I got so horny, sucking your cock, Captain. Let's go all the way. Why don't you bend me over and have your way with me?"

Her words put an even more powerful hex on him, luring one of the most powerful captains in the Clover Kingdom into her trap. Yami grit his teeth again, looking like he was struggling to choose between a life and death choice on a hellish battlefield. But Vanessa already knew she had won. He then sighed as he regained control of himself… somewhat at least.

He answered flatly, "Not here. Let's go somewhere more private."

______________________________________________________________

Vanessa clung happily to her captain's arm as they made their way deeper into the forest. Around them, the air was growing cooler and the sound of nocturnal creatures deafened their ears. Once the tent was well out of sight, Yami brought Vanessa to a thicket of trees with a small grassy clearing on the other side. A fine choice. The wizard then pulled up her against him, his arms wrapping around her. It left her blushing and made her heart skip a beat. Her brain struggled to process that she was sharing such a romantic moment with such an aloof man as Captain Yami. His powerful hands slid down to her burgundy miniskirt, and he let his rough, calloused fingers feel her soft thighs.

He said, "You're always flaunting your body in this skimpy outfit, trying to get a rise out of men. Trying to get a rise out of me."

"Fufufu," she said, "That's right. Looks like I finally caught a good one."

She pulled down her corset dress and let her massive melons slip out. Her Captain Yami didn't waste any time in enjoying her chest. He began to press his handsome face into her cleavage, tickling her with inviting hot breaths upon her bare skin. Vanessa giggled, never expecting to see this side of her beloved leader. She let him take a nipple into his mouth and suckle on it fiercely as if searching for milk. His tongue was swirling around it as his sword-wielding hand sunk into her other breast. She panted and moaned, her breasts feeling all manner of pleasure from this man.

Once her nipples were left glistening with saliva, Vanessa guided Yami towards a large tree trunk behind him. She sat him down so his back rested against it as she began to kiss him again. She then grinned and blushed madly as she felt him lift up her skirt and slide down her purple panties. His forceful hands wrapped around her large round ass and sunk deep into it. Vanessa arched her back and moaned shamelessly as she felt him strike it with one of his burly hands. Her butt stung in the most delightful way as her captain marked her as his woman, leaving her rump stinging and a man's handprint temporarily tattooed upon it. He now spun her around so he could let his hands explore her from behind. Vanessa panted and squirmed as he gave into his pent-up desires. His hands fondled her breasts roughly from behind and sunk into them greedily as he nibbled on her ear, his teeth tugging on it gently. What a tease he was… She couldn't resist letting out another moan of approval. Yami let a hot puff of air linger in her ear, as if he were a hungry wolf about to devour her. His hand now slid down to her legs. She felt him slide a powerful index finger down to her womanhood. He played with the nub there, sending maddening pleasure up her body. Vanessa squealed in his embrace. His hairy arms were bulging and his veins were throbbing as he held her against him, exploring her body however he wished.

He said heatedly, "Your body is insane."

She panted, "Ooh. You're the … mmnn… one who looks built for breeding me."

He said sinfully in her ear, "What a coincidence, you look built for being bred."

His words were utterly arousing to her. Did he really just say such a thing? He wasn't usually like this. Was he drunker than he appeared? Vanessa wasn't sure of what the answer might be, but he was saying all the right things. Usually, she relied on a few words of praise from Yami each month, but today he was making her feel like a queen, even as he handled her so roughly. His fingers now slid into her lower lips of which were soaking wet. She panted as she leaked out fluids in response to his skillful finger. A second digit slipped into her womanhood and together both fingers began to thrust into her like a dick. After several minutes of being fingered and having her breasts fondled, the man-loving witch splashed out her juices for him. However, like Yami, she was far from winded. His teasing had only made her more desperate to push these boundaries past the point of no return. As he continued to play with her clit, Vanessa moaned out her true desire.

"Oh fuck, Captain," she said as she panted madly, "I want it. I want your cock. I want you to impregnate me! Mmmmnn."

Yami said, "Alright then. Bend over."

Vanessa grinned happily and obeyed him. Despite how weak her legs were after being pleasured by the samurai's ruthless hands, she perfectly balanced herself on her high heels. Vanessa bent over with her hands pressed against the tree's lengthy trunk as she presented her ass to him. Her garters dug into her flesh as she did. She panted and as she felt Yami's hot shaft land directly on her ass cheeks. He was driving her crazy! She found herself desperate to be fucked by him as if she were in heat during mating season.

"Ooh don't tease me, Captain," she said with a manic look in her eye.

He said, "Vanessa… Sorry. I don't think I'll be able to control myself."

"Don't hold back," she said, "Let out all your pent-up frustration… Unleash all your lust onto me."

He said, "Have it your way. You're the one that caused this so hurry up and take responsibility."

The witch panted as she felt Yami's shaft begin to force its way into her and spread her wide. He was stuffing her full and splitting her apart. He was utterly massive and just the feeling of it remaining inside her was driving her mad. Vanessa then felt his boiling-hot hands grab her ass as he withdrew. Immediately, he speared her deep and fast as he swung forward his muscular hips. His hard muscles crashed into her soft flesh. The clap of his testicles to her butt echoed through the forest. Yami seemed mesmerized by how her butt jiggled with his thrusts and so he struck both pale cheeks with his palm. The succubus witch moaned with every blow as he increased the speed of his thrusts. He suddenly grabbed her by the wrists and pulled them back beside her hips. Her captain was having his way with her! His thrusts became ferocious, like that of a bucking bronco. He slammed into her and impaled her deep, spearing her with every inch of his veiny rod. It sent a shock up her spine. She looked back to see the dashing ronin panting madly, baring his fangs to her like a feral beast. His handsome face was red and glistened with sweat. As he overheated, Yami gave her quite the show as he pulled off his shirt and revealed his glistening, glorious chest. His pecs and chiseled abs were practically oiled with sweat as he continued to thrust into her. His cock was already throbbing as it rammed in deep.

Her captain said, "Damn. I'm going to cum. Where do you want it?"

She panted as she frantically said, "Inside!"

"Suit yourself, witch," he answered.

As he poured into her, she heard him growl like a ferocious beast. He arched his back and tightened his grip on her wrists as he shoved his manhood in deep again and unloaded fertile seed into her womb. Venessa's tongue hung out as she moaned from feeling him froth within her. She knew she would need to buy an emergency pregnancy-control charm the next morning. A thick load like this was dangerous for her. And yet it drove her mad as he kept dragging back his hips and snapping forward into her, so desperate to impregnate her. Not a moment later, she climaxed again. She arched her back as her juices splashed out of her and his seed poured deep in.

In the heat of the moment, Vanessa cried out, "Captain, I've always loved you! Aaaahnn!"

Yami said, "That's playing dirty, you troublesome woman… Fuck!"

He grit his teeth angrily as his body began to tremble. His powerful eyes weakened and his face was red from blushing. For them both, it felt as if his virile semen would never stop filling her. As Yami pulled out, one last shot escaped him and splashed onto her ass and clothes. Vanessa was marked by the erotic scent of her mate. Yami panted now over her as his muscled tightened and relaxed with every breath.

"Oooh…" said Vanessa, feeling his load gush out of her.

She then looked back at her beloved captain. To her amusement, he was still rearing to go. She licked her lips and rubbed her butt against his manhood playfully, threatening to make it slip into either of her holes.

"Shall we continue until you are spent?" she asked playfully.

Yami panted and took out a cigarette, lighting a fresh smoke.

He muttered something that sounded like, "Insatiable woman."

That night they did it in every position imaginable. From behind. Missionary. Cowgirl. Vanessa even begged him until he dicked her asshole. As morning arose, she and her captain were left utterly exhausted. He was completely spent and her clothes were stained with the gift of her darling Captain's essence, the fruits of their lovemaking. Yami now tenderly held her slender wrist in his mighty grip, holding her close to him. His broad-shouldered body welcomed her into rest. Vanessa leaned up and planted another kiss on his lips. He did not resist as their lips crashed against one another. After such a hedonistic encounter, Vanessa was surprised the night ended so softly. Yet she would not complain. A romantic embrace with her captain was equally welcome.

As they heard Asta and Charmy begin to stir back at the camp, Vanessa and Yami immediately sprung to their feet in a panic. Suddenly, all the risks and consequences of their lustful endeavor returned to them.

Yami said, "Let's run for the river. We'll pretend we fell in boar shit or something."

Vanessa said, "Oh? I was going to brag to the other Black Bulls. Mission success! I seduced the captain!"

Yami said humorlessly, "You're mad, woman. Absolutely not. You're definitely joking, but don't forget, you and I will be in hot water with the higher-ups if I'm caught fraternizing with a subordinate."

Vanessa said, "Ah. I'm sorry about that."

He then put a hand on her head and let it ruffle through her pink locks. She couldn't help but blush the same as always. Anytime he doted on her, she was extremely happy.

He said, "So I'm saying it's best you keep this between us for now. Is that clear?"

"Aye aye, Sir," she said with a professional salute.

He then sighed again and for a moment, she saw a genuine smile upon his face.

Jeez. Just when I thought he couldn't get any more handsome.

Yami then gazed at her with a bit of determination in his eyes.

He said, "Oh yeah. I want to clear something up. You talked about me preferring strong women. But actually, I told you I like women I can drink with too. You're the one who asked me at the festival, remember?"

"A-Ah," she said a bit embarassed, "You mean-"

"I'm saying you fit both those things. That makes you my type of woman, doesn't it?" said Yami, "So no more pouting. You got your way after all."

He then continued, "Oh, and no more flirting with other guys, got it?'

She said a bit angrily, "Of course, I know that! Geeze."

Her man now smiled at her and waved back at her as he said, "Well, we best wash up."

Vanessa then heard him say gently and mischievously, "Seems I'm caught in the witch's web with no way out. What a pain."

With that, Yami turned around and coolly made his way towards the river, happily smoking as he did. He had his hands in his pockets now as he sported a sly grin she could not see. Instead, Vanessa was left with a hand to her chest as her face turned a brand-new shade of scarlet. That man… he liked her more than he let on it seemed. She couldn't help but smile lovingly at him, enjoying the sight of his shoulder blade and muscles pressing through his sleeveless shirt.

What an interesting man he was! Despite claiming to be a warrior of few thoughts and fewer words, Captain Yami was cleverer than he let on. A good match for a clever witch like her. He always knew what to say to make her happy. With those words, Vanessa knew that slowly but surely, they could start a relationship together. Despite her insecurities, Yami had picked her in the end. He chose HER. She couldn't help but feel a bit of pride and a sense of relief at her victory. She looked forward to the day he held her bridal style in his arms with her family, those rambunctious Black Bulls, cheering them on as they announced they were officially dating. Until then, she would be his wicked witch and pull the strings needed to get her way and gain their happy ending together.

<3 The End <3 

[zirkkun]

henlo, it is I, zircon, who cannot focus on one project at a time to save my life /hj

But I was struck with a Need to make a character for @alch3mic‘s yandere!fairy tale AU. I didn’t even have any ideas going into this. I just went. “I need to make a character.” For some reason. Hell, I actually know next to nothing about either Dancetale or Twelve Dancing Princesses -- I literally did research for this upon waking up this morning, and then when I scrapped through enough ideas, I finally settled on this!

Also, I know Dancetale!Sans technically has a blue color scheme, or indigo in some depictions; but there already being a two chars in the AU with blue (huntsy and prince) and captain with purple, I figured I should pick something that stuck out a little more. So I went with a blue-green lol. (and injected some mint colors bc... favorite color lol)

More info with my rambling about this skele if you’re interested, but fair warning, there will be some yandere themes given the AU ^^/ -->

Soldier!Sans - goes by “Soldier” in many cases. Was given this nickname for his loyalty to doing every job he’s assigned without question as an information broker.

+ he took up being an information broker after his music composition career began to tank. figured he might as well get money somehow

+ still does music composition when he can. he can play violin and keyboard. usually doesn’t bother with lyrics

+ does not have loyalty to any specific person (... that is, for his job) and will do (nearly) any job without fail.

+ soldier works differently from huntsman and cheshire, who are in similar positions in a way. he doesn’t lack emotions (unlike huntsman), but he has an emotional disconnect with the informational work he does (unlike cheshire) ... y’know, most of the time.

+ his brother has a dance studio called “Enchanted Dancing.” his brother often tries to offer him a job at the studio, since soldier used to be a dancer, but he refuses

+ also refuses to drink alcohol. it makes him sick. frankly, he doesn’t eat much at all because he can get sick really easily... though, whether or not that comes from a lack of eating, he isn’t sure

+ usually does work for the richest parts of the city -- that’s where the most money is

+ isn’t unfamiliar with doing some thievery here and there and selling his findings to his clients. usually they are small but expensive items, like jewelry

+ doesn’t sleep much between working both day and night, but struggles with sleeping regardless. he mostly just takes short breaks from time to time

+ overall is probably the least yandere of the yanderes, since he’s not as likely to kill as he is protect and run away... but he’s very protective

+ physically, he’s fairly tall compared to the rest of the “tiny” skeletons (huntsy, captain, prince, cheshire) and stands a few inches taller than mc. he’s also a lot thinner and a lot more fit, since he did use to be a dancer, although he isn’t anymore

+ he’s quick on his feet and very quiet. his stealth is well-known amongst his former clients, as he’s yet to be spotted by anyone, almost as if he’s completely invisible at night

Basic story concept - loosely based off of Twelve Dancing Princesses, set in the city of the yan!fairytale AU with the rest of the characters.

+ soldier plays the role of well... the solider. he is eventually hired for a long-term job of keeping an eye on one of the Kings’ (a large, extremely wealthy family in the city) adopted children whose siblings say disappears during the night

+ according to the Kings, their child is nearly about to graduate college, but is borderline failing their final semester for reasons the family can’t comprehend. they wake up late in the morning and go to bed oddly early, and the Kings never see them doing their school work and are upset. this is why they hired soldier

+ when soldier does tracks them down inevitably, he’s met with the discovery that they’ve been leaving every night to go to varying different parties. surprisingly, they’re not typically the drunk college parties one would expect. rather, they’re more involved and populated dance parties

+ the first couple of times he finds them, they’re at typical raves, but later on, he finds they’re doing other things as well, such as late-night dance classes. but it always involves dancing. sometimes soldier catches himself critiquing their moves... or sometimes imagining walking up to them and teaching them himself... but then he immediately shuts down the thought and returns to his work

+ soldier eventually reports back to the Kings, who are furious at the news. they, without telling him until much later, end up locking the dancer away. soldier waits a few nights, expecting to follow them again, only for no one to come from the mansion. when he discovers out they’ve been locked away by their own family... something clicks. he isn’t sure what. but something does.

+ solider crosses his usual “loyal to his job” code and breaks into the mansion, not only allowing the dancer to meet him, but bringing them out for the night. bringing them outside so they can dance as they please

+ he isn’t sure the motivation for his actions. it’s as if a spell has been cast on him

+ If you brought me out to dance, why don’t you join me? they ask. soldier refuses. for now. maybe.

+ he is sure of one thing;

+ if they’re going to be locked away anywhere, it’ll be under his protection, not anyone else’s... but he doesn’t want it to come to that. for now, he supposes he’ll assign himself a new job of sorts -- a soldier to protect the aspiring midnight dancer

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Reiji Maniac [Prologue]

ー The scene starts on the balcony of Banmaden

Shin: ーー Nii-san.

Carla: How is Ayato doing?

Shin: Still in a deep slumber per usual. Whether you stomp or kick him, he gives no reaction whatsoever. Almost like a corpse. 

Can’t we just kill him already?

Carla: Stop. We need him to lure out that woman. If you dare harm him, you will be punished. (1)

Shin: ...Ugh.

Why are we prolonging the process by relying on a hostage?

Whatever. I’m going straight to those Vampires’ castle and demand they hand over the woman!

Carla: No need to rush.

Shin: But...!

Carla: Shin, this is like a game of chess.

Shin: Eh...?

Carla: One must not focus solely on taking down the pieces right in front of them.

If you act hastily, unnecessary sacrifices will be made.

Shin: ...I get what you’re trying to say, but why are you being so careful?

Carla: ...Sakamaki Reiji.

Shin: Eh...?

Carla: The Vampire who was by her side ーー It appeared to me that he was rather sharp of an individual.

He will most likely come to us himself. Then the game will begin.

ー The scene shifts to the bedroom of Richter’s manor

Reiji: ...

*Thud*

Reiji: ...Phew.

( All necessary preparations have been made. Which leaves ーー )

Yui: ...

Reiji: Fufu, she is sound asleep.

( I should go while I have the chance. It pains me to leave without a single word, but I simply cannot keep on bringing her in more danger. )

( Furthermore, if my prediction is on point, this is the best move. )

Yui: ...

ー He leans in

Reiji: I’ll get going. ...Nn.

*Smooch*

ー Reiji leaves the room

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ーー Nn...

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: Huh...? Reiji-san...?

( Reiji-san’s gone. Why...? )

*Rustle*

Yui: ...? This isーー

*Flip*

Yui: ...!

( This is a letter from Reiji-san! )

ー A flashback ensues

Reiji: ーー Please forgive me for leaving you behind.

I will now head towards the Founders’ quarters to retrieve Ayato. I am fairly certain I have pinpointed their whereabouts. 

Please try and behave until I return.

Furthermore, be careful of Richter. Do not trust him under any circumstances.

Until we meet again. I love you, Yui.

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ...Reiji-san...

( I’m sure he went by himself because he doesn’t want to bring me into danger. )

( He said his senses are currently numbed by the Lunar Eclipse so I wonder if he’ll be okay? )

( Knowing Reiji-san, I doubt he has asked any of his brothers for help. )

( However, I might just have to rely on them. )

( I wonder if there isn’t some way for me to contact the Sakamaki castle? )

( ...However, if I act of my own accord, I might end up troubling Reiji-san again... )

*Knock knock*

Yui: ...!

???: I’m coming in.

Yui: Richter-san...

Richter: I made some tea. Would you like to enjoy a cup together?

Yui: Eh...?

( What should I do...? )

( He’s being so kind to offer, but I should probably... )

Yui: Sorry. I’ll pass for now.

Richter: ...I see.

ー Richter leaves again

Yui: ( ...Did I do the wrong thing? )

ー The scene shifts to the outside of Banmaden

Carla: ーー So you have come?

Reiji: Good evening, First Blood gentlemen. 

I am flattered by the warm welcome. (2)

( As expected, they predicted that I would come by myself. )

( This is where the real game begins... )

ー The scene shifts to the reception hall

Carla: ーー Let me hear what you have to say.

Reiji: Well then, let me not waste any time...I have come to retrieve my younger brother. Would you be so kind to return him to me?

Shin: We won’t give him back for free. I’m sure someone as clever as yourself has figured out as much?

Reiji: I cannot hand over Yui. However, I will gladly accept any other request.

Carla: Hmph. ...So that is your approach.

Shin: Are you messing with us!? What else would we even want!?

Carla: Very well.

Shin: Nii-san...!?

Carla: It might be difficult to overwhelm him in one move. In which case, he shall get rid of the other pieces in the way first, before snatching the Queen.

Reiji: Oh dear. Do you enjoy chess? I have a feeling the two of us would get along splendidly

Carla: I have no intention of getting along with you. (3)

Reiji: Now that is truly unfortunate. Personally, I would have loved to sit down with you for a nice chat.

For example...Regarding your ‘plans’, perhaps?

Shin: You little...!

Carla: Shin.

Shin: ...Ugh.

Carla: Reiji, was it?

Your objective is to retrieve your younger brother. Therefore, I would assume that talking about anything else would be a simple waste of time.

Reiji: Good point. My sincere apologies.

( I suppose he will not take my bait that easily... )

( There must be some sort of reason as to why they are after Yui. Especially since her blood is known to be special. )

( I do not know whether they have a concrete plan in mind but if only I could get a better grasp on their goal and ulterior motive... )

Carla: You said you would agree with any other request, no?

Reiji: I am a man of my word after all.

Carla: In that case, become my subordinate.

Shin: Wha...What are you saying, Nii-san!?

Reiji: ( I see. So that is the move he has chosen to make. Carla...I cannot underestimate this man. )

Very well. However, I will not let you have Yui regardless.

Carla: I do not mind.

Shin: You’re trusting this guy!? He might simply pretend to vow loyalty to then try and stab a knife in your back!?

Or rather, that’s obviously his intention!

Reiji: I suppose I cannot blame you for not trusting me. In that caseーー

Shin: ...!

Carla: You bowed down, huh...? However, that is not sufficient.

Grab my hand and press it against your forehead.

Reiji: Understood, my Lord.

Shin: ...Tsk.

Reiji: Please call me at once if you need something. I will be on call until then.

Carla: Very well.

Shin. Bring out Ayato.

Shin: ...Fine.

ー Shin walks away

Reiji: ( ...This concludes game one. Under no circumstances will I let you grab the Queen, First Blood. )

( Furthermore, I will be the last one standing. )

*TIMESKIP*

Reiji: ーー Well then, I shall take my leave now.

My sincere gratitude for returning Ayato.

ー Reiji leaves

Shin: ...Nii-san, why did you do that!? Why would you make him your underling? 

Carla: I simply moved one pawn to obtain the Queen.

Shin: I don’t understand. Why would someone as powerful as yourself bother going through the extra trouble?

Carla: Raw power will only get you so far. While it may be necessary to take the offensive at times, you cannot win the game solely with strength.

Perhaps you should deepen your knowledge on chess a little more.

Shin: ...Roger.

ー The scene shifts to the living room of Richter’s manor

Yui: ...?

Richter: ...

Yui: ( I wonder what’s wrong with Richter-san? He seems to be sulking while sitting on the staircase. )

Richter: ...Oh, it’s you. Is something wrong?

Yui: I figured I would grab myself a glass of water...

Richter: I see...

Yui: ( I wonder why he seems down? Is he feeling under the weather, perhaps? )

( I know I have to take Reiji-san’s words to heart, but a little chat wouldn’t hurt, I suppose... )

Uhm, Richter-san? Is something the matter?

Richter: No...I just ended up remembering Cordelia.

She is no longer with us.

I will never be able to see her again, no matter how badly I want to...

Yui: Richter-san...

( Reiji-san called him a fool, but when I see him like this... )

ー Reiji enters the room

Reiji: Oh my, both of you are together it seems.

Yui: Reiji-san...!

Richter: Why are you carrying Ayato in your arms?

Reiji: I will fill you in on the details later. I would like to bring him to a room now.

Let us go, Yui.

Yui: Y-Yes...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the bedroom

Reiji: ...Phew. I suppose this means we will have one less thing to worry about.

Yui: ...I was worried since you suddenly disappeared, you know?

Reiji: I left you a note, did I not?

Yui: You did but...You were going up against Founders, right?

Besides, the Eclipse is still ongoing, so I was worried whether you’d be okay all by yourself...

Reiji: I see. Thank you very much. However, as you can see, I am unscathed.

Furthermore, I was able to safely retrieve Ayato.

Yui: That’s true, but still...

( I’m genuinely relieved both of them made it back safely, yet... )

( I still wish he would stop acting by himself... )

However, how did you come to an agreement with Carla-san and his brother?

Reiji: Do you wish to know? In that case, please let me suck your blood. To the point where you will feel lightheaded and collapse.

Yui: Eeh!?

Reiji: Fufu, that was a joke.

Yui: ( I feel as if he just skillfully dodged my question... )

( Did he do something which has to remain a secret...? )

Reiji: Well then, what to do next...?

Yui: Aren’t we going to the pharmaceutical facility?

Reiji: No, we will stay here for a while and evaluate the situation.

I do not feel satisfied simply grabbing a few pieces. Now that we have come this far, we might as well aim for victory.

Yui: ( ...Knowing Reiji-san, I’m sure he’s got plenty of ideas running through his head again but... )

( I honestly have no idea what he’s thinking... )

( I wish he wouldn’t do anything dangerous... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 

Translation notes 

(1) 断罪する or ‘danzai suru’ can imply both ‘to convict (for crime)’ in general or refer to beheading. I don’t know if Carla would go as far as to behead his own brother, hence why I went with the more neutral ‘punish’. 

(2) Literally he says he feels flattered since they went out of their way to come and greet him outside.

(3) In Japanese, the expression 話が合いそう or ‘hanashi ga aisou’ is used, which more specifically focuses on getting along in terms of having a conversation with each other, since you would both be interested in the same topic. However, in English I decided to translate it as ‘to get along’, so I had to adapt Carla’s phrase a little. A more literal translation would be ‘I have nothing to tell you’ or ‘I have nothing I want to talk about with you’.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Dark Epilogue ] [ Maniac 01 ] ->

[akatsuki-shin]

Review: 默读 Mò Dú (Silent Reading)

Notes:

(Very) long post ahead

Contains spoiler

This is my personal review and does not represent the entire audience, you are free to agree or not agree with what I’ve written here

Feel free to reply/send me a message if there are things you want to discuss

Using the Donghua poster because it fits the overall story more than the Audio Drama cover. :'))

Summary:

Yan City is a bright, bustling metropolis filled with all sorts of wonders, all sorts of people. From the richest occupying the city's most prestigious residential areas to the poorest huddling together in rundown slums, from the most fortunate blessed with a life of comfort to the wretched deemed to struggle until their last breath, from the virtuous walking in the path of light to the wicked lurking under the cover of darkness.

There is as much good as there is evil, and days gone by, people coming and going along with the passage of time.

Since their first meeting during a certain case seven years ago, Captain of the City Bureau's Crime Investigation Unit Luo Wenzhou thought he would never see eye to eye with Fei Du, son of a well-known conglomerate who inherited his father's position and wealth after the latter fell into comatose due to a near-fatal accident three years ago.

Words as sharp as knives dyed their bitter exchanges, even their personality was like the heaven and earth; the bold, blunt, and straightforward Luo Wenzhou - and the astute, secretive Fei Du, with his beautiful peach blossom eyes and a smile that is not quite a smile seducing countless people, his very presence seems as if it was covered under layers and layers of deceit.

Every single time they meet, they would always part on bad terms. Yet Luo Wenzhou would never have thought that a seemingly ordinary murder case of an ordinary deliveryman would lead him into the mystery of multiple long forgotten unsolved cases, turning over the Yan City and the City Bureau itself upside down, making him question his faith to those he respected and trust - and along with it, opening a door to the truth of Fei Du's past never once known to others.

STORY: 9/10

At first glance, the overall plot of Silent Reading seems neither extravagant nor exceptional. It's just one of those police drama where the main leads had to wrestle in a battle of wits with the villains looming around them, struggling to outsmart each other and eventually, bringing justice to those who deserve it.

But that is exactly what is so good about it. Silent reading could take all of those cliche and packed them into one nerve-wrecking, enticing journey from start to finish, complete with both intense and amusing interactions, and just the right amount of romance that does not disturb the flow of the main story.

And it actually does have its own uniqueness.

In most police dramas I've ever seen, the enemy is usually either a corrupt high-ranking official committing some hideous criminal acts by abusing their authority, or an individual/group with some very extreme values or obsession. Silent Reading, however, have both of those two most general types of villains in the story and what's more? It pits them against each other, pulling around and forcing the main leads to wreck their brains, slowly unravel the tangled mess until the truth finally comes to light.

The action and suspense, the atmosphere, the analysis, everything was almost impeccable to the point of perfection.

I have to especially give my kudos to how the author (Priest) structured the mystery in such a way, connecting one dots to the other from beginning to end. During the first few cases, I thought the resolution of the case didn't feel very solid, as if there are still some details that have yet to be properly elaborated. Yet halfway through, I realize that there is actually a bigger plot that encompass everything, tying all loose ends together.

And here, I would also like to highlight my two most favorite scene.

The first one is in Chapter 114-115 when Luo Wenzhou finally peeled of Fei Du's defense and for the first time exposed his true feelings, making Fei Du faced and spoke what he truly felt for Luo Wenzhou - that he really, actually did care for him. Their entire interactions and development up to this scene fits so well with these two main characters. There was no nonsense, no sappy crying and needless drama. Luo Wenzhou was as blunt as he was desperate and Fei Du, for once, admitted to the truth straight out with his own mouth.

The second one is in Chapter 157. In this case, one of Fei Du's most trusted men and an extremely important witness (that would later become their ally) were being chased and surrounded by thugs hired by their enemy. At this point of the story, the City Bureau was already in turmoil. Luo Wenzhou was suspended, nobody knows who they could or could not trust. Yet still, his subordinates all set out swiftly under his command and followed him to save the two witnesses, appearing at the most critical time.

It was actually a typical scene that exist in many police action drama, but given the development of the story, the well-built character relationship and interactions, I think it is Luo Wenzhou's coolest scene in the entire story and it makes me admire him a lot as the main lead and a leader figure.

One thing that does not quite sit well with me is Fan Siyuan's obsessiveness towards the late Gu Zhao. His motive for the crime was clear and I understand that he was using Gu Zhao's case as an example of injustice. But his extreme emotions whenever Gu Zhao was mentioned seems strange, even baseless. It makes me think whether he considers Gu Zhao as his own family or he was maybe madly in love with Gu Zhao, whereas in the entire story, unless I'm missing something, I have only ever known that Gu Zhao was Fan Siyuan's student - nothing more, nothing less.

CHARACTERS: 9/10

Silent Reading has a balanced, yet still very much appealing casts, from the major characters to the minor ones. Even the suspects and witnesses each had their own distinguishing features that didn't make them look like they were just there as canon fodders.

The composition of Luo Wenzhou's team itself is ideal; they've got the dependable leader, the smart advisor, the best friend and trustworthy right-hand man, the genius nerd, and the dependable aide.

I especially like Tao Ran (and I think most readers would agree with me). While he looks like the typical good guy type, he really, truly is a very good person. It's hard not to find him lovable. His relationship with Chang Ning was as cliche as it could get, but hey, as long as he's happy. Dude deserve it after everything he's done.

As for the two main leads, they are probably one of the most interesting couple I've found in the past few years.

Individually, Luo Wenzhou is the type of character I always like. He is confident to the point of having a narcissistic streak, but all of those are based on real talents and experiences. He speaks bluntly, but he cares for others through his action. He does not sugarcoat things and speaks the truth for what it is. Everything about him simply screams "reliable" as a leader (and a significant other to a certain someone). He deserves all of the respect and loyalty his subordinates gave to him.

Fei Du at first looks like a complex character whose real self is hidden beneath countless coats of pretense, but at the core, he is just a pitiful young man who does not know how to value himself, does not know how to love and be loved due to the abuse he suffered during childhood in the hands of his sadistic father. Despite his composure, his intelligence, his capability, he is almost like a lost little child, wandering in the darkness, going wherever the flow would take him until Luo Wenzhou pulled him out of that abyss. It is nothing less than commendable that he could restrain himself from succumbing into his father's manipulation, even if he has to correct himself through such extreme means for a long time.

And I'm glad that now he has someone who gives him the love he has long since been bereft of.

With Luo Wenzhou, Fei Du finally has a color in his life, someone to make happy memories with, and someone who genuinely love him for who he is. Likewise, with Fei Du, not only Luo Wenzhou got someone he could genuinely care for, he also finally has a place where he could relax, taking off the strong front he'd been putting before others all day long.

It was just so fulfilling to see two characters growing from "cat and dog" into inseparable lovers. They weren't sickeningly sweet, but just two people who are content with each other and would be each other's strength. I was especially happy when I saw how Fei Du changed his phone's ring tone into the one Luo Wenzhou in the extra chapter.

Now that I've finished reading this story, these two straight up went to the top of my all-time most favorite pairing list. But of course, this is just a personal opinion. Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du simply hits all of my favorite tropes, that's why. 😂

If I really have to point out one mini flaw, I suppose it's that the main villains aren't as appealing as the rest of the casts. They were practically overshadowed, even by some minor characters that only appeared for a short while.

TECHNICAL ASPECTS: 9/10

Just some very minor complaints:

1). When the story first introduced Fei Du in the beginning, it felt kind of abrupt. The narration had only been addressing him with his physical appearance, but suddenly they changed it into "Fei Du" with barely any proper start.

2). The international conference in Yan City (Chapter 2) was supposed to be a background information of the general setting of the first case, yet it was not properly mentioned at the start - rather, one sort paragraph about said conference was simply being slipped in the middle just for the sake to be there.

3). The switching of scenes between characters in the 3rd person POV are sometimes too quick with no signs of incoming transitions beforehand like taking shortcuts.

And by that, I mean that other than those three issues above, everything else was nothing less than perfect.

OVERALL SCORE: 9/10

A realistic story with perfectly balanced action, mystery, suspense, and romance - with a dash of comedy sprinkled at the right time and place.

Reading the novel from start to finish was nothing less than enjoyable. Whenever there needed to be a flashback or explanation, it didn't feel like info dump being thrown in all of a sudden.

I would like to point out a bit about the Zhou Conglomerate Case in Book 3.

Personally speaking, I think this is the most realistic case out of the others, and by that, I don't mean the crazy rich family drama.

The other cases in the books are something that to me feels "faraway"; murders, child trafficking, psychopath, organized criminal gangs. Yet in Book 3, due to the nature of the case, it was posted publicly for all to see, and damn if it didn't bring out the most annoying thing I actually hate in real life.

Clout-chasing media, meddlesome netizens commenting without thinking on the Internet, spreading personal information of the involved individuals without consent, handing down judgment based on rumors and personal opinions even if they have nothing to do with it (and know nothing about it), crashing the website due to mere curiosity, further hindering the police working on the case from doing their job.

They weren't thinking about those actually involved in the case, especially the victim. They don't care, or maybe don't even think that their meddlesome acts could cost a human's life because they see everything as mere passing entertainment. And if something were to happen because of their meddling, the most they would say is, of course, as quoted from Chapter 72:

"I didn't do it on purpose"

"I wasn't doing it to you"

"I didn't expect this to be the outcome"

"From a certain point of view, I'm a victim, too"

Even if I was just reading a fiction, at that moment I truly wished I could shut down the Internet for a bit. 😂

Anyway, amazing story. I might re-read everything from the start again when I have some free time.

[lemonpeter]

Yellow Carnations

Here’s my fic for @starkerfestivals Chocolate Box event - “Milk Molasses—Flowers” I hope everyone enjoys 💕

Warnings: none!

————

No one told him that flowers apparently had meaning!

Tony Stark was a genius. Everybody knew it, it was just a fact.

But flowers were not something he was particularly knowledgeable of. He picked up ones he thought looked nice before a date and that was that. No hidden motives or anything else.

Apparently there was some hidden flower language that he didn’t know about, however. And he’d given some ‘offensive’ flowers, from the words of his date. She stormed out before even explaining, leaving Tony at the table, completely lost.

To avoid another flower mishap, he decided to stop by the flower shop that had opened up just near the tower. He could ask for what to avoid, what was best for dates, and try to remember the information.

Once he stepped inside, however, that plan was almost completely out the window.

The young man at the counter was absolutely beautiful, every bloom in the building paling in comparison. His smile shone brightly as he talked to the customer he was working with.

“Yes, I promise you she’ll love them,” he assured a man who was clutching a bunch of flowers wrapped together. “I’ll give your money back if I’m wrong.” That was always his deal. But no refunds were ever handed out, because he was always right. It was something he prided himself on.

His attention turned to Tony after the first customer started leaving. “Hello! How may I help you today?” He asked cheerfully.

Their eyes met and Tony knew he was in trouble.

He hadn’t hoped to stay anonymous. Of course he was going to be recognized. It happened wherever he went, it was nothing new. But usually people made a big deal about it. He was happy that the florist didn’t even say anything until started talking.

He saw the flicker of recognition, but nothing was said. All that mattered was the instant spark he felt between them.

“So, I had no idea that flowers have meanings? And I’d like to avoid any future mistakes,” he told him, stepping up to the counter.

The florist chuckled, one hand clutched to his chest.

Tony was very proud of himself for causing such a wonderful sound. Even if what he’d said hadn’t been funny. “Do you get that a lot?”

“More than you could imagine,” the young man told him sincerely. “Bad date?”

“Very.”

“What did you bring?”

Tony hummed softly, trying to recall. But he really didn’t know much about flowers. “I think they were...something yellow. Carnations, I think.”

The florist covered his mouth, laughing harder this time. “Oh no...I don’t know why you’d do a full bouquet of carnations anyways, but never yellow!”

“Rejection, I know, I looked it up.” Tony sighed. “We didn’t even get to order dinner.”

A small laugh came from the other man again before he shook his head. “Okay. I can definitely help.”

Tony smiled at him, looking at his name tag. ‘Peter’ it read, which he thought was cute. Although maybe he just thought that everyone about the man was cute.

Which was not his point of being there.

“That’s good, because I can obviously use some help,” Tony joked lightly. “I mean, you could just tell me what I need to avoid and that will be good.”

“For starters, don’t give anyone yellow carnations unless you’re trying to let them down!” Peter laughed. He brushed his fingers through his hair, an action Tony’s eyes followed closely. “Okay, others…no petunias. Just don’t do it. Any color. Trust me on that one.”

Tony was willing to trust anything he said, about flowers or otherwise. So there wouldn’t be an issue with that.

“No buttercups either. Although you don’t see those much. And...hmm. You should probably avoid orange lilies, although those are debatable.”

“Oh, are they? I didn’t know there was big conflict in the flower community,” the older man joked.

Peter laughed again, nodding his head. “You have no idea,” he teased back. “God, there’s actually so many I should advise you against. I’m sure you don’t have that kind of time.”

And that just wouldn’t do. “I have all the time in the world, don’t even worry about that.” Tony gave him a slight grin.

It wouldn’t hurt anything to stay and talk to him. He was sweet, he was cute. Who knew? Maybe something would happen.

The florist smiled, opening his mouth to say something else before the bell on the door chimed with another customer entering. “Shoot. Hey, um.” He didn’t take his eyes off of Tony. “Maybe you could stop by again? I could teach you more if you’d like.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he was cursing himself. It was such a stupid proposition. Why would anyone want to just listen about flowers? The guy came in for one question, that was it. He clearly didn’t care that much.

“I think that would be nice,” Tony told him, snapping the young man out of his thoughts.

“Wait, really?”

“Really,” the older man confirmed with a smile. “I could use some schooling on this, I think. And who better to teach me?”

Peter felt like his heart melted right there. But he couldn’t let himself get too caught up in it. It wasn’t anything serious. It had nothing to do with him. Very little, at least. It was about the flowers. And the learning.

Right.

“Well, I work Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday,” he listed off, the words rushing out. “And it’s from opening to closing, so I’ll be here any time you decide to stop by on those days. So it’s whatever is easiest for you.”

He was disgustingly eager, but luckily he didn’t think Tony minded. He didn’t look like he did, at least.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he noted. He would be back as soon as possible. Which would be...Wednesday. That would be good.

The other customer cleared her throat, annoyingly reminding Peter that she was there. “Oh, I’m sorry! Just a moment, I’ll be right with you,” he promised.

Tony chuckled softly. “So, I’ll see you soon. I’ll be ready to learn, I promise.”

“Perfect.”

As Tony walked away, he couldn’t help the slight bounce in his step and the grin on his face.

Peter was smiling big as he worked with the customer, already excited for the next time he’d see Tony.

***

He figured out quickly that Tony was a wonderful student. And a bit of a flirt, but he could have expected that.

The man stayed for hours, listening to Peter explain different flowers and their meanings in between customers.

Tony came to the shop every day that Peter worked. And every day he listened, memorizing each detail that the florist gave him. One day he’d use the knowledge. He just wasn’t sure when that would be.

Peter detailed plants with multiple meanings, the common meanings, negative meanings, everything. He was clearly passionate about what he did and was happy to share the information.

Occasionally there would be mention of a flower that stood out exceptionally to Tony. A blue iris, for hope. A soft baby bell that meant purity or pure love. Things like that. He kept those in the front of his mind, determined that they stood out for a reason. He would need them.

Even if he wasn’t quite sure when. Or why.

Weeks passed and they continued spending the days together. Tony was there every time, charming and ready to listen to everything Peter had to say.

And god, the young man was definitely falling.

He hated how easy it was for him to fall in love. After all, it was never returned. He just got attached fast and found all the best qualities in someone and that was it. He was in love.

And he should have known much sooner that Tony would be the same. The man was just so perfect. He was sweet, handsome, and always seemed so interested in what Peter told him. Of course the young man couldn’t have helped but fall for him.

The thing he didn’t know, however, was how quickly Tony was falling as well.

***

It had been a few months since their first meeting. Any other time he would have considered it too fast for anything. But it just felt different with Peter. So Tony worked on making a plan.

On the way over to the shop, Tony was working on recalling every meaning that Peter had taught him. He wanted to make sure the bouquet was perfect, not going to offend in any way.

When he got to the shop, however, it was harder to keep his thoughts straight as he met eyes with Peter. Was he supposed to ask for red or pink tulips? And he was pretty sure it was white chrysanthemums, but what if he was remembering wrong?

As he walked through the door, going straight for the counter, he wished he’d written out a list. But it was a bit too late for that now.

“Hey. You’re back,” Peter said happily, leaning onto the counter. “Here for another lesson?”

“No, actually.” Tony cleared his throat, trying to sound confident and fight down his nerves. He wanted to show Peter that he remembered what the flowers meant. And he hoped that would be a good way of asking him out. And confessing how he was already deeply in love with him. God, he was a disaster. “I’m actually here for a bouquet this time. And I’m hoping I’ll get it right.”

“Oh. Well, of course, just tell me what you’re wanting.” The young man’s heart sank. Flowers meant that Tony was going out with someone. He turned away, grabbing a vase to start working with. And having his back to Tony meant that he didn’t have to hide his disappointment.

“Okay. I’m really hoping I get all this right.” Tony’s heart was pounding, threatening to beat right out of his chest as he did his best to recall the flowers he’d planned out. “Um...red tulips, to start. Then some...some white chrysanthemums. And baby’s breath for the filler. And then...one blue iris, right in the middle. Please.” He was pretty sure those were the right ones. He really hoped so.

Peter fought back tears as he arranged them, the meanings not lost on him. Tony really cared about whoever these were going to.

Red tulips for true love, not one he got asked for often. So it must have been really serious. White chrysanthemums for loyalty and devotion. A good thing to promise. Baby’s breath to fill, continuing the idea of pure love. Then the iris. Hope.

He wiped his eyes quickly before turning back around, offering the arrangement to the man. “I hope this is good...they’re really going to enjoy it.”

Tony took it, looking over everything for a moment before smiling nervously and handing it back to Peter.

Peter’s brows furrowed. “Did I get something wrong? Shit, did I mix up-“ that never happened. Was he really that upset, that it messed up his work?

“No, it’s perfect. That’s not why I’m giving it back.” He held it out until the confused young man took it back. “I, uh, I know all that was probably a lot. A lot of love there.” Suddenly he was a little embarrassed. “I know that’s probably coming off really strong. But I want you to understand how strongly I feel.”

“No, I understand. I’m sure whoever is getting them is going to be really-“

“Peter.” Tony gave him a small smile. “The person getting them already has them.”

Peter watched him for a moment, blinking dumbly. He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, trying to work it all out. Then it finally clicked. “This is...for me?”

“If you want it to be. I...I didn’t know how else to say it. But I wanted to show you somehow.” Tony looked at him, trying to hide how nervous he was. He couldn’t tell how Peter felt about the gift and it was definitely stressing him out. “Will you go out with me? Or something like that?”

A smile slowly appeared on Peter’s face, pushing away the confusion. “Was the iris because you hoped I’d say yes?” He whispered, eyes on the soft blue flower.

“Well...yeah,” the man admitted. “I didn’t know what all to do. But I really tried. I...I want you to know that I really care about you. I’ve really fallen for you.”

“I’ve really fallen for you too, Tony,” he whispered, bringing the flowers closer to his chest. “I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

“Well, I do. And I have.” Tony grinned at him, brushing one hand through his own hair. “Does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

Peter would have been willing to do way more than that. But he just simply nodded, ignoring the tears welling up in his eyes. “I would love to.”

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 3

din/reader

she’s dropping early because i have no patience and i’m extremely proud of the last 2/3rds of this. thanks as always to my darling @brothersdrxke​ for being encouraging and yelling with me 💛

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swears, overuse of italics, discussion of violence including graphic injury, mentions of scars (causes not discussed), one use of ‘their’ as a pronoun for reader, usual poetic smut, 18+ no babies thanks

You didn’t think you’d be back here.

Maybe ever, but definitely not after only a couple of years, and your smile is tight as you flick the lever to lower the small freighter’s boarding ramp. You’re sure it won’t come back if you drop it. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Qin’s teeth are sharp in his own smile. 

“You’re not.”

His snarled response is cut off by Ran’s booming laugh before it starts. Your old boss claps him on the shoulder, saying something in lieu of a real greeting about how he’s missed your jokes. It’s a little tense, the way the men take you in for a moment. You didn’t wear your uniform, there’s not a thing on the ship that points any fingers towards the Rebellion, but it’s clear you’ve done well for yourself since leaving. Something they clearly have not, judging by the holes in the jacket tied around Qin’s hips.

“Thanks for letting me stay, system hopping takes a lot longer when your hyperdrive’s busted.” You relax a little, let your shoulders drop, let them think you’re more than comfortable under their scrutinizing gazes. 

“We’ve probably got something laying around here you could use. For a price, of course.” Ran grins, in that predatory way that he always has. He seems so unassuming, but you know different. You know better.

“Your prices always land me on the wrong end of a blaster. I’ll take my chances in open space, thanks.” 

He laughs heartily again, and you can breathe. At least they seem to believe you. 

Ran had offered you your old room, something you’d graciously thanked him for, and left you to it. The station seems to run the same, more or less. He hasn’t hired anyone in your place, or in Din’s for that matter, but it’s difficult to find somebody without loyalties to any one side of the war. Leaving the spots open for now is probably safer for him. You’d raised a hand in greeting to Xi’an when you passed her in the hall, she’d hissed in return but any time she didn’t threaten to cut you is always a win. So at least you’re still in somebody’s good graces here.

Still, good graces don’t last long. And neither does your patience. It’s only a few hours into the night cycle on the station when you creep out of your room and towards the main hangar. Your old workspace looks exactly the same, a few bits and pieces missing, but mostly untouched by time and sticky fingers. Good. It takes less than an hour to completely gut the bench. Every single old motivator, circuit board, gear, and valve packed up neatly in the cargo hold of the ship. There’s still larger engine pieces that the base mechanics are in desperate need of, but Shara’s working on that lead. You find a black marker lying on a nearby workbench and draw a big smiley face on the dulled metal. For good measure.

It’s with a deep breath, and a prayer you never have to return, that you maneuver your ship up and out of the station. You ease it into lightspeed, the definitely-not-busted hyperdrive humming, and disappear. 

“Did you think I don’t keep tabs on people, Mando?”

Din would rather go swimming on Mustafar, or get swallowed by a Krayt dragon, or be literally anywhere else in the galaxy than the hangar on Ran’s station. How he’d even known he’d joined the Bounty Hunters’ Guild is a mystery to him, but the call came through nonetheless. The new representative on Nevarro, a very theatrical man if their short contact was anything to go by, had popped up in the holo-com display talking about a special assignment and given him coordinates he knew all too well. Whatever it is, it isn’t good.

“You know, Xi’an’s still broken up about you leaving. Convinced herself that you and the pilot organised it, that you’re holed up somewhere together. But we both know that’s not true.”

Din says nothing. He doesn’t need to, Ran’s tone leaves nothing to be discussed. Whether he knows for sure that you went straight to the rebels or not, he has his suspicions. Xi’an can think whatever she likes, he’s just grateful he doesn’t have to deal with her trailing after him like a lost puppy anymore. 

“They said you have a job for me.” 

Ran gestures out for him to follow, leading him to a desk he knows all too well. Your workstation was always cluttered, always a tangled heap of wires and unidentifiable spare parts. Organised chaos, you said, it was about the piles. Except it’s been completely cleared out. There’s shelves underneath that he didn’t even know existed, and a big smiley face drawn carefully on the worktop. Din turns his head towards Ran, a wordless question.

“We had a visit from our old friend, a favour done out of the kindness of my heart. So imagine my surprise when we all woke up to find their room empty, and my hangar pillaged.” Ran’s laying it on thick, thicker than usual. Pillaged is a strong word, it’s clear you only touched your own bench, those parts belong to you as far as Din’s concerned. But it’s not his concern that’s the problem. 

“So, what’s the job?” He doesn’t feel like playing games anymore. He doesn’t see what any of this has to do with him anyway.

“I’m putting a bounty on that little thief, it can be yours or it can go to the Guild. Or,” Ran hesitates, watching the way Din’s shoulders tense, “You can help me out. Help me with this one thing and I’ll drop it.”

Din doesn’t even ask what he needs to do, he only nods and finds himself trying his best to tolerate Qin’s chatter from the Crest’s passenger seat while he flies. 

It should worry him, that he didn’t even consider his own safety. But something about it feels right, he’s sure he’d put anything on the line if it meant you were safe.

It’s almost boring, standing guard at the door as Qin ransacks some official’s office on a planet he’s already forgotten the name of. Ran mentioned something about a trade agreement, although given the largely illegal nature of his dealings it doesn’t take a genius to work out exactly why something like that would have been refused by any law abiding citizen. Although law in the Outer Rim is generally subjective to everyone’s personal code. 

“One more office and we’re done.” Qin assures him as he exits the upturned office, pressing a drive into Din’s gloved palm. He pockets it without question, experience has taught him that wasting time asking will only get them in trouble. 

Trouble seems to find them anyway. It always does. 

He races through the beige hallways, following the blinking dot on the display of his vambrace with Qin hot on his heels. The security guards aren’t fast, they aren’t even armed, there’s no point in shooting when the two of them so clearly have the upper hand. Until a burly Trandoshan leaps out of a doorway and tackles Qin to the ground. But Din doesn’t look back, he just presses forward to the Crest. 

Din hightails it out of there, jumping to lightspeed still in atmosphere. Just in case. And breathes his first sigh of relief since he stepped onto the station. He’s not sure what’s on the drive, honestly he doesn’t want to know, and he just hopes it’s important enough to Ran that he might overlook the tiny detail of leaving Qin to the guards. 

Ran only seems mildly annoyed that Din comes back alone, more interested in the drive dropped into his waiting hand, and agrees to forget about setting a bounty. So long as you don’t turn up on his doorstep, lie, and steal from him again. Din promises to pass on the message.

You’re on Tatooine, arguing with a scrapper in Mos Espa over the price of a rusted laser cannon, when he finds you. The scrapper quiets when he appears over your shoulder, and nods reluctantly at your suggested fifty percent of the asking price. It’s hot and you’re tired, you don’t have the patience to pretend to be surprised when you turn to see him standing behind you. 

“Help me with this?” You ask. Din watches a bead of sweat drip down your temple, tries not to wish it was his tongue instead, and nods wordlessly.

Between the two of you, you manage to haul the cannon to your docking bay and roll it up the loading ramp. Only once it’s secure in the hold do you take a moment to survey his armour, the way you did last time.

There’s no obvious new scratches, although the dust on this rock of a planet will dirty anything in a matter of seconds, but you find yourself relieved by the familiarity of his dark red armour. Nothing has been replaced since the last time you saw him, it seems. You’ve come a long way since then.

“You’re stealing from our old boss now?” Din’s voice breaks your careful study of his armour, and your brow furrows. You thought he might understand, out of everyone in the galaxy, but you don’t even know how he found out.

“We’re in a war.” 

“You’re in a war.”

Your eyes snap up to his visor, and he has to physically plant himself so he isn’t rocked back by the intensity of your stare. You find his eyes every time, you always have. But yours have never held such a cold fury for him than they do now. It’s kind of terrifying, it’s kind of beautiful. 

“This is not about me. This is so much bigger than just me. You may have grown up underground learning how to kill people with your thumbs but I grew up under imperial rule. I grew up building parts for star destroyers and running messages for rebels. All I know is this fucking war.” You’re rambling but you don’t care. He has to know, he has to understand that this is what you do now. The last couple of years have been the best of your life, you’ve found a purpose. Something that makes you want to get out of bed in the mornings and reluctant to go back to it at night, you’ve thrown yourself into the brewing fight and it feels like you were born for it. The names of all the friends you’ve lost to the Empire sit heavy on your tongue for every TIE you take down, every supply you steal, every bit of intel you scrape together. It’s for them, it’s for everyone who came before, it’s for everyone who will come after. 

Din says your name softly, but the tears are falling and you can’t stop.

“I’ve been fighting my whole life so kids in the future don’t have to live the way I have. I think a few spare parts are worth that.”

You tell him your whole story, standing there awkwardly in the belly of the freighter. You tell him about the messages you ran between workers who resisted, who rebelled, who heard whispers of uprising and felt the roar of hope in their chests. You’d started young, too young really to understand the danger of what you were doing. But what about being young on Corellia was not dangerous? You tell him how the group started to grow, branching out from your factory line to the docks and the mechanics and further. The way they started to include you more as you got older, planning and whispering in darkened corners and safehouses away from the ears of the Empire. 

Not that it did anyone any good in the end. You tell him how they stormed the house one night. No warning, no whispers. Blew the door out of the wall and started shooting. So you’d started running. Nothing but the blanket from your bed, the one you’d had since you were a child, around your shoulders and a younger girl’s hand in yours. You’d almost gotten her to the loading docks. To safety. Almost. You can still taste the blood in your mouth when the blaster bolt split her head open, but you’d left her where she fell and kept running. You tell him how you dove into the first open cargo bay you saw and hid. For days. How you’d cried when you felt it finally lift from the bay. How it had been Ran’s ship, one of his first trades. You hadn’t had the courage to leave the station until somebody had shown you it was possible.

Din doesn’t interrupt once. He only watches. Watches as the tears stop streaming, as you pull yourself back together again. He’s sure you didn’t want him, anyone, to see you so vulnerable. You’ve always had that mask of quick jokes and bright smiles, it’s only now that he realises it's a mask, and it’s oddly fascinating to watch you piece it together. You wipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your jacket until there’s no trace of your tears and take a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, it’s as though you never cried at all. 

Even so, the bags under your eyes don’t lie. He’s sure he’s got a pair to match.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asks quietly, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear he was concerned about you. But you do know better. 

You shoot a glance over to the freighter’s sorry excuse of a bunk. It’s even worse than the last one he took you in, although you’re not sure he’s suggesting a good fuck will get you off to sleep. It’s very pointedly not been touched, starched sheets still stretched military-tight over the mattress. Not that it’s much of a mattress. 

“Let’s find a room somewhere. I think a real bed might do us both some good.” He makes it sound like an offer, but you know it’s non-negotiable. And deep down, you really could use a good hour or two before you have to fly back to base. The pilot’s seat is definitely more comfortable than the bunk, just about. You dip into the cockpit at the last second to snag your old blanket. For comfort’s sake.

There’s not a lot in the room that an older Twi’lek woman hands you the keycard to. Only a desk with a chair, an attached refresher, and a small bed. But it’s big enough for the two of you. The suns start to dip below the horizon, and Din finally reaches out to touch you. Just barely, just a light stroke of his fingers along your shoulder. But it’s enough to convince you to take a shower, you’re sandy and sweaty and tired and it’ll take more energy to argue than it would to just take the shower. 

You’re in there for longer than you intended, zoning out as your eyes lose focus of the little square tiles on the wall, and it’s dark outside by the time you’re dried and dressed in the spare clothes you keep in your go-bag. Din’s pulled blinds shut, locked the door, and piled his armour carefully on the desk. The ancient wood creaks under the weight of the metal. The man himself is lying spreadeagled on the bed, in only his underclothes and his helmet, the dull light from the single bulb in the refresher reflects off of his visor when he turns to look at you. It might make you laugh if you weren’t so tired.

“Better?”

You nod. Of course you feel better, anyone would after scrubbing what felt like an inch thick layer of sweat and sand off of their skin. You smell of the pleasantly neutral soap from the dispenser and, for the first time in days, you think you can breathe again. Although the weight of exhaustion threatens to drag your bones through the floor. 

Din pulls himself to stand with a low groan, shoulders protesting when he rolls them, and tucks the sheet back far enough that you can get in comfortably. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s laid your blanket out beneath them, a thought that sits jagged in your throat. He approaches you slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast. But you take his hand the moment he offers it and leans around you to switch the fresher’s light off, let him lead you back to the bed, and follow him down onto it. 

There’s the barest sound of metal brushing against his hair as he pulls the helmet off and  sits up for a moment to set it down on the floor. 

“Din?” Your voice is quiet, careful not to disturb the peace that’s settled in the room, but it makes him shudder all the same. He returns to you, tucks the blankets up around you both, and tugs you into him. The Armourer’s words, the ones that swirl in his head every time he thinks of you like this, are silent. Din finds he’s not even a little bit guilty.

Warm fingers trace your body, soft over your exposed skin, light as they dip under your shirt. He says nothing, only traces the scars on your back, on your sides, along your ribs. He doesn’t ask how they got there, running his touch along the raised marks you’ve collected through your life and leaving goosebumps in his wake. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel quite so empty. 

You shift further into the warmth underneath you, a vain attempt to keep a hold of the last few dregs of sleep. But you feel rested, at least. That’s not something particularly familiar, and you bask in the feeling. A hum rumbles beneath you. Oh, that’s where you are. You’re not embarrassed, or shocked, like you thought you might be if this ever happened. If you ever thought it possible he wouldn’t leave you to wake up alone. But Din is solid under your head, under your arm, the soft fabric of his shirt clutched in your fist. He’s speaking softly, coaxing you from dreams. It’s still dark as anything when you finally open your eyes, so it can’t have been more than a few hours you spent snoozing. 

It’s his story, you realise when your brain finally kicks into gear. He’s whispering about the memories he has from before, his parents. You’d always assumed he was born and raised Mandalorian, how he carries his Way so heavily on his shoulders, but the shake in his ribs as he recounts them tells you all you need to know. Your fist tightens in his shirt when you shuffle a little closer, press your face into his shoulder, a little more over the top of him. A human blanket. 

Din likes it, the weight of you on him, your body helps him to keep focus. He never thought he’d tell anyone what happened to him. A dirty secret to be kept hidden away. But something about you pulls it out of him, something about the peace he’s created here with you in this little room makes the truth ease its way out of his throat. You’re not the only one who felt the wrath of the Empire as a child, you’re not the only one who wants it gone, he needs you to know that.

It breaks something inside you, to hear him so clearly struggle through the details of the attack and his rescue, and you can’t help but push yourself up further. Unwrap your hand from his shirt to find his cheek, press your lips to his softly, slowly. He’s suffered enough. You need him to know that you’re here, you have him. You’ll always have him. You let him lose himself in your body, and maybe your heart. He’s already made a home there anyways.

It’s careful, tentative, more so than the other times. The way you hold each other as though you’re made of glass. There’s no rush, no pressure of a goodbye, no adrenaline of a hunt. You have time. And, god, does it show. The way Din touches you is reverent, like you’re holy. You put everything you are, everything you have, behind every kiss, every touch, every whisper. It belongs to him, you’re happy to give yourself over. Just as he belongs to you, you’re sure of it. The fear that he touches someone else in the way he does you is soothed by the roughness of his voice in your ear, the way his teeth scrape against your throat, the way you hear the words without them needing to be said. Because he does, as you do.

You’re the first one to leave this time, blindly finding your clothes in the dark. You leave him a neutral comm, one you already have the pin saved for. He’ll know what it is. It connects to your personal pin without leaving a trace, and you can buzz him at any point. So long as he keeps it, you think he will. You take a moment to listen to him breathing, steadily in the dark, and raise your blanket to your nose. Din. 

There won’t be a day goes by where you don’t think of him, of that you’re certain.

TAGLIST (lmk if u want on or off the list):

@brothersdrxke​ @remmysbounty​ @aq-vetina​ @1800-fight-me​ @mandos-co​ @kesskirata​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @firstofficerwiggles​ @keeper0fthestars​

[babybatscreationsv2]

A King on a Leash ch2

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn't keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter's life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

warnings: mafia au, murder mention, daddy kink

The low sun cast an orange glow over Peter's angel face. He was just starting to tan and no less beautiful for it. He was beautiful and pale in the winter, sun-kissed and stunning in summer. The diamonds he had worn when Tony came to get him had been beautiful, but they weren't Tony's diamonds and so they lay now at the bottom of the Atlantic. So did Suarez's yacht. Tony was confident that if the gangster had known Peter's name, he would never have laid hands on him. Yet, he wished Peter had left the man alive so he could peel the skin from his hands. The sight of him with his eye burned out and half of his head missing was almost enough to soothe the possessive itch. Almost.

Tony took off his jacket and laid it over Peter's near bare body. It calmed the fire for now. He would buy him something later, some clothes or jewelry. At least he was covered in hickies, Tony's mark left on his skin. Tony saw them starting to purple across his neck. The sight of them had Tony's body forgetting its age. He shifted in his seat, letting his legs spread as his cock filled out. He should fuck him while he sleeps. Peter would love it. But no, he did have business to handle. The diamonds Suarez had stolen weren't just from any bank, but a bank that stored the belongings of one Wilson Fisk. The diamonds had belonged to his late wife Vanessa.

Vanessa Fisk was probably the only person that her husband ever loved and he loved her dangerously, desperately. Much in the way that Tony loved Peter. It was something that they had come to understand about each other.

It hadn't been easy to convince the families not to punish Peter for killing Octavius. In the end, they understood that Otto had kidnapped Tony and that Peter was only doing his duty as a Stark and as a husband. Not that they were married at the time. He had wanted to lie. To convince them that he was the one who killed Octavius, but he knew that sooner or later the truth would come out and it would only mean greater trouble.

He watched Peter sleep, laid out across the seat. He was genuinely and undeniably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. How lucky he was to have his love, his loyalty, his respect. He would do anything for him.

If he had to burn down the entire city to keep Peter safe, he would. Hell, he would burn down the whole city if Peter asked him nice enough.

It was absolutely terrifying, but he would burn it all, sacrifice any and all of his men all for Peter. Not because he was beautiful, but because he was loyal to the death and he meant it genuinely. He didn't follow Tony out of fear or because of a debt. His love and loyalty were pure and unshakable.

Peter had been offered money, fame, fancy condos. He laughed at it all. What he wanted was Tony. Sure, Peter enjoyed the power, he enjoyed the money. Tony did doubt sometimes that Peter would love him without those things, but for now, the only money or power he wanted was Tony's and that was enough to keep him.

Tony smiled to himself. He remembered before, back when Peter was just a pretty doll on stage, never knowing who was funding his performances, who was sending him such nice gifts. He remembered what a fool he was to think that Peter was someone who should be bought and tricked. Like a stay cat being led to a trap with a can of tuna. He felt cold when he imagined how it could have been. How he could have led Peter to despise him and their relationship by turning it into an obligation. Peter never had a choice in being his, but Tony's choice to show Peter respect made all the difference. Sometimes he pondered what Peter had said when he proposed.

 I think you would do anything for me. Even if it meant letting me go.

To this day, Tony wasn't certain if he was right. In his bones he felt sure that he would go to any lengths to keep Peter by his side. Anything at all short of killing him was on the table. At least, Tony believed that Peter would never try to leave him and so he tried not to think about something so painful. At the end of the day, he understood that Peter meant it symbolically. What he meant to say was that he wanted to be Tony's husband. That he didn't feel coerced or obligated. He was smart. He knew what Tony needed to hear. Even if it was a lie. Even if Tony thought that he might just kill them both if Peter tried to walk away.

In a few days, Tony would leave Peter behind at their beach front home to meet with the other family bosses. He needed to make sure there was enough security at the house. No one was allowed in or out when Tony went to a family meeting. Not even Peter. Sometimes he pouted about it, but Peter was undeniably excited by Tony's possessive nature, keeping him locked away like a precious princess in a story. This time though, Tony would be gone a whole weekend. No risks would be taken, no pouting indulged. The time they would be apart would have Tony too on edge. Maybe moving in together was a mistake. It only led him to cling harder to Peter's side.

He sent a text to the man in charge of Peter's security, just to make sure everything was in place. They had spent days vetting candidates to join Peter's security team. They had to be both loyal and clean. Clean in the sense of drugs, but also clean in the sense of debts. If they owed so much as a penny to anyone other than Tony Stark himself, they were off the table. No one with outside loyalties or motivations would be allowed near his little devil. That was what he should call him, the bloodthirsty little thing.

He had another performance coming up soon. Tony had talked to the director of the performance hall and had the opening night moved back a week. The original opening had been the same weekend he was to meet with the families. Everything and everyone was in place. Now he just had to survive leaving his heart behind for two days.

He watched him sleep, his heart. He watched him as the boat sailed along through the water. Peter didn't stir until the boat was docked. Just in case they had been seen, they were borrowing a dock several miles from home. A car waited by the road to pick them up.

Tony stood, casting a shadow over Peter's face. He smiled, opening his eyes in the dimmed light.

"Hello, sailor," he teased.

Tony bent and scooped him up. "Little siren."

Peter laughed. "I suppose I lured at least one man to his death."

Tony hugged him to his chest. He was so light, so thin and delicate. His arms wrapped around his neck. "And did it occur to you at any point, that you might have left Suarez or his men alive?"

Peter blinked. It was endearing, watching the young man realize what he had done. He hadn't thought for a second that he might simply leave them drugged and stranded, tied up. He could have asked Tony for something to slip into their drinks. He could have got Suarez alone and knocked him out. He could have played the game with his charm and some clever words. Instead, Tony had found two bodies floating down the current as they made for his coordinates. Another had been hanged from the side of the ship. No one could say Peter wasn't an effective and terrifying killer. Tony loved it. Because he knew that Peter wasn't cold, wasn't without empathy. The truth was that Tony said 'Get me those diamonds' and Peter's mind became focused on his task and he completed it by whatever means felt easiest, fastest.

If Tony said jump, Peter wouldn't ask how high. He would jump, immediately and without question. Whatever happened next, it would bring him joy to know that he done what Tony had asked. He wasn't the type to waste time.

"Should I have? Left Suarez alive I mean..." He was blushing, shame creeping into his voice.

Tony carried him from the boat, still held snug in his arms. "No, my angel. You did exactly what I wanted you to do. Alive or dead, it doesn't matter to me. If it did, then I would have been more specific."

"Really?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Daddy doesn't lie to you."

Peter smiled. Then he said one of those things... the things were dark and forbidden and made Tony's blood rush south.

"I set him up to die." He whispered in Tony's ear. "I let him think he could have me and when he thought he was going to get what he wanted, I burned his eye out and shot him in the face. Because I know who I belong to."

Tony's jaw clenched. His grip on Peter's body went tight. He stepped off the dock and set Peter on his feet, slamming his back into the wall of the boat house. Peter's eyes glinted with fear or excitement, he wasn't sure. He wasn't thinking either. He just crushed their mouths together, pressing Peter back until he whimpered in pain. His hands grabbed his hips and pulled him up, moaning when their groins pressed together. They could spend a good long time against this boat house, but Tony wouldn't push the graciousness of its owners further. Still he kissed his boy breathless before leading him along up the hill.

Peter pressed into his side, walking like he was drunk. Tony wrapped an around him, made sure his jacket was snug around his shoulders.

The door was opened for them as they reached the car. A guard slid in first then Tony. He helped Peter in and tucked him into his side. Peter gave him a quick kiss before he settled in against him. Tony smiled to himself as the car carried them away.

[bansheeoftheforest]

A Moment Of Glory

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Chapter 7; Parva Sub Ingenti

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Chapter 8 babyyyyyyyyyyy! Oh man, the next chapters to come are not going to be fun for Henry. I also had to rewrite this chapter like... Halfway through finishing the third-to-last chapter bc I realized that this route would be better to go with <3

Also, note, in case I did not make it clear in the actual chapter: it’s a week’s timeskip between this chapter and last chapter!

Also also! Since I have written all chapters now, I would not mind to update more frequently if that would be desired! Either I can hold onto the schedule I have rn (twice a week - Wednesday and Saturday) or I can change it so I update three times a week, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday? I would very much like some opinions on how often to update!

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Wordcount: 4300

Chapter summary: Brokenshire and the Scotland Yard come to a disappointing discovery, but waste no time in following a new lead.

CW [for this chapter]: Mentions of blood, mentions of murder.

[Ao3]

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Chapters:

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [Epilogue]

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Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire, a man who so often took pride in the loyalty and hard work he put into his position in the Scotland Yard, did not like his night duty. 

 He sat by his lone desk, elbows placed upon the only empty space on his messy workspace that was not already occupied by paperwork. The only source of light that found itself in the dark office was a flickering flame from a tiny, half-melted candle that was placed next to him, so bravely and so obediently bringing light to the documents that had caught his sole attention. For once, it was completely quiet. Not even the normal noises from the world going on and on outside could be heard tonight; no drunkards laughing their way home from the pubs, no footsteps from late-night wanderers exploring the streets, not even the sound of other officers standing guard outside seemed to find its way into the office. Had Brokenshire not long since gotten accustomed to the eerie silence that so specifically seemed to haunt him tonight, he might have found the loneliness and the quietness a bit depressing, a bit bleak. Perhaps it was merely because he had one of the most boring, yet most important jobs tonight. Perhaps it was merely because he was waiting. Perhaps it was merely because he was alone.

 Of every late-night duty he could have gotten, Brokenshire got the unfortunate luck of being stuck in his office for the evening. He could have been out wandering the corridors of this very station, maybe checking on one of the few currently held in the cells in the basements, or maybe he could have been patrolling the streets with Wipple and Jenkins like he normally did. Maybe he could have been breaking up gang fights, catching thieves, or inspecting the new shipments and arrivals by the docks and train stations in search of stolen goods, but no, he was stuck waiting for his two colleagues. A soft sigh of boredom escaped his lips, and yet he decided to occupy his time by gazing over the many documents laid upon his so often neat desk, the shiny wooden surface now hidden under dozens of chaotically sprawled papers. His eyes traveled, and yet it did not take long until his gaze was caught by a single photograph that displayed none other than Dr. Henry Jekyll, stapled to a short investigative essay about the doctor’s career in London, written and documented in hopes of getting a bit of insight about the whole case. Through the two weeks that had recently passed since his estimated disappearance, it felt like they hadn’t managed to get a single step closer to figuring out what had happened to him, who did it and where he was currently located. They could find no possible motives; after all, Dr. Jekyll was a beloved man. No one seemed to have any ideas of someone who had actively disliked him, rather than his work and connection to yet-so-stigmatized science, yet they were stuck on the single ‘suspect’ they had gotten from finding branded trinkets on the crime scene. They had interrogated practically every single person that had lived on the streets by the Society, and yet there hadn’t been a single witness, not a single trail to follow-- not even the blood that had so horrifyingly splattered upon almost every surface in the entire study had been found anywhere outside of the room, not in the corridors outside nor by the broken window. It seemed like the doctor had just disappeared in thin air, once he was, assumingly, dragged out of that window. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all and yet this wasn’t even one of the most gruesome or violent cases the Sergeant had gotten his hands on, no, but it was still so very unnerving, maybe because of the specific circumstances, maybe because it was specifically Dr. Jekyll everything was about. No matter, it was unnerving regardless and Brokenshire was going to stand by that fact, and yet he couldn’t help but let out another sigh. Another sigh among the thousands he had made just this night. Another sigh among the thousands to come.

 He felt how his eyes began to roam once more, and yet they did not wander for long before they were caught by a second photograph; this one displayed the second subject of the mess of his desk, one Mr. Richard Crawford. Having found his name-engraved jewelry on the crime scene, the opposition, aggression, and hatred that Crawford harbored for the Society for Arcane Sciences had only seemed to confirm their suspicion of him as a suspect, and since there were no more suspects at all, he was currently their main lead as well, yet Brokenshire doubted that Crawford had a vendetta against Dr. Jekyll himself, rather than their two opposing beliefs and opinions. There had been a lot of theories for why Crawford would have wanted Jekyll out of the way, some including the simple fact that Jekyll was probably the only other man in all of London as popular and influential as him, some including their clashing opinions in important political and scientific questions, and yet, through their feud, it had seemed like their rivalry had been quite one-sided. Brokenshire and his team had spent the last two weeks researching both men and their rivalry and at this point, the Sergeant was quite sure that he could give a ten-page essay for each topic respectively. Crawford was about a decade older than Jekyll and had therefore been in the public eye much longer. He was a working aristocrat and a businessman, having funded many of London’s most successful businesses, spanning from medical supply companies to breweries to real estate, and it seemed like he had seen the rise of Dr. Jekyll’s career as a threat to his own. It was not a secret that most of London and the people of power in the city were-- or had been-- against science, so while Crawford had been on top of the food chain for years, the establishment and success of the Society seemed to have struck a nerve of some sort, especially so once Crawford’s allies began to support it. It seemed like Crawford had seen that as a type of betrayal, and had come to the “clever” solution of trying to shut the operation down immediately, and yet he had never managed. It seemed like no matter what Crawford threw at Jekyll, the doctor would catch it with a smile on his face, light it on fire and toss it in the trash. No matter what the aristocrat did, Brokenshire couldn’t find a single instance of Dr. Jekyll doing anything to actively harm Crawford, his image, or his businesses, despite everything the latter did to him. 

 He guessed it was just another instance of what a goodhearted man that Jekyll was, of course. Ask anyone on the street and they would all tell you what a great man the doctor was, and it always seemed like every single person in London had a story about how the scientist had personally helped them, their family, or their friends. The only ones that Brokenshire and his team had heart talking badly about him had, of course, been the few people still against the Society, and yet it had never really been about his character rather than the entire idea of the Society. Everyone knew the doctor was a kind, helpful man who just wished everyone well. Men of his stock were, sadly, few and far in between, and it saddened the Sergeant to know that people were willing to hurt such a good man like that. He could not figure out why someone would do such a thing-- sure, Jekyll had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He doubted that the doctor could have done anything to anger someone to the point of them thinking the only logical solution was to hurt him, abduct him, murder him. Sure, there were probably people mad at Hyde who decided to take it out on Jekyll, but that made no sense at all. After all, Jekyll had been just as much of a victim of the fire and Hyde’s scheme as everyone else had been. Going after Hyde’s ex-employer after leading the Scotland Yard to the Blackfog Bazaar was absolutely absurd, yet a type of revenge that Brokenshire would not put past the many criminals that lurked in the London Underground.

 Really, the reason why the offenders could have done it was completely unimportant. What was important was the fact that Dr. Henry Jekyll was gone, and they had to find both him and his kidnappers as soon as possible. Hell, Jekyll could be dying or very badly injured at this very moment! Who knew what kind of torture, what kind of sadistic treatment he was suffering through? Who knew if he was even alive still? Who knew if he even was in London at all? Who knew what kind of man he would be if he was found? For every day that passed, the probability that he would be found and found alive plummeted heavily, the odds and statistics were against them. They had to be quick, so very quick, and yet...

 Brokenshire’s hands found the edge of his desk as he pushed his chair away quite abruptly, grunting as he got on his legs and turned his head away from all these godforsaken documents, feeling the clinically white paper blinding him in the dim light. He made a beeline towards one of the few windows in his office, quietly running a hand through his ginger locks as he peaked between the blinds, observing, watching, praying that his goddamn colleagues would come back soon. It was dark, yet it was brighter out there than it was in his office, giving him just enough light to be able to decipher anything going on outside. The streets were empty, the night was quiet... Goddamnit, where were they?

 He sighed and shook his head, mostly to try to get rid of the slight paranoia and weariness that began to grip him. He moved away from the window, feeling how all the energy in his legs only got worse and worse for every second, and he almost could not stop himself as he began to pace around the office, trying to pass time and trying to distract himself as it only seemed like all his energy got worse and worse and worse for every second that passed. Jenkins and Wipple should have been here a long time ago. What could possibly have taken them so long? They didn’t have all night!

 Brokenshire was an impatient man as it was, he knew that. He seldom had the patience to wait for something unimportant and he had particularly no patience for things that were important. The fact that Wipple and Jenkins had been sent out to collect documents, proof of possible evidence of Crawford’s involvement in Jekyll’s kidnapping that could either incriminate him or prove him innocent of the whole ordeal... Sure, they had his jewelry, but that was certainly not enough proof to arrest him just yet. They needed more... More proof of Crawford’s suspicious behavior, proof that he was not above kidnapping, proof that he was not a man to be trusted. Two weeks of research, two weeks of potentially wasted and precious time amounted to this. Two weeks of quietly investigating Crawford, sinking so much time and so many resources in a potential dead-end... They were hoping to find the evidence they needed to arrest Crawford, after all, they hoped that he was the criminal in all of this, the orchestrator to the entire kidnapping and especially since they had no other leads, but for that, they needed definite proof, proof that Jenkins and Wipple had been in charge of, and if they never showed up...

 The Sergeant rubbed his sore eyes, regretfully feeling how the late-night weariness slowly began to get to him, slowly washing over his body like algae clinging to every surface, only seeming to become worse and worse and more and more in quantity the longer you didn’t pay attention. He had been working on this case non-stop for the last two weeks, having barely gotten any rest at all during that time, and yet it was much less because he couldn’t pawn the case off to someone else while he took his normal days off and got the rest he so desperately needed, it was much less the work piling up and being forced upon him because there was no one else to take the case, no, it was mostly the fact that he wanted to get to the bottom of this as fast as possible, and he wanted to be the one in charge of such an important case. He trusted his colleagues with his life and yet he only trusted himself with the Henry Jekyll case, even if he wasn’t fully sure why. Everyone was worried, of course, so he had no doubt that the other officers would be just as precise and active with the case as he currently was, but... Yeah. Jekyll was a beloved man, a man who was friends with practically everyone-- the commissioner specifically, but Brokenshire could not deny that he had taken a liking to that man, as much as he regretted admitting it. He knew the cautionary tale of scientists who went mad with hubris, narcissism, and... Well, madness all too well. He knew the tale of the bright young men and women who wanted to test the limits of every aspect of the world they lived in, who wanted to understand how things worked and wanted to manipulate it into their own liking, who only got hungry for more and more until they went insane and could find themselves in the Asylums all of them seemed to fear so, or until they found themselves exiled and on the run from the law. After all, Brokenshire had known Moreau once upon an eternity ago; he had been just as respectable of a gentleman as Jekyll was, then Moreau had shown his true colors, got exiled, and now he spent the last of his days stuck in a padded cell under solitary confinement and burnt to a crisp in Bethlam Royal Asylum. He knew that there seldom were scientists who did not go mad in their own way-- everyone knew the story of Frankenstein, even if she did seem... Relatively sane now, she had still caused catastrophic damage to the people around her, innocent people specifically, and Moreau was already mentioned... The odds that Jekyll and his Society, too, were just as mad as the rest of the scientists that had made and snuck their way into the history books were far too high. Respectable facades and silver-tongued speech were all they needed to trick practically everyone, both of which Henry Jekyll undoubtedly had. Impulsive, uncontrollable, testing the limits of reality while claiming that it was for the betterment of society, humanity as a whole. It was a tale Brokenshire knew all too well and yet Jekyll had done a good job of pushing himself away from any and all possibilities that he was like those scientists. They were rogue scientists, he would say, not mad scientists.

 Oh, it was a speech that the sergeant had heard a handful of times already, yet it was almost endearing, and quite charming after a while. He guessed that was just the effect the doctor had on the people around him. He was a charming man and no one could deny that. He had all of London wrapped around his pinkie, spun and held together with the silken thread he had woven with his silver-tongue, and that had been quite obvious, and it still was. After all, people had been outraged over his disappearance, and they could still hear the people of London making a ruckus and demanding that they find the doctor they all loved so much. Many of Jekyll’s friends had offered to put up rewards for whoever could come forward with any possible statements or for whoever could find the doctor, and with many, he meant many; Dr. Robert Lanyon, Sr. Lanyon, Sir. Danvers Carew, the commissioner himself, and of course the entire Society, and that was only to name a few, so there was quite a large sum of money at play now. So much money was at stake and yet they still had heard nothing related to the Henry Jekyll case. No one had seen suspicious activity, no one had any clue what possibly could have caused it... You might as well have thought he disappeared in thin air just because someone wished him gone, for no reason whatsoever. You might as well have thought the doctor never existed. 

 The only real ‘evidence’ and the only real statements they had about the case came from their investigation of Crawford. They had dipped their noses in practically every part of Crawford’s life, investigating and interrogating every servant, worker, acquaintance, business partner, and rival with a connection to the man in question, their statements now placed upon the sergeant’s desk, neatly waiting for when they would be of use. All they needed was Jenkins and Wipple with the rest of the accounts and statements, and hopefully they would bring the long-awaited truth. They all had theories, of course, both personal and more... Hmm, official ones, so to speak, all of which suggested that the kidnapping of Henry Jekyll was not the only crime that Crawford may be involved in, many of which seemed to be about tax evasion, blackmail... The classic stuff that men of his stock often dipped into sooner or later. Now, if Jenkins and Wipple could just come back...

 Knockknockknock--

 Speaking of the devil, Brokenshire couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath he hadn’t known he had been holding as he finally stopped his pace. His attention immediately shifted towards his door, and it only took a moment before he saw the door handle moving, and then through the darkness, Brokenshire finally-- finally!-- saw his dear colleagues entering, the expected documents in hand.

 “Oi, sergeant, why are you cooping up in the darkness?”

 As Jenkins moved forward with the documents, Wipple stayed behind to close the door behind them, taking the opportunity to also turn on the light, which, in its turn, successfully blinded the poor sergeant whose eyes had gotten so accustomed to the soft, simple light from the candle on his desk. He did not get a lot of time to adjust to it, however, as Jenkins soon placed the new documents down on the little empty space on the sergeant’s desk that had not been occupied with paperwork and, instead, occupied it with more documents. Brokenshire watched the papers, then his gaze turned to Jenkins, who looked less than proud of the work they presented. His thin lips and mustache curled into a frown, the disappointment in his sigh seemed to echo through the room.

 “You are not going to believe this, sir.”

 “Well, what is it? Did you find anything?”

 “Well... You are not going to like it.” 

 The three of them surrounded the desk, waddling together so everyone could have a good view of the newly added documents. Brokenshire eyed it up and down with great interest, if not suspicion and caution, yet he was quick to look back up at Jenkins, quietly gesturing for him to continue to explain.

 “Crawford has been actively against the Society, as we knew, but his way of sabotaging, as we theorized, is nowhere near illegal.” Jenkins filtered through the documents until he got a specific page, tapping it with his finger against the headlines, and them moving the tip of his finger down to the summary, “According to his bank statements, the only money that has been taken out and put into anything remotely against science as been into perfectly legal campaigns, some of just so happens to affect the Society, would the things they push for actually go through. Other than that... The only proof we have is the jewelry found on the scene. Sure, yeah, it’s clear proof but it’s nothing we can arrest or accuse him with. It’s practically impossible for the jewelry to have found its way into the office...”

 Brokenshire might as well have thought he got a door slammed into his face.

 Their main suspect turned out to be a dead end. All the work, all the time, and all the funds they had put into investigating Crawford turned into a dead-end, and now they came up empty-handed without a new suspect.

 But... That didn’t explain why his jewelry was in Jekyll’s workspace.

 “Well... Do either of you have any idea why the ring and necklace were in the office otherwise?”

 Wipple and Jenkins stayed silent, glancing at each other for a short second, yet they quickly looked back at Brokenshire and seemed to struggle to come up with a logical answer to such a question. So many things could have made the jewelry appear where they did, yet none of them actually seemed as logical as... Well, the theory that Crawford paid some thugs to get Dr. Jekyll out of the game, although having paid them with jewelry-- specifically name engraved jewelry-- was certainly not the most logical option, either. The thought that Dr. Jekyll might have stolen the trinkets didn’t even cross their minds, the thought that Dr. Jekyll might have planted them there seemed too absurd for any of them to even consider it, the thought of Dr. Jekyll having faked the entire thing would probably be the dumbest thing either of them would have thought in years. Dr. Jekyll was gone, he was kidnapped, there had been blood everywhere in the office and the blood might have dried into the wood at this point. Red crimson that coagulated and stained into the mahogany wood was a reminder of what Jekyll, in this very moment, might be suffering through, a reminder that if they weren’t quick, Jekyll’s blood might not have only stained his office. 

 But... Hold on...

 “What if it wasn’t Crawford who planted them there?” Jenkins suddenly spoke up, you could practically see the lightbulb shining over his head as the idea struck him. Both Wipple and Brokenshire furrowed their eyebrows, looking at their colleague.

 “Well... Obviously. It isn’t like someone-- if Crawford did hire criminals, would have put them there intentionally. Crawford would clearly not have done the dirty work himself.” Brokenshire pressed.

 “No, no-- What if someone tried to frame him?” Jenkins continued, “Think about it-- Crawford is a high standing man, he has a lot of enemies, someone might have stolen the jewelry and planted it on the scene when they kidnapped Jekyll, to throw us off of their tracks?”

 The officers all went silent for a moment, as Jenkin’s words and his theory began to sink in. It only took a moment, and then Wipple gasped, almost with excitement. He grabbed Jenkins’ arm and stared at him in awe, before immediately giving him a quick pat on the back.

 “Jenkins! You might actually be onto something!” 

 Jenkins grinned proudly, preening under the praises before the two constables turned towards the sergeant for his input. Brokenshire continued to stare down at the documents, eyebrows knitted into a deep, deep frown upon his forehead. Jenkins’ and Wipple’s excited grins slowly washed away as they watched their friend, a bit confused, a bit worried, as the sergeant reached up a hand to scratch his beard in thought. 

 “That... Complicates things.” 

 Brokenshire straightened himself, placing his arms behind his back as his frown only seemed to deepen by the second, yet his eyes did not leave the documents. If someone had kidnapped Jekyll and tried to frame Crawford for it... This might be a much more complicated situation than they had anticipated. This must be a gang activity, or someone who was very dumb for using two pieces of jewelry and nothing more. He could not deny that the idea seemed plausible-- it actually sounded quite reasonable and logical, But how did the criminals get their hands on the trinkets? Could the Scotland Yard afford to finally go and confront Crawford about it, if he knew that his things had recently gotten stolen?

 Well... It wasn’t like they had anything to go on, otherwise.

 “Gentlemen... I think it’s time that we go to the source, eh?”

 “Source?”

 “We have to interrogate Crawford. Perhaps he can point us to the reason for why his stuff was in Jekyll’s office.”

 Wipple and Jenkins looked at each other, and yet they both immediately turned back to the sergeant.

 “Well... What are we waiting for, then?”

The three of them looked at each other for a short moment, only allowing a second of hesitation before all three of them practically sprinted to the door, tearing it open and practically running down the corridors, immediately jumping into the police carriage that was stationed outside and then they were off, galloping through the city streets, off to an unsuspecting Richard Crawford. They had no time to waste, perhaps that’s why they all decided that they had to rush, perhaps that’s why they decided to be quick, or maybe it was the excitement of finally having another lead-- another lead that actually made sense and could be true. In just a few hours they might have their truth. In just a few hours they might find the culprits. In just a few hours, they could all just hope that they would find out what happened to the beloved Dr. Henry Jekyll.

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This chapter was originally going to be Thomas going home from the... Ahem, “hook up” with Robert and meeting Emma Carew and flirting a bit with her, but that plan was only in the drafts and I never wrote it so it’s not what I originally had planned and mentioned in the notes above, but I’m weak for Emma and also Emma X Henry so I hope I will be able to write something for them when this fic is over <3

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Taglist: @artzycreature @jekkiefan

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[evax3]

what’s your opinion on parallels ppl like to draw?

like

sansa & lysa vs Sansa & Cat

Jon & rhaehar vs jon & lyanna

Aegon & Rhaehar vs Aegon & Elia

Dany & Aegon I vs Dany & Aerys

Arya & Lyanna vs Arya & Brandon

Sansa & Lyanna vs Sansa & Cersei

Arya & Cat vs Arya & Ned

Thanks so much for stopping by anon and for leaving this really cool question! I’m such a sucker for parallels and symbolism, so I do have a few opinions about these characters (Sansa, Dany and Jon under the cut – no opinions about Aegon) and had a lot of fun writing them down!! ❤️

Arya

What I really liked, and what stood out for me the most (in the show), is that after Arya accepted that she wasn't No One but indeed Arya Stark of Winterfell and came back to Westeros, she very much took on Ned's appearance. She gets dressed and wears her hair the same way Ned does, and shows confidentially that she takes right after her father, where her being the only one in the pack (beside Jon) who inherited the Stark-look (long face, brown hair, and grey eyes) wasn’t something she was actually proud of as a child. 

There are many more parallels between these two (the Baratheon friendship, the dislike of the southern culture and the people at court, their sense of loyalty, …) but what I like most is her understanding of the death sentence and how Arya has internalized Ned's teachings. The one who speaks the sentence must also carry out the killing. It is the opposite of what she is taught by the faceless men and in the end it is also one of the reasons why she realizes that she can never be truly No One. Which, I guess, is why she showed her face to every one of her kills that was on her list of names (at least in the show, but I'm sure it will be similar in the books).

I never thought much about the parallels to Lyanna, except that she also had the typical look from the north and was also much wilder than is expected for a noble-born woman. Probably it is one of the reasons why Ned encourages Arya’s nature instead of scolding her for it. But I think it says more about the relationship Ned had with either his sister and his daughter.

As for Cate I think the most striking parallel is probably their cunning. Which Sansa also inherited from her mother, and Ned unfortunately never managed to master, because he is too driven by honor. As women, all three are underestimated in this world, and yet (and perhaps because of this) manage to outsmart the men around them. For example, when Arya names Jaqen H'ghar as her third name in order to escape from Harrenhal, that was pretty damn clever and something that her mother would have done as well. 

Also, and sadly, their desire for vengeance is something that shapes and drives both characters (referring to Lady Stoneheart in the books) too. Because of that, I'm really curious if they will ever meet (if the next book ever gets published) and if there will be any revenge for Arya against the Frey's at all. 

Sansa

Just as Arya takes on Ned's appearance, Sansa does it with Catelyn's in the later seasons. I think this is particularly interesting because in the beginning, during her time in KL, she copied Cersei's hair and clothes, and later she copied Margaery’s. It shows her role models at each stage and it's particularly striking that at the end she takes on her mother's look, just as Cersei adapts that of her father Tywin. 

Even if the comparison between Arya and Lyanna is drawn much more often, I always found that Sansa and her aunt have much more parallels. The beauty of the two is something that is often highlighted in the story, emphasized, for example, as Rhaegar names Lyanna the queen of love and beauty at the tourney at Harrenhal, similar to Loras giving Sansa a rose at the Hand's tourney. I suspect that for both women this circumstance has led to their intelligence and other abilities being greatly underestimated, if not overlooked, in their very male-dominated world. 

Fortunately, Sansa has the chance to evolve into self-empowerment, which I think is the main focus of her journey, whereas Lyanna died way too early to achieve that. She was forced to marry a man she didn't want (Robert), (as was Sansa btw), so Lyanna saw the only way to prevent that in running away with Rhaegar. And I can imagine that early Sansa, the little romantic that she is, would have made a similar decision. 

I don't like that many say Sansa acts like Cersei in the later seasons because she admires her. I don't think that's the case at all. Cersei only acts out of self-interest (and sometimes, especially in the books, quite stupidly). Sansa, on the other hand, does what is right for her people. She combines her mother's strength with her father's understanding of the Northerners. 

She is cunning as Cate, which is not a bad quality per se, and develops an understanding when someone tries to manipulate her. At the same time, she always has the well-being of her people in focus, which Cersei definitely doesn’t. Which is why I think Sansa is a good queen and is just right to take Robb's place (the obvious choice if she were a man) and Cersei is absolutely terrible at her job.

Jon

I have to say, for Jon it’s almost the hardest to give an accurate answer, because the character (especially in the later seasons) differs a lot between book and show.  Regarding the show, I would say that Jon doesn’t have much in common with his birth parents, because he really is the reincarnation of Ned, the honorable fool, as he calls himself. Always trying to do the right thing, even if it goes against his heart’s desire.  

Rhaegar, on the other hand, does exactly the opposite in the plot for which we know him best. And even if his relationship with Lyanna is often categorized as incredibly romantic, it is one thing above all: selfish. Show!Jon couldn't be more the opposite.

Jon is a good leader, as Rhaegar was, or at least is praised to be. Both have melancholic tendencies, and at least book!Jon, has a tendency to sarcasm (at least in his thoughts) where it is said about Rhaegar , he often had an ironic undertone in his voice (according to Jaime)

Rhaegar is musical, interested in the fine arts, Jon doesn't really show interest in that. What they do have in common is a belief in something that is more than what the eye perceives. For Rhaegar this means believing in prophecies and such things, and Jon is not atheistic either, even if he lives out his beliefs in the Old Gods less than some other characters. Both of them are highly valued by their followers and I think also for both of them this is a quality that shapes their character a lot. 

Still, I have to say that for me the background of Rhaegar and Lyanna's relationship, the consequences especially for Elia and her children, but also for the whole country will always be in the spotlight.  

I've already read several metas that say book!Jon takes more after his birth father because his motives and actions are also less moral (e.g. only giving food to the people of the Free Folk who are willing to fight for the Night's Watch – a huge difference to the show version). Still, I would say Jon is more pragmatic than selfish, another area where Rhaegar would have needed to catch up if he’d been given the chance.

Daenerys

Whereas it was more difficult for me to think about Rhaegar's positive qualities in relation to Jon, I have to say that it was easier for me in relation to Dany. This might be because Daenerys is so frequently compared to Rhaegar as a compliment. Not only in her looks, but also with her intelligence, her determination and in the love that her people have for her. Ser Barristan calls him determined, deliberate, dutiful, and single-minded, all positive qualities that also apply to Dany.

As for Aerys, it's also hard to draw parallels. As I said in another post, I think the Targaryen madness is not really madness (being crazy) but more an obsession, whether it's about religion, dragons, or with Dany, her desire to liberate her people. What we know about Aerys, however, shows that he was indeed sick, paranoid, after his captivity. That is something different and not something I see or suspect with Dany. 

What I have found, though, are explanations about the young Aerys, which at some points apply to her:

In his youth, while not being the most intelligent, nor the most diligent of princes, he was described as having an undeniable charm. He was generous, handsome and resolute, although somewhat quick to anger. 

In the same paragraph, however, it is said that he was vain, proud, and fickle, qualities that made him easy prey for sycophants and sycophants. While Dany is proud, she quickly develops over the course of the story into a person who sees through the manipulation attempts of those around her and is clever enough to avoid them. 

There might be a possibility that through a traumatic experience (like for Viserys selling his mother's crown) her obsession finally drives her to take more drastic measures to achieve her goal. However, I think it's unlikely that Dany actually drifts into absolute madness like her father and burns down an entire city without thinking. She is much too reflective for that. Should she actually go completely ‘Fire and Blood’, then I think it will be a very conscious decision, rather than an impulsive one.