#and shooting contests to see who the better shot is

[silverselfshippingchaos]

PALS!!!! meet my new bestie!!!

[moongreenlight]

Like 800 words of a Ghoap x Reader fic I've been sitting on for way too long. School is hard. Life is busy. I love you and miss you.

Premise: Ghost is a porn director, Soap is an actor, you're Ghost's girlfriend.

mdni. nsfw below the cut.

Ghost abusing his authority over Soap and getting him to come in early/late to shoots so he can get a few ‘warm-up’ shots in (bending Soap over the chaise in his dressing room) or randomly calling for ‘emergency shoots’ (he wants to take a shitty iPhone video of Soap on his hands and knees gagging on his cock).

It started out as a means to end Johnny’s bitching. He refused to take performance boosters, citing some bullshit argument about how “if athletes cannae use them, neither can I.” A non-argument, Ghost thought. But still, he found himself bullying the man into a tech room and letting him grind on the toe of his boot until he spilled his mess on the floor. It didn’t solve the problem. Like giving a begging dog table scraps. 

Johnny apparently needed his cock milked before any shoot where he was expected to come on camera. Howled like a bitch in heat until Ghost appeased him, and even after that it was touch and go. 

But then there was his dove. Dutifully waiting for him every night. Sweeter, more soft than Soap. Less whining, similar resistance, but took easier to his guiding hand. Never had any issue with his work. Never a flare of jealousy when he spent most of his day staring at writhing naked bodies. 

Simon figured out somewhere in his balancing act that he was able to work out some of his aggression on Johnny. Brat takes it better. He doesn’t get a feeling like stones are being slowly added to the pressure on his ribs when he sees Soap’s big blue eyes get teary. He’s gentler with his dove. Takes his time because he can. 

He’s fantastic at keeping his work and private lives completely separate. Fucking exemplary. You’d think they were entirely different planets the way he seemed to turn completely off to them. 

Ghost finds himself net neutral on the situation. It’s like picking between his left and right hand to fist over his cock. More an issue of convenience. Not like he’s got a standout sex drive, it mostly just happens as appeasement. Get Johnny to quit sodding griping, keep the dove happy in her cage. 

But of course, worlds collide. They always do when they revolve so close to one another. There’s bound to be a rotation in the axis that sends them smashing into one another.

And of course it happens on a day where Johnny is entirely out of control. Whining in scenes, ruining takes, wasting film and time; time he’s paid- fucking handsomely- to be pleasant for. 

Ghost hears her before he sees her. Standing next to one of the cameras with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, glowering down the barrel at Soap who was making a sour face and rubbing oil onto the back of some actress with a thin towel covering her modesty. His ears are tuned to the frequency of her voice, picking it out with ease amongst the dull chatter that had flared since the cameras stopped rolling even from all the way down the hall. 

She was chatting with the receptionist who no doubt chose to walk her where she needed to be to bask in the warmth that was her company. His bird had that effect on people. Always sweet and sunshine. Saved the sharp wit and snark for home or to be whispered in his ear. Trained perfectly by his expert hand. 

He didn’t bother looking away from Johnny when she walked in the door. Now engaged in some sort of silent staring contest. Ghost glaring down the crook of his nose at the smaller man. He couldn’t quite pick out if the look in Johnny’s eyes was disdain or desire. They were synonymous at this point. Shame he couldn’t sort out that attitude of his properly now. Save everyone the fucking tantrum.

He calls for a cut. Gruffs out a tight 5 and reset. Tosses his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He doesn’t have the time to turn around before he hears two planets collide. 

“- you lookin’ for a role, bonnie? Ye know, I’ve got connections ‘round here. Make ye a star in fifteen minutes.”

Her laugh is honest and amused. It cuts straight through the sound of the studio and rings like church bells. 

“Oh, I dunno. I’m a terrible read.”

He looks over his shoulder and sees Johnny tying the belt of his robe in a lazy knot over his hip. More decorative than anything seeing as the plush thing is cast open all the way down his torso. Exposing, with painfully obvious intention, the gloss of oil on skin and the whorls of dark hair that decorate his chest. 

“Dinnae believe that for a minute. ‘Sides, pretty girl like you hardly needs to talk. Bet we could work out a scene where you only have to open your mouth for-”

He’s cut off when the receptionist knocks her shoulder into his and throws him a warning look on her way out. It doesn’t strike the chord it should, but it fulfills the end goal all the same.

[scary-grace]

camera shy - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a villain who likes catching heroes in compromising positions, and when you can't do that, you put them there yourself. It's not until you capture Tenko Shimura that you lose the upper hand. (All Might rescues Tenko AU, pro hero!Tenko, villain!reader, 2k words. Suggestive if you squint.)

There’s nothing pro heroes care about more than their image, so in your opinion, they were just asking for a villain like you. Somebody has to show the public what the heroes are really like underneath, after all, and you’ve got a flair for the dramatic, so why shouldn’t it be you? All it really takes is a little research, a little luck, a decent video camera or two, and a hell of a lot of rope.

It’s not the heroes with the skeletons in their closets who interest you. Somebody like Endeavor, who’s been at the center of scandal after scandal, has nothing new to say. You like a hero who still has a secret or two, a hero who’s a real challenge to capture long enough for a good confession cam. With those criteria in mind, it really was inevitable that you’d go after newly minted pro hero Tenko Shimura.

You have to hand it to Tenko – he was hard to catch. You knew he’d be hard to catch, given his quirk, but that was what made catching him so much fun. You caught one of his hands first, then trapped the other while he was still trying to figure out what was going on, and then you went to work. Now you have his hands tied above his head, fingers splayed apart so he can’t bring them together or touch anything else. With other heroes, you’ve done some fancy rope-work to jazz up the shot, but you don’t think you need that here. Tenko looks pretty good just like this.

Tenko Shimura watches you through narrowed red eyes as you adjust the camera angles. “Are we shooting a porno or something here?”

“Careful what you say, hero. This is all B-roll,” you say, and Tenko blanches. “I’m kidding. Loosen up.”

“Loosen up. Right.” Tenko rolls his wrists, but you’re confident in your knots, and they hold. “Seriously. What am I doing here?”

“We’re just going to have a talk,” you say. Tenko’s eyes follow you from camera to camera. “You’ve seen my videos, right? Or at least you’ve seen the ones your friends were in.”

“Yeah.” A jagged smile crosses Tenko’s face. “I’ve seen what you did to them.”

“What I did to them?” you protest. “I was so nice to Spinner. We talked about video games. It was fun.”

“Yeah, and then the whole internet tore him up for being a geek.”

“Not the whole internet,” you disagree. The comments on your video were full of gamer girls jumping up and down to ask Spinner out, and you know that at least a few of them went so far as to shoot their shot. “That’s the problem with you heroes. Why do you need everybody to like you so bad?”

“I don’t need everybody to like me,” Tenko says. You raise your eyebrows. “If you wanted a hero who thinks it’s a popularity contest, you grabbed the wrong guy.”

“See, I think that means I picked the right guy.” You sit down cross-legged beside the main camera, ready to adjust it if needed but well out of the shot. “The heroes who care about the rankings, they never say anything interesting. But you, Tenko Shimura – I bet you have some really interesting things to say.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Tenko rolls his wrists again. “The thing is, Cam Girl –”

“Hey,” you protest. “That’s not my code name.”

“You don’t have a code name?”

“Yeah, because it’s not about me,” you say. Cam Girl. God. “You’re deflecting.”

“So are you,” Tenko says. He tilts his head, studying you. “If you don’t want to be Cam Girl, come up with a better name.”

“What, like you did?” you challenge. “You know how many heroes use their full names? Kamui Woods and you. Is that really a club you want to be in?”

“If the other option is the can’t-make-up-a-name hide-behind-a-camera brigade, yeah,” Tenko says. It’s quiet for a second or two. “You take a lot of risks pulling jobs like this, don’t you? Kidnapping people and holding them in place for hours – either you’re really good, or you’ve got blackmail material on somebody important.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” you say, and smirk. “Impressed?”

Tenko shakes his head, which annoys you. He’s tied up in your makeshift lair. He should be impressed. “I can’t figure out why a villain gutsy enough to kidnap heroes is too chicken to get in front of the camera.”

“I run the show. I’m not the show. That’s – are you making chicken noises at me?” You’re losing control of this interview. You need to get it back, effective immediately. “Animal noises. Is that one of your special talents? Do an elephant sound next.”

“No animal sounds. And no more answers,” Tenko says. The smirk on his face says he’s got you right where he wants you, in spite of the fact that you’re in charge. You feel a brief but powerful urge to knock him out. “Unless you get in here with me.”

“What?”

“I’ll answer your questions,” Tenko says, “but you have to sit here with me and answer mine. On camera.”

“If I show my face on camera, this will be my last interview,” you say. “I still have lots of heroes who need a close-up.”

“Damn, I thought I was your one and only.”

“The only one tied down here is you,” you say. How bad do you want this particular interview? Pretty bad. Tenko Shimura’s the most interesting hero you’ve captured so far, and if all it takes to get him really talking is to put on some sunglasses and a surgical mask, it’s worth it. “Sit tight.”

You adjust the cameras to frame both of you, then sit down in the frame facing Tenko Shimura. “Nice disguise,” he says, “but I already saw your face.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say. “Think about it. Have any of the heroes I’ve interviewed been able to describe me afterward?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Here’s my first question. What’s your quirk?”

“You think I’ll tell you that?”

“If you want to know what my weakness is,” Tenko says. “Don’t you?”

No. You’re surprised by how quickly the answer occurs to you, and how strongly you feel about it. Your whole project is about exposing heroes’ secrets. It’s not about getting them killed, which is what you filming this and sharing it would be. “I don’t care about that,” you say. “I want to know what the worst part of being a hero is.”

“The worst part?”

“The worst part. Don’t tell me being a hero is just so plus ultra all the time.”

Tenko snorts. “You want me to say villains, right, Cam Girl? That’s the answer you want.”

“I want the truth,” you say. “And don’t call me Cam Girl.”

“The truth.” Tenko thinks about it. And keeps thinking about it, long enough for you to wonder if he’s trying to stall you. “The worst part about being a hero is that I can’t do it all the time.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t do it all the time. I don’t want to do it all the time,” Tenko says. You reach over and adjust the camera on the right. You need to zoom in. “It’s my job. It’s not everything about me. The whole work-life balance thing. You know, the thing All Might is really bad at.”

You’ve never heard a hero roast All Might like that. Then again, Tenko was All Might’s protégé before he turned pro, so he’s probably gotten a better look at all of All Might’s good and bad habits than anybody else. “So, All Might –”

“Let me finish, Cam Girl,” Tenko says. His expression is serious. “I don’t want to be a hero all the time. But I know what happens when heroes are looking the other way. And I don’t like thinking about that happening when I’m like – playing video games or something.”

You should ask about video games. Since the video game segment of Spinner’s interview went so viral, you can probably net Tenko a gamer girlfriend. Instead: “What happens when heroes aren’t looking?”

“Nope. It’s my turn,” Tenko says. You guess it probably is. You brace yourself. “What’s your favorite part about being a villain?”

“That’s a new one,” you say, for lack of anything better. “Huh.”

“Like I said, a setup like this is a lot of work,” Tenko says. “And capturing a pro isn’t easy. There must be something you like about it, or you wouldn’t do it. So what is it?”

Tenko gave you a good answer. You feel like you owe him a decent one, and you have to think about it for a second. “I like being free. Not just to do what I want, but to say what I want. And as a – villain, I guess – I can make sure people listen to me. I make sure they listen to my interviewees too.”

You and Spinner didn’t just talk about video games. He talked a lot about being a heteromorph, and you left it all in the video you eventually posted. “My turn now,” you say. “What happens when heroes aren’t looking?”

Tenko’s eyes shift away from yours. “Ask something else.”

“I’ll give you an extra question if you answer this one,” you bargain. “What happens when heroes aren’t looking?”

“Why did you pick me?”

You blink. “Was there a real reason?” Tenko continues. “Or was I just next on your hit list?”

“No,” you say. “I’ve been looking for a chance.”

You have. You had to. Tenko’s anything but an easy target, and if you wanted to capture him, you had to plan ahead. Tenko looks surprised by your answer, but you don’t think he’s unhappy. It’s quiet for a few moments. You’re expecting him to ask his next question. Instead, he answers yours. “What happens when heroes aren’t watching,” he says. “Look closer.”

Look closer? You sit forward, leaning in to study Tenko Shimura’s face. Leaning in maybe a little closer than you should. A lot closer than you’d need to be to see what he’s talking about. “Your scars.”

“People think I got them from a villain,” Tenko says. “I got one of them from my dad.”

Your stomach drops, and you find yourself leaning in closer, one hand already rising before you can think to ask. “Can I –”

“Uh – yeah.” Tenko glances away from you, then looks back. “If you want.”

There are two scars on Tenko Shimura’s face, one over his right eye, the other over the left side of his mouth. They’re both old and smooth, but still obvious. Scars on a person’s face rarely fade. You run your index finger lightly along the scar, and Tenko’s eyes flutter shut. “This one was me,” he says. “When my quirk awakened. I was scratching my face.”

“You must have scratched really hard,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Five.” Tenko’s eyes stay closed. “The one on my mouth was him. He hit me with – something. I don’t remember what.”

You touch that scar, too. Run your index finger over it, like you did with the other one, only this time you can’t make yourself stop. “I’m sorry.”

Tenko’s lips move beneath your finger. “Why? You weren’t there.”

“What you said, about heroes not watching –” This is why you always do interviews. You’re not good at answering questions. “I think that’s when the rest of us are supposed to be doing it. I mean, not us, because we were kids, but – you know what I mean, right?”

“I don’t know. Kind of hard to focus right now.” Tenko’s eyes seem perfectly focused on you. You’re used to your interviewees glaring at you, but nobody’s been as intense about it as Tenko Shimura has. “I don’t remember this from your other interviews.”

“I’m just going with it,” you say. You’ve gone with it far enough that your hand is shifting to cradle his jaw, even as you lean in closer. “What do you think?”

Tenko Shimura’s scarred lips part ever so slightly. “Keep going.”

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons #12: Uryu (Bleach)

You honestly irritate and drain him at first

That being said, he is probably one of the most capable people when it comes dealing with your bullshit.

Remember Orihime during the soul society arc?

Yeah, he's got the patience of a god

Perfectly equipped for handling your chaos, albeit begrudgingly

"Whaddya mean I can't fight that guy?" You complained.

"You dimwit, he's at least double your size with double the spiritual pressure!!!" Uryu retorted while gesturing to a particularly large arrancar.

"Booo, you're no fun. I like Ichigo better."

His pride won't allow a blow like that, so he tries to show off to prove that Ichigo is in fact not better.

When the enemy is finally defeated, he's met with you clapping and cheering like one of those soccer moms.

Admittedly, it does get him a little flustered. But it's a major ego booster, especially from you.

The first time he met you he had no idea you were completely brain dead

It was during his first showdown with Ichigo.

The hollows wouldn't stop coming, and what's worse, a Menos was starting to crossover from Heuco Mundo.

It was just too much and too overwhelming at the same time.

And then a spike of spiritual pressure came from next to him and Ichigo.

The surrounding hollows being defeated before you made your presence known.

Giving a look between the soul reaper and the Quincy before scowling.

"This isn't a dick swinging contest! Actual people could be hurt, so get your shit together and get rid of that thing!" You lectured before shooting a little ray of reishi towards another group of hollows, decimating them completely.

It felt like you were almost as strong as a Lieutenant from the Soul Society.

Which was admittedly shocking, but gave them enough time to knock the Menos back from where it came from.

"Thank you, for holding the other hallows off." Uryu figured it was the least he could do after you stalled for so long.

"Huh? Oof-!"

You just tripped.

Over nothing.

And then shot right back up.

"OH NO I LEFT THE SHOP UNATTENDED!!! TESAI'S GONNA KILL ME!!!"

You were odd. But that could've been a coincidence, right???

It was not a coincidence and now he's wondering how you manage not to get yourself killed everyday.

"Do NOT slice the box cutter towards yourself!"

And then he shows you how to do it properly so you don't stab yourself.

Will always complain about you ripping your clothes during a fight, and then proceed to stitch up all the holes.

"Wait, I can have little dandelions on that part of my sleeve?"

"Shut up, you should be glad I'm fixing it for you at all."

Makes sure he has the right thread to embroider them on 💀💀💀

You're bleeding profusely?

"Why don't you want Orihime to heal you? She's a pro at this." Uryu complains as he's cleaning up your wounds.

"Because I like you better. And you're good with stitching."

He's extremely embarrassed but appreciates the compliment.

Also, he probably has to take you to the hospital because you definitely need a blood transfusion.

You 🤝Pesche = Uryu's sleep paralysis demons

The two of you together make him want to pull his hair out.

One makes his life hell on purpose and the other (you) on accident.

But you get a pass. You're actually useful in combat.

Kisuke's adopted child™ so you're extra strong 💪💪💪

Doesn't realize he likes you until the bounts show up and he gets abducted by Yoshino.

You kept up with her surprisingly well, despite being injured by Udagawa.

Giving a relentless pursuit to get him back

But you could only push yourself so much with the gash on your side that eventually, Yoshino's doll managed to land a direct hit on you.

The next time Uryu sees you is when he wakes up in his father's hospital.

Everyone bursting in to come and see if he was okay.

Then there was you who made your way in on crutches with Kisuke supporting you.

And before he could ask if you were okay, you practically collapsed on top of him.

Giving him a bone crushing hug before finally speaking.

"I'm just so happy you're okay."

And it was the way you said it that had him smitten.

Like you really were worried about him.

Like he was actually important despite not having his powers anymore.

Yeah okay, maybe he didn't have anything to prove.

At least not to you.

Another one of the unfortunate few who tries to court you normally.

Except it's way more awkward.

This man has absolutely no idea how to approach you now that he has these feelings for you.

"I got you flowers."

"Oh... I'm allergic, but they're still pretty though 😃"

A little embarrassed but not deterred because it wasn't a 'no.'

Tries to make you food.

Key word: tries because he forgot about the fact that you and Orihime always share

Uryu, you fool! How could you be so blind?!?

☝️his actual thoughts as his attempts to court you keep failing.

But his last and final attempt finally works.

He was once again trying to show off to you while fighting a hollow.

He was doing fine up until he fell flat on his ass dodging an attack.

You'd been so quick to divert the enemy's oncoming attack before helping him up.

"Hey I got you, okay?"

And he just blurts it out.

"I'm in love with you."

And your bright smile makes him relax.

"I know... Ichigo told me."

"HE WHAT!?!?"

100% babies you.

You keep forgetting to pack your lunch?

Don't worry it's already on the counter with a little sticky note inside.

You scrapped yourself on who knows what?

You're in good hands, he's been around a hospital enough of his life to know what he's doing.

He'll even give you a kiss over the bandaid if you want to 👉👈

Speaking of hospitals 👀👀👀

Ryuken absolutely hates you

Like with a fiery passion

"Really? Them?" He gestures angrily over at you.

And it's you making silly faces at a nervous kid going in for surgery to make them laugh.

Uryu's so smitten. 😊😊😊

"Yeah. That's the one."

Does get a little insecure but not exactly jealous

He doesn't understand what you see in him.

He's not exactly the strongest or the most good looking.

The only thing he's confident in is his mind

And even then it has the tendency to fail him.

But you don't seem to see that

For whatever reason, you like him

Flaws and all, you chose him.

Will only call you sweet nicknames in private.

Among them are: love, sweetheart, baby, dear, hun, and his personal favorite - sunshine.

Prefers to fight for you than have you join in and get hurt.

Even if he's more at risk of being injured than you are

His Quincy pride just won't allow it.

NEXT UP: Gaara (Naruto)

MASTERLIST

An: A long boi because I'm currently watching bleach right now. Honesty all the men in bleach are so fine and I'm probably gonna add grimmjow for my bonus headcannons

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 20

Did you know? Hero and villain prompts were some of the first whump content I intentionally consumed! I will forever be salty that mainstream superhero content could never live up to those prompts.

Content warnings for: Gun violence, threats of death, and mildly suggestive comments

Giving Permission to Die

“So? What’s the plan today?” The villain shouted across the room at the hero whose captivity he’d been in for… a week, now. Maybe more.

“Finally giving you what you want,” he responded with a shrug, playing with the knife in his hands. Flip it over, switch hands. Flip it over, switch hands.

“You don’t look prepared to present me with your corpse.”

“Oh, my death wouldn’t end your sentence, my love.” The flipping game was getting boring, and he picked at dirt under his nails using the blade instead. “You’d be chained up here with the rotting thing until you passed away yourself. Not punishment enough for your crimes, but it’s better than letting you roam the streets.”

“Sounds like you’re not giving me what I want then.”

“Be glad my greatest sin is telling lies.” A pointed glare accused him of crimes he’d plead innocent to, yet again. The knife moved to scratch an itch with the flat of it. 

“You sure that torturing a man isn’t higher on that list?”

“The pen is mightier than the sword, love.” A gesture with the damned thing now. He pushed down the urge to point out the obvious differences between that little thing and a sword. But the dick joke was funny in his head and didn’t involve initiation of a measuring contest.

“And your forked tongue doesn’t salivate ink. Swords can make quick work of those.” 

“Oh, shall I try it out on yours?” The hero stuck out his tongue at him.

“Put me out of my misery first.”

The knife plunged into the floor and he stood, never taking his eyes off of the villain.

“That. That’s what I’m talking about. Always egging me on. Trying to make me go too far.” He stalked forward and pulled a pistol from the inside pocket of his jacket. Entirely concealed from the outside. “I’ll go too far today. Just for you.” 

“Cute prop.” He hid the way his body shivered at the sight, praying the hero wouldn’t call his bluff. He was chained to this wall by his ankles, wrists, and neck. It wouldn’t be useful to put himself in a more vulnerable position.

“Here, let me fire. Maybe you’ll believe it then.” The gun aimed at the concrete beside his head but he paused. “Oh, who am I kidding. I should save your hearing for the last few minutes of your life.”

Foam earplugs were thrust into his ears and held still while they extended to block the canal, and the other did the same for himself. 

“Now, where was I?” Of course, shouting loud enough to bypass the earplugs. He aimed only a foot to the left of the villain’s head, pulling away as far as he possibly could, and fired. 

The sound ricocheted around the room, admittedly too small to facilitate gunfire, and he grinned at the way his victim flinched, eyes going wide. He walked forward and plucked the bullet out from its newfound pocket in the concrete, scattering dust and chunks that had stood solid just moments before. 

It was still warm from being shot and he dropped his knees, pressing it into the villain’s hand and folding up fingers to protect it. It trembled in his grip. 

“Do you believe me now, dear?” he spoke low into their ear, making sure he could still hear the threatening tone.

“Leave. Put that damn thing away and leave. You won’t shoot me and I know it.”

He cradled his cheek with the gun. And slid it up to sit against his temple. 

“How confident are you?” 

“Deadly so.”

BANG.

The world was fuzzy from the shot. The noise too close to his head, bleeding into his vision despite the protection. He looked down at his hands to see the blood dripping down them, spraying from his forehead. But only the bullet rolling in his palm greeted him. 

“Oops, guess the magazine was out.” 

Comprehension was a struggle. His forehead burned, but without blood… the hero’s thumb reached up and he flinched back uselessly as it rubbed over the not-hole. It came back covered in soot, wiped against his jaw like it was nothing. 

“What…?”

He released the magazine from the gun and presented it. Empty. 

“You were right. I didn’t shoot you.”

“You…”

“Pulled the trigger? Absolutely. Let’s rectify that little mistake, love.” Another magazine from his pocket, showing the bullets loaded inside, and shoving it into place. 

Then the front sight pressed against the villain’s lips, wiggling between them and scratching his teeth. He shook his head, turning it to the side. 

“No, no. You asked me for this, baby. I’ll follow through for you.” His hand steadied his chin, squeezing his jaw, and the muzzle jammed into the teeth with the threat to break. He had no choice but to let it in.

Gunpowder was a repulsive taste. Ash and acid. Then metal, still warm from recent discharge, but cooling rapidly. He guided it in, not stopping when teeth clamped down in an attempt to ward it off. The muzzle pressed toward his gag reflex when the trigger guard finally brushed his lips and he sighed, a whiny pathetic thing. 

“C’mon. Nod, babe, and I’ll pull the trigger. Hero’s honor. To save those in need.”

Nothing. He held him by the back of the head, devious smile aware of each action’s connotation, and twisted the pistol to force it further, making him gag on it. 

“Tell me to do it. I’ll let you die. I’ll blow your fucking brains out, sweetheart.”

The hammer clicked back. His finger inched toward the trigger. The villain held his breath, unmoving.

And then the gun ripped out of his mouth, sight tearing across his cheek and lip, splattering his blood across the floor where it flew and spun to a stop at the other end of the room.

“Right. Don’t ask me again.”

[star-girl69]

Hi, love your writing. You said about Nat request could you do a 1996!Nat x reader headcanons or even a one shot about Nat teaching the reader how to have a better aim when hunting?

Hunting Headcannons

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

a/n: tysm anon and i hope you all enjoy!!

send more natalie thoughts!!! (or thots)

warnings: a little sexually suggestive so proceed with cautions and then obviously mentions of guns and stuff

—-

omg so i just know that like natalie has such a little ego about how good of a shot she is

especially when it’s the summer still and you’re not really feeling the pressure of food yet and like you’re just all girls in the woods she’s so carefree about hunting

like in season 1 where her and travis were having that contest? god she’s so cute i cant

she just wants to spend time with you in the woods and let’s be honest she wants to jump your bones and pounce on you any chance she gets

“oh, see, you gotta move your arm a little higher”

and then she’ll proceed to press her entire body up against yours just to lift your arm an inch higher

the thing about natalie is that, like, i mean this in the best way, but she’s not dumb essentially

she wants to tease you and she knows how to

so she will be whispering in your ear the entire time 💔

“and… right there. see? you’re doing such a great job, huh?”

“damn, they should give you an award for how good you’re shooting today”

(they is her and she’s gonna kiss you as a reward)

tbh her hands don’t leave your waist the entire time

she is so obsessed with like your hips and your waist in an odd way?? like she just loves a little spot for her hands to grab on yk

side note but she’s the type to put her hands on your hips while she’s moving past you GODDDD I LOVE THIS WOMAN

she’s like adjusting your stance every five seconds even though it’s already perfect?? and if anyone were to say anything

“her stance is good though, isn’t it?”

“no it’s not i literally don’t know what you’re talking about i’m fixing it i’m helping and my hands just happen to be on her okay now shut up and you know what actually just go away”

she’s just a little touch starved and that’s ok!!! idk about you guys but i would let her literally climb into my skin like ???

but if she was seriously trying to teach you and genuinely had no ulterior motives she would actually be a really good teacher

she’s just kinda commanding in a way?? she just has one of those teacher voices that she makes you listen but like she makes it sexy tho

“so, take a step back, uh, a little more, yeah there! okay, and then it always helps me to tilt my head a bit… mhm perfect and then close one eye and…”

BANG ‼️

“see? you did it! i mean, i knew you could, bc i’m an amazing teacher”

i’m sorry but if you do good she’s going to be jumping up and down before hugging you 😭

and GODDD she’s probably gonna whisper something in your ear like

“you did so well, i knew you could do it for me”

god i’m going a little insane i fear

but anyways essentially she’s a little fiend who just wants to touch you and tease you and be annoying but she’s hot so it’s all good!

—-

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

[lovelyllamasblog]

More HSR X TWST Yuus!

I am still on the idea of HSR characters at NRC thanks to @enatopiaa, so I made more with picrew!

First, Misha!Yuu, from @lazy0bear

The little bellhop from the Reverie Hotel. He wears shorts with his uniform. He feels quite at home in Ramshackle and manages to clean it up pretty well.

He's clumsy AF! He can trip over nothing and everything all at once.

He's really good at cleaning (because he was a bellhop).

He also has a hard time saying no to people so he gets taken advantage of a lot by the other students, especially the bigger ones, and Azul and the Tweels.

Luckily, he has his friends who are trying to teach him how to say no.

Leona and Malleus both see him as a little squirrel or mouse.

Vil gave him the hair clips to keep his hair out of his face.

Next, for @sunrisei Natasha!Yuu

The new school nurse. She changes up her look in order fit in more and look more professional.

Half of the students and staff have a crush on her. Students will skip class or clubs to see her, even faking injuries to get close to her. She sees right through them and sends them off with a pat on the head.

Vargas repeatedly flirts with her while she works. She doesn't know what to think about that.

During Book 2, she nearly loses her mind over all the injuries. She nearly shots Leona's head off with her gun during the Overblot fight. After that, no one messes with her.

She does care for the students and is fastened by their Unique Magics. She studies them and asks the students questions about them when they visit.

@sunlightocean, you read my mind about Sparkle!Yuu

This girl, is a menace to NRC. Everyone is fooled by her innocent appearance at first, but quickly learns real fast not to mess with someone who plans Russian Roulette.

She still wears her hair ribbons and red sandals from her base outfit.

Some boys try to flirt with her and get hurt. Some make of her for her childish nature and get hurt.

She may or may not be the reason for some of the boys OB.

She likes to disguise herself as other students to fool or trick them. This leads to headaches (and heartaches) everywhere.

Mind games, all day everyday.

And finally, Asta!Yuu

Rich girl with a heart of gold and brains to match. Despite her rich upbringing, she doesn't like to flaunt her wealth and is tired of the rich lifestyle.

She can relate to Kalim the most because they both grew up privileged. She helps him understand that Jamil has his own problems and worries outside of his own. And she teaches him to not spend so much money.

Her intelligence makes her one of NRC's most promising students. She starts/joins the Astrology Club.

She building her own telescope to see the stars better. The Shroud brothers are helping her and they get along well.

And finally, for me, Boothill!Yuu!

Menace to NRC Part 2 Electric Boogaloo! He's not as much as a menace as Sparkle though.

Space Cyborg Cowboy? Your are the Shrouds new best friend! They are also the only ones who can help Boothill keep up his maintenance.

Ortho is begging his brother to make him a gear like Mr. Boothill's. Please big brother? 🥺

Everyone is surprised that Boothill doesn't swear. There's a bit of a contest between NRC students to see who can get him to swear.

He and Rook have shooting matches from time to time. Guns vs Bows.

He's also part of the Equestrian Club, and he's surprisingly really good at it.

why yes i am pushing my robinxboothillxargenti agenda, why do you ask? these three are a trio do not separate

[rotworld]

[Re: 2 wolf packs after same human] Not OP ask, but now I just imagine a comedy of errors as the most oblivious human alive catches the eye of 2 packs who continually tries to entice them but fails. 😂 Or a human who has no idea of wolf packs, but is intuitive/clever about dodging their requests w/o being too rude or obvious. Among the different packs, which is known has the most patience or creativity in luring their targeted human? 👀

it occurred to me as i was typing up the last answer that with a sufficiently shy or cautious person, this could go on for a while lmao 

hoarfrost falls does better in terms of patience. they have more members so they can afford to spend more time pursuing a pack human. their leadership is older and less impulsive, the idea of “waiting for the perfect strike” is something all new members are taught so they can absolutely play the long game. their weakness is creativity. all they want to do is outdoor scenarios because they’d rather not go into town lol which might sound surprising, considering corbin does so much of his scouting that way, but i can see corbin really disliking these kinds of competitions. he doesn’t have enough control of the situation to enjoy it and he really wouldn’t handle rejection well. he’s used to “hunting” in a very specific way, wearing down someone’s guard gradually over hours or even days of repeated visits if that’s what it takes. just having a few minutes to shoot his shot and not being able to try again right away, especially if he could lose them to someone else right after, would upset him way too much so he probably wouldn’t volunteer. 

shelter mountain isn’t in a position to do competitions for long with so few members and so little experience, but if they ever do, blake is their secret weapon. he’d be good at coming up with different approaches and he’d be equally comfortable with indoor and outdoor contests. i think he’d also have a really high success rate compared to anyone else, even in hoarfrost falls. he’s patient and he never shows his hand too early. even corbin can be overeager and overbearing in a way that might alarm someone who’s already suspicious, especially since being fully trained means he has some werewolf behaviors. but blake is a former city wolf. he knows what humans are like, how to make them comfortable and how to completely blend in. even someone who’s heard rumors about werewolves kidnapping people might look right at him and assume they don’t have to worry.

[bubybubsters]

Three Shadow Boys

a/n: good day. Meh. I’m skipping homework for this. Sorry I’ll update something at one point.

masterlist

wc: 1450

summary: just 3 shadow boys hanging out! Ruhn, Azriel, and Xaden.

*****

Crescent City- Ruhn

Ruhn grinned at his new found friends as he lead them around the city. They’d already been to see Bryce and his sister had flirted shamelessly. After an hour of Hunt, Xaden, and Azriel having a pissing contest, Bryce kicked them out to make it up to her boyfriend. So he gave the idiots a tour of the city and naturally, they insulted and laughed at everything that was Ruhn’s. Like how his headphones were navy blue instead of black because apparently ‘we’re the shadow boys, you’ve got to get black.’

When he introduced them to Tristan and Flynn they got along perfectly! Not even a pissing contest over Flynn’s hot girlfriend! They were currently playing poker and Azriel was winning with a giant stack of chips triple everyone elses.

“I swear, he’s cheating,” Xaden’s complaint was met with much agreement.

“I would never! I’m an honorable shadow boy!”

Ruhn grinned, “let’s see how ‘honorable’ you are when we start drinking.” They all laughed and continued their loss of money.

“I quit! Ruhn show us to those guns, please, before I jump that cheating ass.”

“I’m not cheating!”

Ruhn just shook his head and dealt out the cards once again.

By the end of the next round, Xaden had reached his limit and leapt across the table to see Azriel’s cards.

“He’s not cheating! That’s impossible.”

Ruhn joined him and they both stared at down at the smug shadowsinger with a look of pure disbelief.

“Ruhn! Stop giving him all the good cards! I should start dealing!”

Ruhn gaped at Xaden. “You’re blaming this on me!? I can’t control what cards I give who!

“Just cheat!”

“You know what, guns sound great right now. At least I’m the best at that because you idiots can’t shoot.”

***

“What happened to ‘you idiots can’t shoot?’” Azriel grinned at Ruhn as he hit bullseye after bullseye.

Xaden groaned. “I can’t shoot!”

“Why is Az good at everything, it’s not fair.” Ruhn growled in frustration as he missed the bullseye by half a millimeter.

“You can’t be groaning! At least you can hit the damned target.” Both Az and Ruhn laughed as Xaden’s shot went wide and hit the deer head decorating the space 50 feet above the targets.

“Not my fault you won’t accept my help. I’ve told you a million times! You’re holding the gun wrong!”

“I am not! I’m not that stupid.” Rhun raises his brows as Xaden proceeds to hold the gun by the barrel instead of the grip where it’s quite obvious a hand should go.

And he hits the ceiling.

“You want that help now?”

“Fuck you.”

*****

Velaris- Azriel

The biweekly Friday family dinners Rhys had organized came with few rules. One: attendance was mandatory. Two: you could bring up to three friends. Three: if you brought friends, everyone else had a right to be busybodies.

It just so happened to be that Friday in which Mor was back from Vallahan and Elain and Lucien were visiting from the Day Court. Everyone was there to interrogate Xaden and Ruhn. The poor shadow babies had no idea what they’d be facing.

“What do I wear? I’ve got to impress your family.” Ruhn was scanning Azriel’s closet in a desperate attempt of last minute dressing.

“You’ll be fine, they really don’t care.”

“Yeah man. Just bring your own clothes next time.” Xaden was dressed in the flight clothes that came from his fancy-dragon world.

“Azriel said I wouldn’t need anything!”

“And since when has Azriel been right?”

“Hey! That’s rude.” Az put a hand over his heart in mock hurt. He grabbed a black shirt, black dress pants and a belt from his closet. “Just where this, it’s better than that pink Crescent City t-shirt.”

Ruhn glared. “This was fifty dollars! It’s a good shirt!”

“If you say so.” Azriel and Xaden shared a smirk as Ruhn put on the clothes given to him.

They descended the stairs to the dining room and found everyone else already there.

Xaden elbowed Ruhn. “You made us late.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes you did!”

Azriel watched with a healthy dose of amusement and embarrassment as the room fell quiet to look at the two arguing. Finally after letting the two get embarrassed he poked Xaden in the shoulder.

Xaden looked up. “Shit.” Raising his voice he said to Rhysand. “My apologies, it was merely that this idiot next to me took an hour deciding what to wear instead of a sparkly, pink shirt.”

That got his family laughing.

***

A while later as they were sitting on the couches, drinking wine and exchanging embarrassing stories the interrogation finally started.

Cassian leaned in. “So Ruhn, we have a few questions for you to get to know you better. If you don’t know the answer you may say “no” and we’ll just assume you’re an idiot.”

“Who’s your father?”

“What’s your job?”

“Favorite color?”

“Best friend?”

The questions started innocently enough and Ruhn answered them each with a joke and easy grin. But Azriel knew he’d be saying a lot more “no”s.

The question came from Mor. “Sooo, Ruhn. Who was the best person you’ve ever bedded?”

Ruhn gawked at her and Azriel and Xaden burst out laughing. Mor shot a look at Xaden, “You’re next man. The questions will just get more detailed.”

Xaden grimaced. “I’m really tired today, all that traveling is rubbing off on me. I think I’ll go sleep.”

“Nuh uh uh.” Feyre wagged a finger at him. “Describe, in detail, your first time of having sex with your girlfriend.”

*****

Aretia- Xaden

Xaden smiled proudly as Sgeayl landed on the field. His smirk grew as both Azriel and Ruhn paled and backed away nervously.

Scare them please.

With pleasure.

Sgeayl blew fire at the ground barely ten feet away from his friends. Their eyes widened as the heat hit them full on.

“Uh Xaden. Can we go back to meetin your girlfriend? She was a little less scary.” Azriel pleaded, adding his puppy eyes.

Sgeayl sniffed indignantly and blew a puff of steam.

“Nah. I think you guys could spend some time together, ya know bond with my dragon. Make sure she doesn’t hate you or burn you to dust?”

“Uhh… Think we’ll pass thanks.” Ruhn was slightly less afraid than Azriel and was staring at Sgeayls blue scales as if trying to memorize them.

Xaden sighed, giving in and leading his friends away to see the sparring ring.

Go hunt sheep with Andarna.

You know you don’t give me orders, puny human.

Xaden grinned back at Sgeayl and she sniffed at him before flying away, likely to hang out with Tairn.

***

Thirty minutes later Xaden was watching Azriel beat up Ruhn on the sparring mats. He eyed the shadowsingers stance, it mainly relied on centering his feet. He took notice that Azriel was fluent with both sides but his right side was just slightly stronger. That’d be a good thing to look out for when Az challenged him.

And only a few minutes later, Azriel challenged him.

“Don’t you want some rest before I beat you up shadowsinger?”

“You won’t beat me up, I can beat you in my sleep.”

“Really??”

“Just fight already, pricks.” Ruhn turned out to be a very sore loser as proven but the poker and sparring.

The two circled eachother and Xaden made sure to not give away a single weakness that could potentially be use against him. Azriel launched, going for a simple one-two combination but Xaden was ready for him. He shifted left a bit and let Azriel’s punches hit his right shoulder at an angle that caused the least damage. He swept out his right leg and knocked Az off his feet before jumping on top of him in a way that made it hard for Azriel to switch their positions. He kneed the Illyrian in the crotch and traced a finger lightly against the tip of Azriel’s wing until Az groaned and yielded.

Xaden got off him and was met with a clap on the back from Ruhn, who had somehow managed to find popcorn.

“How’d you know my wings were so sensitive?” Azriel was frowning at him.

“At your family dinner, Nesta kept brushing the tip of Cassian’s wing with a featherlight touch and he kept jerking away while simultaneously leaning into her touch.”

Az groaned. “Damn Cassian. I had a plan to win as well! I was about to flip you over when you touched my wing and all my thoughts went straight out the window.”

Xaden grinned. “Fair fight I say.”

“No fucking way, I want a rematch.”

*****

a/n: not my worst.

taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @profound-imagination

[itjazzbicch]

Festivities

Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x Fem Reader

(First time writing Yami, so I hope I did well!) 

Summary: Seeing Charlotte and Vaness trying to impress Yami at the festival makes the reader feel some jealousy considering she also has a crush on him, avoids him, and has an attitude when they do cross paths, but once all alone and called out on her awkward behavior considering they are good friends, the reader shoots her shot...

Warnings:  SMUT (18 + ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!) (Drinking, smoking, fingering, unprotected sex, public (alleyway) sex, swearing)

Word Count: 2.1k 

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF:

"Hey Captain Y/N! What's the matter? You look so upset!"

I had some great kids on my squad. This festival was their time to go out and have some fun, but they were always checking in on me. I did appreciate it, but closed my eyes in the dark alleyway, blowing out the smoke from my cigarette:

"I'm alright, kid. Don't worry about me. Go enjoy the festival."

"You're lying!" He knew, pointing out, "You only smoke when you're angry or stressed out!"

God damn it, these kids knew me too well. Still, I shook my head:

"It's nothing serious, I promise. Now, go before I put you to work or something."

"You enjoy the festival too, cap!" He insisted, running off and as I finished my cigarette, I thought that maybe he was right.

I know it's so immature, being jealous of Charlotte and Vanessa who were trying to impress Yami. That man sure had a good bit of girls wanting him, sadly I was one of them too.

Maybe some food and a drink would help me out. Stepping out of the alley, that was my first goal, getting the biggest mug of beer someone was selling at their booth, downing it, and hearing as I passed some more booths:

"Try some of our delicious squid!"

"How about some of this!"

Asta and that Bah-ha kid?

Glancing over, there was Jack and Yami, clearly in a competition to sell more food than the other.

"Come on, Captain Y/N! I promise you'll love it!" Asta offered to me, and it was hard to tell him no, I had a soft spot for the kid, but I heard Yami's voice that was directed at Jack:

"Y/N and I are good friends! She knows I can cook!"

"Ha! Yeah right! Y/N and I used to be on the same squad!"

God, Jack and Yami's yelling was starting to give me a headache, chugging down the rest of my beer and thinking about Charlotte and Vanessa again when I saw Yami, I took the meat from that Bah-ha kid, taking a bite and murmured:

"Thanks, kid."

"What the hell, Y/N!" Yami yelled out and I got a chuckle out of that, walking away from their continuous yelling:

"Told you so, Yami!"

Jack managed to surprise me with his food. It was impressive considering that he made it, finishing it and while exploring more of the festival, my attention was grabbed when I heard a while later:

"Charlotte and Vanessa are having a drinking contest!"

I had to get a peek at that, seeing them both face down on the table meanwhile, neither one of them had finished a single glass.

"How pathetic," I took this as a chance to one-up them, heading to the table and downing drink after drink, having the crowd that was watching cheer, wiping the foam off my face as I finished the very last one, "That's how you drink, ladies."

In the crowd, I saw Yami. Some chatter I heard when I first came over made it clear that those two girls were trying to out-drink each other to impress him. Well, now I was the one standing tall, laughing while I took a cigarette, lighting it up, and heading off considering the star ceremony was soon:

"Thanks for the free drinks, chumps."

"Hey Y/N-" Yami's voice trailed behind me, but I didn't bother to stop, only reminding him:

"Shouldn't you be going to the castle for the ceremony? Better move your ass."

That stopped him in his tracks for a change, not caring and heading over for the ceremony. Truthfully, I barely paid attention. All those drinks were starting to catch up with me and there was something about Black Bulls getting second place. Who would've guessed?

My squad was third and I tried to play off that I wasn't tipsy while accepting, not bothering to stick around after. I figured I'd get to my squad and think of some motivational speech to congratulate them. Their hard work earned us this star after all.

Lighting up another cigarette while walking back through the festival and in the direction of my base, I stopped as I heard:

"Third place ain't bad. Congratulations."

Yami. Again?!

"Thanks. You got second place, right? A miracle," I had to poke at the fact that his squad wasn't at the bottom for once, but returning, "Congratulations, Yami."

"Thank you," Taking a step closer to me, I took a deeper hit of my cigarette, "But what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" I never felt so anxious, back against the wall of the building we were next to as he got closer:

"You picked Jack over me? And when they were having that drinking contest, it was like you were staring a hole through me. I thought we were friends."

"I'm sorry," Guilt was on my mind considering the reason behind my behavior, truly apologetic, murmuring, "I'm just not having the best day."

"And you're just being an ass to just me?" It was like he already knew, taking my cigarette as I went to ash it and hit it himself, "Seems like you have a grudge against me. I thought you were the type to call people out when something bothered you."

I was that type. Now, standing here shy and timid. That wasn't like me.

"Listen, Yami," I needed more nicotine before I took this leap, taking my cigarette back and closing my eyes, and whispering, "I like you, and overhearing some girls talking about you made me a little jealous in a way, alright?"

I finally opened my eyes when I heard him laughing, confused as to why he was responding with laughter:

"You serious, right now?!"

My face went straight as I felt a bit insulted by his response, getting the last hit out of my cigarette before flicking it away. In my head, I had to remind myself of who I was. A go-getter, not afraid of anything.

He was still laughing while I blew out the smoke, pulling his head to mine and kissing him with every bit of passion I had just to prove that I was indeed serious. My hand ran through his hair as our lips danced, shaking from a rush as he kissed back.

"That serious enough for you?" Pulling away and taking a huge breath, I turned because all he did was stare, ready to leave, but not leaving without the last word, "You know what? Just forget about it."

Great. All I did was embarrass myself. I was going to run through all the cigarettes that I had in just a night now that I was feeling even worse, but suddenly, my blood pressure shot through the roof.

Yami caught my hand before I was too far away, yanking me back and right against his lips, already moaning at how his tongue worked into my mouth as he pushed me up against the wall, growling against my lips:

"You're just gonna walk away after kissing me like that?"

"Well, you didn't say anything," Just that kiss had me panting when I looked to meet those deep brown eyes, not wanting to talk anymore, caressing his cheek and bringing his lips back to mine, "But if you're on the same page as me."

The instant our lips met again, I started melting into a pool of dirty thoughts and temptations, hands wandering across his broad chest and feeling his abs under his shirt, eyes shooting down when he moved my hand away and unbuckled his pants.

"Yami-" Not that I was opposed to the idea, but we were right in an alleyway, anyone could walk along and find us.

"What? Afraid you can't handle all this?" Putting my hand at his waistband, there was no way I could fight the desire to slip my hand into his trousers, his cock rock hard and steaming with heat, stroking slowly down to feel his length.

I took a moment to look around and make sure we were all alone, it was deserted, not even a fly around us, the only light lengths away from us so that we were left in the dark.

"I just don't want to get caught or anything is all," Still pumping his cock in my hand, I bit my lip at the feeling of two fingers under my skirt, easily finding my clit against my panties, slipping in to feel how soaked I was, pressing my face into his chest as he started to pump into me.

"Just don't be too loud," It amazed me how careless he could be sometimes, taking the time to tease me with a whisper, "You're already so wet and tight. Guess, I'll get you off with my hand then, huh?"

His thumb finding my clit and rubbing at the same time had me moaning into his chest, being as quiet as I could, shaking and taking a handful of his shirt when I started to cum around his fingers, picking my head up to whisper back:

"Only fair if you get your fix too. Just fuck me already."

"Naughty girl," He chuckled, kissing and pushing my panties to the side, picking me up by the thighs and positioning himself, my head falling back, squeezing the muscle of his triceps, soft bites leaving marks along my neck while his cock started to stretch me wide, humming to me, "Now, that feels too good."

"You feel good too," I gasped out, looking to see our hips meet, burning against one another as he gave a sweet roll, "Sooo good, Yami."

"That right, shortcake?"

My hands tangled in his hair, having to stop myself from nearly screaming at the quick, powerful thrust that sent his cock deep inside, each thrust coming quicker than the last, my jaw hung, and throat jumbled with the filthy moans that I couldn't let out.

"T-That's right," I choked out, hugging his head to bury my face in his shoulder, finally letting out the moans dying to get out of me, "You're so damn good, Yami!"

"Squeezing me tight like that, I can't help myself," Pushing my back against the wall and keeping me pinned, my arms and legs were latched around him and clinging for dear life, words like I was in a dream, "So warm and soft. Didn't think you'd take me so well, shortcake."

"It's a l-lot," Gasping again, my eyes helplessly rolled to the back of my head, feeling the heat in my stomach grow and ache, especially when his thrust grew even faster somehow, the pound of his tip against my cervix nearly making me scream, "But-; Just, fuck!"

"Hey now, don't wanna get caught, do you?" The ache I felt grew as he started to drag his thrusts out, slowing and kissing, "I know it's good, but you're getting loud, don't ya think?"

"I can't help it," I whined with tears in my eyes, trying to kiss back but constantly moaning, nails dragging along the back of his neck and having me beg, "Faster, again. Yami, please!"

"Oh, you like it fast and rough like that?" I was burying my face again from the relentless pace that outmatched before, walls having an even tight grip, feeling the pulsation from head to toe, his voice nearly an echo in my head, "Gonna make you cum going like that?"

"Yeah!" Pressing my forehead against his, the bliss could even be heard in my tone, so close to the edge that I didn't care, "I don't give a shit if anyone hears. Just make me cum, Yami. I'm about t-, I'm cuming!"

Taking my thighs and spreading them as far as they could, I nearly became one with the wall, a hard thrust keeping our hips pinned, his eyes watching past my skirt to see how I gushed around his cock, walls sucking him back in deeper as he pulled back a little, wanting to see the mess of my slick all over him.

"Got damn, shortcake," He chuckled, letting me ride out the rest of my bliss as my hips began to wind on their own with what little energy I had, "Don't wanna let me go."

"You're so lucky we're where we are right now," I panted under my breath, not thinking he heard, but he did, smirking at me:

"What? Think you can handle a round two or are you just cock drunk?"

"Maybe both," I giggled, gasping as he pulled back, but kept me in his arms, "You just know how to rock my world."

"You know what?" Fixing himself with one hand and easing me to my feet with the other, hand under my skirt and squeezing my ass, winking at me, "I could go for another piece of cake." 

[hollybee8917]

Dueling Deadeyes

Characters: Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes

Plot: Clint challenges Bucky to a shooting contest.

—

Clint smirked at Bucky as he pulled out an arrow, “I never miss.”

Bucky scoffed, “Good for you.”

Bucky’s lips fell into a straight line and he looked Clint dead in the eyes, “Neither do I.”

Sniffing, Clint nocked an arrow, “How about a friendly bet? I win and you have to tell me five embarrassing stories about you and/or Cap. You win and I will wear all my clothes inside out for a month.”

Bucky stuck his hand out, “Deal.”

Clint put the arrow back in the quiver, “What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Gun, preferably a pistol.”

“Okay.”

Placing the bow over his shoulder, Clint picked up a Sig P226 X-5 Legion, racked it and glanced at the five targets he’d set up, “One shot in each target moving sideways, hitting the bullseye every time. No hesitations. Fastest time wins.”

Bucky picked up a TTi Pit Viper and checked it. Racking the slide, he huffed “Sounds good. Heads or tails for who goes first?”

The archer nodded and Bucky pulled out a coin. Placing the quarter on his thumb and forefinger, Bucky flicked it into the air, “Call it.”

“Heads.”

The quarter landed in Bucky’s open palm, “Heads it is. You go first.”

A smirk crossed Clint’s lips, “With pleasure, old man.”

Clint stepped up to the first target lined up his sights and fired before stepping right. Two. Three. Four. Five. After the last target, he turned to Bucky, “Let me see you beat that.”

Bucky walked up to the targets. The first one was dead center. The second was slightly off dead center. The third was dead center. The fourth was outside the bullseye zone. The last was dead center. Bucky smirked, “Three out of five. Ten seconds. Not bad, newbie.”

Clint’s lip curled slightly, “Let me see you do it.”

Bucky placed new targets on each pole, stepped back and started on the first target. Dead center. Target two dead center. Target three dead center. Target four dead center. Target five dead center. Six seconds later and Bucky turned to Clint, “Better start turning those clothes inside out, Barton.”

[book-place]

Take Your Shot

Warnings: guns, mention of gangs, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Wade Wilson x reader platonic

Request: Wade Wilson's reaction to p/o who wants to learn how to be a better marksmen so they could enter competitive shooting contests involving guns or increase their chances of survival. They play way too much first person shooter games

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: You decide to take some of the things you’re good at in video games, and try to apply them to real life

A/N: idk

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Yoo-hoo!” Wade called out in a sing-song voice, clambering ungracefully through your window and landing in your apartment, “Honey, I’m home!” He cried playfully.

“In here!” You called back from the living room, not taking your eyes off the screen as you pressed down on the controller button and finished the level.

“N/n!” Your best friend cheered, leaping effortlessly over the couch and landing on the cushions right beside you, lulling his head over to you with a wide grin, “It’s been too long!” He called out dramatically, letting his head fall back and his arms be thrown out to the sides theatrically.

“Too long,” You agreed with a teasing smile, pausing your video game and turning towards him.

“Listen, not that I’m not proud of you and all for asking for this stuff, but why did you ask for this stuff?” He asked out of pure curiosity, picking up the cardboard box he had carried in for you.

Your eyes lit of at the sight of it and you excitedly bounced off the couch and began riffling through the contents, “You know,” You dismissed, “Just for stuff.”

He nodded his head in mock understanding, “Oh, yes, yes, I see. But care to explain to me what kind of ‘stuff’? Like are you in a gang I don’t know about? In trouble with a gang I can help with? In love with a gang member-“

“First of all,” You cut him off as you looked over with a raised eyebrow, “What is it with you and gangs? Second of all,” You pulled out an expensive looking gun with a grin that may or may not have made you look psychotic considering the circumstances, “I just really want to be able to enter some shooting competitions!”

He looked at you suspiciously, still not entirely convinced, “Are you sure? Like you aren’t on the hit list for the most feared gang in the city-“

“Wade.” You cut him off with a playful roll of your eyes, “There’s no gangs involved whatsoever. I just figured that since I’m really good at shooting in video games, that I should take my shot at doing it in real life.”

It was silent for a moment, before he doubled over cackling, “Take your shot- that- that was well done, n/n, very well done.”

You grinned, “I knew you would appreciate my pun.”

He snickered slightly once more before sobering up, “I could always help you prepare for competitions too if you want.”

For the second time, your eyes lit up as you looked over at him with appreciation, “Really? You will? Oh, thank you!” You cheered, jumping up and clapping your hands together excitedly. But then a realization came over you and you stopped, grin dropping as you glanced at the box once more, “Wade… where did you get all these guns?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “You know, somewhere.” He mocked your previous answer to one of his own questions.

Your eyes narrowed a little, “Wade.”

He jumped up suddenly, “Oh, would you look at the time! Gotta blast, n/n!”

“Wade!” You called after him, but it was no use. He had already left the way you came, just as ungracefully as before.

You shook your head with a small smile at his antics, because even if you didn’t know how he did it, he always came through for you.

Mutants 🦸- none yet

[aestariiwilderness]

Infil & Exfil :D BAD BATCH SEASON 3 EPISODES 6-7 *SPOILERS*

(Oh, that's how you do the keep reading thing.)

"Operative" just. WALKING IN THE DOOR. Hiding behind a table. WALKING BACK OUT. All the super elite clone troopers. RIGHT THERE. Do they notice? Nope. Sitting there. Stuffing their faces. THE DOOR OPENED. THE DOOR OPENED MULTIPLE TIMES. THE DOOR MADE THE STAR WARS WHOOSH WHOOSH NOISE. THE WHOOSH WHOOSH NOISE THAT IMMEDIATELY ALERTS EVERYONE IN THE ROOM THAT SOMEONE. JUST CAME IN THE ROOM. GUYS. GUYS. YOU ARE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF THE NATBORNS.

Rex: oh let me bring my cool slightly insane bad batch besties to my super secret base with my clone rebellion! Nothing can go wrong Annnnnnd the end of the day count: One (1) Super Secret Base: Totaled Two (2) Clone Rebellion Ships: Smoking Wrecks One (1) Prisoner: Dead Clone Rebellion: Reduced Crosshair: Somehow Not Being Drawn and Quartered by Howzer After They Brought Him To Their Base and the Empire Promptly Descended Echo: Still Everyone's Taxi Service

This is (finally!) the Clone Who Cannot Die. And, simultaneously, the Clone Who Cannot Stop Falling Off Of Things. My lord, I don't care who he is, somebody get him a bandaid for the love of Pete. What's his count? Takes on entire Clone Rebellion: Still Alive, did better than they did, definitely has the brain cell Clone Trooper (he had a name, I just don't remember it) with a flamethrower: Still Alive One (1) building collapse: Still Alive Unspecified injuries to legs: Still Alive Unspecified injury(ies) to shoulder: Still Alive Shot at by Crosshair: Still Alive Nearly Exploded by Crosshair (ha, way to compensate for your shaky hands Cross -- can't shoot it with pinpoint precision? Ah well, time to EXPLODE IT): STILL ALIVE Fell down tower (? I was losing track): STILL ALIVE Abandoned by squad who pointedly did not offer any bandaids: STILL ALIVE Creepy chase through jungle: Still Alive, rocking new and fun injuries, looking damn fine on Star Wars Heat Vision™, terrifying absolutely everyone, has his own theme music Shot at AGAIN by Crosshair: Still alive (really, Crosshair, wow...you're like. A reg now) Brawls with Crosshair: Still alive, absolutely won that one hands down, no contest, unfortunately did not hold down long enough my man (has nobody ever drowned in Star Wars before? Really?) Fun Rapids Journey with Crosshair: Fine and dandy. Fresh as a daisy Gets Stunned In Water: Oh Thank God Please Let Him Nap -- oH OF COURSE THERE'S A WATERFALL -- Five-Story Waterfall? Sharp Rocks at the Bottom? Most Likely: BRING IT ON Abandoned by Squad AGAIN: STILL ALIVE I don't care if he's evil, he's my new favorite. Behold: COMPETENCY

Is anyone else getting Emperor's New Groove vibes or

Speaking of:

P.S. If it is Winter Soldier Tech it becomes both a thousand times more concerning and a thousand times more hilarious. Writers be like: okay let me see how many MORE times I can yeet this particular clone off a high place to his presumed death in one episode P.P.S. Rex: "It doesn't matter what you've done. At the end of the day, you're still a clone." Way Less Competent Clone Assassin: *stares* Way Less Competent Clone Assassin, mentally: ....yeaaaaahhhh, that's....how genetics work

[cha-melodius]

6, 7, and 18 for the firstprince couples therapy au!

Ohhhh you asked the one that takes the most work (18)! But also a fun one that I'm glad someone asked. First, though:

6. Does this chapter/fic have any twists that you’re proud of?

You know, I don't think there are any real "twists" in this fic! I do love a twist, as you are probably aware, but in this case it's pretty straightforward. We don't get Henry's POV, so his feelings during this are a little obscure... although probably only to Alex. 😅

#7 I answered here.

18. Share the scene you just wrote, written from another character’s POV.

All right, so the obvious play here is a scene from Henry's POV since the fic is all in Alex's. HOWEVER. I can't do that, it'd be just too spoilery, especially since the most recent scenes I've written are very late in the fic. So instead you get a POV from someone who's not even an actual character in the fic. 😂

Kyle sees a lot of couples at the Hot Shots basketball game, mostly because a lot of dudes are sure they can win a stuffed animal for their date. And they're often right; whenever he works this game, he gives out a lot more plush bears and dogs than at nearly any other game at Luna Park. Most of the couples are your standard sporty dude with a plastic-looking girl who's more interested in her phone than his shooting—in other words, pretty boring. Because he has nothing better to do than watch them interact, he's gotten good at telling which ones are early in their relationship, which ones are a good match, and which ones look really in love. At first he assumes the two guys that approach the game are there to compete against each other, because that's the usually case. He realizes pretty quickly, though, that these aren't your typical jocks there to have a dick measuring contest. For one, they're both dressed way nicer than anyone dresses at an amusement park. For two, they don't compete; the tall blond one demurs—maybe because he's British, by the accent—as the shorter brunet steps up to play. That's when Kyle realizes that this is a date. It has to be, by the way the blond watches raptly even though Kyle will eat his hat if he gives shit about basketball. It has to be, by the way the brunet, bouncing with nervous energy, keeps on looking over after every shot as if to check if the blond has just watched him make the basket. It has to be, by the way the blond blushes when the brunet hands over his prize. Couples like these, who are so clearly gone on each other, are his favorites. They're adorable, and though he doesn't say anything because that would be fucking creepy, he thinks it. Good luck, you two, he wants to say, I hope I can find someone who looks at me like that one day.

WHEW, ok! That's a little preview of something that's gonna happen in the fic from the POV from an outside observer. Thanks so much for sending these in!

Ask me about a current WIP!

[fancylances]

OC Kiss Week / Day One / Almost

pairing: Roxanne Wheeler (she/her)/Avery McCarthy (she/they) genre(s): hockey, canadian zombie-apocalypse

Roxanne flies down the left wing, puck on her battered wooden stick. Dekes past one of the Otters’ defencemen and catches sight of Johnny Two whizzing past the blue line after her. Once he’s onside, she saucers the pass to him—it skips once on the asphalt and hits his tape like it’d been on string. Roxanne laughs, gently chirps Gorman as her rollerblades tic tac around him, and beelines it for the net.

Johnny Two slaps the puck back to her, she cradles it for just a moment before snapping the shot high blocker side on the Otters’ goalie—

It sails like a rocket; on target, on target—

Mac’s blocker rises at the last second, and the shot ricochets off the butt of her stick. Sailing out and over the old plastic boards with all the sauce Roxanne had put on it. The crowd groans and one of the kids (little ones always eager) fights others to say “I got it!” before scuttling from the bleachers and into the tall grass.

The zebra skates over, already blowing the whistle to call the play dead.

Roxanne sighs through a sideways little grin, huffing with the hard work of a few too many shifts back to back. Bobbing gently on her skates, shifting her weight in a little dance to keep her heartrate up. Blonde curls bouncing in her sweat-messy ponytail as she watches the Otters’ goalie Mac wrench her helmet off for the break in play.

Mac gives Roxanne a cheeky smile, flashing the hole where her right upper incisor used to be, as she grabs her water bottle and shoots water all over her sweaty face.

“Almost, Wheels,” Mac chides her, chirping with a little sneer. “Must be a rough way to start a season. Just can’t hack it from that wing.”

“Oh yeah?” Roxanne laughs as she puffs her chest out. “I heard the Fire Dogs got a new goalie this year. His save percentage is almost as big as your head.”

“Pff—” Mac rolls her eyes. “If he wants a dick-measuring contest he can come on over and pull his own pants down. I’d beat him there, too, I bet.”

“Love to see it,” Roxanne chuckles. Endlessly bouncing on her heels, skate wheels tapping and spinning with her movement.

“Got it!” one of the kids screams, holding the puck aloft and hucking it back into the rink. 

The zebra waves everyone over to center rink for puck drop, and Roxanne turns back to watch Mac plop her helmet back on. Wonders if it's the heat that’s made the goalie’s face so pink.

The Bluebirds do manage to score, but their captain Roxanne Wheeler doesn’t net another shot on goal. She does get an assist on a pass to Sandals for the game-tying goal, but she’s never allowed to get in close enough to snipe anything past Mac. Overtime is a wash, and the sun is starting to get low by the time they start setting up for the shootout. Roxanne assigns Johnny Two, Scotch, and herself as the first three shooters, and shrugs and says they’ll wing it if they need to go extra rounds.

She perches on the boards by the Bluebirds’ bench, legs swinging in the encroaching cool of the late summer evening. They’d better wrap things up soon. Nestor is usually safe this time of year, but deadheads are always more likely to come out of hiding after sundown. There’s too many kids in the bleachers for it to be worth pushing things into the evening. 

She’ll just have to score on Avery McCarthy. Simple. Monkeys-on-backs notwithstanding.

First up is Harry Gorman for the Otters, shooting on Brand—who’s been having a slow start, too, but damn if he hasn’t done a fine fucking job keeping things close. Gorman always comes in slow to start and dekes a few times before trying five-hole. Always. And Brand reads him like a diary that’s been left out on a nightstand.

Then Johnny Two for the Bluebirds. He’s a right-handed shot, and Mac is strong blocker-side. She punches his shot out of the air almost before it’s left his stick.

Pastry takes his spot at center and waits for the whistle, almost vibrating with a need to touch the puck. He rockets at the signal, a burst of speed up the asphalt. It’s not often Roxanne gets to see a slap shot in a shootout, but there you go. It rings off the post and carroms off into a corner.

Scotch skates in lazy eights as he waits for the ref to get set. He’s older than everyone else on the Bluebirds, but that hasn’t slowed him down—or softened his shot, and Roxanne winces as the puck cracks off Mac’s dome. 

Mac removes her helmet again, taking the time that the refs have given her to inspect her equipment after the hard shot. And Roxanne finds herself staring at the Otters’ goalie just a little too long. Her brown hair in a tight tail, the base soaked with a game’s worth of sweat. Freckles standing out from heat-pink skin. Her eyes are such a deep brown they look black from here. Eyes, Roxanne realizes, are glaring right back at her. They both look away at the sound of the whistle.

The Otters’ new centerman takes the point, her eyes pinned on Brand. Roxanne doesn’t know her name, but the Sharpie on hockey tape across her back says SNOT. She takes a winding line to the net, the tak tak tak of her stick on asphalt as she dekes back and forth, zig-zagging almost too fast to follow. A sharp wind-up that turns into a fake-out and—

Brand windmills his glove hand and snaps the puck clean out of the air. The Bluebirds’ bench howl and tap their sticks in fanatic fervor. Wild appreciation for their goalie.

Roxanne heads for center rink, feels her teammates tap her with their sticks as she leaves the bench. She waits, never still, for the sound of the whistle. Vision narrowing, a single lane like a spotlight down to the goal—to the goalie guarding it. Mac shuffles in her crease, flexes her glove and chokes up on her stick as she anticipates Roxanne’s first move. 

The whistle goes, and so does Roxanne.

She has the best seat in the house to see the puck sail over Mac’s shoulder, to see the frustration building like steam in those dark brown eyes.

“Come on!” Mac screams. Whacks her stick hard on the ground.

She’s all but drowned out as the Bluebirds flood onto the rink and collapse into a giddy, celebratory pile. It takes a handful of minutes to calm the team down enough to join the handshake line, but they do get around to it. The teams gliding past one another and tossing “good game” back and forth between them. The occasional pat or hug from old friends, playful rivals.

Mac is at the tail end of the Otters’ line, fuming. Only present because she’s expected. She mumbles, holds her blocker out in an imitation of a handshake, and passes by the grinning Bluebirds. By the way she’s glaring holes in everyone’s heads, Roxanne half expects a fight to break out. But everything remains wonderfully civil.

“Drinks on us!” Roxanne calls out to both teams. It raises spirits considerably. 

Avery McCarthy is waiting outside the Bluebirds’ locker room when Roxanne emerges showered and changed fifteen minutes later—a can of light beer half-drunk in her hand. Mac raises her own can in recognition; a salute.

“I hate you, sometimes, y’know,” Mac says as she steps up into Roxanne’s space (she’s small, for a goalie, and Roxanne’s legs are a million miles long even when she’s not on skates).

“I know,” Roxanne says smugly. “But it’s cute when you’re mad.”

Mac rolls her eyes and stands on her toes. Pulls Roxanne down into a hard, hungry kiss. One that Roxanne had been waiting for (like shuffling in the crease, waiting for the shot). She fits her arms around Mac and holds her there. Dares her to try and leave now that she’s committed. 

“Not in front of your team—” Mac tries to protest between kisses, her lips moving against Roxanne’s with every word.

“You started it,” Roxanne murmurs, grins.

“Hate you,” Mac says again, this time through a needy little sigh as she sinks deeper into Roxanne’s arms.

“Cute,” Roxanne mumbles back.

They don’t sit together at the bar. Each of them celebrating or commiserating with their team. But now and then, when conversation lulls, eyes meet and converse without saying a thing.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Waves are Rising and Rising

|Beginning| |Previous|

Chapter 8

Breaking news, Jinlintai continues to be the fucking worst. Chapter 9 will post on Monday!

--//--

The Phoenix Mountain hunt is such an exhausting exercise in constant de-escalation that, by the end of it, Jin Guangyao half wishes he’d never planned at all. It’s supposed to be his chance to prove himself to the cultivation world; he’s earned himself a title and a reputation as a war hero, and now it’s his chance to show them that he’s more than just a blade, that he deserves to be up in the lofty clouds among the gentry.

In short, he has proved his martial prowess. Now it is the far more perilous opportunity to prove his social prowess.

The lead up is a frenzy of activity, and whilst he knows that he thrives under pressure and genuinely enjoys challenges, he barely has time to sleep and eat and by the day of the hunt he is frantically circling his tiny flicker of qi around his body just to keep himself on his feet.

Thankfully, he has no dual cultivation sessions to worry about — when his sworn brothers arrive a day early to get settled in, the most that is expected of him is playing Song of Cleansing, partly to keep up appearances, partly because even just a small amount of help is better than none at all to tide Nie Mingjue over. Getting to spend a few golden hours with Lan Xichen is a little oasis in the mess of the rest of his day, and even Nie Mingjue’s quiet, stern presence doesn’t ruin it. The man is actually surprisingly… well, cordial isn’t the right word, but he’s not outright aggressive, and he doesn’t glare at Jin Guangyao outside of his usual resting face, so Jin Guangyao takes that as a win.

In a pattern that Jin Guangyao is coming to recognise with deep exasperation, everything is going fine until Wei Wuxian decides to open his big irritating mouth.

The opening ceremony traditionally involves all participants shooting for their place in the hunt. It had been Jin Zixun’s suggestion to up the ante by involving the Wen prisoners, and no one had made a fuss about it (Jin Zixuan’s shot had been showy and arrogant but not out of the realms of normal behaviour in such ceremonies) until Wei Wuxian had stepped up to the plate for his turn.

He’d had the audacity to publicly ask Lan Wangji for his forehead ribbon (Jin Guangyao had heard Lan Xichen, sitting behind him on the dias, suck in a sharp outraged breath, even as his own stomach had clenched in horror), and when he had naturally been refused, he’d blindfolded himself with his own arm wrapping, immediately usurping Jin Zixuan’s arrogance by a thousandfold by shooting five arrows over the heads of the prisoners, and then even turning to tip Lan Wangji a wink, making it clear exactly who he was showing off for.

As the entire ceremony area erupts into clapping (Nie Mingjue’s utterly deafening claps both audible and identifiable over the din, which is oddly endearing, it’s rare that the man shows active enthusiasm), Jin Guangyao sees nothing but his father’s barely concealed wrath in his peripheral vision. It is, naturally, up to him to save face for the Jin clan.

“Well, of course everyone here is welcome to join in the hunt — the archery contest was just a warm up!” Jin Guangyao smiles and laughs around at the assembled crowd, and both his cheeks and feet ache. “Now that Wei Wuxian has so impressively demonstrated his skills, let us consider the rest of the opening ceremony cancelled, and proceed onto the hunt itself?”

Jin Guangyao fumes, but he’s far too good at what he does to ever let that show externally. One stupid man had decided to show off for his crush, and now all his hard work for the opening ceremony has utterly gone to waste.

Cancelled.

Jin Guangyao smiles and nods politely at the disciples as the wave of them sweep out of the ceremony area and into the mountain, and he is allowed a brief reprieve when Lan Xichen calls him over to come sit with himself and Nie Mingjue. The raised seating area is designed for the sect leaders, and guests of sect leaders, to sit and socialise whilst their disciples participate in the hunt, but Jiang Wanyin flees the small talk after less than five minutes to join the others in the mountains, and not long after Jin Guangshan leaves in the opposite direction, back to Koi Tower, accompanied by two serving girls.

Jin-furen watches after him for a few seconds, before quickly covering over her anger and humiliation with a bright, brittle smile, and inviting Jiang Yanli to walk with her. Jin Guangyao has been privy to enough conversations between Jin-furen and her son to suspect that they may coincidentally bump into Jin Zixuan whilst on their walk, and that Jin-furen may coincidentally be called away to attend to something. With most couples, there might be a concern about the two of them requiring a chaperone, but…

Well. No one’s worried about that with Jin Zixuan. Jin Guangyao has only known him for around a year but from that short period of observation it seems he’s about as amorously assertive as a panda.

With the seating area abruptly emptied besides a few servants milling around with not much more to do than hold wine and try not to fall asleep, it’s… surprisingly comfortable. Jin Guangyao hadn’t been expecting to find social events with his sworn brothers (well, Nie Mingjue specifically) an actually pleasant experience.

“That Wei Wuxian certainly has some face, pulling a stunt like that,” Nie Mingjue mutters, shaking his head. “And asking for your brother’s ribbon, too,” he leans sideways and bumps Lan Xichen’s arm companionably with his own, “will Wangji be alright?”

Lan Xichen’s smile grows a little tighter at the corners, the only thing that betrays the real emotion behind it. “This is not the first time that Wei-gongzi has done something audacious to try and get Wangji’s attention, but this is the first time he has been so… public.”

Jin Guangyao shifts on his cushion, trying in vain to find a way of sitting that doesn’t make his knees and hips ache, and when his sworn brothers glance at him, he covers it by leaning forwards to pick up a cup of tea from the table in front of him. “Ah, I am sure that everyone will be distracted by the challenge of the hunt, and the whole thing will blow over in no time, er-ge.”

“I am not certain if he truly knows what he is doing to Wangji, when he acts like this,” Lan Xichen murmurs. “And I do not know what would be worse — if he genuinely has no idea, or if he does know and keeps acting like this anyway.”

Under the cover of the table and the thick material of their wide silk sleeves, Jin Guangyao slips his hand into Lan Xichen’s and squeezes.

“Da-ge, did you want to join in the hunt?” Jin Guangyao asks. “I had a particularly fearsome yaoguai hidden on the easternmost peak, if you wished for a challenge.”

Nie Mingjue blinks at him, and if Jin Guangyao is reading him right, he actually seems… touched that Jin Guangyao thought of him. Which is ridiculous, as the host and hunt planner, it’s Jin Guangyao’s job to make certain that there are enough beasts and prey for everyone.

But that doesn’t stop it feeling good.

Nie Mingjue glances to Lan Xichen, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a smile. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve gone on a night hunt together, do you want to come and help me face this particular challenge? I owe you payback after last time you stole my kill.”

“Stole your kill?” Lan Xichen gives a gentlemanly chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “If by that you mean saved your life, then certainly, you are welcome to try to pay it back.”

They both turn and look at Jin Guangyao, who had been quietly wrestling his aching desperation not to be left out into a small enough size that he can repress it and only feel the acidic tang of its misery in his throat. He isn’t powerful enough to fight such a creature — he wasn’t before their last dual cultivation session, and he certainly is not now he’s had such a setback in his golden core. He will be nothing but a liability to them.

“Will you come with us, A-Yao?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Ah, my apologies, da-ge, er-ge,” Jin Guangyao forces a smile onto his face. He knew this would happen when he suggested the yaoguai, and he did it anyway, because he’s a good host, and a good sworn brother, and he will prove himself to Nie Mingjue. “I am the overseer of the hunt, and as such I will be much too busy to participate myself.”

“Lianfang-zun?”

Jin Guangyao turns towards the voice, then quickly stands when he sees that it belongs to an Ouyang disciple in a small crowd of disciples from other sects.

“Good day, is there something that I can do to help?” He asks, even as anxiety starts to rise inside of him and his feet and knees violently protest how quickly he stood up.

The Ouyang man seems to have been appointed the spokesperson. He glances back awkwardly at his companions, who urge him forward. “Well… there isn’t any prey.”

On reflex, Jin Guangyao smiles wider. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand. We made certain there was sufficient prey in every area, and at such an early point in the hunt, they can’t possibly…”

He trails off as the disciples all exchange looks. Clearly there’s some other factor here.

“It’s that Wei Wuxian!” One of them blurts. “He’s using his wicked tricks to lure all the prey into Jiang nets.”

Several of the other disciples, emboldened now, corroborate that they’ve heard flute music in the forest and seen the distinctive swathes of black smoke that are indicative of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao keeps smiling. He makes reassurances that he will fix this, that he will investigate and see this made right, and in his mind he imagines putting his hands around Wei Wuxian’s neck and throttling him.

The group of disgruntled disciples trot off — mollified when Jin Guangyao gestures them over to the food and drink that was supposed to be for the sect leaders who have nearly all left — and Jin Guangyao allows himself a moment to pull himself together.

“Da-ge, er-ge,” he says turning to face his sworn brothers, “I regret that I-”

“We’ll come with you,” Nie Mingjue says immediately.

Jin Guangyao blinks. “But… the hunt?”

“If what they’ve said is true, it doesn’t sound like there’s much of a hunt left.”

“Let us help you, A-Yao.” Lan Xichen insists gently. “And if there is no real problem and this has all been overblown, then da-ge and I can go on to hunt the yaoguai afterwards.”

Jin Guangyao swallows back the mortification, and tries to allow himself the relief that follows on its heels. If Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen come with him, then he need not worry about the potential threat of the beasts in the mountain hunt area, and people tend to be less comfortable showing him open disrespect when he has a very tall, broad sect leader behind each shoulder.

The three of them set off on their swords. It’s necessary to fly, to be able to properly canvass the hunting area, and whilst Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen keep sharp, close eyes on him as he steps onto Hensheng, he’s proud that he has enough spiritual energy to fly smoothly and at a reasonable height, even if it’s not as easy and effortless as his sworn brothers make it look and the strain makes sweat prickle on his scalp under his hat.

The mountain is full of activity, swarming with it, but it is, unfortunately, clear to see that the disciples were not lying or exaggerating. The prey is scarce, the vast majority of it already captured in Jiang spirit nets.

Gods-fucking-dammnit, Wei Wuxian.

“He works fast, I’ll give him that,” Nie Mingjue says with a low whistle.

“It’s an effective strategy,” Lan Xichen admits.

“Not really conducive to a fair and sporting competition though.”

“Whilst there is no specific rule against what he’s doing, I suspect that there might be by the end of today.”

“There,” Jin Guangyao gestures to a clearing where a group of people appear to be gathered; most of them are in Jin golds and creams, but, next to a woman in pale aquatic blue, there stands a man in Wei Wuxian’s ubiquitous, distinctive red and black.

The three of them descend and touch down on the ground (Lan Xichen pre-emptively cups a hand under his elbow as he steps off Hensheng so that he doesn’t stumble, in a move that from anyone else would feel patronising, but from him just feels kind) to see a scene of agitation and barely restrained violence. Jin Zixun and Wei Wuxian are at the centre of it, of course, and around its edges are Jin-furen, Jiang Yanli, Lan Wangji, and Jin Zixuan. It is not too difficult to guess what the point of contention might have been between such a mismatched crowd.

“You!” Jin-furen barks as she spots him, and immediately marches over. Jin Guangyao fights the urge to cringe away (and a brief urge to duck behind his sworn brothers) and steps up to meet her halfway, hoping his smile doesn’t convey too much of his anxiety.

“Is there a problem, muqin?” Jin Guangyao asks. He hates calling her that (she certainly is not his mother) and she hates it when he calls her that, but etiquette is etiquette, and any other term would be an insult, regardless of their personal feelings about it, especially in front of such important guests. “How can this humble one help you?”

“You useless little toad!” Jin-furen hisses. “Idiot! Fool! You cannot be trusted with a single thing! The hunt is ruined, there is no more prey, you did not bring enough to the mountain.”

“Please do not worry yourself, muqin,” Jin Guangyao says between his teeth, smile so wooden it’s starting to make his jaw ache. “This one factored into the planning considerations that there would be so many venerable cultivators taking part in the hunt and made certain there was an extended area with some extra beasts, in case the prey was defeated too quickly. This one will simply ensure-”

“It’s too late! Our guests are already bored and furious! What do you have to say-”

“Jin-furen, enough.”

Jin Guangyao freezes at the sound of Nie Mingjue’s voice. Surprisingly, Jin-furen does too, her tirade trailing off as she stares up at him. Nie Mingjue’s standing almost directly behind Jin Guangyao, so he gets to watch as her face contorts, trying to decide how to respond.

Nie Mingjue takes a step forward, arms folding. “You have made him aware of the problem, and he has proposed a solution that will take care of it. Why the hell are you still wasting his time? Just let him go and fix it.”

“If da-ge and I help A-Yao to extend the hunt area, then it won’t take long at all, and no one will be greatly inconvenienced,” Lan Xichen adds, somewhat more diplomatically.

A charged silence reigns in the clearing. Jin Guangyao chances a glance around; Jin Zixun looks… constipated, clearly still spoiling for the fight that has just slipped through his fingers; Jiang Yanli, stood with Wei Wuxian, is watching the whole scene with wide, anxious eyes, and Lan Wangji, on Wei Wuxian’s other side, has his gaze fixed on Lan Xichen, ready to take his cue on the situation; Wei Wuxian himself is red-eyed and slumped against Jiang Yanli’s side, trembling with some powerful emotion; and across from them all stands Jin Zixuan, looking about as obtuse and awkward as he ever does.

Jin-furen stares at Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, and for several seconds her shock prevents her from responding. And then her mouth wobbles into an unconvincing smile, and she laughs. “Ah… of course. Of course.” She twitches her head in Jin Guangyao’s direction and her smile turns downright poisonous. “What are you waiting for? Go. Do your job.”

Jin Guangyao bends to give a bow that’s considerably deeper than etiquette demands, and hurries away as fast as his twinging knee will allow him, ears ringing and mind racing and adrenaline pumping through his system. Did Nie Mingjue just save him? Or did he just condemn him to something worse later, when Jin-furen is able to find him alone? Nausea rises in his throat at the prospect of what will likely await him once they all return to Jinlintai.

“A-Yao?”

And there it is, the humiliation rising after the initial animal fear has abated; if it weren’t awful enough having his brother and cousin and other gentry members that are supposed to be his peers witness Jin-furen abasing him, his own sworn brothers did — sworn brothers who have a tendency to try and benevolently meddle when they think there’s a problem (or, at least, he has one sworn brother who might, and the other could likely be convinced). There’s a clawing, desperate feeling in his chest that wants to drag tears from his eyes and sobs from the deepest part of him, but he shoves it down and down until he’s able to smile.

Jin Guangyao pivots on a heel and turns to find Lan Xichen following him, and Nie Mingjue following him. “Er-ge,” he says, he clears his throat when his voice catches, “da-ge. Thank you for the offer of help, but I have this under control. Please return to the hunt, and I will meet you both later back in Jinlintai for the feast.”

“Are you certain?” Lan Xichen asks, clearly reluctant.

It’s sweet. Jin Guangyao reminds himself how much he loves his er-ge as he counts to shi in his head. “Yes, er-ge. Thank you again for the offer to help, but I will be fine. I will see you both later.”

He tugs Hensheng from his sword belt and steps onto her before there can be any more protests, and flies off. He doesn’t actually need to be there in person, but he just cannot hold himself together if he spends any more time in that clearing; he breathes the cool fresh mountain air in deep gulps, and the clawing feeling trying to drive him to tears settles a little. Woodenly, he directs the Jin servants to open up the fenced and gated zones to extend the hunting area, then tells them to spread the word throughout the mountain that there is more prey available now.

And then, refusing to acknowledge the aching of his back and feet and the pounding in his head, he flies back to Jinlintai. There’s not much more he can do for the hunt now, but there’s a banquet afterwards and there are still so many elements that need supervising, so many tiny details that could go wrong. If he can make sure that the banquet goes perfectly, maybe the guests will remember this not as a subpar failure that Wei Wuxian messed up, but as an enjoyable evening at the end of a busy day.

The afternoon passes in a daze. He greets people as they arrive, flitting between the top of the steps and the banquet hall, ignoring the sickening vertigo that still haunts him when he sees the yawning view from such a height, as well as the protests of his aching, aching feet. When Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji arrive, Lan Xichen attempts to convince him to sit for a while (because he’s wonderful and Jin Guangyao adores him), but he’s too busy for that, unfortunately. He consoles himself with the idea that so long as he is in public, so long as he is seen, Jin-furen is unlikely to attempt to exact her revenge, so he will play the charismatic host until his legs give out.

He opens the banquet officially with a toast to the Jiang sect, to celebrate their win on the hunting ground, and though he’s never cared much for young Jiang Wanyin, the bright and honestly delighted grin that he flashes around the room as he raises his cup is… kind of sweet.

Jin Guangyao is just settling in to the possibility of this event actually not being an entire disaster when he notices his odious fucking cousin making his way across the hall, cup of wine in each hand, with the kind of smile that does not bode well for anyone.

Especially when Lan Xichen appears to be his target.

Jin Guangyao scrambles around the dais his father’s throne sits on, and all but breaks into a jog trying to intervene, though he’s too slow; Jin Zixun is grinning lazily, tilting his head at Lan Xichen, who is returning his grin with a tight, narrow-eyed smile that conveys with everything besides words a deep and intense urge to punch him in the face.

It is incredibly unfortunate that Jin Guangyao cannot allow that to happen (his brain brings up a vivid imagining of it, in slow motion and from every angle, and he tucks it away to… examine more thoroughly in the privacy of his own room later). He places himself between them and does his best to diffuse the tension. “Ah, tang-xiong, the Lan clan has a specific precept against consuming alcohol, it would not be proper for Zewu-jun to accept your toast, but he means no offence to you.”

Lan Xichen’s smile twitches at the corner in a way that indicates he does, in fact, mean a great deal of offence, but thankfully he does nothing besides incline his head to indicate Jin Guangyao is correct.

“Ah, but the Jin clan and the Lan clan are such close friends,” Jin Zixun protests, voice turning sickly sweet, “sure he cannot protest just one drink.”

The way that Jin Zixun’s grin widens as he says close friends, the way he glances a little too quickly between Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen — does he know? Does he suspect something? There’s no way he could possibly know, there is no record of what they’re doing, there’s no evidence to find, he can’t possibly-

Lan Xichen, still practically glaring at Jin Zixun (Jin Guangyao has no idea how he’s enduring it), reaches out a hand and takes the proffered cup. Holding eye contact, he tips the wine into his mouth with a sharp, graceful jerk of his wrist, then places the cup back in Jin Zixun’s hand. He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, as if to say, satisfied?

Jin Zixun turns away with a sneer, and Jin Guangyao does his best not to let his shoulders sag in relief. He sees Lan Xichen glance around, sees his gaze meet Nie Mingjue’s — Nie Mingjue, who Jin Guangyao hadn’t even considered in this altercation, whose nostrils are flared and mouth is pinched tight, clearly holding himself back from intervening, thank the gods — sees the little shake of his head, telling him it’s not worth it.

Unfortunately, Jin Zixun chooses Lan Wangji as his next target.

Fortunately for the short term, though unfortunately for the long term, Wei Wuxian intervenes before Jin Guangyao can, snatching the cup from Jin Zixun’s hand and throwing his head back borderline indecently to drink it. Lan Wangji watches him, eyes huge.

“I need to talk to you,” Wei Wuxian says to Jin Zixun, setting the cup down on Lan Wangji’s table with a loud clack, apparently heedless of the fact that its occupant is staring at him like he wants to bend him over said table and commit a public indecency.

Jin Zixun rolls his eyes. “It will have to wait until after the banquet. I’m busy.”

“I just have one question, it won’t take long,” Wei Wuxian insists. He’s not quite crossed the line to outright impolite, but he’s toeing it. “I need to know the whereabouts of a Wen prisoner that I found out today was supposed to be under your… care.”

“Ha. How am I supposed to remember the names of all those Wen-dogs? I told you, it will have to wait.”

“His name is Wen Ning. He helped me during the war, I owe him a debt. Please, this is a matter of some urgency.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes are wide and it’s clear that he is holding onto his temper with a very thin tether. Jin Guangyao prays his cousin makes a sensible choice, but being sensible has never been Jin Zixun’s strong suit.

As if to demonstrate, he leans forward into Wei Wuxian’s space and says, loudly and slowly, “It. Will. Have. To. Wait.”

Wei Wuxian’s posture goes stiff and furious. From where Jin Guangyao is standing, he can see the man’s eyes starting to grow red, the way his mouth is curling into a snarl. He opens his mouth-

And someone else’s voice speaks.

“Jin-er-gongzi, come on, this just sounds like a stupid administrative screw up,” says Nie Mingjue, leaning forwards in his seat with an exasperated expression, and there was no way Jin Guangyao could have predicted that. “For gods’ sake, stop being obtuse and just point him to whoever has the paperwork he needs so we can get on with dinner. I’m hungry after that hunt.”

Jin Zixun gapes, and he’s not alone — Jin Guangyao is pretty sure his own mouth is hanging open, and Wei Wuxian is frozen in shock that Nie Mingjue — Chifeng-zun! — would take his side. The whole hall has gone silent. Nie Mingjue settles back in his seat, folding his arms. Briefly, he glances to his side at Nie Huaisang; the majority of his brother’s face is covered by his fan, but he is watching the whole interaction intently.

What is going on?

“I… I…” Jin Zixun blusters. “Well, I don’t know who this Wen Ning is, or where he’s been or what’s become of him! How am I supposed to know who’ll have the fucking paperwork for him?”

Wei Wuxian recovers quickly, to his credit. “Don’t know what’s become of him? How about I give you a clue then — I heard that you used him as bait in a night hunt. I heard that you tried to force him and his people to carry spirit lures when you were trying to capture the Bat King, and when they refused, you beat him to a pulp! Does that jog your memory?”

Gasps and whispers echo around the hall. Jin Guangyao fights to keep his face neutral; it would be a lie to say he had no idea that Jin Zixun was mistreating the Wen prisoners — simply because he knows that his cousin is a violent oaf with a tendency to misuse his power, and a man comfortable with abusing someone who is supposed to be his peer in a public setting is definitely more than comfortable abusing prisoners of war in an out-of-the-way camp out near Qiongqi Pass. Jin Guangyao may not have known the specifics, but he’s hardly surprised.

“Jin-er-gongzi,” Nie Mingjue growls and — oh gods, he’s on his feet now, rounding his table with a thunderous expression, “is this true?”

“No!” Jin Zixun blurts, backing away. And then he adds quickly enough that Jin Guangyao is almost as exasperated as he is horrified at how quickly his perfectly planned out banquet is going to hell — “And even if it was, who cares! What does it matter! They’re just Wen-dogs!”

“It matters because this is not what we agreed would happen. We said that the combatants would be executed, and the non-combatants would be used as labourers. If you're using the prisoners as bait in night hunts and beating them to a pulp, clearly the Jin sect does not need these resources!" Nie Mingjue gestures sharply in Lan Xichen's direction, "Pass these labourers onto where they’re actually needed — the Lans are still rebuilding, they could do with the help!"

Whispers turn to murmurs around the room. Nie Mingjue has made a fair point, one that Jin Guangyao would be impressed with if he weren't part of the sect being accused of willfully breaking political agreements. He can already hear Yao-zongzhu starting up on one of his usual aggrieved tirades; since the war the man has been an insufferable sycophant whenever he's been in Jinlintai, but it seems that something in the air has changed, because now he’s boldly reminding everyone around him that his sect was destroyed by the Wens, too! Doesn’t he deserve additional labour? Interestingly, Jiang Wanyin — the leader of a sect who absolutely should receive reparations in the form of labour — has kept his mouth firmly shut.

Lan Xichen’s expression stays neutral but, standing relatively close to him, Jin Guangyao can see the strain around his eyes. Nie Mingjue may be right, but no sect appreciates having the whole jianghu publicly reminded of how low they've been brought in the wake of the Wens' destruction.

"Whilst rebuilding efforts are proceeding well, I cannot deny that we would benefit from some…" Lan Xichen’s smile turns a little awkward, "help."

Help. And that is how they will see it — the Lan do not believe in indentured slavery (at least not in the same way the other sects do, though Jin Guangyao has heard enough about Lan Xichen’s mother to know they have a very particular way of approaching the punishment of those they consider evildoers), so if they are granted custody of the Wens, it is likely some agreement will be reached in exchange for their labour. Jin Guangyao glances anxiously towards his father; he will take it as a personal slight to lose valuable prisoners to a sect who, in his mind, would be basically freeing them.

Jin Guangshan is smiling insofar as he is baring his teeth and his mouth is curved up, yet his face is full of nothing but anger. Jin Guangyao resists the urge to hide behind Lan Xichen and clutch at his robes, the way he'd done in Nightless City when Nie Mingjue had raged at him, and in a strange twist of fate, at this point even hiding behind Nie Mingjue himself seems like a safer prospect than standing in the eyeline of his father in this kind of mood.

"Of course, of course!" Jin Guangshan says, "Never let it be said that the Jin clan does not help its allies! Whatever resources you need, Zewu-jun, just say the word. In fact, perhaps it might be best if the Lan sect were in charge of distributing such resources entirely."

It's a ploy. It's so obviously a ploy that Jin Guangyao has to clench his fist inside his sleeve to avoid grimacing in second-hand embarrassment. Jin Guangshan is trying to call Lan Xichen’s bluff, to get him to admit that it's far too big a job to take on whilst they're trying to focus on rebuilding — to admit that the Lan clan is weak and unstable, and therefore allow the Jin to keep full control over the Wen prisoners. A more contrary, hot-headed sect leader might refuse to cave, accepting the burden and dooming his sect to struggle to keep their heads above water in such a tumultuous time, but Lan Xichen has a cool head on his shoulders and can't be baited so easily, and certainly would never take such a risk to his people purely for the sake of pride.

He will have to admit he cannot and concede weakness. Jin Guangyao can see Nie Mingjue coming to the very same conclusion, can see the moment Nie Mingjue decides this is unacceptable and makes up his mind to intervene.

"Fuqin," Jin Guangyao jumps in, before Nie Mingjue can open his big angry mouth and say something he can't take back, "what if-"

"No need to bother Zewu-jun with this," says Wei Wuxian, stepping cooly back into the centre of the conversation, temper clearly tamed for now. "I started it, I'll finish it. If Jin-zongzhu can get someone to get the paperwork ready, I can go now and collect Wen Ning and the others — I'll be responsible for finding the best place to send them."

"Wei Wuxian!" Jiang Wanyin hisses, fury in his eyes but pale-faced; Jin Guangyao can't blame him at all.

"I will help Wei Ying."

In what feels like perfect synchronisation, everyone in the hall turns to look at Lan Wangji. He has stood to his feet, expression as solemn and serious as ever.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Wuxian whispers disbelievingly.

(Using each other's personal names in the middle of an inter-sect banquet! Jin Guangyao's skin prickles at how indiscreet they are.)

"I will help. Wei Ying cannot do this alone."

"Oh!" Wei Wuxian perks up in sudden understanding. "Lan Zhan, you are so good at politics! Yes, if both the Lan and Jiang sects are involved, that reduces the burden on both of them but means they both get the help they need! Right?"

For the first time possibly ever, Jin Guangyao actually feels bad for Lan Wangji, who is clearly trying to communicate desperate yearning through his intense stare, but Wei Wuxian is apparently only understanding it as… political zeal?

Gods help them both.

When Jin Guangshan doesn’t immediately shoot the idea down (it would be a bad look if he did, Ouyang-zongzhu is already muttering about 'upright, righteous Hanguang-jun' and the collective members of the hall seem to be in favour of this proposed arrangement), Jin Guangyao decides that enough is enough and someone needs to wrestle this banquet back under control.

He sends Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji off with a servant to find whichever administrator has the records that are relevant to the Wen prisoners, and by the time he returns, the banquet has more or less settled again because someone with excellent timing has brought out the food (Jin Guangyao will have to investigate amongst the servants to find out who, he believes that reward-based discipline is more effective than punishment, especially given the attitudes of the rest of his family).

By the end of the day Jin Guangyao is dead on his feet, has a headache building behind one eye socket, and has spent a good few hours going about in damp robes because, when Jin Guangyao had brought him his evening tea, Jin Guangshan had thrown it back at him.

"You said Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be a problem!"

Jin Guangyao had expected his father would be in a foul mood, but that doesn’t stop the way his back twinges as he crouches to pick up the cup. "My apologies, fuqin. Chifeng-zun has never expressed any interest in our treatment of the Wen prisoners prior to this point — I am not certain why he has suddenly taken an interest now. It was uncharacteristic of him."

Jin Guangshan had narrowed his eyes at him. "All that time you're spending with him nowadays and you can't even guess his political opinions? What's the use of it? What's the use of you?"

Dread pools in Jin Guangyao’s stomach and he scrambles to kowtow, even as pain spikes through his knees. "This humble one begs your forgiveness, I will do better, I-"

"No need," Jin Guangshan sneers. "I think it's time we deal with Nie Mingjue more permanently."

Jin Guangyao stares down at his own hands pressed flat against the marble floor, mind racing, blood pounding in his ears. "Fuqin?" He chokes out.

"I think you know exactly what I mean."

He forces himself to at least appear calm, even if he feels like he's about to throw up. He absolutely cannot show weakness here. If his father suspects for even one moment that he feels any kind of reluctance around the prospect of ‘dealing with Nie Mingjue more permanently’, he will pounce on it like a hunting hound scenting blood. He needs to reason purely pragmatically. He cannot allow any emotion to slip through.

“If fuqin would allow this humble one to make a suggestion?” He says, keeping his eyes demurely fixed down on the floor but lifting his head a little so his father can better hear him.

“Fine,” Jin Guangshan says, his tone bored.

“Chifeng-zun may be known for his temper, but he is an expert tactician, and for the most part does not make rash or risky decisions regarding his sect in political situations. However, today he very publicly disagreed with the Jin sect, and aligned himself with Wei-gongzi, who has a reputation for being disrespectful and stirring up trouble wherever he goes. Everyone knows that he hates the Wens for what happened to his father, and he’s never had any sort of positive relationship with Wei-gongzi, so why would he choose such a risky topic to speak out about?”

“Why indeed,” Jin Guangshan murmurs.

He’s curious. Good. A flicker of hope stirs in Jin Guangyao’s heart.

“Initially he advocated for all of the Wen prisoners to be executed, so there is no reason for him to care about their welfare now. I believe there must be some motivating factor we are missing — and anything that could persuade him to take this kind of political risk would be an incredibly valuable piece of information to use against him.”

Jin Guangyao risks a glance up; his father is staring thoughtfully into the distance, lips pursed. “And you believe you can be the one to find this information?” He asks, without looking down.

“I believe I can.”

He would be trading Nie Mingjue’s trust for Nie Mingjue’s life, and the thought makes his heart ache, but at the end of the day Nie Mingjue would still be alive — and Jin Guangyao has done far worse already to keep Nie Mingjue alive. He can work out the details at a later date; he can lie and cheat when he has the time to think it through properly, for now he just needs to persuade his father that his sworn brother doesn’t need to die. Everything else is manageable.

Jin Guangshan finally looks down, running his fingertips absently over the ornately carved armrest as he studies Jin Guangyao’s face. “Very well.” He says, and Jin Guangyao uses every ounce of his willpower to stop himself sagging in relief.

“You know what the consequences will be if you fail,” Jin Guangshan calls as Jin Guangyao makes his hasty exit, and because he is facing away from his father, he allows himself a moment to close his eyes and shudder.

--//--

If one good thing comes out of the Phoenix Mountain hunt, it is that Jin Zixuan (somehow?) managed to make enough of a positive impression on Jiang Yanli that she agrees to a longer visit at Jinlintai, and he apparently must continue to make a positive impression, as she agrees to reinstate their engagement without Jin Guangyao having to employ any of the subtle methods of political pressure he and his father have discussed.

It seems that she genuinely just… likes him.

Apparently there’s no accounting for taste.

Jin-furen wants primary control over planning what will no doubt be the biggest, gaudiest wedding of the generation (alongside Jiang Wanyin, who is doing his best to keep up with her demands), but she is quite happy to use Jin Guangyao as a dogsbody for the parts of it that she’s not interested in. Even if Lan Xichen hadn’t asked for them to take a break with dual cultivation, Jin Guangyao would likely have needed one, because he is run just as ragged as with the Phoenix Mountain hunt.

Thankfully, unlike the Phoenix Mountain hunt, there are no diplomatic incidents and everyone seems to be on their best behaviour throughout the whole event. Jin Zixuan is far too besotted with his new wife to stick his foot in his mouth, Jin Zixun has been extensively and very creatively threatened by Jin-furen regarding what exactly will happen to him and his chances of carrying on the bloodline if he dares to start a fight, and even Wei Wuxian keeps his usual drunken mayhem to a minimum, clearly invested in making sure his beloved shi-jie’s big day goes smoothly.

The general opinion of the jianghu seems to be that Wei Wuxian’s new restraint must be due to how much time he has been spending around the Lans — particularly Lan Wangji — fulfilling the responsibility he swore to uphold in regards to dealing with the Wen prisoners. Jin Guangyao has been kept updated by Lan Xichen as to how it has been going, and it is impressive how much they have managed to achieve in just the few months they have been working together.

Less officially, Lan Xichen has also cheerfully been updating him on how things are going personally between his brother and Wei Wuxian, and… well. Those two make Jin Zixuan look suave.

Jin Zixuan who, against all odds, in a few short years has gone from the least likely young master in his generation to find romantic success, to utterly outstripping everyone else by unexpectedly falling in love, getting married, and having an heir on the way, if Jin Guangyao is not mistaken (there are very few reasons why a wedding might be moved a month earlier at rather short notice).

And whilst his brother gets to bask in newlywed bliss, Jin Guangyao works himself to the bone, tries to avoid his family’s wrath, and absolutely definitely does not count down the days until his next trip to Qinghe.

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