#do you think 50 miles is enough

[helianthus21]

do you think the vampire community has a whatsapp group just to warn each other where any member of the dreaded polycule is at a given time so they can flee the general 50 mile area?

[medicinemane]

Like here's the thing, I'm never gonna tell you how to vote

Two reasons, one is it's not really my business other than maybe some general advice (like I think voting for cruel people is a bad idea), but two and kinda more importantly is you aren't gonna listen unless you already agree and I'll probably just piss you off and if anything vote to spite me

Nah, better to leave you to make your own choices

But you'll forgive me for continuing to try to nudge people to vote. In part, it's cause I see people pushing not voting and it's like... to me that feels like an attempt to get people to drop out so they can have a bigger sway, it doesn't feel good faith

But also it's just like... shit's fucking bad everywhere right now, and I really don't have a whole lotta faith in voting but we might as well exhaust the options we have just in case

And like... when I say I don't have a lot of faith, if you pull back a bit what I really mean is I don't have faith in countries as a whole to do stuff like voting in primaries and not just going for whoever they think'll win... like... there's no downside to voting for who you like in a primary, unless there's another dark horse candidate you think has a better chance of unseating whatever asshole you don't want... but like never bother voting for the person that's probably gonna win unless you actually want them

So that's why I say I specifically have little faith in primaries even more than other elections

Anyway though... you might as well get to vote on amendments and shit, and if you're doing that you might as well pick whoever makes you want to blow your brains out the least (dear god they're coming up and even gone in some place but vote in the primaries to maybe get at least one good candidate on some ballot somewhere)

But yeah, not gonna ever tell you how to vote other than broadstrokes, but I will just keep saying I think it's good to vote

I also very much will keep suggesting you do mail in voting if you can, and that one's legit me just looking out for you, cause going places and standing in line sucks a lot more than checking the mail, filling something out at home, and dropping it off

[motorsportbarbie13]

Christmas Showdown

In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.

Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 

Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 

There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 

To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 

“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 

“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 

Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 

“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 

Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 

Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 

“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 

The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 

The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 

Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 

“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 

Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 

“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 

You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 

A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 

Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.

Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 

You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 

Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 

“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 

“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 

The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 

Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.

Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 

“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 

The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 

Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 

You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 

“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 

You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 

“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 

Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 

“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 

Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 

“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 

Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 

“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 

tag list @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT II

eris vanserra x reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: this one’s really long sorry!! not proofread and I’ve decided it’s going to be incredibly slow burn… send ur thoughts, and if you want to be in the tag list please send an ask instead as I’m more like to see it :)

You make the mistake of breathing in deeply through your nose as you walk through the meadow of the Spring Court, the crisp air and smell of wildflowers tickling its way into your nostril and forcing a sneeze out of you.

The long stems of grass, wet with morning dew and brushing against your calves are like little needles poking your skin. The itching sensation in your nose caused by the sheer amount of flowers makes your eyes water and all you can think about is the relentless urge to sneeze over and over again.

“I don’t think there’s a single living thing within 50 miles that hasn’t scurried away,” Rhysand says, as if he’s commenting on the weather. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even form the words on your lips, the thought vanishes as the tickle flares up in your nose again and another sneeze explodes from you. “I think that was sneeze number nineteen and we’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t help it. How does anyone live amongst all of this greenery without wanting to scratch their faces off?” you ask, sniffling pathetically. “And how long before the others arrive? Surely counting my sneezes is below the duties of a High Lord.”

“Most Fae don’t suffer with your affliction. It’s probably something to do with how you were Made,” Azriel adds, not unkindly. He stands slightly further away from you, Rhys and Nesta and if it weren’t for his shadows, you’d have thought he was too preoccupied with keeping watch to listen in. “And it’s sneeze number eighteen actually.”

Nesta narrows her eyes, peering behind Azriel and then sighing in relief. “Thank the Mother,” she mumbles. “Took them long enough. If I had to hear another word about your damned nose…”

You sniff loudly to make a point. You’re about to reply until you spot the two figures in the distance, walking towards the three of you at a deliberately unhurried pace. You first recognise Helion, the morning rays of sun setting his skin aglow as though his powers commanded them to; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually doing as much to make a fashionable entrance. The charming grin he shoots your ways is contagious and you can’t help returning it until your focus shifts to the person beside him and you try not to let your face drop.

Even half-shielded from view, the sight of Eris sets your teeth on edge. His tall, lean frame sharply contrasts with the brightness of the meadow, his deep mahogany tunic making him stand out further amongst the flowers. The way he walks with such easy arrogance and moves with an infuriatingly casual stride as though he just belongs there makes your skin prickle with irritation.

Eris’ sharp amber eyes sweep across the group until they land on you for a short moment, a flicker of recognition and something else you don’t care to analyse in his gaze before he turns back to Rhys. The brief looks feels like a challenge and you feel your irritation growing, so you wrench your gaze away from him and focus on Helion instead.

“My, what a pleasant little group we’ve compiled,” the High Lord of Day says, tone pleasant and amused as always. He tilts his head, considering. “Morrigan wasn’t available?”

“She’s with Feyre, Elain and Tarquin,” Rhys responds with a roll of his eyes, but his faint smile tells you he’s pleased to see Helion, rather than annoyed. Nesta looks as though she wants nothing more than to go home, and Azriel looks impassive as always. “They’re covering the border on the East side.”

“Lovely group all the same,” Helion hums, winking at you, teasingly. You shake your head at him, smiling despite yourself. “Shall we?”

Gesturing ahead of you all, Helion starts walking and the rest of you follow, but not before Eris catches your gaze again and raises an eyebrow in question. Your cheeks warm and the smile you had previously given Helion starts to slip, but Eris looks away and walks ahead before you can fully react. The few seconds at a time that you engage in eye contact with the male have you assessing how his expression is sharper than it previously was.

His hair is shorter, you realise. The fiery red strands are no longer draping down his back, instead the ends are no longer than his shoulders, the tips just brushing against his collarbones. The previously long front pieces have been cropped short, his hair no longer looking long enough to tie back in a braid without falling back.

It’s almost as though there’s now nothing to soften the intensity of his gaze every time it passes over you and if that weren’t enough to unsettle you, it’s the realisation that you’re paying more attention to Eris’ hair than to the main reason you’re here in the first place.

Diplomatic relationships had greatly improved between Tamlin and the rest of the High Lords after many years of healing after the war. The Spring Court, while nearly restored to its former glory, had become the target of some recent attacks near the borders. Thus, Tamlin had requested the assistance of the other courts, with the exception of no outside help, ever the paranoid High Lord. Unfortunately, that excludes the security of the soldiers you’ve grown accustomed to, which has you looking over your shoulder every few minutes.

You knew Eris had agreed to help, but you weren’t aware he’d be in such close quarters. Well, as close as he could be with you walking right next to Nesta at the back of the group as she twisted and turned the hem of her dress keep it from getting caught on all the foliage.

“Remind me why we agreed to this,” she mutters under her breath, not quietly enough.

Rhysand throws a look over his shoulder while walking. “Because Tamlin requested our help,” he answers, his tone carefully neutral. “And we have a responsibility to agree to reasonable requests from other High Lords. If not to keep the peace between the Courts, then to ensure whatever’s happening doesn’t become a larger problem for the rest of us.”

“You know Tamlin’s not here, right?” Eris drawls, sardonically. “Meaning we don’t have to act like we actually like him.”

“What, the same way we act like we like you?” you mumble, unable to stop the words from escaping. You wince when Nesta snorts loudly, hiding her laughter in her hand. Even Azriel’s lips quirk up.

Eris finally looks over at you properly this time with a faint smirk, tilting his head. “You wound me, darling,” he says, his voice a silky challenge that you know from experience is daring you to push him further. “But I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes, physically unable to back down now that he’s spoken. It’s as though he flips a switch of irritation in you every time he talks, yet you never learn your lesson. It’s something to do with the amusement in his gaze, as if he enjoys your quick retorts that really gets under your skin.

“And you’re irritating as always,” you say, sighing as though you’re delivering unfortunate news. You look away, dismissively as you walk a little faster in an attempt to catch up to Nesta, from whom you’ve fallen behind. “But none of us would expect anything less from you.”

Eris continues walking at a leisurely pace, still closer to you than you are to Nesta and the others. Damn these stupid long-stemmed flowers.

A couple of them are particularly overgrown, the pollen seeming to waft right up into your nose and setting you off sneezing again. One particularly violent sneeze sends you stumbling and the world spins for a split second. Before you can hit the ground, a firm hand grips your elbow and pulls you upright, causing your back to bump against a solid chest.

You steady yourself and spin around to come face to face with Eris. His hand lingers on your arm, amber eyes glinting with amusement when you glance down, frowning before you yank it out of his grip. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly,” he replies drily, but doesn’t comment any further, taking a step back while keeping his eyes on you. His unwavering gaze makes you freeze, and it’s like he can sense your confusion as his lips quirk up. Bizarrely, he doesn't seem to be making fun of you, instead he just looks as though you’re both engaged in your usual banter and he’s enjoying it.

“Keep up, children,” Helion’s voice from ahead snaps you out of it and you step away, smoothing down your clothes and rushing forward to catch up with the others.

Before you looked away though, you caught Eris’ expression being schooled back into his usual aloof demeanour. It unsettles you, but you push the thought away as Nesta tilts her head at you in questioning. You shake your head slightly and smile reassuringly in answer, but her eyes narrow a little in suspicion.

The further you venture into the forest, the more your head clears, away from the pollen in the meadow, indicating you’re close to the border. The large trees offer you a welcome shade and you take a deep breath.

You’re grateful when you’re unable to sense any oncoming sniffling, but something else starts to tug at the edges of your awareness. It starts off as subtle and you brush it off, but the closer you get to the edges of the forest and nearer to the border, the stronger it becomes.

Rhys calls for a halt when you’ve reached your destination and your feet start to walk you to the walls of magic on their own accord. No one stops you, but they watch warily as you close your eyes, trying to understand what you’re sensing.

It’s took a while to come to terms with the abilities thrust upon you by the Cauldron, the ability to detect and absorb other people’s magic. You felt confident enough to distinguish what you felt from the magic of the people around you and it makes you exhale shakily.

“What is it?” Rhys murmurs, voice sharp but quiet as not to disrupt your concentration. You don’t need to sense anything else though, and so you turn around and shake your head.

“Fae magic,” you answer, slightly underwhelmed. “Just regular, old Fae magic. I don’t think there’s anything sinister here.”

The group all seem to visibly relax slightly, although Azriel’s shadows are still flitting around him like a flock of birds, some venturing out to explore and then returning to whisper at his ears. “Whoever was here has gone now. It’s just us.”

“What does it feel like?” Nesta asks, directing the question to you. She’s referring to the magic, knowing you can usually detect a type of feeling with each strain. “How dangerous?”

“It’s not that it’s dangerous,” you explain, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectant gazes. “It’s more angry than anything. And there’s so many of them, all with slightly different undertones.”

“Ah, how wonderful,” Helion remarks, cheery demeanour never slipping. “A large group of angry Fae with the nerve to attack the borders of a known crazed High Lord. Not dangerous in the slightest.”

You send him a withering stare, with no real heat in it. Rhysand ignores him, glancing back at the rest of you. “We should split up for a while. If something feels off, send out a message and we can regroup. Stay alert.”

You all nod, about to wander off until Helion catches everyone’s attention when he starts to literally glow.

The forest is darker where you all stand and it looks even more concealed further ahead so you aren’t surprised he’s doing as such, but the bright light is nearly blinding.

Eris scowls, the flames swirling around his own hands giving just enough illumination without drawing attention. “Why not just send out a beacon to alert everyone to our exact location?”

Helion frowns, glancing at Rhys who, surprisingly, just shrugs. The High Lord of Day sighs dramatically. “Fine,” he cedes, dimming his light slightly. “Happy, little Lord?”

“Ecstatic,” he deadpans, walking off without another word. The rest of you follow suit, going in opposite directions to inspect the border for signs of anything.

You’ve only been walking around for a few minutes alone, trying to feel unique differences in the magic that lingers around you, still fresh. It’s harder than you thought it would be and you’re so frustrated that you let your guard down.

You don’t hear the snap of the twig, but from the corner of your eye, you catch movement and reach for the dagger by your hip instinctively, spinning round toward the source. You swing the dagger out in front of you in a defensive position, just to see that it’s Eris emerging from behind a tree, his amber eyes glinting with amusement.

“Did I startle you?” he drawls, his tone dropping with feigned innocence.

Scowling, you sheathe your blade. “Do you enjoy sneaking around like that? Or do you just have an unhealthy desire to annoy me?”

Eris raises his eyebrows and his smirk deepens like you’ve just said something extremely entertaining. “Well, it’s a talent really, but what was that about desire? Because, that-”

“Stop,” you sigh, wanting nothing less than to hear out the rest of that sentence. “Just… go away and let me focus on this magic.”

You turn away from him and shut your eyes in concentration, but it doesn’t work as you dont hear him move. Knowing Eris is standing there watching you is doing nothing to help, and you’re about to say so when he speaks first.

“How do you know it’s not just mine or Helion’s magic you’re sensing?” he asks, seemingly serious. You frown at him, thinking he’s joking.

“Well, I have met the two of you before,” you reply, injecting your voice with as much sarcasm as possible. “I know what your magic feels like.”

“And?” Eris tilts his head in question. “What does it feel like?”

“Helion’s magic feels bright, awake and fresh and yours feels…” Inviting, warm, strong. You don’t say anything, because you can’t really explain what you sense in his magic as you still don’t fully understand it. Why you’re drawn to it the same way you would be drawn to jumping into a pile of autumn leaves outside your home as a child. You swallow, looking away. “Different.”

It’s not unusual for you to gravitate to certain magical auras, but it’s only ever been towards close friends, family, some select strangers with whom you had a kind word, for example.

Thankfully, Eris doesn’t push. Annoyingly, however, he changes the subject. “Have you considered my mother’s invite to come and visit Autumn?”

“Shush!” you hiss at him, shooting a glance over your shoulder to see if any of the Inner Circle are nearby. The last thing you need is for them to overhear your conversation. It would lead to an unbearable series of questions, interrogations and endless teasing.

Eris’ chuckle is soft, taunting. “Why so nervous, darling? Afraid your friends will finally put two and two together and realise how you truly feel about their beloved court?”

The mental image of Rhys being disappointed in you makes you feel physically sick. He took you in, gave you a place to be free and opened up his home to you. All for you to go and feel like you don’t even belong? Your chest tightens and you decide you could never do that to him. You glare at Eris and attempt to keep your voice steady. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he drops his voice down to a whisper. “Would it really be so bad if your High Lord knew the truth?”

You swallow the rising panic in your body, the fear that he’s going to use your insecurities that only he can sense to his advantage. You close the distance between the two of you and your voice is low and sharp as you speak. “What the hell do you want from me, Eris?”

Eris’ expression falters slightly, like you’ve taken him by surprise for a split second. “What?”

“What could you possibly want from me?” you let out a derisive laugh, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Do you enjoy holding things over me? Because I can’t think of anything I could give you that you don’t already have. So, if you are blackmailing me for something, then I’d prefer if you just came out with it already.”

The words spill out of you with an intensity that you’ve bottled up since you last argued with Eris, but your anger dims slightly when you realise he’s no longer looking amused. Instead, he stares at you with a blank expression and it’s somehow worse than if he were insulting you.

You realise just how close you had gotten to him only when he steps back slowly, as though wanting to draw your attention to the lack of space, snapping you out of whatever furious trance you were in.

A moment passes before he allows himself to give you a faint smirk, but his jaw is clenched and his eyes flicker with something you can’t figure out. “We should get back to your precious High Lord.”

You open your mouth to say… something. You aren’t even sure what there’s left to say, especially since the whole interaction has left you more unsettled than ever. “I-”

“Keep your guard up, Archeron,” he just says, cutting you off before turning around to walk away without sparing you another glance.

tag list: @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl

[prentissmultiverse]

No Strings to Hold Us - part I

You are distracted by your boss, Emily Prentiss, who stirs something inside you with the habit of licking her lips. Emily, aware of the effect she has, toys with you and one thing leads to another. tw: smut, age gap, power dynamics

(words: 5474)

The bullpen was unusually quiet as the team filtered into the conference room, files in hand and tension crackling in the air. Another case, another unsub to catch. You slid into your seat at the round table, trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Being the youngest member of the BAU, you still felt like you had to prove yourself every day, even though you knew you were damn good at your job.

Emily Prentiss stood at the head of the table, commanding everyone’s attention effortlessly. Her presence was magnetic—controlled, dominant, and sharp as a razor. Her salt-and-pepper hair framed her face perfectly, a mixture of maturity and elegance that left you speechless more often than you’d like to admit. And then there was her habit—the one that had started to ruin you in every meeting: the way she licked her lips when she was deep in thought.

It was subtle, almost absentminded, as if she didn’t even realize she was doing it. But every time her tongue darted out to wet her lips, your stomach did a little somersault, and your concentration went straight out the window.

"Alright," Emily began, her voice smooth and authoritative. "This unsub has escalated over the last three months. Six victims, all within a 50-mile radius, each killed in a similar fashion. This means we’re likely dealing with someone organized, methodical, and—" She paused, tilting her head slightly as she flipped through the case file, her sharp eyes scanning the pages. And then it happened.

She licked her lips.

It wasn’t deliberate—it never was. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip just enough to catch the light. Your pulse quickened, heat rising to your face as your focus wavered. God, did she even know how that looked? How it felt to watch her do something so simple, so unintentionally seductive?

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, gripping the edge of the table as you tried to ground yourself. Emily continued speaking, completely unaware of the effect she was having on you—or at least, you thought she was. Her tone was steady, her posture commanding, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes when she glanced your way. Amusement, maybe? No, you were probably imagining it.

“Y/L/N.” Her voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you jolted slightly in your chair. “What do you think the unsub’s next move might be?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up. “Uh… well, um…” You cleared your throat, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. “Given the escalation pattern and the fact that the last victim was found near a transportation hub, it’s possible the unsub is planning to expand their hunting ground. They might feel emboldened enough to target someone in a more populated area.”

Emily’s lips curved into a small, approving smile, and your stomach flipped again. “Good. I want you to follow up on that lead with Garcia. See if there’s any surveillance footage we can use to track movements near the crime scenes.”

You nodded quickly, grateful for the opportunity to escape her gaze. “Yes, ma’am.”

The meeting continued, but you couldn’t focus. Not when Emily leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled as she listened to Tara’s analysis. Not when she licked her lips again—this time slower, as if she was savoring the thought of whatever brilliant deduction she was about to make. It made your cheeks burn, and you dropped your gaze to your file, pretending to take notes.

By the time the meeting ended, your nerves were frayed. You gathered your things quickly, hoping to slip out before anyone noticed how flustered you were. But as you reached the door, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/L/N.” Emily’s tone was firm but not unkind, and you turned slowly to face her. She stood just a few feet away, her dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Yes, ma’am?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Good work today. You’ve got a sharp mind, even if you’re a little… distracted at times.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was that a double entendre, or were you reading too much into it? “Thank you,” you mumbled, clutching your file like a lifeline.

Emily’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded, her expression shifting back to one of professional detachment. “Get those leads to Garcia.”

You nodded quickly and hurried out of the room, your mind racing. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if Emily Prentiss was as oblivious to her effect on you as you thought—or if she was perfectly aware and enjoyed watching you squirm.

You spent the rest of the day in Garcia’s office, burying yourself in surveillance footage and databases, hoping the work would distract you from the lingering heat in your chest. But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept circling back to Emily.

The way she stood at the head of the table, commanding attention with such ease. The way she smiled, so rare and deliberate, like a reward for those lucky enough to earn it. And, of course, the way her lips moved when she spoke, the soft, unconscious gestures that seemed designed to drive you insane.

By the time you emerged out of Garcia’s office, your head was spinning. You sat down at your desk, wanting to sum up the info you and Garcia found. After some moments you looked up, seeing Emily sitting at her desk, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

You hesitated, unsure if you should interrupt. She was engrossed in a file, her brow furrowed in concentration. And then—of course—it happened again. She licked her lips slowly and you felt that same maddening twist in your stomach.

This was ridiculous. You were a professional—a damn good one, at that. You couldn’t let something as simple as a habit distract you. Resolving to pull yourself together, you knocked softly on her doorframe.

Emily glanced up, her dark eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, her expression was unreadable, and then her lips curved into that faint, knowing smile. “Agent Y/L/N. What can I do for you?”

You stepped inside, clutching your file tightly. “I wanted to give you an update. Garcia and I reviewed the footage, and we found a car that matches the description of one seen near the second and third crime scenes. She’s running the plates now.”

“Good work,” Emily said, leaning back in her chair. She took off her glasses and set them on the desk, her gaze never leaving yours. “Anything else?”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. “No, ma’am. That’s it.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying you in that way she always did, as if she could see right through you. “You seemed a little off in the meeting earlier,” she said, her tone casual but probing. “Everything alright?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was she calling you out? You forced yourself to meet her gaze, even though the intensity of it made your skin tingle. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine. Just… focused on the case.”

Her smile widened ever so slightly, and there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Focused, huh?” she said, her voice dropping to a lower, almost teasing register. “You sure about that?”

Your throat went dry. “I—uh—yes, ma’am,” you stammered, your face burning. “Completely focused.”

The bullpen had emptied out, the rest of the team heading home to get some much-needed rest. You stayed behind, hoping the quiet would help you focus, but every time you tried to concentrate, your mind wandered back to Emily.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, you heard footsteps. Your stomach twisted as Emily appeared from around the corner, holding a file in one hand and her coffee mug in the other. Her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to drive you insane, and the loose strands of her hair framed her face in a way that felt almost too casual, too intimate for the professional distance you were supposed to maintain.

“Still here?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she walked toward you. Her voice was smooth and low, cutting through the silence like a knife.

You nodded, unable to look directly at her. “Yes, ma’am. Just… finishing up.”

Emily hummed softly, setting her coffee mug down on the edge of your desk. “You’re dedicated. I admire that.” She leaned against the desk again, her posture casual but her presence overwhelming. “But you’ve been distracted the last days.”

The words hit you like a brick wall. There was no way to avoid it now. You looked up at her, your heart pounding. “I… I’m sorry if it seemed that way. I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” she said, cutting you off with a raised hand. Her voice was firm but not unkind. “I’m not chastising you, Y/L/N. I’m just… curious.”

You blinked, your mind racing. “Curious?”

Emily tilted her head slightly, studying you with those piercing dark eyes. “You’re a good agent,” she said softly. “Sharp, focused, intuitive. But it felt like your mind was somewhere else. Or maybe… on someone else.”

The air between you crackled with tension. Was she implying what you thought she was implying? You struggled to form a coherent response.

“I—uh—no, ma’am, I was just—”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Y/N, I’ve been doing this job for a long time. I can read people better than they’d like. And right now, I’m reading you.”

You froze, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through your ribs. Emily’s gaze was steady, unwavering, and you felt completely exposed under her scrutiny.

“You’ve been watching me all day,” she continued, her tone soft but laced with unmistakable intent. “I could feel it in the briefing, in my office, even across the bullpen. Am I wrong?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. The truth was right there, hanging between you, and there was no point in pretending anymore.

“I…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just… you…”

Emily’s lips curved into that maddeningly knowing smile, and she leaned in even closer, her face just inches from yours. “Me?” she prompted, her voice teasing. “What about me?”

Your breath hitched, your face burning with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “You… you’re distracting,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “The way you—your presence—it’s… hard to ignore.”

For a moment, Emily didn’t say anything. She just stared at you, her expression unreadable. And then, to your shock, she smirked—like she’d just confirmed something she’d suspected all along.

“Is that so?” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous. “Well, that’s… interesting.”

Before you could respond, she straightened and walked around to your side of the desk. You turned in your chair to face her, your pulse racing as she leaned down, bracing her hands on the armrests. The proximity was almost unbearable; you could see every detail of her face, feel the warmth of her breath.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I could’ve… helped you focus.”

Your breath caught in your throat as her words sank in. Was she serious? Or was this just another game, another test? Either way, you were utterly powerless to stop the way your body responded to her.

“I—” you started, but the words died on your lips as Emily leaned in, her face so close that you could feel the heat of her skin. For a moment, you thought she might kiss you, but instead, she shifted slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered:

“Do you want me to stop?”

The question sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched the arms of your chair, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Every instinct told you this was dangerous, that you were crossing a line you could never uncross. But in that moment, all you could think about was her—her voice, her touch, her overwhelming presence.

“No,” you whispered, barely able to get the word out.

As Emily leaned back, her tongue darted out to lick her lips in that maddeningly way she always did. Your eyes flicked to the movement, helpless to stop yourself, and when you looked back at her, she was watching you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

Her gaze was sharp and calculated, every flicker of emotion on your face seemingly absorbed and cataloged. There was something unnervingly predatory about the way she looked at you, a slight curve to her lips that wasn’t quite a smile—it was something darker, something laced with triumph. She leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms, and regarded you in silence for a moment that stretched too long.

“You’re coming with me,” she said finally, her voice calm but firm, leaving no room for argument.

You blinked, your mind still trying to catch up. “To…?”

She smirked, tilting her head just slightly, her dark eyes never leaving yours. “Home. My home.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, and you swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “Are you serious?”

Emily pushed off the desk with a languid grace, stepping closer to you. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she said, her voice low and even. “You’ve had a long day, and so have I. And judging by the way you’ve been looking at me—” her tongue flicked out briefly to wet her lips, and your stomach clenched, “—I think we could help each other.”

“Help each other?” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

Her smirk deepened, and she stepped even closer, her body just inches from yours. “You’re touch-starved, Y/N,” she said bluntly, her tone tinged with a knowing amusement. “And so am I. This doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is. Just two people fulfilling a need. Nothing serious.”

Your cheeks burned at her words, and you opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She was right, of course. Every stolen glance, every moment your breath hitched at the sound of her voice or the way she carried herself—it all betrayed you. And the way she said it, so matter-of-factly, left you feeling exposed in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I see the way you react,” Emily continued, her voice softening slightly, though it lost none of its edge. “Every time I do this…” She licked her lips again slowly, her eyes locking onto yours as if daring you to look away. Your breath hitched, and her smirk widened. “You’re so easy to read, Y/N. It’s almost endearing.”

“I—” you started, your voice shaky, but she silenced you with a single raised brow.

“Don’t overthink this,” she said firmly, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch was gentle, almost too much in contrast to her dominant energy. “We both want this. So, let’s stop pretending we don’t.”

Her confidence left you reeling, and before you could process it fully, she was pulling back. “Come on,” she said, her tone casual now, as though she hadn’t just unraveled you completely. “Let’s go.”

The drive to her house was a blur. Emily’s composure was unshakable, her hands steady on the wheel as she navigated the quiet streets, while you sat in silence, stealing glances at her and trying not to let your mind spiral. Every flick of her tongue across her lips, every shift of her posture, seemed calculated, designed to keep you on edge.

When you finally arrived, Emily led you inside with quiet confidence, closing the door behind you and leaning back against it for a moment. The air between you felt electric, charged with tension and anticipation. She crossed her arms, her gaze raking over you with a slowness that made your skin prickle.

“Still with me?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Her smirk returned, and she pushed off the door, stepping toward you with the same predatory grace she’d shown earlier. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I think we’ve both waited long enough.”

As she reached you, her hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet hers. Her lips claimed yours in a kiss that was firm and demanding, her tongue teasing along your lower lip before slipping inside. The flicks of her tongue mirrored the way she licked her lips, and you couldn’t help but melt into her, your body pressing against hers as she took control.

“Bedroom,” Emily murmured against your lips, her voice rough, commanding.

You nodded wordlessly, letting her guide you. She stood, keeping you close as you stumbled toward her room. Her hands never left your body, steady and grounding as you entered the dimly lit space. It was exactly what you’d expect from her—minimal, clean, with just enough personal touches to feel lived-in. But you barely had time to take it in before Emily turned you around, pressing you against the closed door.

Emily’s hands were everywhere as she pressed you against the door, her lips devouring yours with a mixture of hunger and control that left you trembling. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, a dangerous mix of desire and need that neither of you could resist. Deep down, you knew how wrong this was—the power dynamics, the age gap, the impropriety of it all.

As if sensing your thoughts, Emily broke the kiss. “You don’t overthink this,” she said against your lips, her voice low and firm. “Not tonight.”

You nodded, your breath hitching as she moved her lips to your neck, nipping and sucking in a way that left you dizzy.

She pulled back, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Bed. Now.”

Her voice was low, commanding, and you obeyed without hesitation, letting her guide you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You sank down, your heart pounding as she hovered over you, her dark eyes raking over your body with a look that made your stomach twist. Slowly, Emily began unbuttoning her blouse, her gaze never leaving yours. She wasn’t in a rush—this was a game to her, and she intended to savor every moment.

When the fabric slid off her shoulders, you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail over her. She was stunning, her confidence and poise radiating from every inch of her. Emily smirked, clearly enjoying the way you stared at her, and leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of your head.

“You look nervous,” she teased, her lips brushing against your cheek.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not nervous.”

“Liar,” she murmured, her lips trailing down your jaw. “But I like that. I like how you react to me.”

Her words sent a flush of heat through you, and your breath hitched as her hands moved to the hem of your shirt. “Can I?” she asked, her voice soft but firm.

You nodded, unable to form words, and she pulled your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. Her hands skimmed over your bare skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. She took her time exploring, her fingers brushing over your shoulders, your collarbone, the curve of your waist. When her hands settled on your hips, she leaned down, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Emily,” you breathed, your hands clutching at her arms as she kissed her way down your throat.

“Shh,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Just let me take care of you.”

She kissed her way down your chest, her hands sliding up to cup your breasts through your bra. Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you arched into her touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Emily smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction, and reached behind you to unclasp your bra. She slid it off and tossed it aside, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice filled with lust.

Her lips found your collarbone, then trailed lower, her tongue flicking over your nipple in a way that made your back arch. Her hands held you firmly in place as her mouth worked its way across your chest. You felt like you were unraveling beneath her, your body responding to her touch in ways you didn’t know were possible.

“Emily, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

“Patience,” she replied, her tone teasing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

She kissed her way down your stomach, her hands sliding over your thighs as she moved lower. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, and she glanced up at you, her eyes meeting yours. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

She smiled, a rare softness in her expression, and tugged your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. Her hands caressed your thighs, her touch firm but gentle, as she settled between your legs. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Relax, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

Her words should have embarrassed you, but instead, they only made you want her more. You nodded, your hands clutching at the sheets as she kissed her way up your thigh, her breath warm against your skin. When her lips finally found your center, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you.

Her lips and tongue moved with expert precision, every stroke and flick drawing sounds from you that you couldn’t control even if you wanted to. Emily hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through your body, and her strong hands gripped your thighs to keep you steady as your hips moved instinctively toward her. The wet heat of her mouth and the relentless attention she lavished on you had your head spinning.

Your hands were clutching at the sheets, your body arching instinctively as she brought you right to the edge. The pressure in your core was unbearable, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, and just when you thought you’d finally find relief, she stopped.

You whimpered, your hips bucking forward as if chasing the sensation she had so cruelly denied you. “Emily,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation.

She looked up at you from between your thighs, her lips glistening and curved into a smug smirk. “Not yet,” she said, her voice calm and authoritative, leaving no room for argument. She placed a firm hand on your hip, holding you in place. “You’ll come when I decide you’re ready, not a second before.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, the dominance in her tone igniting something deep inside you. All you could do was nod, your body trembling with need as you submitted to her control.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her hand trailing down your thigh before she pulled back. She climbed off the bed, moving to the bedside drawer, and your breath hitched as you watched her retrieve the harness. She took her time, adjusting the strap with practiced ease, her movements commanding. The way she carried herself, so confident and in control, left you breathless.

“You’re going to let me take you,” she said as she climbed back onto the bed, her dark eyes locking onto yours. “And you’re not going to hold back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Emily,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your heart raced in anticipation.

She smirked, clearly satisfied with your response, and leaned down to brush her lips against yours in a kiss that was more of a statement than an act of affection. “Good,” she said softly, her voice dripping with authority. “Now spread your legs for me.”

You obeyed without hesitation, your body trembling as she positioned herself between your thighs. Her hands were firm as they gripped your hips, holding you in place as she lined herself up with you. The sheer presence of her was overwhelming, her dominance filling the room.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she commanded, her voice low and steady as she pressed into you. The stretch was perfect, intense and all-consuming, and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as a moan escaped your lips.

“Eyes,” she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to snap your attention back to her. “I want to see you.”

Your gaze locked onto hers, and the intensity of her expression made your breath catch. She began to move, her pace slow at first, drawing out every sensation as she watched you intently. Every roll of her hips was calculated, her movements designed to drive you closer to the edge while keeping you firmly under her control.

“You’re mine tonight,” she said, her voice low and commanding as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Every sound, every movement, every breath—it’s all for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you gasped, your hands clutching at her shoulders as she quickened her pace, her dominance consuming you completely.

And as she took you apart piece by piece, her name fell from your lips like a prayer, a surrender to the woman who had claimed every part of you without question.

“You take this so well,” Emily murmured, her voice dark and laced with approval, her breath hot against your skin. The words sent a jolt through you, your body arching instinctively as she drove deeper, her movements commanding and relentless.

Her hips moved faster now, each thrust purposeful and precise, the pace leaving you breathless as the pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo. But she didn’t stop there. One of her hands slid down your body, her fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you crying out the moment she touched it. Her fingers circled with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of her thrusts.

The combined sensations had you gasping for air, your fingers clutching at her shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you. The words fell from your lips in a desperate, broken stream—pleas for more, cries of her name, and incoherent whispers of need.

“That’s it,” she growled, her lips brushing against your ear. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

You obeyed instinctively, your moans spilling freely, every sound she pulled from you only spurring her on. Her control was intoxicating, the way she commanded every inch of you, every breath and shuddering gasp. Her fingers pressed harder, circling faster, and the coil in your core tightened impossibly.

“Emily,” you cried out, your voice trembling as your body arched into her. “Please—I’m so close.”

Her smirk was audible in her next words, low and dangerous. “You’ll come when I say you can. Not a moment before.”

Her pace quickened, her fingers working you with maddening precision as her thrusts deepened, leaving you writhing beneath her. Every movement was calculated, every sound you made rewarded with a dark hum of approval. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” she growled, her tone commanding and firm. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, the words tumbling out without hesitation. “Emily, I’m yours.”

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her fingers pressed harder, the rhythm perfect, as she drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your body tensed beneath her, the tension building to an unbearable peak.

“Come for me,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Your back arched off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your release ripping through you with a force that left you trembling. Emily didn’t stop, her movements slow and steady as she helped you ride out the high, her hand still stroking over your thigh.

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there panting, your body spent and trembling. Emily leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. Her gaze met yours, and for a moment, there was a softness in her expression—a flicker of something unguarded that made your chest tighten.

“You did so well,” she murmured, her hand brushing over your hair. “So beautiful.”

Her words sent a warmth through you, and you couldn’t help but smile, though your body still felt like it was buzzing. Emily climbed off the bed, carefully unfastening the harness and setting it aside before climbing back onto bed. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she hovered over you, her fingertips tracing lazy patterns along your skin. “The night’s still young,” she murmured, her voice low and inviting.

Before you could respond, her lips found yours in a kiss that sent a fresh wave of heat through you, reigniting the spark in your veins. Her smile against your mouth was wicked.

“We’re not done yet.”

A few hours later, both of you lay tangled under the sheets, spent and breathing heavily. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic sound of your heartbeats slowly returning to normal.

The weight of the silence between you was heavy, and you could feel the thoughts swirling in your head, as they always did.

You were trying to push those thoughts away, but it was impossible to stop them.

Emily seemed to sense it, her fingers trailing idly along your arm as she shifted slightly, pulling you closer. Her lips brushed against your ear, her voice low and steady. “Stop overthinking.”

You blinked up at her, suddenly self-conscious, but she already knew what you were thinking. She always did.

“I’m not…” you started, but her voice cut through, smooth and knowing.

“I can hear your thoughts from here, Y/N,” she said, her tone teasing but with a hint of amusement. “I know what you're thinking. The age gap, the power dynamics, the… complications.” She paused, meeting your eyes with that all-knowing intensity. “It’s just sex. Nothing more. So, stop overthinking it.”

You nodded slowly, but her words still felt too simple, too final. There was something in her voice, in the way she said it, that made it sound almost too good to be true. You couldn’t help but feel the conflict building within you. The part of you that craved this—her control, her dominance—and the part of you that couldn’t shake the unease about it all.

“Right,” you said quietly, trying to mask the uncertainty in your voice. “Just sex. Nothing else.”

Emily’s lips quirked up into a small smile, but there was no humor in it. She leaned in, kissing you softly, lingering for just a moment before pulling back. “That’s right,” she said, her voice low, but there was an edge to it now. “Because anything else…” She paused, her gaze intense as she let the words hang in the air. “Anything else would be a mistake.”

The weight of her words settled over you, and for a moment, everything felt so simple, so clear. But deep down, you both knew that the simplicity was an illusion. The truth was, neither of you could ignore the undercurrent between you, the way her touch lingered too long, the way your heart beat faster every time she looked at you.

You lay there for a while in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts, unsure of where to go from here. But one thing was clear: for now, it was just sex. No feelings. No complications. Or so you told yourselves.

You had no idea how much time passed, but when you finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, your body resting against hers, Emily stayed awake for a while. She held you close, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you slept, her fingers gently stroking through your hair.

For a few moments, she let the silence stretch, her gaze softening as she looked down at you. Your face was peaceful, unaware of the storm of emotions swirling within her. She could feel her heart tightening, the pull she had tried to ignore throughout the night.

It felt right. Too right. And in that moment, as her fingers traced over your skin, the reality of it all hit her—she was already too far gone.

...

You can read part 2 here

[hemipenal-system]

oh, you want to fuck a dragon? wait, you're expecting some nice cute snuggly shit where you get on your hands and knees in the dragon stable and get gently fucked and then cuddled under a wing after, aren't you?

yeah, that's not what this is. hope you're not scared of heights. the biggest benchmark for dragon riders to get past is not getting fucking traumatized by mating flight day.

what, you just thought you got to pick a dragon? you do some how to train your dragon shit where you feed it some fish? they really don't tell you newbies anything, huh?

on mating flight day, they release every unpaired dragon into the sky, take you up to 25,000 feet or so, and then just drop you. not before painting you with pheromones, of course. yeah, you're falling to your death, but every other dragon in a country mile thinks you're a really horny potential mate, and you get fucking swarmed.

why did you think it takes a full day? normally there's 45-50 dragons in the air, and you're gonna get fucked by every one of them at least five times, usually. that's not actually the scary part, though - they've got a pretty good grip on you so they can thrust without dropping you. the part that breaks the newbies is when the dragon cums and just tosses them into the air because it's too horny to remember that the cute little hole it just dumped a load into can't actually fly, and said hole falls for five seconds or so before being caught in claws or teeth and dragged back up to mating altitude.

sometimes they're not patient enough and whoever the poor bastard is gets two or god forbid all three holes filled at once, being tugged in a couple different directions by the eager bastards... that's never a pretty sight.

how do they know? oh, wait, you mean- yeah, no, it's pretty much universally someone gets paired with whichever dragon successfully breeds them. they have a sense for it.

oh god no. you would die. no, we just stick some dud eggs into you first and the dragon just thinks it's gotten you pregnant firmly enough that it won't maul you when you try to ride it, at least until it trusts you and then we can take them out. you don't have to lay anything. your body 100% cannot do that.

yeah, there's a reason people are a bit scared of this.

[delphi-shield]

:// sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ / ʙɪʟʟʏ.ʙᴜᴛᴄʜᴇʀ

Billy Butcher x Reader smut, hurt/no comfort wc: ~5.2k mdni read on ao3 digging the worms out of my brain real quick since i finally caught up with the boys. idk i think i worked through something personal with this, so like, that's a win for me.

summary: Butcher knows better than to be fucking around with you, but there's 50 quid in it for him if he gets you to call him 'daddy'. Easy money.

content: s4 spoilers, dubcon, butcher's pov, an exorbitant amount of kessler in the first half, age gap, general sleazy behavior, handjob, finger fucking, piv, pussy slapping, some just the tip action, blowjob, mentions of titfucking, degradation, general objectification, public sex, not proofread.

“Makes you realize men have nipples too.”

The bar is packed for a Wednesday night, but Butcher already knows exactly what Kessler is talking about. You’re a ditch lily, sitting tall in this shithole. He turns his head away, pretends he doesn't see the way you lick up a trail of spilled cosmopolitan from the side of your glass, pink tongue parting your lips, eyes half-shut. 

Fucking typical. Kessler could sniff out daddy issues and sadness from a mile away, and he was lethal at half that distance. He could have them wrapped around his finger in the time it took Butcher to take a piss.

His eyes linger. A thing like you doesn't belong in a dump like this. This is the sort of place girls like you stumble into at 1 AM, survey the crowd through the haze of cigarette smoke, and wobble right back out onto the streets, take your chances with the elements rather than the haggard, unfriendly crowd that hunches over their drinks.

Butcher likes Midwest 10's. Begs Kessler to stop ogling barely legal co-eds, says he's not some sleazy cunt in a John Hughes film. He can lie all he wants. If it makes him hard, it makes Butcher hard. 

He glances sidelong at your face. You've got this Christmas-light bright smile that makes his dick jerk. Kessler’s more than under his skin. He’s in his veins, in the same blood that raises his cock up like a goddamn bicycle pump when you lean over the bar, arms squeezing your tits together.

"You could probably fuck 'em." Kessler tips his head to the side, eyes locked on your cleavage. His eyes narrow, lips pursed, evaluating your chest and charting a course for his dick to travel.

"Shut up."

"Huh?"

Fuck. Your tip your head to the side from two seats away, brows pinched together. Cute, in a lost little lamb kind of way.

Butcher's eyes cut to Kessler. He's cocked it all up now. The sly, punchable grin on Kessler’s face turns him back to his drink. He drains his glass and gestures for another. If he doesn’t look at you, if he keeps drinking, this all goes away.

"Nothin'. Don't you worry about it, love."

That should be the end of it, but you’ve clearly got something wrong with you. You fiddle with your purse, pluck up your courage, and drop yourself onto the barstool next to him. Whether you’ve got no sense of self-preservation or you’re just that damn oblivious, he doesn’t intend to get to know you well enough to find out. Butcher's strained smile doesn't do much to smooth the worry lines away.

Kessler chuckles, leans back and props his elbows up on the bar. Cunt just wants to watch him squirm.

"No," Kessler corrects, drawing the word out. "I want you to get some pussy."

His eyes dart over to Kessler, looming over you, hands ghosting up your arms to squeeze your shoulders. He blinks rapidly, rubs at his face, tries to play it off like he's nervous or tired or whatever the fuck but when he looks down, there's your tits again. Butcher lolls his head back to the ceiling. Laugh it up, you fuckin’ cunt.

And Kessler does. Makes a show of slapping his hand on his thigh, head knocked back, grinning toothily.

He tries to ignore you, but you’re straddling that stool next to him in your little skirt and ordering another cosmo. This isn’t the kind of bar for cocktails, and he knows without even seeing the bartender’s eye roll that he hates you.

It's none of his business. He ought to keep himself sat there drowning in his drink ‘til last call and past that, make them throw him out on the street, give him a reason to swing first. It's a better idea than messing with you.

The bartender drops your drink off in front of you and turns before the words ‘thank you’ leave your glossy lips. Another sickly pink cocktail with a dried out lime dropped on top. Butcher can’t help himself. He’s got a soft spot for the clueless.

“Cheery bloke, isn't he?” He says, casting a sidelong glance at the bartender. He taps a finger against the bartop, inclines his head toward your cocktail. “That the only drink you know the name of?”

Your cheeks warm. You hide it behind a hand, turning your face away from him to laugh.

“What? No. I just think they taste good.”

Kessler snorts. “That’s a fat load of shit.”

Butcher agrees. His mouth twists into a half-hearted smile. He slides his glass over to you. 

“Try it,” he insists.

There’s hardly a passing thought for your own safety. You look between his scotch and his face and seem to decide it’s safe to take drinks from strange old fucks in bars. Your fingers brush his when you take the glass, warm and soft - sticky. You must be more sloshed than you look, must keep spilling your drinks. Hell, for all he knows, maybe this place does make the best cosmo in the city. Maybe the bartender just hates your ass because you keep making a mess.

You don’t even ask what he’s drinking. (Maybe this is all a grift, he thinks. Kessler’s at his ear, chuckling - she ain’t bright enough for that.) You lift his glass and leave your lipstick behind.

“Oh my god.” You sputter, pound a fist against your chest. It makes your tits bounce. Fucking miracle your shirt is containing those things. “That tastes like ass.”

“That is the highest quality scotch this bar serves.”

“It tastes like someone put a cigarette out in a glass of whiskey.”

“It’s a shit bar.”

You laugh, head tipped back, nose scrunched - the works. You’re too tipsy for it to be on purpose. Being cute comes naturally to you. Must be how you’ve made it this far.

You pass his drink back and scoot your cosmo closer to you, spilling it as the glass skips over the pock-marked countertop. Butcher snorts, dabs it up for you with his sleeve. He’s starting to think his theory about the cosmopolitans might hold true.

“Well, here, a trade’s a trade.” He takes your drink by the stem (fucking amazed they even have martini glasses in this place) and pounds back a mouthful.

It isn’t that bad, but he makes a show of scrunching his nose and shaking his head. He slides your drink back over to you and mirrors the way you had clung to your drink.

“You’re kidding,” you laugh. “It’s better than yours. I don’t know how you drink that.”

“I’ll keep my liquid ashtray, thanks.”

Your eyes are all lit up when you smile, but it emphasizes the raw edges, the puffiness that lingers. Rough night for you, by the looks of it. Not like he’s having much of a better one.

There’s no harm in it. No harm in showing you what a proper drink tastes like, broadening your horizons and helping you both forget what a shit hand you’ve been dealt. He buys you a drink on the condition that you try something that isn’t a cosmopolitan. You can hardly stomach a whiskey and coke. He orders you a fernet and coke for shits and giggles, expects you to spit it out like all the rest, barks out a laugh when you declare it’s tasty, notes of lavender drawing you in. Notes of lavender - Christ, what fucking suburb did you pop out of? 

He introduces you to more drinks, leans closer with each empty glass. You're new here, you tell him. You tell him your name, too, not that he remembers. Got stood up on some shitty date. He knows it’s got to be shitty because what idiot in his right mind would take you here, of all places?

By the time he orders you both shots of Rumple Minze, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. Your hand splays against his chest, head leaning against him. You lift his shot to his lips for him and he’s too drunk to find it childish and irritating. He downs it and does the same for you, watches you extend that pretty neck to drink it down.

“I’ll get you a cab,” he slurs, rocking unsteadily to his feet.

“I already called an Uber.”

Jesus. It’s a struggle not to roll his eyes. Fucking kids. Allergic to one night stands, couldn’t take a hint to save their life. Even Kessler is on his side, his head thunking against the bartop.

It's for the best, he thinks, trying to curb his disappointment. He's got shit to do. Ryan to worry about. Kessler's a right cunt, pushing him to you. He hasn't got the time to be fucking about. This entire thing had been a waste of time, too busy trying to get his dick wet to make the most of what he’s got left.

Butcher stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat, steps back, ready to split and stumble his way back home. He nods quick and sharp, tight-lipped smile to keep his frustration locked behind his teeth.

You show him your phone, make him squint to see what he’s supposed to be looking at. “My Uber is still a couple minutes away, so…”

Kessler picks his head up from the bar. He's a bloodhound for pussy. He picks up the leading edge in your voice before Butcher’s even done parsing your words.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kessler drones. “You can’t even get it up, can you?”

“I’m damn well going to try.”

“What?” You laugh, swaying on your feet.

Butcher wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you against his side. “Nothin’. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll keep you company. Make sure no nasties try to get you.”

The cold outside is bracing. You wrap your arms tight around yourself and this time Butcher’s too drunk to pretend he isn't staring at the way your tits press together.

It’s your idea. Really. The way you look up at him, the way your lips stay parted while the pair of you pace the sidewalk. You wrap your hand around his bicep and squeeze, eyes drifting slowly to the side, to the alleyway just a few strides away.

See? It’s your idea, honest. He drags you behind a dumpster, pins you to the wall of the alley, and shoves his tongue down your throat, yeah, but you moan so fucking loud and drag him closer. It takes longer than he'd like for your hand to stop massaging his chest and start fondling his cock, but you're a sweet girl - don't seem the type to do this too often. Need some guidance.

Butcher lays his hand atop yours, wraps your fingers tighter around his bulge. Your breath hitches, your eyes flicking down to your hand, mouth popped open - got this sweet, vacant little look in your eye.

He'd bet real money you go dumb for cock.

“$50 says you can get her to call you ‘daddy’,” Kessler pipes up, leaning against the wall next to you. He tips a cigarette into his mouth, cups a hand around to light it, and Butcher swears the light from his zippo gleam in your eyes. He doesn’t doubt it. Seems cruel, though, especially when he can’t remember your name.

“What was your name again?”

It takes a bit for you to get dick off your mind and fish around for your name. You mumble, make him lean in close and tilt his head to get you to say it again, clearer.

You're the obedient sort. Pick up on cues so easy. Don't even make him ask for it again. He pats your cheek, smirk creasing his face.

By your side, Kessler flashes a crisp $50. He plucks it taut, fans himself with it, makes a real show of being a dick while you try to take Butcher's out of his pants.

At the end of the day, 50 quid is 50 quid.

“How ‘bout you ask daddy for permission, sweetheart?”

Your mouth moves wordlessly.

“Please?”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s real polite. But it ain’t what I asked for, is it?”

“Can I please play with your cock, daddy?”

“Better.”

Kessler slips the fifty into Butcher’s coat pocket while you fumble with his belt and free him from his pants. You lay his cock in the seam of your hands, cupping him like he’s a gift on two legs. You stroke him reverently, look up at him with big, thoughtless lamb eyes.

Your heart’s in it, but you’re too reserved for his taste. He grips your hand in his and guides you down his cock, shows you when to squeeze, when to twist your wrist, how to flick your thumb over the slit of his tip.

He can never make it last when he drinks. Should have warned you before he came on your pretty skirt, but you’ve got a natural talent for stroking dick. He keeps his groan locked up tight. It rattles through his chest and he leans into you, crushing you against the wall of the alley. His hips stutter and rut into your hand, still wrapped around him, coaxing every drop from his tip. You still toy with him while he tries to catch his breath. He’s got to push away from you with a mumbled “Christ, all right, that’s enough.”

It’s like he’s taking your favorite toy away. You pout up at him, hand still molded for his cock by your side, by the skirt his ruined with his cum. He almost gets an apology out, but you drag a finger through his mess and bring it to your lips, make a show of licking it up.

His chest aches. He isn’t sure if it’s the tumor or his heart desperately trying to pump enough blood down to his dick to get him up again.

Butcher crams two fingers into his mouth and scrapes the dirt from beneath his nails with his teeth. The rest is a blur. He knows that he kicks your feet apart, traces your slit through your panties before he pushes them to the side and finger fucks you until your head snaps back against the wall. It’s quick, messy - leaves his forearm soaked. He’s not so sure that was real, but he’s too drunk to figure it out, too gone ask.

He tucks himself back into his pants. You set your panties back in place, skirt still hiked up to your ribs. You slip a little lower down the wall, panting. He stops you before you can slip all the way down, pats your cunt, and tugs your skirt back into place.

“Let’s get you a cab, eh?”

That’s the last thing he remembers clearly. You’d missed your Uber, had to take a cab with him anyway. He remembers you leaning against him, tucked up against his side, hand stroking his chest. He’d pet your hair - soft as lamb’s wool - and whispered nonsense against your head just to get a laugh out of you. After you get out, the whole thing’s blank.

When Butcher wakes up at 2 PM the next day, choking on his own vomit, he can't find the 50 quid. He turns his jacket inside out searching for it. A scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it falls from his jacket pocket. He doesn’t spare it more than a glance and keeps digging for his wallet.

Lambs lose their appeal after the flying cunts nearly bit his cock off.

That farm had been dirty business. Wicked stuff, the kind that doesn't wash off. This work always has been, but this time the blood doesn't come out from under his fingernails. He tastes bile every time he breathes. The copper twang of blood trickling down the back of his throat is the only chaser he gets anymore.

He doesn't think of you often. He knows it'd break your little heart to hear it, have you looking up at him with those ‘fuck me, I'm sad’ eyes and that little girl pout that makes him feel every bit the lech he is. You’re a sweet thing. Vacant, just like him. It didn’t take long to piece that together.

You’re easy and malleable, quick to fit yourself around him in whatever way he demands. He liked that about you at first.

But when he calls on you at three in the morning for a quick lay and you answer the door in a full face of make-up, hair done and wearing the sort of nightgown that no one actually sleeps in, all he feels is distaste.

You let him crowd you against your couch (a neutral color, no blanket in sight, your living room just as blank as the rest of you) without so much as a ‘hello’. You hook a leg over his hip. No panties, he realizes, eyes locked on your drippy cunt, already flushed. Been touching yourself to the thought of this. He warms a little at the thought.

Butcher wedges his knee between your leg and grinds. Any warmth you’d kindled with wet pussy dissipates the moment you moan so goddamn loud, the sound hollow and plastic. He keeps his leg still, flexes his thigh for you to grind on. His jaw tightens. He nearly shoves his fingers in your mouth to keep you from making those stupid fucking noises.

You let him twist you up however he wants, more a posable toy than a person. He pushes you further along the couch until your back arches awkwardly against the arm. You don't protest. Of course you don't.

His thick fingers trail down your slit, part your slick folds for his inspection. He sways back on his haunches, admires the pretty way he's got you arranged, pinned open on his fingers for him.

He brings his hand down sharply on pussy once, twice - and the third time directly to your clit is just because you kept making that annoying fucking noise. That nasally, porn-star whine that drills him between the eyes and makes his hard-on flag. The way you twitch and jerk at each hit might be genuine but that fucking noise drives him up a wall. Christ, there's got to be something about you that's real.

Pussy’s real. Can’t fake that, he thinks.

“Stay right there,” he says, a bite to his voice when you try to shift against him again. If you could just lay there and take it - is that so much to ask for?

He guides himself to you, hips rocking experimentally. You suck his head in and his chin dips to his chest. He groans deep. It turns to a growl when you raise your hips. He lays his forearm against you, pressing you down - and that moan might have been real.

“Can't you do fucking anything right?” He snaps. His hips push forward, bullying himself deeper into you. You suck a breath through your teeth, your hand bracing against his forearm. “I told you to stay right there.”

A spark of indignation flickers in your eyes, flash-fire flushed out by the same pitiful little lamb wool you pull back over your eyes. Makes you look all downy, plush and fuckable - he's fished more respectable shits from the toilet.

You’re a good girl for a few more shallow thrusts, lay there just like he wants while he works himself to the hilt. He finds his rhythm sloppily, one knee propped on the couch, the other foot planted on the floor. Your tits bounce with every thrust and he’s stupid enough to take his hands off of you, trust you not to move while he gropes at your breast.

Immediately you rise to your elbows, try to arch your back deeper. He’s positive you’re trying to mimic some video, down to the exact angle of your spine, but your heart isn’t in it. His cock butts against your walls, shallower than before, the pleasure that had been tearing through his blood coming to a screeching halt. He hisses through his teeth, grinding out his frustration.

“Don't –” his shoves you back down, hand flattening against your cheek and pushing your face into the couch. Feels fucking awful any other position. “–fucking move. Don't fucking move. Trying to cum. Goddammit.”

Your hands curl into fists by your head. You hide your face, press it deeper into the cushion and he presses your face deeper to help you. The noise you make is pitiful, but at least it's real.

Fucking hell. Now he’s completely out of it. You’ve gone and fucked up pussy for him. He didn’t think that was possible. He can’t find the angle he needs, can’t get back to that gummy spot that make his vision blur.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, ignoring the little whine you make. You don’t raise your hips - god forbid you take a fucking hint - so he sits you up for him and wedges his dick back in. It only takes a few thrusts for him to realize this is worse. Tighter, dry, chafing his dick like goddamn sandpaper.

“Your cunt shrivel up or something? Feels fucking terrible.”

He snatches your wrist, pulls your arm back at an angle that makes you cry out, and fills your palm with lube. Can't even get wet on your own. Fucking Christ, he's got to do everything for you. Even has to curl your fingers around his cock, drag your hand back and forth until you final get the big, swinging fucking hint and jerk him off.

He meant to stuff himself back into your cunt, but at this point your hand will do. Six one way, half a dozen the other. At least your hand doesn't chafe.

You’re silent now. Small mercies. The only sounds are the slick of your palm working him over and his labored breaths. Your hand is clumsy at this angle, but he’s not going to risk letting you move and fuck it all up again.

Once he’s close, he drops your hand and flips you onto your back again. A big hand presses your knees apart, opens you up for him. You're still so pliable, even if the sheen is gone from your cunt. You try to fix your hair. If he notices the tears brimming your eyes, he doesn't say anything.

He lines himself back up with your cunt, dragging himself through your folds. Your knees knock closer with each pass of his bright red tip over your clit. He taps it once with his cock, expecting another produced moan to rattle the walls, but you only whimper, your thighs trying to close around him.

Butcher smirks. He pumps himself into you, keeps himself shallow - just the tip past your puffy lips. 

You whimper, try to shuffle down and take more of him. Butcher’s hand grips your face, squishing your cheeks so hard it stings.

“Don't you fucking move,” he grits out. You used to take instruction so well. Now you've gotten all up in your own head. Nobody likes an uppity bitch, he ought to make you see that.

What he really ought to do is make you get down there and jerk him off. Your hand is still slicked, but you'd probably piss yourself at the chance. Instead, he pushes your knees damn near up to your ears and barks for you to hold your own legs. Your hands curl around the backs of your knees. There you go. Figuring it out again.

His hand strokes his dick quick and hard, one hand dedicated to keeping himself just inside you. It doesn't take long for him to cum. It’s a slow burn that seeps up through his belly, lattices up his ribs and congeals in his chest, makes him ache and cave over your body while his hips sputter. He squeezes himself dry, pumps his cum into your pussy until it flows past his tip and seeps down onto your couch. 

Butcher lingers over you, catching his breath. He’s already gone soft, his cock dropped out of you. He sits back against the opposite arm of the couch, splays himself out while you curl up.

Something burns in his chest - remorse, maybe. You’re all curled up against your couch, cheek cushioned on your arm - won’t look at him, don’t paw at him or lean against his side, don’t even reach to clean yourself up.

His head knocks back to the ceiling. He can’t be bothered to pull answers out of you. He reaches for the tissue box on your coffee table, plucks a handful, and cleans himself off.

He tosses the box back to the coffee table and shoves his boots back on, barely taking the time to lace them up properly. He scoops he coat up from where you’d shucked it onto the floor, buttons himself back up, and you still haven’t moved. His eyes linger on you for a moment, brow set low.

Can’t be bothered, he reminds himself. He runs a hand through his hair and makes for your door, boots thunking heavily against your floors.

“Can I see you again?”

You’ve managed to pick your head up when he glances back at you. You sound so desperate it's pitiful. His lip curls. He runs a hand over his head, looks anywhere but you.

Christ, even your apartment is blank and devoid of personality. He hadn't noticed it before, too consumed with the need to get between your thighs. He shrugs, and gives you a lifeless smile.

“We'll see.”

Butcher closes your door behind him and hurries down the hall. He turns the corner to see Kessler’s cheshire grin greeting him in the dark of your stairwell.

He ought to get right with you before his time comes. He isn't proud of the way things ended. Butcher’s a right bastard, but he isn't blind; he'd seen the look on your face, the hopeful shine in your eyes dulling when he'd left you there without so much as a ‘cheers, love, thanks for the rub’.

He doesn't bother texting you. He's already posted up outside your apartment. Giving you a heads up would only give him time to pussy out.

Besides, you're home. He knows it. You’re piss-easy to track. Home to work, work to home, same route, same time. It will be easy to knock on your door, get his closure, and slip out of your life for the last time.

It should be easy. He’s had harder conversations with people who meant more to him but he keeps staring at your door, trying to will himself to knock. He’s not that weak yet. He can still raise his hand.

Butcher turns to leave just as you open the door. His shoulders tense when you call out to him.

“Billy?” You blurt out. There’s genuine surprise there.

“I just thought I’d –” He turns to catch a glimpse of you and it sends him headlong into silence.

You look a right mess. No face isn’t done up, an oversized t-shirt draping off your shoulders. Your pajama pants are fluffy, snowflake print - tackiest thing he’s seen in a while. 

You duck your head down, trying to catch his eye. 

“You okay?” You hook your thumb over your shoulder. “Want to come in?”

He doesn’t. Not even a little. He wants to rip the band-aid off, forget he ever met you and let you get on with your life - whatever it is you do. But you step to the side and fix him with a weak little smile that he thinks might be real, and his feet take him in through the door.

It’s a nice place in the daytime, he realizes. Natural sunlight, open floorplan, your shelves crowded with plants and knick-knacks he’s never seen. You offer him a drink, laugh when he says water and fall quiet when he insists.

You hand him his drink and collapse onto your couch. Your legs kick up onto your coffee table, and for the first time he realizes your socks are fuzzy, too. He looks around, scans you from head to toe. Is this the right place? He keeps picking at his nails, trying to free the grime from under them.

Once you realize he’s baffled, you’re merciful enough to start the small talk. It’s awkward and stilted - his fault, his answers halting and quick. You give him grace, sip on your drink. Your laughs never quite reach your eyes, but you scoot closer to him on the couch anyway.

“Why are you really here, Billy?” Your hand settles on his thigh and curls inward.

It’s not how he wanted this to go, but he doesn’t stop you from sliding your hand higher while he chokes on his words. You’ve got his belt undone by the time he manages to string a sentence together.

“I've been a right cunt to you.”

“Mhm.”

“You don't got to put up with it, yeah?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Got your whole life right ahead of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Fucking Christ, could you give him more than a noise? A few moments ago you’d held a conversation with him.

His irritation is snuffed out by your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock and sucking hard. Your hand pumps his shaft, twisting your wrist on the way back up. Good God, you learn quick.

Butcher could spoil you rotten if he had the time. He could get you whatever you wanted - if ever you wanted for anything. He cups a hand over the back of your head, encouraging, not guiding.

You’re methodical. You let your hand work what your mouth won’t reach, fondle his balls with the other one. It’s clinical. You’ve committed the moves to memory, when to swirl your tongue, hollow your cheeks, when to moan around him, when to look up at him with those tears straining at your waterline.

He finishes quick, his chest heaving. You pass him his water while you reach for a tissue box. He drains it and nearly misses you spitting his cum into a tissue, wadding it up and tossing it into the bin.

“I haven’t got much time left,” he says, breathless.

Your brow creases. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your lips swollen. “What?”

“I’ve got this –” he gestures nebulously with a hand, like he’s trying to pluck the right words out of the air. “– thing. In my brain, see? Inoperable. So, if I up and vanish on you, it ain’t personal.”

You stay silent, stone faced. He wishes you’d say something. Even one of the irritating platitudes people like to parrot would be better than this. Your eyes harden. You purse your lips, breathe deep, and stand from the couch.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Billy. It was good to see you.”

Butcher’s still trying to catch his breath. He tucks himself back into his pants, a mess he’ll clean up later, and rises unsteadily. You don’t reach out to help. He makes another nebulous gesture towards you, his hand quivering.

“You want me to..?”

“Nah. Don’t strain yourself.”

He stuffs himself back into his coat, watching your eyes linger - maybe realizing for the first time how much slighter he’s looking. Butcher pats your cheek gently as he passes by.

You don’t ask to see him again. For your sake, he hopes this is the last time.

[dangermousie]

2024 list - cdrama edition

Yes, it's cdrama world so even though December is halfway though, they may drop 10 more dramas I will check out between now and 2025. But if I wait, this will never get done and it can always be updated, so here we go. This has been one of the best cdrama years for me!

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2024; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it’s not on the list. As always, very subjective.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

61 My Divine Emissary - it’s actually a pretty good drama year when the worst cdrama I’ve checked out this year is merely utterly shrill and brain dead but not horrifyingly offensive to good taste.

60 Are You the One - no you are not. There are objectively worse dramas I've ranked higher but this is here because I am annoyed at the waste of Zhang Wanyi and this drama's popularity and douban rating. I am a petty bitch.

59 Fight for Love - they had wonderful actors and a great premise and utterly wasted it. There might someday be a good drama about a female general torn between a royal and an enemy general but this ain’t it.

58 Peacock in Wonderland - I am a few decades too old for this brain dead fest but I am glad Zhou Jun Wei is not canceled at least.

57 Her Fantastic Adventures - honestly, this, MDE and Revenger are all the same type of subgenre - they aren’t offensive they are just as empty as air. This also suffers from casting an utter dud as ML and a charisma boat as SML. Why?

56 Lady Revenger Returns from the Fire - the main thing I remember from this is that Miles Wei must have stolen the wig maker’s parking spot. That wig is the one that should have gone into the fire.

55 Fox Matchmaker: The Red Moon Pact - it’s so pretty, so full of gorgeous costumes and actors and I enjoyed the first few eps, but ultimately it was like watching colorful paint dry. It was so dull, I couldn’t even hate watch it, and that is more damning than anything.

54 Your Trap/Imprisoned Love - the plot of this mini made no sense but the softcore vibes of sanitized 1990s cinemax were on point!

53 The Unexpected Marriage - cutesy dumb period romcom. Could be worse, not that this is much of a praise.

52 Love’s Rebellion - so twee, so precious, so full of cutesy awful CGI and actors who aren’t bothering. I am not sure why Zhang Linghe and Jing Tian are in this mess that looks like rainbow vomited on a xianxia set.

51 My Wife’s Double Life - her life may be double but her brain is only half.

50 Jade’s Fateful Love - I lost some braincells trying this one, but (a) it’s gorgeous and (b) no transmigration say you? Multiple transmigration in first ep alone! Good for you, makers!

49 Follow My Heart - how do you have Luo Yunxi, Song Yi and Cheng Lei and waste them so utterly? First few eps were nice and then it’s like exercise in how much you can tolerate before you call it quits.

48 The Story of Pearl Girl - almost made me dislike ZLS and LYN and that's a feat. Dull and stupid and pointless from beginning to end.

47 Brocade Odyssey - more like Snooze Novella.

46 Melody of Golden Age - see write up for FMH because it fits here. This is bland with a side of bland.

45 The Legend of Taotie - an unequivocally bad drama but the look is such a nostalgia trip and I had fun.

44 Sword and Fairy 4 - it’s kinda a mess but I loved the actors and some of the plots and you can do worse.

43 Dawn Amidst Hidden Clouds - I enjoy watching Chang Huasen as a ML but the rest is eminently forgettable.

42 Blossoms in Adversity - dumb as a set of particularly dumb bricks and ML I don’t think could act if his life depended on it, but it was strangely addictive and I watched it often before better dramas. It’s just a genuinely good time somehow!

41 Judge Dee - it’s not you it’s me in action. It’s smart and gorgeous and well acted, I just don’t do procedurals.

40 The Substitute Princess’ Love - it’s like some of those trashy web novels I enjoy. It was clearly cut, its budget was equivalent to loose change found in the pockets of makers of Fox Spirit Matchmaker, but it was a surprisingly fun watch, though I enjoyed the first half better than the second. Also as a drama old, it was a fun blast from the past seeing Dylan Kuo (if you have never watched the old twdrama The Outsiders, what are you even doing with your life?)

39 Rise from the Ashes - a wacky as hell mini where reborn FL wreaks revenge with help of her fake uncle as they carry on as some sort of Borgia/Phillip II of Spain fame hybrid. If you don’t need to use your brain, you could have a worse time.

38 The Legend of Heroes - it suffered from me seeing other versions of this tale before that I liked more and not loving how dark looking it is but that cast is A+ and Wang Hongyi was a revelation as Yang Kang.

37 Beauty Strategy - a mini of what a few years ago would have been a proper angsty drama of palace scheming enemies while lovers, powerless emperor etc etc. Honestly, I loved it.

36 Lovesickness - this year’s gender-reversed Ancient Love Song, not as artistic or good but still a good time about a woman traveling back in time and falling for a powerful but doomed duke.

35 Fragments of Kylin - demon slayer falls for a demon; this one came out of nowhere and didn’t have much of a budget but is surprisingly lovely.

34 Love of Nirvana - the good parts are vvvvv good and points for making the emperor the villain, but it almost never emotionally grabbed me, and a lot of time was spent on narratives I had no interest in.

33 Enslaved by Love - the only reason it’s not the most fucked up drama on this list is because Shadow Sect, Palace Shadows and Burning Flames exist. The ML is toxic enough to be banned by the Geneva convention but FL does get some of her own back and also if you ever wanted to see blindness-curing sex, boy do I have a drama for you!

32 The Princess Royal/The Grand Princess - I am in the minority of finding this drama very mid. The acting was fine (except for former eunuch dude), the writing was fine, but I never really got invested alas. I don’t even know why. I think it’s just not my type of narrative; there was no intensity.

31 Secrets of the Shadow Sect - head of sect lady and her very very subby bodyguard. What’s not to love?

30 Palace Shadows: Between Two Princes - ML pretends to be his own twin, bdsm and sluttiness ensues. I cannot even explain how wild this drama is but the acting is on point and way way fun!

29 Dashing Youth - I had no expectations of this drama (was either indifferent to or disliked everyone in the cast, wuxia and wuxia-adjacent is rarely my genre, the number of characters is huge) but I loved how under its bright colors, it eventually gets very dark (it’s quite old school that way) and somehow I am invested in everyone in the huge cast. This being a prequel to The Blood of Youth makes us know the fates of many of the characters and this adds the air of tragic inevitability to it all.)

28 The Last Immortal - a surprisingly sweet and touching xianxia that works largely because Zhao Lusi and Wang Anyu are so so so so solid separately and together.

27 Burning Flames - the most gonzo drama on this list. I love it for committing to insanity as it should (if you pick insane source material, commit.) Humans taking on the worst Gods since Olympus, fur and chains, sentient crystal FL, ML who goes from Crown Prince to mine slave to rebel leader, bare chests and fur, demon elves, a villain that leaches color from the world - this drama has everything and I loved its unhinged glory.

26 Lost You Forever 2 - it would have been higher except it fell apart in the last third so badly I am still wondering how the makers could misunderstand their own characters and their own narratives so badly. The first season was a masterpiece. This is a hot mess.

25 Fateful Love - this was released after years in the dungeon and feels old school in the best way. It's what reading one of those OP FL web novels feels like, and the OTP is shockingly competent and adult. I loved that.

24 Love Game In Eastern Fantasy - excellent start, mid middle, and a terrible last third but I cannot have truly hard feelings since before it fell off, it really was fun.

23 Love in a Dream - it's a mini that has the most gorgeous cinematography I've seen all year except for Fangs of Fortune and Eternal Brotherhood. I loved the vibes and the story (though of course it suffered from mini running time constraints) and its feeling of tragic love and lost time.

22 Different Princess - a ridiculous amount of fun and ship about an author falling through to her own novel and falling for the villain.

21 Kill Me Love Me - the story is a mess and a half but the OTP gave me some incredible incredible scenes, and Wu Jinyan, Liu Xueyi and Baron Chen are gorgeous and acting their hearts out, plus the whump mmmm.

20 Meet You at the Blossom - this is a Thai/Taiwan/China coproduction so I am including it. It's my list! An uncensored BL adaptation with delicious dysfunction, sunshine x murder boy, angst, shippiness, groveling and wigs that are surprisingly decent for the budget!

19 Sword and Fairy 6 - I love this tale; the young OTP (a whale weapon and a clone of her trigger? More wholesome than you think) who are so ride or die for each other, the other amazing characters (sect leader who has to live as a man and her “twin” who is an ancient trapped spirit, a wolf demon, etc…) It’s just genuinely good and proof that targeted to younger audience doesn’t have to be bad.

18 In Blossom - sure, we all know JJY can’t act, but the narrative was so fun and the visuals were so gorgeous and Liu Xueyi so gorgeous and magnetic in his first proper Male Lead role, it was all worth it. I liked the first half when they were still cautious of each other more than the second but this is just a good time!

17 Snowy Night Timeless Love - a classic, tragic, romantic wuxia the way "they don't make it any more" only they did. Just lovely.

16 The Rise of Ning - such a pleasant, easy slice of period life with a side of revenge and fakecest (but only a teeny side.) Secondary characters are not particularly engaging and the plot suffers from being limited to 40 eps, but the main OTP is so enjoyable and Ren Min and Zhang Wanyi are doing such nuanced, lovely job that I can't even complain.

15 Hard to Find - my second favorite mini on the list, this is an aesthetic feast. The doomed couple from enemy kingdoms, the vengeance, the twists - if ever a mini deserved to be a proper drama, this would be it. But alas, if it was they’d probably not let it.

14 The Double - unhinged web novel vibe done so perfectly in the inimitable Yu Zheng style. The leads were so good even the amazing villains didn’t truly steal the show. Like with a lot of cdramas, it lost a lot of steam in second half for me, but still a great watch.

13 Strange Tales of Tang Dynasty 2 - I never like procedurals. Somehow both seasons of this show are the sole exception. It is so gorgeous, so impeccably acted, with such great characters. I cannot wait for s3.

12 Love in the Desert - a mini drama in story but with a proper budget and run time, this is such gorgeous sensual fun with a great main OTP, a truly incredible secondary OTP and some beautiful visuals.

11 Fortune Writer - the best mini this year and better than most “proper” cdramas (Douban raters agree), this tale of villains in love fighting the narrative has a lot to say about writing cliches and writing conventions. I love how clever it is and how it actually made me care for the characters.

10 Tender Light - except for that ending, this was in the running for my favorite 2024 cdrama. The writers’ lack of ability to commit and carry through pushed it lower but otherwise it’s a genuine masterpiece. The acting, the chemistry, the looping narrative, what it has to say about abuse and complicity of society and blazing your own moral path is something else.

9 Derailment - who knew a little quasi scifi modern would be this high but this one is amazing. If you watch one modern this year, make it this one. Our FL is a rich girl a little in the future who somehow wakes up in a different timeline a few years back in the body of that universe’s version of her (who is poor and has been missing) and her one connection is a young man who was in love with that universe’s version of her. I don’t want to say more so as not to spoil because the twists are twisty but this is EVERYTHING and also addresses transmigration, what it means to love, what is ethical etc etc. And that OTP!

8 Will Love in Spring - this is a year of miracles because I don't just have one modern among my favorites, I have a bunch. This is a gorgeous story about love and healing and awkward, scarred emotionally and physically people feeling if their odd angles and prickly flaws actually fit and working towards a future with fits and starts and it's just so chemistry driven, so tender, so gorgeous.

7 Snowfall - a fever dream of a vampire narrative set in an alternate universe of the Republican era, it’s gorgeous, passionate, hella queer and just like watching the most amazing fanfic come to life.

6 Heroes - a complete masterpiece about three men about to be on the scrapheap of history in the Qing Dynasty about to fall (a constable devoted to obsolete norms, who spent his whole life studying for the imperial exam which got canceled, the world’s best swordsman in the era of guns, and a former imperial guard who emerges from prison into a different world) whose stories intersect as they search for treasure and the women and other people in their lives. This is smart, impeccably acted, filmed in a stunning way, bleak and funny at once and - I don’t use the term masterpiece often but I will use it here.

4 (tie) Blossom - a romantic fever dream, with gorgeous damaged destined lovers. The director is the person who made A Familiar Stranger and Butterflied Lover into amazingness on a short run time and no budget, so when he actually has a proper run time and a budget - oh boy - it's romantic and beautiful and intense, a drama as opera.

4 (tie) The Legend of Shen Li - I am often indifferent to xianxia that suffers from too much CGI, hella immaturity and not enough stakes. Shen Li is everything. It’s gorgeously filmed, it’s adult, it gives the story time to breathe and centers it on characters and relationships. And the OTP is everything you can ever dream of - it reunites Zhao Liying and Lin Gengxin, totally healing those Princess Agents wounds - their chemistry is still utter fire but the narrative supports them every step of the way.

3 Eternal Brotherhood - if JoL2/FoF did not come out this year, this would be my favorite cdrama of the year. It’s clearly a passion project with a small budget but this complex and grim tale of three rather different sworn brothers in a world at war is gorgeous, smart, well acted, dark and inspiring at once. There are shots that take my breath away, the love stories are amazing, the pace is perfect, and ohhh our complex mainsssssss.

1 (tie) Joy of Life 2 - (almost) nothing can beat this masterpiece. The first season was perfect and somehow the second is even more perfect. It’s smart, it’s funny, it’s heartbreaking, the cast is still impeccable and Zhang Ruoyun still gives a completely jawdropping performance as the focus of all the madness Fan Xian. If you watch only one cdrama this year, make it this one; well, this and Fangs of Fortune.

1 (tie) Fangs of Fortune - this is an emotional and visual feast, with such incredible characters, interesting explorations of fantasy and mortality and morality and what makes life worth living. It made awful actors good and mid actors amazing (and amazing ones extra amazing.) It is also the most stunning drama I've ever watched as well as throwing me back into what it's like to be immersed into an amazing fantasy book as a kid and the characters and the relationships and the themes sing to me. A miracle.

FAVORITE DRAMA

Fangs of Fortune - I have rarely seen a drama that speaks to me so personally, but it is also narratively perfect, emotionally devastating, with impeccable acting, complex characters and visuals that are beyond stunning.

Joy of Life 2 - there is not one second I forwarded, not one unnecessary scene, not one weak link character. It’s a smart, fierce masterpiece.

Eternal Brotherhood is a runner up - it came out of nowhere and owned my whole heart. It’s the sole other cdrama this year where I did not ff a second.

WORST DRAMA

My Divine Emissary may have been the lowest ranked drama on my list but honestly, a drama with a tiny budget and a bunch of nobodies does not deserve to be listed as the Worst. What does? Fox Spirit Matchmaker - a huge budget, fancy stars etc etc and yet it's a completely and utterly unwatchable mess. To make something this thoroughly dull is a genuine feat. I cannot think of a drama that insults its viewer more not just this year but any recent year.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Fan Xian (Zhang Ruoyun), Joy of Life 2 - how could it ever be anyone but smart, irreverent, fierce, broken, idealistic, funny Fan Xian. The man who fights against the horrors of the universe, who remains human while being so larger than life. This character is everything.

Or Zhu Yun (Hou Minghao), an ancient, irreverent, vivid, borken demon who wants to die even as he might finally find a reason to live in Fangs of Fortune.

Runner up: Zhou Luo (Zhang Xincheng), Tender Light - idealistic loner who refuses to compromise his principles even as it would be easier to, even as it destroys his life, ZXC has always been a solid actor but here he is beyond.

Alternatively, Zichuan Xiu (Yang Xuwen), Eternal Brotherhood - only way to describe Xiu is “trauma sunshine.” He’s funny, he’s irrevocably fucked up, he is magnetic and intense and he fights for his hopeless ideals and he breaks and he keeps going.

or Xing Zhi (Lin Gengxin), the lonely ancient god in Shen Li discovering the pleasure of life for the first time in aeons.

or Zhuo Yichen (Fangs of Fortune) - a traumatized idealist who goes through so much hell but retains his heart and his core of steel even as he grows up about complexities of the world and the human heart.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Shen Li (Zhao Liying), The Legend of Shen Li - so fierce, so certain, so alive. She is a goddess but ZLY made her feel so real.

Runner up: Nan Ya (Tong Yao), Tender Light - an abuse victim who keeps trying to find a way out, she’s strong and damaged and complex and honestly, one of the best performances this year.

Alternatively, Jiang Xiao Yuan (Liu Haocun), Derailment - she makes a character that in other hands would be boring or trite, someone I want to reach through to the screen and protect and love.

Or Mi Lan (Ouyang Nana), Snowfall - a tiny, suicidal, abused, seemingly helpless blind girl who decides she needs to protect a deadly ancient vampire as her reason for living and she is unstoppable, fierce and a force of nature in her goal.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

99% of the denizens of the town in Tender Light - selfish every day denizens monstrous because of their very everydayness - they watch abuse and choose to blame the victim and gossip and enjoy the view. I hated them all.

BEST BAD GUY

Li Lun (Fangs of Fortune) - with his glorious mane, equally glorious eventual redemption, and incredibly dramatic attitude to a bad breakup, that was a feast.

The Emperor (Joy of Life 2) - a magnetic monster, smartest and the most ruthless character in any scene - Chen Dao Ming gives an insane performance.

Wang Jia Luo (Heroes) - a revolutionary for conservatism, a young man with brains and ideals who gets destroyed by them, who out-Javerts Javert, his descent into villainy and inability to live in the modern complex world, is one of the most compelling and tragic arcs of the drama.

Shen Yurong (The Double) - both repellent and somehow sympathetic, it takes skill to make me feel for a man who tried to bury his wife alive in ep 1. The performance of the whole drama for me.

City Lord (Eternal Brotherhood) - an utterly vile toad of a man, with nothing truly human and yet hiding it under weak and caring facade. I need him taken out.

"HAROLD, THEY ARE LESBIANS" AWARD

Wen Xiao x Pei Sijing, Fangs of Fortune - Duh.

"HOW DID CENSORS NAP THROUGH THIS" AWARD

Vamp Daddy and Loser Li in Snowfall and the entirety of Fangs of Fortune.

MALE LEAD MOST LIKELY TO BE BROUGHT HOME TO MOTHER

No, thank you! The few modern ones she'd not approve of (a mortician with issues? A teenager? A man who had his memories rearranged?) and the period ones are no go since few moms would be keen on wild-eyed, bloodied sons in law however hot and long haired they may be.

FAVORITE SHIP

Dou Zhao x Song Mo, Blossom - one of the most perfectly in sync couples out there, smart, competent, different kinds of damaged, get each other before they love or even trust each other. Your OTP could never. Unless your OTP is them.

Fan Xian x Lin Wan'er, Joy of Life 2 - she is his peace and his haven and the place his busy mind can rest, he is her safety and happiness and ability to live and not exist. They are everything to me.

Shen Li x Xing Zhi, The Legend of Shen Li - the chemistry, the yearning, the slow inevitable collapse into admittance, the way he protects the world and she protects him, the way they dance around each other, her being the aggressor, his surrender to forbidden emotion, their utter mutual belief in each other’s competence. They are everything to me.

Whatever the throuple (with sides?) thing was going on in Fangs of Fortune - I've raved enough about it elsewhere but that was insane in its intensity and gorgeousness and emotion and narrative arcs.

Runner up: the OTP in Derailment - those two went through some mind and soul breaking stuff and made it out.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Hands down Ruo Wen x Ge Xinwei, Love in the Desert. An amoral, magnetic bandit leader and a princess gone wild on spring break stole the drama utterly. His unhinged energy was so matched by her sfl but with an appropriate target fixation. They made me swoon, laugh and cry.

Amusingly enough, Fu Xin Bo is the male actor in two - the crossdressing sect leader x wolf demon OTP in Sword and Fairy 6, and First Prince x Eldest Princess in Joy of Life 2. What can I say, man knows how to pick them. Those OTPs are both utterly adorable!

If we are talking about an OTP where it’s not that it’s not the main but it’s not a ship-centric drama so they don’t get much time, then we have Si Yilin x Ka Dan, Eternal Brotherhood - they are both such desperately good people in a mad world, tender with each other despite surrounding cruelty and Shen Zhiheng x Mi Lan, Snowfall - a vampire age gap romance done well, the ancient gentleman vampire and the tiny fierce blind girl who decides to protect him.

And of course Qing Geng x Fei, Fangs of Fortune - Ai Mi and Zuo Ye breaking my heart yet AGAIN.

NOTP

The couple in Fox Spirit Matchmaker - such pretty people, and so bland and boring and pointless together. It was kinda amazing.

HOTTEST SCENE

Ka Dan and Si Yilin (Eternal Brotherhood), the primmest, properest OTP of them all, consummate their love without any marriage, but with plenty of golden light.

FAVORITE SCENE

God, so many good scenes this year so far - Fan Xian watching the death of the old censor and the aftermath, in JoL2; his confrontation with Wan'er after she finds out about the truth behind her brother’s death, the scene where he poisons Second Prince, his scene with the registrar. Xiu giving up his future to protect the surrendered soldiers only to come back and find Di Lin executed them all in EB, the scene in Ning’s bedroom when he tells her how he really feels because she can’t hear, the very end of that season and Di Lin striding into the light, Ka Dan and SYL’s letters to each other. XZ literally defying heaven’s lightning and all their longing in Shen Li. The last scene of LYN and his girl in Heroes, the way Heroes always intercuts the golden past of the guard and princess and the dreary present (especially when we see her bicycle spin out of control back when and her husband lose it in the present and this time there is nobody to catch her), the big reveal in Derailment and the hairwashing scene, Mi Lan touching Vamp Daddy’s face as their thing in Snowfall, and the cage stuff, the aborted sex scene in Will Love in Spring, so many scenes in Fangs of Fortune but especially the aftermath on the stairs between ZYC and ZYZ post the latter's loss of control, the final sacrifice,Li Lun x ZYC x ZYZ battle against the bad guy, the whole plague demon storyline, ZYC becoming a demon, ZYZ having to slap himself to nerve himself to walk to his death, everything. And we haven't gotten to it yet, but the scene in all Blossom previews where Song Mo falls to his knees in front of Dou Zhao from a dead run is imprinted in me.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Shen Zhiheng (Gao Weiguang), Snowfall - Vamp Daddy made me hormonal in a way I haven’t felt for a cdrama lead since the heady days of Darren Wang in The Wolf. Those outfits, that hair, that height, that restraint, that lack of restraint. THE CHAINS

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Liu Duan Duan as Second Prince in Joy of Life 2 - what a performance! Unhinged, magnetic, pitiable, terrifying and always mesmerizing. The Second Prince is Fan Xian’s foil and a worthy one. LDD is always a great actor, and with a role that actually gives him something to sink his teeth into - wow!

Runner up - Baron Chen in Kill Me Love Me. It's the year of unhinged royal princes, I guess.

BEST COSTUMES AND WIGS

Fangs of Fortune - the whole design is exquisite!

MOST EXTRA OUTFIT

Burning Flames - this drama was a feat of extraness and that meant costumes but even among those, costumes worn by Peter Ho's human king and Jeremy Tsui's psychotic god stood out.

FAVORITE SECONDARY ML

Wu Shan, Blossom - this man is a literal sunshine angel.

MOST BLATANT INNUENDO MOMENT

The Double - As our FL fondles her wet flower petals in the bath, our ML wields and swings his giant sword shirtless in the rain. That was eye popping.

FAVORITE 2024 CDRAMA SONG

This Chen Xueran song from Eternal Brotherhood:

MVP OF THE YEAR

Liu Xueyi (In Blossom, Kill Me Love Me) - this is the year LXY finally achieved leading man status and he was spectacular in both of his outings - so very different in both but equally magnetic in either even if the dramas themselves had flaws. I have a new fave!

ACTING SURPRISE

Ouyang Nana - Li Muge performs miracles. He made Yang Chaoye be good in Heroes (2022) and now Nana, who was always as wooden as a post, is a revelation as blind abused girl who becomes a vampire in Snowfall.

Hou Minghao - I've always found HMH a stunningly beautiful man and a thoroughly bland actor. But he was surprisingly solid in Dashing Youth and utterly blew me away in Fangs of Fortune. Like jaw on the floor level blown away.

Wang Hongyi - found him bland as paint in LYF (both seasons) but his Yang Kang in Condor Heroes blew me away and then he repeated that feat as a very different character in a very different drama (Snowy Night.) Consider me a new fan.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Joy of Life 2 of course - I need to see the looming confrontation between Fan Xian and the emperor, though not sure how that will pass censorship.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

FF button has cured me of finding contenders for this category, but perhaps cutting out a lot of terrible acting and lack of stage presence of “not yet a eunuch” dude in The Princess Royal, would have improved it.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Lost You Forever 2 - there were other issues with it, but all the cuts couldn’t have helped with coherency.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Same as last year - the emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country! Though they are nibbling at the edges this year. Also fake feminism - I am all for girl power but not when it's ridiculously anachronistic for the period with no explanation at all. And finally NO MORE TRADE DRAMAS PLS PLS PLS

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Men (and women) knowingly fighting for a doomed cause because otherwise they’d cease to be who they are. Or if we are being shallow all the beautiful men in chains.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Lost Your Forever 2 - the first season was my favorite drama of 2023 but LYF2 just fell apart so so so badly, it was almost fascinating. It totally eviscerated the characters and the meanings of the story.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

So many of top dramas on my list are not dramas that were on my radar at all before airing - Heroes, Eternal Brotherhood, Fangs of Fortune, Will Love in Spring and Snowfall were not anything I anticipated, let alone I realized how much I’d love them. Same for Derailment and Tender Light. This has been a year of surprises.

2024 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

I have honestly watched everything I wanted.

BEST NON-2024 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2024

Lighter and Princess, hands down. I rarely even enjoy moderns and this one made it into my Top 5 cdrama of all time. This is how you make a love story. This is literally perfect. PERFECT.

Runner up: Strange Tales of Tang Dynasty - I, a procedural and mystery hater (especially when there is close to no romance) somehow fell like a ton of bricks for this gorgeous, smart, impeccably acted show.

MOST ANTICIPATED

A Dream Within a Dream looks like Fortune Writer with proper length and budget, Legend of the Female General looks epic and I love the novel, Divine Tree with Deng Wei is all my fave tropes, Veil of Shadows is peak Guo Jingming, and so many more.

[feefivefoe]

Please can we hear your thoughts on what Bruce does/thinks when being confronted with his neglect by Jason (and maybe the other boys too)??

Thank you, and have a nice day!

Bruce is the one I have the hardest time characterizing tbh.

I think his first reaction would be denial? He hasn't been the best father, but even he wouldn't go as far as to forget his own chi...

Oh my god he doesn't know how old you are. You were...you were older than Tim but younger than Dick, he thinks.

Wait.

When was your birthday?

Did he ever give you a birthday party?

What wing of the manor did you sleep in?

Where were you right now?

Unlike Tim who starts the unofficial search, Bruce heads right to the batcave to find your official records. Social security number. If you worked anywhere or has anyplace legal to stay, you'd have to input that. He's ashamed he has to go through a government database to find it, rather than simply knowing it.

And just like Tim, he finds nothing. Which scares him beyond belief. Had he lost you already? Did he actually forget about one of his children and then unknowingly replace them? Was he actually guilty of what Jason had accused him of years ago, albeit to a different child?

In reality, you're living solely through cash. Plenty of individuals are eager to avoid paying all their taxes, and are thrilled to accept cash only payments on your rent, or paycheck. Legally, you haven't done anything since graduating high school.

Not necessarily hiding from them, per say, as you don't think they'd go looking, but just because you don't want to be known as a Wayne.

And god, there is so much guilt, fear, and anguish rolling around inside that man. He needs to find out where you are, and if you're okay, and if anybody had done anything to you.

He swears if they have, he'll rip the motherfucker to pieces-

No. That isn't going to help. So instead he checks every reported death within not only Gotham, but any city within a 50 mile radius. For the last 10 years.

As well hidden as you are, nobody can hide from Batman while he's concentrating every effort to find you.

He's hesitant to bring you home at first. How can he call himself your father after forgetting you for your whole time living with him? But his regard for your safety eventually wins out. Until then, you just get a concerning amount of money just...stashed in your apartment??? What the fuck??????

Dick also feels a lot of guilt, but he somewhat subconsciously channels that into abundant overeagerness. Instead of focusing on how many important moments he missed...that he can never get back with his first baby sibling...

...ah, he should focus on all the memories you can make going forward! He has to take you to all his favorite spots, and you take him to yours!

What interests do you have? Are you a go to the aquarium person? Family movie night? Spa night? Just having fun with everyone at dinner? He has to do these things with you! And then you'll be his family again, and he'll love you, and you'll love him-

In spirit, he shows up outside your door like Damian. But he is self aware enough to know that'd freak you out, so instead he 'coincidentally' shows up at your work...in the bad side of town...and his attitude definitely gives away it was planned.

He messes up your "I'm a nobody like all of you" persona you'd spent years cultivating, and by the time he leaves, all your coworkers and customers know that you're Dick Grayson's sibling...which means Bruce Wayne's child, but he likes saying you're related to him more.

Tim doesn't give a fuck at first, like I established. It really is a game to see if he can find you before anybody else does. When he loses that to Bruce (damn it-), he decides he'll just know you BETTER than the others to win.

So he starts literally stalking you and making a psyche profile, like you're a case rather than his sibling. Any interest you've ever listed in your social media is cross checked with any belongings of yours. Merch or posters? Songs you listen to? Any of that content, he consumes as well. He's going to need conversation topics with you.

I'm not entirely sure if he actually loves you as family, or if you're just a hyperfixation that's consistently buzzing at his brain. It's like he wants to dissect, then digest you. Pick you apart piece by piece so he sees every last skin cell, then make that information a part of him

Though, he'd claim it's the former. To him, there's no discernable difference.

He's the one who meets you at your hobbies. Claims an online friend brought it up, but hey, it's crazy to see you again!

Even though it's your first conversation...maybe ever?

He's chatting to you like you haven't been estranged your whole life.

And the look in the eye is...a little unnerving.

[alchemistc]

for the intimacy prompts, it's buck & tommy so of course gotta go with #7 kissing scars or #50 patching up a wound or whichever other prompt sparks joy for u <3

Buck's late. Holy shit he is so late. He'd promised Maddie he'd be at the house like, half an hour ago, but he'd gotten caught up in a conversation with Jana from B shift on his way out the door and it'd been just enough time to cause an extra half hour backup on the highway that had clogged up all his usual back road routes, too.

With this in mind, he's rushing as he parks the Jeep, barely paying any attention as he shoves his door closed and practically sprints up the walkway.

And of course, of course, he's jittery, rushing, so it takes him three tries to get the key in the lock, and by the time he swings the door open with apologies on his lips, he sort of wants the floor to just swallow him up.

There's no Maddie. There's no Maddie or Chim, who would definitely be standing in the entryway giving him shit for somehow ending their shifts at the same time and still managing to be late.

All there is is the faint sound of voices coming from down the hallway, so he follows those until he catches the light leaking out from the open door of the bathroom.

As he nears, the voices become a little clearer. Jee says something, too soft for Buck to catch, a little strain in her voice he's vaguely concerned about until the other voice responds, in a familiar cadence that has Buck stopping dead in his tracks for half a heartbeat before he remembers - crap, he'd invited Tommy over, too, when it became clear it was the only 'free' night they'd have for like, six days, and now not only is he late to babysit his own niece but he's left Tommy the task of sending Maddie and Chim off on their date.

Buck ignores the little skip of his heartbeat at the idea that Maddie and Chim had felt comfortable just ... leaving Jee in Tommy's hands. That's a dumb train of thought - Chim knows Tommy, and Maddie hasn't made a secret of how much she likes Tommy, too, there's no reason to get gooey about it.

"...and viola!" comes Tommy's exclamation, and in the bathroom, Jee giggles. He must be making a face, or doing some gesturing. Jee's a little obsessed with Tommy, still, just as enchanted as Buck by the way his focus is always so intent when she's telling him something, by the way he's always got a follow up question, by the way he's not remotely afraid to dissolve into giggles with her.

"Now you!" Jee exclaims, and Buck knocks on the doorframe, tilts his head in to get the scope of things. Jee's up on the counter, legs kicking, a bright orange bandage on her knee and the box in her hand being brandished in Tommy's face where he's kneeling on the bathroom floor. There's a tube of Neosporin open next to her, and some bloody paper towels in the trash, but Tommy and Jee both glance up at him with smiles on their faces.

"Hi Jee," Buck says, and Jee waves, in that weird age where she'll be talking a mile a minute and then go completely mute for like twenty minutes until she's had time to process something. She kicks at the cabinet below her and shakes the box of Band-Aids at Tommy's head, and Buck gets the message. "Hi, Tommy."

Something soft and quiet passes between them. Buck's trying to be cool about this relationship, but there are times where the comparisons start to rattle around in his brain, a bit, and he's - it's never felt like this. He can't imagine Chim and Maddie even feeling comfortable enough to leave Jee alone with Natalia or Taylor, let alone actually asking them to join him for an evening of Bluey and hotdog Mac and Cheese. And it's - maybe he's just older, more settled in his bones. Maybe the secret sauce is those relationships not working out, so that Buck knew exactly what he was looking for, and what he wasn't. He's grateful for that, but mostly he thinks it's just Tommy - how steady he is, how grounded, how one look from Tommy can ease a days worth of worries crawling under Buck's skin.

"Sixty words a minute for the last forty-five and suddenly you don't wanna talk to your Uncle Buck?" Tommy teases, massive hand curling around the bottom of Jee's foot to shake her leg, and Jee giggles and ducks, arms crossing and head shaking 'no' as she presses her heel into Tommy's palm and nearly launches herself into the mirror behind her. Buck slides a hand behind her head to steady her - clearly she's a little accident prone today, and he's not particularly in the mood for a visit to the hospital this evening.

The movement brings him close enough for Tommy to touch, and he wraps his free hand around Buck's calf, squeezing for a moment before he uses it as leverage to lift himself off the bathroom floor. This bathroom isn't nearly large enough for two grown ass men standing shoulder to shoulder, they barely fit toe to toe.

"Hi," Buck says, when Tommy comes level with him, chests brushing and a familiar fond look in his eye.

"Hi," he repeats, grin going wide, and next to them Jee squirms and grabs at both their arms.

"No kiss!"

Buck tilts his head, and Tommy mirrors it, brow raised. "You heard the lady," he admonishes in a wry tone when Buck's gaze darts immediately for his lips.

This doesn't seem to satisfy Jee-Yun, who leans forward to smack at Tommy's wrist. "No, kiss!"

The change in tone is enough for both of them to glance down at her. She's pointing at her bandaged knee, which makes a lot more sense. Shed spent the last 118 barbeque demanding every couple in her immediate eyeline kiss for her entertainment, like an extremely cute fork against a champagne glass.

Buck's not thinking about weddings, though. He's not.

(He absolutely is, but at least he and Tommy have, like, talked about it. In vague hypotheticals, but... still.)

Jee slaps her knee for emphasis.

Clearly whatever she did hadn't injured her too badly, but there is a rule. You bandage something, you gotta kiss it better.

Tommy eyes the distance back to the floor like he's eighty years old, not a fit forty, so Buck makes it easier on all of them by squeezing in and swinging Jee over his shoulders, her legs fucking pinwheeling enough to force Tommy to duck as her breathless giggles fill the echoing tiles of the bathroom. Settled onto Buck's shoulders, Jee digs her fingers into Buck's hair, and Tommy leans in and makes an exaggerated smacking noise as he presses his lips to her bandage.

She shifts her weight, pleased, and tugs hard on Buck's ear. "Okay, now kiss," she demands, and Tommy snorts with laughter as he leans in.

[r0-boat]

Whb Demon Kings as fathers from best to worst.

Sfw yet dark because children are involved

This is just for fun a little fantasy don't have babies with any of these chuckle fucks.

Cw: toxic familial (kings love their kids, but they ain't perfect :/ the kid are no better)

I firmly believe that Satan is a good father. The only reason why he's so low is because his anger. His child is a firecracker and he fully supports that rage anger "That's my little baby... Off to destroy the angels..."

Lucifer

When he does not know how to take care of a child he will sit down and read. He will make sure your child and you are healthy and safe.

Holding his child in his arms, His eyes soften this tiny little being you had made and he helped bring into this world.

Lucifer can be overprotective over his child at any age they are still his little young one And that will never change, He helps parent happily holding his child and his arms and feeding them. He is the demon of pride and he wants his child to be the best. He wants his child ready for one day they will rule Paradise Lost. When they're old enough he will tell them everything.

Lucifer is a strict father yet caring. He strict because he loves The both of you these rules are in place for a reason.

Satan

He is the guy to SCREAM his child name in assemblies, and aggressively root for them in team sports. "FUCK YEA! THATS MY FUCKING KID!!"

Trying to punish would be a nightmare. Your kid is the child of Wraith They and his father getting fights half of Gehenna will be destroyed. At least Satan is there to stop tantrums.

He is the angry soccer mom yelling at team to get in the car so he can take them to a game to beat the shit out of Tartaros team and mammon's kid. He has snacks juice everything

Mammon

Listen Mammon's got money so he with get his kid anything they will ever desire. The reason why he's third is because that child will be spoiled rotten. Tartaros little royal...

Anything that kid wants Mammon will get. Good luck trying to unravel that when Mammon is constantly telling them about how important they are how they own everything.

That's his child so of course everything he owns is theirs now... But the child is the prince of greed so they are gonna want things on there own. There with be desputes on gold and materials. However on like Satan and his child these two actually talk through their disputes instead of wrestling they have a very mature almost interrogation like discussion of what comes they own and they will own.

If you think the spoiling for you is going to stop when the child is born you're wrong. In fact now that you have a wealthy child and husband they're both going to work together to spoil beloved Mom/spouse.

Beelzebub

This man does not handle responsibility well. He loves his kid but He will be skipping out on at most 50% on parental responsibilities. He does start stepping up a little bit. He actually does go to work...

Beel adores his kid, Beel spends a lot of time with them. He bought a baby sling to carry them around when he goes to work. He wants to show his child all the beautiful spots in hell. When any devil asks him about his kid he with tell you all about them.

Sadly he is forgetful especially with dates. Please remind him about important miles downs or important things that his child has going on. He will feel very remorseful if he forgets.

He can be a good father, just watch that man.

Leviathan

No one is surprised. This man is the literal embodiment of envy. Don't get me wrong he does love his child. It is his kid, and he is trying. He wants to be a father He wants to be a father he never got, as a kid he didn't even know what a parent was So of course he'd want to give his child a life he wish he got. He holds his child, He helps you feed them, And he brings them everywhere. He lets you rest. However that jealousy does flare up which leads him to do childish things.

And he is protective of his kid. of course he is. That is his kid. His kid with you a proof of his love. Proof that you are his. Every time he looks at them he sees a mix of you and him and his heart fills with love. A moment of softness with Levi when he thinks about how his child will a fine Prince one day.

And as the child of envy they are going to be a literal copy of him. When they get older there will be a lot of father vs child moments especially with getting your attention. Your child loves their father, And they do want to make him proud. They love being The Prince of envy, They want to be just like him.

I think parent child duo is even more dangerous. Teaming up to fight a common threat is more often than you think. Envy is just a weird way they bond I guess. You will never get peace in that household.

[sadhours]

the diner - part one

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, masturbation briefly mentioned, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

read on ao3

part two

Rain slips down, leaving clean streaks across the scum splattered front window of the shop. It’s deep into the evening, town’s asleep except for the truck stop directly next door. Bright lights illuminating the gas pumps, convenience store and the 50’s style diner. The one you work at.

And in the darkness of Route One Garage, Billy stands at the window. Watching. Eyes following as your hair bobs up and down with your steps as you run around the diner. Taking orders, filling coffee cups, carrying hot plates of greasy food made on grills cleaned less often than the health department wants. He’s eaten there, knows you can taste the filth in the food. But it’s the only place to get food this late for miles. The place is full of truckers, different faces but they might as well be the same copy of a person. In and out all day long. Billy’s seen the way they talk to you, been witness to it and just sat there with his blood boiling. Didn’t do anything about it because he’s a pussy and also, because you don’t know him. Sure, he comes in semi-regularly but he doesn’t really talk to you. He can’t for some reason. But before he moved to this teeny, shithole of a place, Billy wasn’t like this. He could talk to any woman. You didn’t look at him like most women did, though.

He watches you like this almost every night. Every night you’re there. Fantasizes about the things he wants to do to you. Sometimes those things are questionable, violent even but sometimes they’re just fantasies of talking to you— making you fall in love.

But he did something that woke up these dark demons deep in him. Well, two things.

Billy still has visions of the shape shifting monster. Haunts his dreams. Recalls each time he led an innocent person to the monster. Regretted not leading his father to the monster. So when he crawled out of the slimy, pulsing portal. He found his dad. Did what he’d always been too weak to do. Billy wonders if that monster still possesses him. If there’s still some of those black, gunky slugs in his stomach. Puked them up for weeks, it felt like.

But he’s thousands of miles from Hawkins. Though it feels like part of him is still contaminated. Made him reclusive, awkward, scarred up. Maybe that’s why he’s scared to talk to you. He knows he doesn’t look like he used to. His hair’s longer, his eyes are darker, his body has starfish shaped scars patterned all over. That charm has been evacuated. He’s not as suave.

Obsessive. That’s how he is now and he knows it but he can’t stop himself.

Billy knows where you work, he knows what you drive and he knows where you live. He has the name of your boss, your parents and your ex boyfriend. He’s followed you to the dive bar in town, walked around the general store and kept his eye on you and the things you buy. He’s full blown stalking you. It’s not his fault, though. That monster gave him this sickness and this town gave him loneliness. A recipe for disaster.

And you’re just so fucking pretty. The way your face lights up when you smile stains his eyes when he closes them. If he focuses hard enough he can hear your voice. Same script over and over.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Shop busy, today?”

“Usual tonight?”

“Coffee, eggs over easy, hash browns , extra bacon and sausage, right?”

“Want some more coffee?”

“Anything else tonight? Maybe some apple pie?”

“Ya sure? It’s really good apple pie, I promise.”

“I’ll just get your check, then.”

Sometimes Billy can finish when he’s thinking about those words. Which is sick and he knows that but he feels like he can’t help himself. Wonders what you think of him. You’re not a bitch or anything but you don’t ever look at him like girls used to look at him. Nothing like the moms laid out by the pool. Not like you think he’s good looking but like he’s any other face you see. Which infuriates him but makes him sad about himself more than anything. Occasionally he looks at himself in the mirror until he feels sick. Until he sees his dad. Tells himself he needs a haircut, needs to shave the mustache. Sleep more so he can lose the bags under his eyes. Maybe you’d look at him differently.

The lights flicker, buzz loud enough he can hear it in the shop. He leaves. Locks up the place and his boots take him to the diner. To the same booth he always sits in. Lights up a smoke and meets your eyes from across the place. You don’t flush the way girls used to. In fact, Billy can’t register any kind of reaction on your face. So he flicks his ash on the floor because you’ll have to sweep it up and it feels like he won. Won what? He doesn’t really know, but he wants you to clean up his mess. Gives him some kind of satisfaction.

The script starts when you walk up. A variation of it.

“Late tonight,” you say, filling up his coffee cup without asking. “Must be busy.”

“Sure,” he says. Always keeps it short because you don’t meet his eyes and he can’t meet yours. Instead he stares at your hands, pretty fingers wrapped around the carafe’s handle.

You walk away. To put the coffee away he guesses. Stares at the mug, wraps his own fingers around it and takes a careful sip. His eyes find you behind the counter, giving a look of disdain to your coworker who said something and then you grin. Laugh at whatever she said to you. Then you’re back at his booth and his eyes fall to the table as the script resumes.

“Usual?”

“Yeah.”

“Eggs over easy, hash browns, extra bacon and sausage,” you recite from memory and Billy gets a bit of satisfaction from it. Proud of you for some reason.

“You remember,” he says, low and steady.

You scoff and chuckle, the sound makes his thighs tighten and you say, “Kind of hard to forget it. You’ve never changed it.”

Bold for some reason, he replies, “Maybe I should.”

“We do have a whole six pages on that menu. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open it, though,” you offer and this is new. It’s off script. Both you and him.

Billy smirks, flips open the menu and peers down at the first page. It’s greasy, a stain of sticky jam at the top left corner and he immediately catches a typo. He purses his lips and continues to flick through it. You pull the notepad from your apron but he’s too nervous to look up at your face. He flips another page and then, finally, looks up at your face.

“What do you like?”

You look shocked. He likes that.

“Uh,” you laugh, a soft little sound and Billy’s skin is hot. “Our patty melt is pretty damn good.”

He closes the menu, slides to the end of the table as he replies, “I’ll have that then.”

“Wow, you’re full of surprises tonight,” you quip, “Fries or potato salad.”

“Why don’t you give me a surprise,” Billy says and then looks away because you’re too fucking gorgeous and he’s on a roll. Kind of feels like his old self right now and looking at you would fuck that up.

You pick up the menu and laugh again, “Sure thing.”

You walk away and he takes a hit of his neglected cigarette, ash falling to the table as he does so. Another mess of his for you to clean. Makes his whole body tingle at the thought. You don’t check on him before his food is done. But Billy keeps checking on you, eyes bouncing up to follow you as you work. Finishes his cigarette and coffee. Takes in the uniform you’re in. The big, bold name on the pin clasped into your blouse.

When you bring his food, you ask, “Got anymore surprises for me tonight?” and his mind runs wild. Sick fantasies. Ideas that make him feel guilty and the charm he’d felt after years slips far, far away.

“No.”

But you say, “Good. Don’t wanna overwhelm me too much.”

You fill his coffee again and walk away. Then he eats and the script resumes as normal. He pays. Sits in his car until all the lights in the diner shut off. Watches you walk to your car, waits a beat after you drive off before he starts his car and follows you. To your house. Keeps waiting until you go inside to park behind your car on the street and watch the numerous lights flick on and off. Aiding in him as he imagines exactly how your night plays out. He thinks you go into the kitchen first. Maybe you get a drink, perhaps a beer. When he’s followed you to the bar, he’s seen you drink beer. Then that lights flicks off and the TV turns on. Can see the variety of brightness and colors through the window. He thinks of what you might watch. Imagines sitting on the couch with you, cuddled up. His thoughts get perverted quickly and before he knows it, he’s staring at your window with his dick in his hand with the fantasy of your mouth on him.

After he finishes, he’s still watching. Until the changing lights of the TV go black and a different light turns on. Bathroom. That window is small. You brush your teeth, maybe wash your face. He takes this time to get out of his car, walk to the window on the side of the house, crouch down and peer through the broken blinds. Your bedroom. You turn the light on, back to the bathroom to turn that light off and return. Close your door and undress. You sleep nude but you keep a robe next to your bed. You flick off the light. Sink into bed and Billy stays for a while. Until he knows you’re asleep. He thinks about sneaking inside but he hasn’t gathered the gusto to do so yet. The whole watching you through the window is new enough. But he’ll escalate soon. Won’t be able to help himself.

Then Billy goes home. Back to his shady little apartment. Falls asleep on the couch with infomercials playing on the TV. He’ll wake up and do the same thing again tomorrow.

—

Dark tendrils wrap around his wrists and ankles. Pull him in opposite directions. His eyes are wide open but his body feels paralyzed. He tries to scream but it’s gargled and there’s a monster limb attaching to his mouth, pulsing down his throat. Fills his belly with baby slugs. The sticky limb retreats him and the constraints on his ankles and wrists unravel and he’s shaking. Thrashing. Screaming. Crying. Pleading.

Then Billy’s awake, sits up straight and pants. Looks around his room and there’s nothing there. Just him and the mess of his belongings. He cries. Then he showers. Makes himself vomit and he sees no slugs. No sludge. Just the dinner and foamy beers he had. Billy showers, water so hot it burns— turns his skin patchy red and tingly. He vomits again. Watches the sick circle the drain. Cries some more. Feels the loneliest he’s ever been. Wonders why he can’t kill himself. Why he doesn’t have the strength to do that.

He’s up too early. Doesn’t work for another three hours. Billy paces his apartment. Chain smokes and pounds coffee. He briefly thinks of Maxine. Stalks over to his freezer and reaches in it for the bottle of vodka he keeps in there and guzzles some of it down. Drowns out Max. Maybe he should make sure you get to work safe. He has to do something. Anything.

The drive to your house is routine, but he doesn’t often do it in daylight. Can’t risk you seeing him, so Billy parks a couple houses down. Chain smokes while he waits and soon enough, you’re walking to your car.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Seventeen as fake dating scenarios

⟪‘95 + ‘96 line version⟫

other versions: ⟪‘97 + ‘98 + '99 line version⟫

SEUNGCHEOL: saving you from unwanted attention.

You weren’t entirely sure what had possessed you to come to this club that night. It’s not that you didn’t like parties. Rather, you had heard plenty of disturbing rumours about this part of town. And yet, here you were, at the bar, nervously sipping your drink while trying to keep an eye out for your friends.

“Come here often, pretty lady?” came a question from your right, along with a breath that smelled of all kinds of alcohol and freshly smoked tobacco. You willed yourself not to cringe.

“I’m not here to talk to guys like you,” you said and tried to walk away.

He caught your wrist in his hand, pulling you back. “Now, now, no need to be rude. How about I buy you a drink?”

Instead of even considering humouring him, you wondered if anyone would hear you scream over the booming volume of the music. Luckily, you wouldn’t have to.

Your wrist was pulled free from his grasp at a moment’s notice. A broad-shouldered man stood between you and the guy, towering over his seated form, practically oozing with annoyance. “How about you stop hitting on my girl?”

Hold on. Your eyes widened.

He turned to you and offered his hand, smiling kindly before sending you a conspiratory wink. “Let’s go, darling. You said you’d save me a dance before we went home.”

You breathed out, trying your best to not alert the other – possibly much worse – guy. “Right. Let’s go.”

As he led you towards the dance floor, his hand hold yours ever so gently, he told you, “I’m sorry for doing that. You must be scared. I just worried he’d do something to you if I didn’t intervene.”

He seemed nice and attractive enough, you decided after a moment of thought. “Alright. I demand a dance as an apology.”

JEONGHAN: swindling your way through a stupid bet

“Listen, if you do me this favour, I’ll split the money with you, 50/50.”

You should’ve never taken that offer. Not from Yoon Jeonghan. It was taking every ounce of your self-control to not slap his hand every time it came to rest on your waist. You despised this man and everything he did and said and thought. Was 100 bucks worth it?

“Are you guys going to the festival this weekend?” Mingyu wondered, eyeing you two suspiciously. As your best friend, he was more than sceptical and you couldn’t even blame him.

“Of course! My darling is so excited to go see BTOB live. Right, my darling?”

A pinch at your waist reminded you to smile a little nicer and when you turned to “smile” at Jeonghan, you glared at him instead, warning him silently. Two could play that game. Through gritted teeth, you spoke, “Of course. I can’t wait. I hope they perform our song.”

“Our song?”

“Your song?” Mingyu blinked. “You guys have a song? What is it?”

You smiled as innocently as you could, daring Jeonghan to pull you into his shenanigans again. “Yeah, what song is it, my love?”

You were sure every person within a mile of you could hear the gears turning in Jeonghan’s head as he tried to think of a song? “Right. Our song.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows rose in suspicion. “That being?”

Jeonghan relaxed back into his seat. “Of course it’s Movie. (Y/n) and I love to dance to that song. It was our first dance.”

“That’s not a particularly cute song.” Mingyu’s suspicions were rising. 

You reminded yourself that there was 100 bucks on the line and said, “Well, we’re not a particularly cutesy couple. I think Movie suits us: it’s fun!”

“Right! And we always—“ you could feel Jeonghan’s venomous glare as he spoke, “–have so much fun.”

JOSHUA: fake proposal for free dessert

“Do you think they offer free dessert for proposals?”

Joshua caught on quickly, already reaching into his pocket. “Supposedly. Or so I’ve read from about a hundred online reviews. Do you want to or shall I?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” you suggested and he agreed. A quick game determined that you were the winner.

Joshua sighed and let out a soft whine. “But I’m wearing my good pants.”

“Don’t you dare slack,” you warned him. “I expect a proper proposal, one knee and all.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, but the dessert better be good. And!” He lifted a finger to point it at you almost accusingly. “If you even try to do the “but what about your wife and kids” thing again, I will make sure you'll live to regret it.”

“Oh, come on!” You laughed. “It was one time and I agreed eventually, did I not?”

“Yeah, after embarrassing me.”

“But the waiter gave you even more dessert for your embarrassment,” you pointed out. “So if anything, you kind of owe me.”

“This is the last time I do this with you. Only because I doubt anyone would ever propose to you in any other context.”

“Oh, ouch. Just break my heart while you’re at it.”

JUNHUI: partnering up for amusement park rides

“I’m just saying, you’re lonely, I’m lonely, most rides require people to pair up. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to pair up with a complete stranger for every ride.”

He contemplated. “… I hate that you’re kind of right.”

“Okay, perfect. So we’re best friends, going to rides together. Cool?”

“Cool.”

It was not cool. While waiting in line for the newest roller coaster, a sweet middle-aged lady with her daughter tapped on your shoulder to ask you, “You guys are just adorable! How long have you guys been a couple?”

“We’re not—”

"It’s our anniversary today,” Junhui piped up before you could finish your sentence. Your brain completely froze like a 2002 Dell laptop trying to run Minecraft.

Your lack of reaction didn’t stop him. His arm wrapped around you snuggly as he made up an elaborate back-story about how you met while volunteering at a cat shelter and how he asked you out and how he had asked you to move in this morning – none of which was even remotely close to a truth.

“Why would you make all that up?” you asked him as the ride was about to start. “Are you insane?”

He grimaced. “I panicked! Besides – it got us a ride ticket for free, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, because the staff think we’re celebrating our anniversary.”

“Then complain less and remember your back-story. Who knows what other discounts we could get if we keep this up.”

It was then that you realised that you had created a monster.

SOONYOUNG: fake dating to avoid an arranged marriage

“Your Highness, you can’t keep dodging marriage proposals like this. I doubt your parents care that you’re ‘dating’–” he drew air quotes around the word “–the royal pet caretaker.”

“Well, it seems to be working well enough,” you pointed out and affectionately rested your chin against his shoulder as your mother – the queen – passed by the opened doors of the room. You glared after her. “I don’t understand why they want me to marry so bad. It’s not like I’m heir to the throne.”

“And you never will be if you keep acting like we’re an item.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, Soonyoung,” you scolded him playfully and poked his puffed out cheeks.

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “You must love all the perks of dating royalty without actually dating royalty.”

He laughed. “Well, I can’t say no to getting an extra dessert after dinner.”

“There’s my boy.” You hummed in thought. “Should we step it up a bit? For more perks for you and less pressure for me?”

“What do you have in mind, Your Highness?”

“First, stop calling me Your Highness,” he grimaced at the idea, “and second, we have to show them we’re serious about this. We have to step up our game.”

“What exactly do you have in mind, princess?”

You smirked just as you heard your mother’s voice coming closer again. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – whether it was out of his own free will or because this was a royal order, you would never know.

WONWOO: a cover story for an investigation

“I just don’t think that’s right,” Wonwoo said while staring at the board, his brows furrowed in concentration. “What would be her motive?”

“I don’t know. Money?” you suggested between flipping through the pages of the report you'd been sent. “Maybe she was jealous of her husband’s daughter from the previous marriage and—”

The doorbell rang.

“Please be the pizza guy,” you whispered under you breath but hid the report regardless and rushed to the door. You could never be too careful in this line of work.

Instead, Mrs Yoon – the very woman you had been discussing – smiled at you at the door. “Hi, dear! I just came to check on you; I feel like I haven’t seen you all day!”

You forced on a smile. “Wonwoo and I have just been so busy thinking about how to decorate the house – make it more our own, you know?”

“Oh right! Is your darling husband home too? I wasn’t interrupting, was I?” She winked and you didn’t like the implications behind that. She then leaned over to whisper slyly, “Who knows, maybe you’ll need to decorate a nursery soon.”

You gulped. “Oh, not yet, surely. We’re still—We haven’t even—”

“Darling, who is it?” Wonwoo’s voice sounded like the that of an angel coming to save you from this awkward situation. You breathed out in relief as he added, “Can you come help me move this cupboard?”

“Well,” you smiled apologetically, “it sounds like I’m needed. I’d love to catch up tomorrow though!”

“I’ll see you then, sweetheart!” She left with another wink. You could not have closed the door faster.

“She isn’t catching onto us, is she?” Wonwoo wondered when you returned to him.

You slumped into the sofa. “Nope. If anything, she’s buying our cover a little too well.”

JIHOON: fake dating because he lied to his friends

“I still can’t believe you posted an advertisement for a fake girlfriend,” you mused as you watched him working out.

He scoffed. “I still can’t believe you actually responded to it. What if I was a creep?”

“Fair point.” Not that you’d ever admit that you only responded to the ad because you recognised his name and phone number because you had been harbouring a crush on him this entire year. He never had to know. “So, why are we at the gym? Who are we meeting here?”

“Literally all of my friends that matter. So… I don’t know. How does the whole fake dating thing work?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the boss.”

“I don’t know. I assumed that because you answered the ad, you must have some experience.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but unfortunately, I do not have any experience. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Well—” You paused, ears burning all of a sudden. “Not everything everything. Like, I have boundaries but—”

“Ay-yo, Jihoon!” Soonyoung’s familiar voice filled the gym. “Are you ready to get absolutely shredded and—Oh.” The previously loud tiger turned into a shy hamster. “Hi. Who are you?”

“That’s (Y/n),” Jihoon introduced with a smile that just naturally screamed confidence, “my girlfriend. The one I told you about.”

Soonyoung’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you were serious?! You have a girlfriend?!” He turned to you. “Are you really his girlfriend?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, earning a short laugh from you. He then walked over and rested his hand on your shoulder, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Baby, meet Soonyoung. He doesn’t get any less annoying than that.”

NOTE: i wrote these as an attempt to get rid of the stupid writer's block i've been dealing with all month lol

[redstarwriting]

the clash | ii. time bomb

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, y’all almost fight twice lmao

a/n: felt bad only posting the first chapter, so here’s the second one as well! i’ll get the third one out as soon as i can, but a bitch has work tomorrow and the next day. please enjoy chapter two everyone! and if you wanna be added to the taglist just let me know! :)

now reading: ii. time bomb

previous chapter: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: iii. black planet

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Hobie swings his way to where he’s sure Gwen is, and in doing so he will probably also find Miles and Pavitr. He’s sure he looks like if someone said the wrong thing to him, he would punch them in the face, because honestly? He just might. And he doesn’t care. You pissed him off. With your stupid opinions. People like you are the reason anarchy can never succeed, you’re either all in or you’re all out. He hates the way you dismissed him, which is a shame because he really thought you were drop-dead gorgeous.

Speaking of drop, that thought makes him drop. Like, actually. He face plants.

He groans. Fucking hell, he’s never had to deal with this type of hatred before. Usually, it’s just cut and dry ‘I hate you cause xyz’, but fuck you are making it hard. While he hates you for what you said, he loves your style, and he respects you standing your ground and not giving into him with your beliefs, but at the same time, you piss him off. He glances around, “Meant to do that.” No one in particular hears him, but he quickly webs off again. He searches for bright blond hair, and sure enough, he sees Gwen. She’s chilling in the common room Hobie claimed as his own a while back. He claimed it by… redecorating. He just made it feel more like home, and since Miguel is such a lame ass, he didn’t appreciate all the colorful spray paint and broken furniture. But Hobie doesn’t really give a fuck. As he gets closer, he can see that Miles and Pavitr are there too, and… absolutely fucking not.

He lands directly next to you with an unamused look on his face. “And who invited you into my home away from home?” You look at him and roll your eyes. “This your place? Well, that explains why it looks like someone gave Mayday Parker a 50-pack of markers and told her to go to town in here–”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“–and to answer your question, I invited myself,” you say smugly, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t try to make me like you, it’s not gonna work, love,” he growls, and everyone can tell by the way he said love that he certainly did not mean it as a term of endearment. “I wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” you say, imitating his accent in over-exaggerated way. “I don’t think they are actually calling him their mate,” Pavitr whispers to Miles, who gives him an expression practically dripping in ‘no shit.’ Hobie tears his gaze away from you and looks at Gwen. “We need to show this twat around,” he huffs, and Gwen raises her eyebrows. “We? Isn’t that your job,” she says, and Miles nods. “Yeah, I remember you said you made a deal with Miguel that–”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my ‘job,’ when have I ever followed the rules of a fuckin’ job?” he seethes, and you snicker. “Aw, how endearing, the punk rebel has a job. I’ll be sure to go to Miguel and tell him you’re doing amazing, so that you don’t get fired, in fact, you could get promoted!”

“That’s it,” Hobie growls and turns to you, grabbing the neck of his guitar and getting ready to use it. You smirk and slightly crouch, ready to jump away or towards him, based on his next move. “OKAY! Okay, we’ll help you just put the damn guitar down,” Miles says, jumping between the two of you. Hobie looks at him before looking at you with a deep frown. “I don’t need help. I just need to make sure other people are here, so I don’t murder this nitwit,” he says, tossing his guitar back so it hangs off his back again. “If anythin’, you’re helpin’ them.”

“I don’t need help either. Especially not yours. I’ll find my way around here myself,” you say, crossing your arms. He turns and offers you a smile. “Well now that you say you definitely don’t want my help, looks like I’m gonna be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and assist you.”

“My hero,” you say sarcastically, pushing past him and walking out of the room. He motions for the others to follow you first, and walks out last, slinking in the back. Gwen takes up the role he usually plays in showing everyone around. You nod and listen, occasionally asking a question and cracking a joke. He hates to admit it, but your jokes are actually very funny. It’s refreshing to hear deadpan, straightforward, dry comedy instead of the puns and silly jokes all the other Spider-People love to make. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Just watches you.

‘Like a creep,’ you think, catching him staring at you for what feels like the 50th time. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting from him. Truthfully, he’s probably the most attractive person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Such a tragedy he’s also the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with.

“Your suit is so cool, by the way,” Miles says to you, and you give him a grin. “Thanks. Made it myself.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” you hear Hobie pipe up, and your head snaps towards him. “Because it’s so stylish, fashionable, and better than anything you could do yourself?”

“No. ‘Cause it looks like it was put together by a colorblind toddler. If you look close enough, the blacks don’t even match,” he says, smirking. Now this was a lie. All the black in your suit was a perfect shade of raven, he just knew it would piss you off. And it did. “Fuck you. At least my suit doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old who just discovered Hot Topic for the first time,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth there, mate.”

“You watch yours, mate.”

“Okay, both of you shhhhhhh!” Gwen says, and you both look at her. “Don’t tell me what to do–”

“Stop talking like me!”

“What?! You stop talking like me!”

“Oh my God, the romantic tension is through the roof right now!” Pavitr suddenly pipes up, and now the both of you are staring at him, dark expressions on your faces. “I’d rather be eaten alive by a single piranha so it would take days until I finally succumbed to the sweet release of death,” you hiss and Hobie nods. “Finally. Somethin’ we agree on.” He turns and looks at you, and you roll your eyes at him. “Way to de-escalate, buddy,” Miles whispers to Pavitr, and Pavitr sighs as Miles walks a little faster to catch up with everyone else. “But I was being serious…”

Gwen continues to show you around, and when she finally finishes, you all are back at ‘Hobie’s common room.’ You walk back inside and sit on the tattered and broken-down couch. The way the room is decorated is kind of cool, you must admit. You’re just not a fan of the mismatched colors everywhere. And it could use a couple more decorations. Like bat skeletons. Or just live bats. That would be adorable. “Thanks for showing me around,” you thank Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. “Not you, though,” you say to Hobie and he snorts. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to thank me for anything.”

“Why do you two hate each other so much? Didn’t you literally just meet?” Miles asks, looking exhausted from the snarky remarks coming from both of you. “We did,” you confirm. “And we don’t get along cause they don’t have any strong belief system.”

“Yes, I do! I’m just realistic, and he can’t understand that,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Realistic, eh? I already told you I led a rebellion.”

“And I told you it doesn’t matter because everyone is shit. How many villains have you fought since this rebellion you led?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“So, you’ve fought at least one. What did that rebellion get you then, huh?”

“I recommend you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Please, do try. I need a new skeleton for my collection,” you growl and the two of you jump at each other. Luckily, Gwen and Miles web both of you and hold you back. “That’s enough of that,” Gwen says. “I have an idea,” Miles says, “why don’t we go visit your universe, (Y/n)? Maybe then Hobie can see why you’re so… negative.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere near that place,” Hobie nearly yells. “Good. I don’t want you there anyway.”

“On second thought, I think it might be very eye-opening to see the world you grew up in. Maybe I can team up with your sinister six and put you in your place,” he spits out at you, causing you to glare at him and flip him off again. “A field trip sounds fun, especially after all this just happened. Maybe it will help the two of you lighten up,” Pavitr says, and you both roll your eyes. “Fine. You can all come. But if you step one toe out of line, Hobie–”

“What? You’ll yell at me?”

“No. I’ll torture you to the point that you would beg me for death.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard​ @sparklyphantom​​ @weyrrii*

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

[partycatty]

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?