#get out i need to go to my mind palace

[schreibmaid]

Gosh, Intelligence is so sexy. Especially when located in 221b Baker Street.

[whatarewedoingdude]

Just imagining Alex as a religious history teacher who nonstop rants to his students about how the church is fucked up

[rintoki]

every hour is loving kaveh hours

[mercless]

i would like to know more about hn talon's feathery ailment ... is it their demonic nature clashing with the angelic blood that is resulting in their worsening condition ? is there a reason why it is specifically feathers / bird-likeness as opposed to anything else ( i.e. would other demons undergo similar transformations if they also got contaminated with angel blood ) ? can you share more about how you envision the progression and prognosis ? will it kill them or will there be some sort of final stage of their transformation ( whether that's a bad thing because it only gets worse and worse , or a good thing because maybe now that it is complete , they won't be in as much pain and discomfort 🥺 ) ? is it at all affected by whatever they're doing / thinking / feeling / experiencing ( tamagotchi talon ... ) ? what do they do to manage their condition ? does it make them self-conscious or feel badly about their physical appearance ?

"-But it looks like the angels ain't done with you."

I don't recommend that anyone ingests angel blood (good thing that's a difficult thing to do these days) but I wouldn't want to definitively say how it works for anyone else either. and I think it makes sense if talon isn't too sure either, with not meeting anyone else in a similar predicament as they (yet... will get to this later) but say if it were another angel Talon had attacked and drank the blood of, I believe they would still be having similar symptoms, as angels are quite feathery beings (varus with his arm of feathers, irelia with her wings and other choicely placed feathers.) But the particular angel they stole from has had a specific impact on just how the blood has changed them.

The reason for their worsening condition is because the blood has a powerful influence, like an undiluted acid. And it is so dramatic of an change because this influence is the polar opposite to their demonic existence. The more that Talon fights against the changes, the less symbiotic the blood and their demonic nature melds, the more violent and painful the experience is for them. And without any interference either with understanding or other experiences, I see it as a bitter, drawn-out struggle. Just wallowing in fatalism until Talon is nothing more than an unrecognisable pile of bile, blood, and feathers that tore itself apart...

Fortunately for them, the more Talon interacts with their rotting world and the people (and creatures) also struggling in it, the more they will come to terms with their own potential, and reflect on how they can be something more than what they once were. Learning that they don't have to let their worst action define their existence. More than just accepting what they did, and putting in the effort to understand emotions and how to be an active part of life, will mean they are not stubbornly fighting against their affliction. This will increase the speed of it's progression, but also be far less painful of an experience since they won't be actively fighting against it. When Talon is unable to call upon any of their demonic abilities anymore, the physical changes of the affliction will be complete, but they will continue to learn and better themself in an attempt to make up for all the wrong and pain they have caused in their existence. I can picture this happening in two or three decades time, in which there is no longer any hellfire, brimstone or summoned weapons. Talon is no longer a demon, but maybe by then they'll also know if the powers that be would accept a malformed, inexperienced, makeshift samaritan as a stand-in. But that's a hopeful thought, thinking they'll live that long.

Going back to the symptoms of the affliction. Previously, Talon's form was one of shadow and brimstone, and they were able to phase in and out of being corporeal at will. Over time, this ability has been weakened - only able to vanish as a shadow for a moment at a time. Brimstone skin was made brittle until it fell away to soft flesh, hollow bone, and hair. Feathers have begun sprouting through this softer skin too, mostly across their left shoulder, arm and chest, but are beginning to sprout along their throat too. Talon used to pull them out by hand, but has forfeited the fight. Back to the left arm, a sort of carapace has begun to form over their left hand, along the thumb's metacarpal and back of the hand in layers of grey ash and weathered gold. This and the growth of the feathers is very similar to Varus' - the angel in which Talon killed and drunk the blood of - own feathers and angelic arm. But without any of the matching powers, it is a far less grand sight.

Although still considerably hot to the touch, Talon's core temperature has drastically lowered compared to the past. Whatever organs of malice and bile a demon has have made way for a growth in their chest, helping pump the foul angelic blood and pesky emotions around their body routinely, and push out more of their demonic essence every day, little by little. With this, it has already made their demonic powers incredibly weakened. Previously Talon also used to be able to disintegrate bodies with a slice of their hellish blades, but they just do not run hot enough anymore. The final physical symptom are their eyes. Once filled with hellfire, it is far more likely nowadays to see their extinguished, golden-brown irises instead. It is slightly controllable with their emotional state, or when using their powers though.

In other ways, the blood has made Talon far more empathetic, given them a conscience. Troubled with how their actions will effect others now, the suffering and cruelty of the world has become a pain all it's own. Dulling the delight in spreading fear and even disturbing the once simple exchange of souls, Talon is often contemplating their next course of action instead of only giving thought to their best interests. And how their previous, often violent actions, have caused so much.

The agony and illness of coughing up feathers and demonic bile leaves talon haggard and frail. Getting sleep and relaxation would help the most, but with their paranoia it is difficult for them to find places to fully lower their guard and properly rest. Talon's tried to get a room in the crossroad saloon before, but it's... never really worked out (Gragas doesn't let them). Hating and damning the ailment only makes it worse, since it's basically like trying to separate themself from something that has already been mixed in. Feathers get stuck in their many teeth, skin itches from keratin growing in. Fatigue and sensitivity to their own heartbeat. Talon tries their best to hide the majority of their symptoms. Their coughs and exhaustion are the most obvious.

For how the changed made by the affliction is making talon feel... I'm going to paraphrase from a previous message;

I say its dysmorphic but the more I think about it, it's also… having your health decline and your body changing along with it, at least with talons perspective right now since they're losing their demonic powers. dysphoric in the way that they're still holding on to the thought that this isn't what they're supposed to be, they're Supposed to be a being of shadow and hellfire not flesh and bone, let alone feathers and sympathy. so I want it to be much more about accepting that this is their body now moreso than finding a way to reverse the changes. That it's okay to change with age and wisdom as you open yourself up more to the world.

At this time, Talon misses being completely monstrous, of being frightening and having that implicit respect. They feel weaker than they really are because they continue to compare themself to the long-gone height of their power, and because their new physical changes make them feel vulnerable. Being constantly exhausted also doesn't help with any of this. Beyond this though, the only other thing they don't like about these changes is just that; it's different. The uncanny features still don't feel like that that's who they are, and there is this disconnect when others react to them, or comment on their looks.

poses I don't know, maybe Talon just needs some sort of big motivation to no longer see this affliction as a curse, but as an opportunity to be more than a demon that skulks in the shadows. And some encouragement that yes, that is in fact a good thing. Maybe like an ultimatum of some sorts.

[autumnrory]

woooo my niece took 5 of my 13 lego sets, one of which was one of the three larger ones, so that's one huge box out of the way and i'm just glad she wanted them because like they ARE twenty years old and they look fine ofc but sometimes kids aren't gonna want stuff that isn't new and shiny ya know, but she did seem to want everything which would've been fine with me but i knew there was no way they would take all that with them, and at least i still have stuff of my own to sell, plus should get at least a cut of my brother's stuff for doing the inventory and putting together that stuff that wasn't already done

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

oohhh royal knight in training subaru and prince hokke oohhghh

[lilyharvord]

“thief” and “obviously” being in marecals wedding vows🥹

Okay LISTEN, maybe not the vows, but afterward, when its that last dance and they're the only ones left just swaying side to side slowly, and he steals the last of her champagne from the glass she has and she laughs quietly before saying: "thief" and he grins at her before kissing her temple and whispering, "obviously".

[himejoshiangels]

sorry for being a hater all of the time do you still like me

[bravevolunteer]

i poke fun at michael a lot for not hitting the fucking bricks but i do spin around thoughts about how he DID plan on exactly that and tried for about a few years probably— i still need to figure out where and settle on the exact time frame but i think once he was old enough he moved for a bit. probably not VERY far, definitely still in the state with plans to work and save money for awhile before either going to school or finding a better job further away. that is, until he got that message (call, letter, lost tape, what have you) calling him for sister location and just couldn’t ignore it… so he went back to hurricane. stayed in their abandoned house. finally found out the full truth about the possession and was left with no purpose but to end what his father started.

[lovecharged]

open to: m / nb plot: max is a dutch prince and he has secretly been dating your muse. now somehow the truth has been exposed and it's all anyone's talking about. as a result; max is overwhelmed.

anxiety filled every inch of his frame, weighing him down against his bed. the last thing he wants to do is move, or speak or see anyone else but them. he doesn't know how the truth has been uncovered, a dozen and one potential circumstances battle for dominance in his brain, but all he really wants to do is sleep. shut his eyes and pretend that none of this is happening. it wasn't as though he was ashamed of their romance, but he hadn't had the opportunity to come out yet and now, the truth was exposed. exhaling slowly, he sniffles and only turns when he hears the door open and close. tears that had been burning his eyes now finally fall, any words stuck in his throat, just reaching out for them and hoping that they don't reject him, hoping they don't blame him, terrified of losing everything -- especially them.

[journeytojaburo]

And so it ends...

[limyted]

“You Called My Liege?”

Yandere King x Jester! GN Reader

Tw: Dubcon/non-con,, obsessive,, possessive,, controlling,, NSFW.,, ALL CHARACTERS 18+ PLEASE.

Words: 1.6k words

Yandere Prince! Who had first seen you when you had walked in with you dad, your family had been a family of Jesters for the Royal Family for centuries for now.

Yandere Prince! Who met you when his father has introduced you two to each other, explaining that you will be his Jester when he is the future King, with that a bond had started to grow between you too.

Yandere Prince! Who has always been blunt, stoic and short tempered, but when being around your cheeky and playful personality and eventually his stiff personality melts away and welcomes you, soon enough you two would play around places around the Palace whenever your dad was called upon by his father.

Yandere Prince! Who killed his father when he had suggested that he was just maybe too close with his Jester, that it was inappropriate to be friends with his Jester. Who did his father think he was telling him what to do with HIS Jester?

He dropped the blooded sword, as he kicked the former king's head away from him.

“Clean this up.” he lazily gazed into the dreary eyes of his father, his voice devoid of any guilt or remorse.

“Burn the body and fetch me my jester.” A small smile spreading across his features at the thought of you as he pushed past the stunned maids who hurriedly obeyed, they wouldn't want face the wrath of the kings short temper.

Yandere Prince! Who has you by his side the whole coronation, and he gets a thrill when you called him “My Liege” for the first time.

Your skin warm from laying on grass, sun blazing on your skin, hands intertwined with the teenage future king, he was squeezing your hand as if trying to keep you from running away from him, but you decided not to pay it any mind.

You felt a slight tug, and you hummed softly.

“I don't wanna marry someone I don't know or even love,” He said, frustration and exasperation laced in his voice “but my father insisted it was a necessity for the economy of our kingdom.”

“If it's an economic boost you need, why not hold a royal jousting tournament?” You said softly chuckling at your own joke “Loser buys dinner... or a bride”

He looked at you deadpanned, you softly rolled your eyes.

“Who would you even marry?” You teased him softly “I don't know of anyone you fancy.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, as he put his hand on your chin tilting it to face him. “But to answer your question, My fool, you would be my bride.”

You weren't really sure if the king was joking or not, so you had changed the subject instead.

As you walked down the halls of the Jesters towers, the king had requested for you the usual spot, the throne room, a room you've grown very accustomed to.

The door to the room had no guards protecting it, so you had entered. There sat the king on his righteous throne, his hand resting in his chin and legs crossed, clearly in deep thought.

“You called My Liege?” You said as you bowed, dipping low and a playful smile on your face. The king who's eyes now locked with yours, had merely patted the arm rail of his throne, you obliged.

“Tell me..” he says as he snakes his arm loosely around your waist, shifting in his seat to be closer with you.

You hummed lightly, it wasn't weird that the king was being so … affectionate, he'd always wanted to be close with you.

“Do you recall when I told you that I would make you my bride?” He asked, with a tone unrecognisable to you.

“Oh your little quip?” You answered, focusing on his thumb rubbing your waist slowly, his hand slowly making its way down.

He let out a lifeless, breathy snicker, “I do not jest, that is your job.”

!!Nsfw!!

He lifts you up, placing you on his lap, rocking you back and forth, you can feel his hardened cock against your entrance.

“But if you're going to be my bride, I need everyone to know you’re mine.” He said as he digs his hands into your waist.

“I think it's better to marry someone who..” You pause, as you try to squirm off his lap, but he holds you down, “Is more equipped to be a monarch.”

“You'd make a perfect spouse for me” He says as kisses and bites your neck, as he rips your clothes off your body, the cold air hitting your skin, makes you shiver.

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of him biting your neck. “I'm gonna have to stretch you out,” He says as pushes two fingers into and you gasp loudly, pushing yourself against his chest.

With every sweet sound you let out he can feel his cock and precum coating his undergarments, he pumps his fingers roughly.

“Wow, you must really want to be filled, your greedy hole is taking my fingers so well,” He says as he picks up the pace of his fingers “has someone ever pleasured you so well?”

You already feel your climax close, but he pulls his fingers out “You don't release unless I tell you too, My Fool.”

You whine at the emptiness that fills you now. “Stand.” Nothing but hunger in voice, afraid you obey, you had seen what he was capable of with his sword.

He took off his clothing as you, his long and hard cock, throbbing and the tip glistening with precum.

He had grabbed you and bent you over the very same arm rail you sat on, he slowly pushed himself into your hole, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a hard slap, his hands travelling from your ass to your hip, letting out a loud groan.

“Oh fuck, you feel just right, your hole wraps around me so perfectly” he said with a dreamy like voice.

“What about the maids and butlers, I don't wanna be seen in this case” you said trying to bite back the moans that are bubbling in your throat.

“If they even dare to look, I'll kill them, your body is only for my eyes,” He says, thrusting deeply into you at every word he says, unable to keep your moans anymore, you let out loud moans that fill the room and his groans as well.

With each deep thrust you feel your climax closing in, and you can tell he is too with his fastened pace and his balls slapping your skin.

“Please cum with me, please, please, please” he whines and pants as he trails his hands up your back and pulls you as you both release, you relax as his semen feels warm.

The King picks you up, his hard cock still twitching inside you, and puts you on the throne.

“I'm not finished, My Darling.”

[pucksandpower]

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot

In which Lando Norris meets his childhood crush, who just happens to be an actual princess.

Warnings: none Pairing: Lando Norris x BritishPrincess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k or something

(quick note: running late for a meeting this morning but wanted to get this out. I'll update the tag list later tonight when/if I have time. Enjoy the new seriesssss!)

Master List

There must be a foreign power invading London. 

That is the only reason you can think that your assistant would be waking you up at 8am the morning after you spent nearly 12 hours entertaining Argentinian foreign dignitaries with your father yesterday. When you had tumbled into bed at 2am after the state dinner the previous night, the last words you had mumbled to Noelle were ‘please don’t wake me up before noon tomorrow.’ 

This was supposed to be your one day off after attending engagements with your parents four days in a row. 

“I’m so sorry, your highness.” Noelle whispers from where she stands at the foot of her bed. You immediately wonder if the palace groundskeepers would be willing to install a set of locks on the doors to your apartments that only you had the keys to. 

“Noelle, you’ve been my assistant for how many years now? You can call me by my first name.” You grumble from under the thick cream duvet that you had tugged over your head moments before. 

You glare at Noelle but immediately regret it when you see the anxious look on the older woman’s face. This wasn’t her choice, you realized. “What does my father want now?” 

Noelle worries at the corner of her lip before holding out her cell phone. “He’s been trying to reach you for an hour now. Insisted I come wake you up.” 

“He’s been unable to reach me because he swore up and down last night that I’d get today off from anything family related.” You complain, unable to keep the whine out of your voice.  

Tossing off the covers, you swing your legs over the side of your king sized bed before reaching out to take Noelle’s phone from her. You can see the active call ticking away with your father’s name on the caller ID ‘HRH King Edward’ 

“Good morning Papa.” You expertly adjust your tone, knowing that if your father hears one single hint of grouchiness in your voice you’ll never hear the end of it. “Everything okay?” 

“Your brother is sick.” His tone is brisk and you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean to be short with you. He is literally the King of England after all. You’re sure he’s got a few things on his mind beyond worrying about waking his youngest child up at the crack of dawn. 

“Does he need me to bring him something? Soup? Medicine?” 

Your father scoffs on the other end of the line. “Don’t be silly.” He scolds. “My doctor has already been in to see him this morning. It’s just the flu, but he is contagious.” 

You’re silent on your end of the phone, knowing there is more to come as the news of your older brother being sick didn’t really warrant an early morning phone call. 

“I need you to take over the engagement he was going to do today.” 

It takes every ounce of royal training for you not to groan. You’d been attending events and engagements all weekend long, standing in for your mother who also was sick with the flu. “Can’t Mike do it?” 

Your youngest brother Michael was in his final year at Oxford before he’d go on to do the requisite military training but he was still able to engagements here and there. 

“Michael has exams this week, so he is unavailable.” 

You nearly suggest your sister-in-law Charlotte take her husbands place but know that would also be turned down as she’s been busy with her new well baby charity and juggling having two young children at home as well. The weight of the expectations of being the second eldest child of the King of England hangs heavy on your shoulders as the sunlight pours in through the curtains Noelle has drawn back. It’s a gorgeous spring day in London, which you know is rare this time of year. You had been planning on spending the day out on the private gardens that are tucked away in a hidden part of the palace not open to tourists reading a book in the quiet. 

“What’s the engagement then?” You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that once again, your family duties were coming before your own personal agenda. 

You tried so hard not to be resentful of the weight of who you were and most of the time, you were fine with your station in life. You lived a very privileged, if not somewhat regimented and controlled, life as the only daughter to King Edward and Queen Matilde of the United Kingdom. Your parents, while busy with their own lives and duties, adored you and your two brothers, Sebastian and Michael. They had worked hard when you were younger to make sure that you and your siblings were raised as normally as possible, which hadn’t always been easy. 

“You’ll be going out to the Silverstone Circuit in Towcester to meet with some people from the McLaren Formula 1 team. They're the Duke of Dover Awards newest partner and their drivers are doing some laps the track with children from the local schools. They’d like to take you on the track too.” 

Your brother had started the Duke of Dover Awards when he had married Charlotte 10 years ago and had inherited the title as the heir to the throne. The foundation awarded hundreds of thousands of pounds each year to kids and teenagers that applied to be recipients of grants to improve their communities, start small businesses, and conduct scientific research. It was your brother’s brainchild and baby and you were shocked that Sebastian had agreed to allow anyone that wasn’t him to go near an event of theirs. 

Sighing, you stand and shrug on the silk robe that was hanging form the little hook next to your bed. You were certainly not getting a day off today, now were you? “Okay, sounds straight forward enough. Does Noelle have the details?” 

“Yes, Noelle has everything you’ll need. Thank you for helping, little dove.” 

Your heart squeezes as the nickname your father has used since you were a toddler. You knew he carried a heavy weight with the crown on his head and expected nothing but the best from himself, and by extension you and your siblings, at all times because of it. He meant well and loved you fiercely, you knew that but sometimes it got lost in the legacy of what it meant to be a Windsor. 

“Of course, Papa.” 

You hang up and hand the phone back to your assistant. “Papa says you have all the details. Could you have everything printed out so I can read it in the car. Towcester is quite far away, isn’t it?” 

“About an hour and a half, if traffic is good.” 

You nod, mind jumping into preparation mode. The timeline that had landed in your inbox while you had been on the phone with your father said you needed to be there a little after 1pm, which gave you enough time to get ready. “Can you call Tibby, give her the details and have her pull some outfits for me? I can do my own makeup and I don’t think I’ll need anything fancy for hair, yeah?” 

Noelle nods, eyes skimming her emails. “Your brother’s valet says he was planning on wearing jeans and a jumper, so it sounds casual. Natural makeup and a sporty ponytail, maybe?” 

“That’s fine, I can do that myself.” Sometimes it chafed at you how much had to go into your appearance. You could never really go out looking sloppy or unkempt because the bad press that it inevitably invited drove your mother crazy. If your father was preoccupied with the weight of his crown, your mother was preoccupied with the weight of what her image meant to millions of people. It was a difficult relationship to navigate and you didn’t always do a good job, so you tried to maintain at least the minimum appearance standards your mother requested just to appease her. 

Noelle snaps into action, calling Sebastian’s valet to get some more details on the people that will be present along with any other notes he had thought important. You pad towards your private bathroom to take a shower and get ready for what you assumed would be another routine royal engagement. 

And boy, how wrong you were. 

“Are you nervous?” Oscar mutters as he comes to lean against the counter in the garage next to where Lando stands, scrolling on his phone.

Lando looks up, confusion knitting his brows together. “Nervous for what?” 

As far as he knew, this was just going to be another routine event with some kids and the Duke of Dover, who he'd already met last year during the race at Silverstone. Nothing to be nervous about really.

“To meet the princess!” Oscar chuckles, knocking his shoulder into Lando's.

“Princess?" The crease on his forehead deepens even more. "I thought it was the Duke that was coming. Isn’t it his awards thing that we're partnering with?” 

Oscar shrugs. “Zak said the Duke is sick. His sister is coming instead. Apparently she just pulled in as well. Sophie is running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. Something about not being prepared for her."  

Oh. A thick sense of anxiety settles in the pit of Lando's stomach. Oh fuck. This changed things. He certainly hadn't been nervous before but now he was, knowing that it was you that he'd be driving around the track instead of your brother.

Like most guys his age, Lando had grown up with photos of you taped to the back of his door and indulged in several...interesting and not very polite fantasies when he was in his teens. In fact, now that Lando thinks about it, you were probably his very first crush. You had been the first princess to be born into the Royal family in two generations and the press had fallen in love with you the day you were born, dubbing you the English Rose that was going to save the monarchy.

Once you reached your 18th birthday and debuted into society, taking your place beside your older brother and parents by working for the family full time while going to university to study international business, the country had fallen even more in love with you. Your family was well loved by the entirety of the Common Wealth but you? You were absolutely everyone's favorite Windsor by a country mile. And that included the British Formula One driver.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar's thick accent shakes Lando out of his day dream.

"Oh, yeah." Lando replies weakly, rubbing the palm of his hand over his jaw, glad he had shaved this morning and put a bit of extra care into his hair.

"Boys!" Sophie, McLaren's head of Public Relations, yells at the entrance of the garage, fists on her hips as she taps her toe glaring at the pair. "The princess is here and everyone is waiting on you."

"Coming." Lando mumbles, desperately trying to tamp down the nerves that are making his stomach do somersaults. This is like a teenage wet dream come true.

Just outside the garage is a group of people clustered around several McLaren sports cars waiting to get started. Lando can see Zak chatting with you from 50 meters away and he loses all ability to think straight when he sees you in person for the first time. You're dressed in dark wash jeans that hug your curves and, much to Lando's surprise, a papaya colored knit jumper. With your hair pulled back in a high ponytail, your delicate features on full display. He couldn't help thinking how much better you looked in real life compared to the glossy magazine photos he used to keep tacked up to his bedroom wall.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lando, Oscar, and Sophie approaching before Zak does but you don't allow the group to distract you from your conversation with McLaren's CEO. That kind of behavior would send your mother into a tailspin. She hadn't sent you off to boarding school at the age of 12 for nothing after all. But you can't help how your stomach twists when you lock eyes with the boy with the curly hair. A nervous ghost of a smile plays at the corner of his full lips, sending goosebumps exploding over your skin.

"Oh, there they are!" Zak finally notices the drivers and Sophie and moves to introduce everyone. Behind you, Noelle hovers, lying in wait to correct anyone who might break royal protocol when it comes to interacting with you. You desperately wish she would've let you come alone.

Introductions are made and you try your hardest to ignore the way your skin sparks when you shake hands with Lando. Zak explains how the afternoon is going to go and that Lando is going to take you around the track on a hot lap while Oscar and a few other reserve McLaren drivers take the kids out behind.

"Nervous, your highness?" Lando asks as he checks the chin strap on your crash helmet.

The way your stomach dips when he smiles at you has nothing to do with nerves.

"You're about to whip me around this race track at speeds that could kill me, I think you can call me by my first name, Lando." You tease, deflecting the real reason your palms are sweating.

Lando blushes, eyes falling to the ground. "I guess that's true. Just didn't want your lady in waiting to tackle me for committing some protocol crime, I guess."

The laugh that escapes you would send your mother into a complete fit it's so sudden and loud. "She does look like she's lying in wait, doesn't she?" Your eyes dart above Lando's shoulder where Noelle stands, eyes trained on you as if she's expecting someone to attack at any moment.

"She's just a little...protective." You say, voice going soft. "Last year we had a little incident where I was being stalked for several months. The guy thought we were engaged and he somehow managed to get around my protection officers and into my building at 3 in the morning. They caught him outside my door with duct tape, rope and a knife in his bag."

Your eyes go wide with horror as you realize what you've just said. No one in the public knew about that, your parents had insisted on keeping the investigation quiet. The man had been sent to a psychiatric facility with the blessing of his family and charges hadn't been filed in order to protect your privacy. You had no idea why you had just spilled one of your most closely kept secrets to a veritable stranger.

"Well then I'm glad she's here to watch over you." Lando's voice is quiet, like he knows you don't want others overhearing this conversation. "I'd hate to think of anything happening to such a pretty girl."

For several moments, the busy pitlane falls away a bit as Lando's hands remain on the straps of your helmet and he looks at you like he's known you for your entire life. You're used to people staring at you and being under the microscope but the way Lando looks at you makes you want to squirm in the most delicious way possible.

"Okay, you two!" Zak booms, shocking you out of the little bubble that had grown around you and Lando those few moments. "Lets get you out on the track. Lando, please remember this is a member of the royal family, I'd rather not have to leave the country if you injure her."

"What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I hurt the princess in my charge?" Lando quips, aiming a wink your way before rounding the hood of the low slung papaya colored McLaren.

You can't help the way you snort in response to his flirting, it's so ridiculous but you also can't ignore the way your stomach twists in delight at the way Lando's tongue works around the word princess while he looks at you.

You had to be careful though. Despite Lando being famous and well off in his own right, you were even a step above that and life had taught you that even the most well connected and rich men saw you as the ultimate prize. Who wouldn't want to marry the only daughter to the King of England, even if they had billions. You can't buy a real royal pedigree. Not like the one you had, dating back generations on both sides of your family.

No, you couldn't allow yourself the luxury of lowered walls but you could allow yourself to indulge in a little innocent flirting, because that's all it would ever or could ever be with Lando Norris.

"Zak, can I file a workplace injury claim if I've gone deaf this afternoon from her screeching?" Lando complained as he held out a hand to help you out of the McLaren 45 minutes later.

"I have no idea what you're talking about! Princesses don't screech." You sniff, smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you yank your hand out of his grasp the moment you're steady on your feet.

Lando snorts now, rolling his eyes, enjoying the color that flushes in high on your cheekbones. He was the one to make you blush like that and it sends a zing of arousal straight to his cock. While you had been in the car with Lando, before he had scared the daylights out of you, he'd been able to overcome the initial nerves of meeting his boyhood crush and had settled into a flirty conversation. The way you two bantered back and forth so naturally was new to Lando and kind of unnerving to him, but in a good way.

"I'm inclined to believe if the princess was driven to 'screech' that it was all your fault, Lando." Zak jokes with a shrug before turning to you. "Thank you so much for coming out this afternoon and filling in for your brother. We got some great shots of you guys on the track and before with everyone together."

You nod, smiling at the group that's now gathered. Beside you, Lando has wiggled his way between Noelle and yourself so he's settled in at your side. "Wonderful. I'm sure they'll be the perfect content you guys all need. Is there anything else you need from me today? Did all the kids get laps on the track and the merch bags?"

Sophie nods, "Yes ma'am, no one left empty handed."

You sigh internally knowing that the day is almost over. You can taste the freedom of the back seat of the Range Rover where you can finally let your mask down for a few extra moments. You loved days like this, busy and filled with lost of interaction with the public but it was also exhausting beyond measure. You knew you'd sleep well tonight, having attended events nearly every night for the past 9 days.

"Good, thank you." Your eyes find the McLaren CEO who stands across from you. "Zak, I assume we'll see you at the awards gala Saturday night?"

Zak nods, "Yes, Oscar and I will be there."

You can't help the bit of disappointment that blooms in your chest when he doesn't say Lando's name. You hate it and ignore it the best you can because it simply isn't acceptable. So instead you lean on your years of training and upbringing to hide your true feelings. "Lovely, I can't wait to see you both again."

As Lando watches your car pull away, he can't help but feel a little disappointed that your time together is up.

"What awards gala was she talking about? Why wasn't I invited? Lando practically whines, turning to Zak once the Range Rover is out of sight.

Zak chuckles "You were invited Norris and you turned it down because, and I quote, 'you don't do boring awards dinners that aren't written into your contract'."

Lando kicks at a rock with his sneaker, feeling a bit foolish. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to make an exception for this one then."

Zak narrows his eyes, not liking where he thinks Lando's head is going. "Listen Norris, I know your personal life is none of my business."

"And you'd be right in that assesment, Zak." Lando responds cooly.

Zak holds his hand up, "But I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that whatever I think is going on in your head about the woman that just left the track is probably a bad idea. A princess like her is not able to have a casual relationship like the ones your used to. Just..." Zak pauses, trying to put his advice in the best words possible. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Message recieved loud and clear, Zak." Lando mutters before turning and walking back towards the garages.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Soft Feathers, Softer Kisses 🦉

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I'm soooo excited for y'all to see this!!!!

My first time writing for Telemachus and EPIC in general so please go easy on me 🥲

This was born from my need to smooch Tele. He's so cute 🥹

*the art is not mine, I got it from pinterest, if anyone knows the artists lmk pls!*

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You're betrothed to the prince of Ithaca. His father is lost at sea and 108 suitors are pushing his mother to choose a new king. When one of them insults the queen, a fight breaks loose, and you end up fiercely defending your lover with a determined owl at your side.

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The sound of your sandals on the smooth palace floor echoed off the marble walls, the fabric of your chiton that wasn't bunched up in your hands was brushing against your legs while you hurried towards the hall.

The commotion had managed to make its way through the entire building like a breeze of the salty sea air.

Still, the news reached you later than you'd have liked.

Worry and anger twisted in your chest, a feeling like countless arrows piercing your heart. Your lungs were burning, no breath managing to get enough oxygen in your blood.

You had to hurry.

They would eat him alive.

You were well aware of the suitors. The 108 men who'd grown stubborn roots in the palace and refused to leave without getting a chance.

The king had been gone for so long, leaving his throne empty and his family behind. It had been two decades since he sailed off to war.

Not many believed he was even still among the living, instead thinking he was slaving away in his place in the Underworld.

The queen managed to keep the kingdom from ruin for years, ever since her beloved left, and yet they insisted on a new a king, a new man to wear the crown and sit upon the throne.

A new man to take Penelope as his wife.

The moment they showed up at the gates you'd stared at them with disgust, boring into them with your sharp gaze.

None of them were fit to lead, let alone rule an entire kingdom.

The queen stalled and stalled, the hope of her husband's return heavy on her heart.

However, the suitors soon grew impatient. Causing havoc within the walls of the palace, pounding on Penelope's doors, threatening bloodshed if she didn't choose a new king.

And now, your betrothed, the prince of Ithaca, was caught in the middle of it all because he was cursed with a heart too big for his body.

When you turned the corner of the hallway, you were met with a sight that made your heart shatter and wrath boil in your veins.

The suitors had circled Telemachus, leaving him trapped with no way out while Antinous stood over him, broad shoulders throwing shadows on the face of your beloved.

He was beaten and bloodied, heaving while trying to fight back.

Although a small, proud smile cracked on your face when you saw some of the men limping or nursing their bruised eyes.

Even Antinous was left with crimson streaks dripping from his mouth, staining his teeth. Your feet were carrying you further in their direction, a mindless action.

Panic struck you when Antinous raised his hand to deliver another blow.

Without thinking, you called out to him, rage tinting your voice accompanied by the angry grinding of your teeth.

"Antinous!" You yelled, a scowl on your face as you forced your way through the ocean of suitors.

"Get away from him!"

The giant man lowered his hand with a deep chuckle and turned to face you with a smirk that made the previously boiling blood to freeze.

"If it isn't the little princess. Come to save your prince, have you? I swear it's the other way around."

The grin that sat on his face, his bloodstained teeth exposed, made bile rise up your throat.

The men chuckled, making Telemachus' head fall forward in shame.

You payed them no mind, rushing to your lover.

Giving Antinous a look that could kill, you kneeled down next to Telemachus and cupped his face, a worried crease forming between your brows while you gently brushed your thumb over the blooming bruise on his cheek to soothe it.

"Look at you.. you're bleeding!" You gasped, quickly using your chiton to wipe away the blood on his face.

"I'm fine, I promise."

Telemachus gave you an unconvincing smile, followed by a wince. The worried look on your face tugged at his heart.

You looked like you were about to cry, and he hated to think that he was the reason.

"You're not fine. You're bruised and-and what if you broke a bone? How did this even happen? They knew there'd be consequences if they-"

the words just spilled out of you, the concern for your lover was something you could no longer contain.

He cupped your cheek and smiled weakly.

"My love, please. I assure you, I'm alright-"

He was cut off by Antinous, a scoff falling from his split lips. You scowled again and rose from your knees, a panicked expression appearing on your beloved's face.

"No, don't-"

Telemachus grasped at your hand, only for you to gently tug it from his grip as you approached Antinous.

Only when you made your way over to the grinning man did you notice a big owl circling the suitors, flying high towards the tall ceiling.

You spared it a glance, noting the magnificent coloring of its feathers and the bright eyes filled with something you could only describe as a sense of justice.

Not once had you see such determination in an animal, but it managed to put your mind at ease a little.

"You filthy dog! Who do you think you are?! He is your prince, whether you like it or not. And you have no right-" you snarled, raising your hand to point a finger at him.

He quickly caught your wrist in his fierce grip, a deep frown sitting on his face.

Antinous glanced at Telemachus, who was holding his aching side trying to pull himself off the ground, before averting his eyes back to you.

"He doesn't look very princely to me."

The smirk he sported was enough to make the fire in your chest spread even more.

"You-" you sneered only to be interrupted by Antinous again.

"What? Hm? What will you do?"

"Stop." Telemachus heaved, supporting himself on a marble pillar.

You didn't let yourself be intimidated by him and rivaled him with a look just as sharp.

"There's a special place in Tarturus for you, Antinous. If he'd even allow it." You spoke quietly but firmly, feeling satisfaction bloom in your heart at his reaction.

Antinous scowled, tightening his grip around your wrist.

"He," he began, "is dead."

You smirked, a scoff making its way past your lips.

"You better pray to the gods. Lady Tyche is not on your side. You'll be lucky enough if he even grants you a way to the Underworld. I hope you have enough gold on hand. Because the only way you're getting across the Styx is in pieces." You spat at him, venom dripping from your tongue.

Antinous bared his teeth, fury blazing in his eyes as he raised his other hand in the air, presumably to strike you.

"Get."

Telemachus' voice boomed through the hall, a scorned look on his face.

"Your hands. Off of her." He sneered, pushing himself away from the pillar.

"Do you want another beating, boy?" The giant man roared, almost crushing your wrist in his hand.

Down came your feathered friend, swooping in with its sharp claws and a chilling screech, successfully tearing open a new scar across Antinous' eye. He cried out and dropped your wrist, clutching his face instead.

The other men quickly drew their swords, swinging at the bird, only to miss and receive a peck from its beak against any vulnerable spot.

The owl evaded the suitors' weapons with such grace and struck back with such vigor that you were almost mesmerized.

"Αγάπη μου." *(my love)

Telemachus' gentle call for you snapped you out of your haze.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, worried Antinous had caused you any harm. You stared at him, your lips parted.

"I... no. No, I'm alright. We should leave." You said hurried, supporting his weight while you dragged him down an opposite corridor.

You spared the suitors and the mysterious owl a last glance, a smirk tugging at your lips at the sight of 108 men being defeated by a bird.

Antinous caught your gaze, and he snarled at you, still holding his eye.

"Next time.." he called out after you, "you're dead."

The threat sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine, but he was quickly put back in line by the owl, who promptly delivered a peck to the top of his head.

With a small smile playing on your face, you led your beloved back to his rooms to take care of his wounds.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Back in your chambers, you knelt in front of Telemachus, a worried crease between your brows while you gently held a damp linen cloth to his swollen and split knuckles.

The pure white fabric was stained with the crimson blood of your lover, a sting in your heart.

Telemachus sighed and took your chin in his hand, tilting your head to look him in the eyes.

"Λουλούδι μου, your expression pains me. I'd rather see your heartwarming smile." He spoke with a small grin, hissing when his busted lip reopnend and the blood began pouring once more. *(my flower)

Quickly, you pressed the cloth to his mouth, a deep frown on your face.

"And your state pains me. You-... You could've died. These are vicious, feral men, and as much as I don't doubt your ability to stand your ground, 108 against 1.... the odds weren't on your side." You replied, such sadness in your eyes it made Telemachus' heart ache.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if..." you sighed deeply, tears threatening to fall from your lashline while your head fell forward.

His gentle hands cupped your face, the rag in your grasp long forgotten.

"But I'm okay. I promise you, my love, it's barely a scratch." A smile cracked on his face and you couldn't help but chuckle, followed by a sniffle.

"You have a larger heart than all those men combined." You whispered, pressing your palm right above his beating heart.

Telemachus cupped your hand and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fell shut at the sensation as you melted further into his touch.

"Besides," he broke the silence, a smirk on his lips, "I had help."

He glanced towards his balcony and you followed his line of sight, being met with the owl resting contently on the railing, curiosity in its bright eyes.

"Yes," you chuckled, rising to your feet and walking towards the creature, gently dragging Telemachus behind you by his hand, "your mysterious feathered friend. Care to introduce me?"

"Right. Her name's Ath-"

he was cut off when the owl screeched at him and furiously flapped her wings. He startled and chuckled nervously, clearing his throat.

"I-I meant A... Alena. Yes. Her name's Alena."

If an owl had shoulders and they could sag, this is what you'd imagine it'd look like.

You laughed softly, watching as the bird narrowed her sharp eyes at Telemachus. He swallowed thickly and gave her an awkward smile.

"Well, Thank you." You said sincerely, smiling when the owl bowed her head at you.

What a curious creature.

"We should get you some ointments for those cuts and bruises."

You turned back to your beloved.

"I told you, I'm totally fi- ow."

He winced, holding his side that would undoubtedly bloom with purples and blues come evening. You sighed softly and shook your head at him.

"You're too sweet for your own good sometimes."

You caressed his cheekbone and pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, minding his injuries. He hummed into the kiss, resting his hands on your waist.

Lost in your embrace, the owl made another sound, something closer to the typical hoot, averting your attention to her.

She ruffled her feathers and with a last glance at the both of you she took off into sky. With a content expression you watched her glisten in the afternoon sun.

Telemachus had a bright smile on his face and waved after her, watching as she flew into the sunset, disappearing behind the horizon.

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Please let me know what you thought! <3

More of my stuff -> 💫

I think you wanna see this @withonly-sweetheart @allysunny 👀

Thank you so so so much to @vampkennedy for assisting me with the translations 🩷

[silentheiss]

It starts with Shang Qinghua, as many unpleasant things do.

“Come on, Cucumber-bro,” He whines, lying on Shen Qingqiu’s floor and eating Shen Qingqiu’s snacks. “Do you have to go? You promised you’d read my draft, remember?”

“I do.” Shen Qingqiu says. “And I will. Later. I promised I’d help Binghe with his hair before he has to leave for his trip today.”

“You gotta get all the way back to the demon realm just to do his hair before he leaves again?”

“Yes.”

“Aw, bro. I’m sorry.”

Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan shut. He doesn’t like his tone.

“Why?”

“What?” Shang Qinghua blinks up at him from his position on the floor.

“Why are you sorry?” Shen Qingqiu repeats, slowly.

“Well, because you have to interrupt your evening to placate my clingy son?”

Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure what exactly about Airplane’s wording bothers him so much, but he doesn’t let it stop his ire.

“You think I prefer your company to my husband’s?” He hisses. Shang Qinghua sits up abruptly.

“Oh, shit, bro.” He mumbles, sounding apologetic. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you love him and all.”

Does he? Not that Shen Qingqiu cares, of course, but- does he?

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it was hard to miss with all the rage comments and well, uh. Suicides?” Shang Qinghua laughs awkwardly and Shen Qingqiu opens his fan once again. “It’s just that I get that it must be hard for you to put up with his quirks sometimes?”

What quirks! Shen Qingqiu grips his fan tighter. Sure, Binghe can get a bit sticky and is prone to crying, but what’s so quirky about it? And who’s talking! As if Mobei-jun is a completely normal choice of a partner. Shen Qingqiu scoffs and moves to stand up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snaps. “Binghe’s perfectly normal. I enjoy spending time with him.”

“Of course you do.” Shang Qinghua nods hurriedly, also scrambling up to his feet. “Don’t be mad, Cucumber-bro. I didn’t mean to offend you!”

Shen Qingqiu know that. He didn’t mean to offend him, no. He meant to commiserate. Because, apparently, he thinks Shen Qingqiu must be tired of Luo Binghe.

“I’m leaving.” He says and promptly turns around and walks out of his own house. Binghe wouldn’t like it that he left his martial uncle in bamboo house unsupervised, but it’s either that or beating Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu hasn’t yet formulated a reason inside his buzzing and spluttering mind for why he needs to do that.

Shen Qingqiu is still trying to understand what exactly about the conversation with Shang Qinghua addles him so much as he walks towards the designated meeting spot. Luo Binghe should be there soon to pick him up and take them both to the underground palace. When they last talked – just that night, in a shared dream – Luo Binghe asked if he could visit Shen Qingqiu in their bamboo house as he has some free time before he has to continue on his business, but Shen Qingqiu wanted to be alone with his husband for the short time that they would have, and he’s rarely left alone while on Qing Jing Peak.

“Shizun!” He hears, as almost reaches the stairs. He slows down, allowing Ning YingYing to catch up to him, but doesn’t stop completely. Binghe might already be waiting.

“What is it, YinYing?” He asks, smiling indulgently at his disciple.

“Why is Shizun leaving?” Ning YingYing pouts. “Didn’t he say that he’ll stay for a few days more?”

“Your Shizun will be back shortly.” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes, but his smile is still present. See, Airplane-bro? All his disciples are sticky! Luo Binghe is not worse than anyone else. Well, if only just a little. “This Shizun just has a meeting with your shidi.”

“Ah, A-Luo is back? When will this one get to see him?”

“Luo Binghe is very busy, so he won’t be coming to Qing Jing Peak just yet.” Shen Qingqiu says, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking downward. Binghe isn’t there yet.

“So he’s stealing Shizun all to himself?” Ning YingYing pouts again, but this time her eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Isn’t A-Luo the sweetest?”

And then it dawns on Shen Qingqiu. He quickly sends Ning YingYing back and starts his trip down the stairs, lost in thought. He’s taking Shizun all to himself. You have to interrupt your evening to placate my clingy son. They say it as if it wasn’t Shen Qingqiu who insisted on meeting somewhere else, so they could be alone. As if he didn’t insist on being interrupted whenever Luo Binghe had a minute to spare during his trip.

Because even if they know that Shen Qingqiu cares for Luo Binghe, they are certain that Luo Binghe cares for him more. More to the point of being annoying, even?

Shen Qingqiu sees red. He’s furious with Airplane, of course, because he started it, but most of all he’s furious at himself. Sure, he isn’t as shameless as his husband to declare his love left and right, but did he really let his cold and aloof facade lead people to believe that he is not madly in love with his husband?

Did he lead Luo Binghe to believe that, too?

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t notice the stairs end and almost stumbles, when his foot meets the ground sooner than he anticipated. A strong arm catches him around the waist.

“Shizun.” His husband breathes out and draws him closer, hugging him as if they’ve been apart for months instead of days. Shen Qingqiu is frozen in his arms.

That’s it, isn’t it? Luo Binghe never hesitates to show his feelings. But Shen Qingqiu’s thin face is not an indicator that he loves his husband less! It’s just that-

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe leans away, arms still circling his waist. His brow is furrowed, just a bit. Starry eyes are already watering from Shen Qingqiu's lack of response. How on earth could someone not love this man with their whole heart?

“Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu says, unable to hold the question back a moment longer. “Do you think you love me more than I love you?”

Luo Binghe’s arms drop. He takes a stumbling step back. His perfect, beautiful face freezes completely, not showing a single emotion. A second later tears start rolling down his cheeks.

“Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu takes his husband’s hand and squeezes lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Shizun said-” Binghe chokes, still looking at him without as much as blinking. “He said he loves…?”

Then, the dam breaks and Luo Binghe starts sobbing in earnest. Shit. Has he ever said the L word before? Shen Qingqiu swears on his own grave – on all of his graves – to never let the shame overtake him again.

“So, you do?” He asks, heartbroken and ashamed. He truly is an abominable husband.

“I do!” Binghe cries. “Of course I do. How can there be a love greater than my love for Shizin?”

How? Shen Qingqiu would love for Luo Binghe to see his old room right now. That’d show him how.

“What about my love, huh?” He snaps, fighting an urge to stomp his foot. “Why can’t it be greater?”

Binghe must realize his mistake. He hastily wipes his face and shakes his head.

“Of course this one knows Shizun cares for him! Shizun’s shown this one so much kindness, has been so generous, and-”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu feels his cheeks grow hot. “I don’t just care for you. I love you. I love my husband.”

Luo Binghe stares at him and doesn’t say anything for a very long time.

“Shizun?” He says, finally. “Did you happen to come across any interesting plants recently?”

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“I’m not under any influence!” Shen Qingqiu huffs.

“Do you mind if I…?”

“Go for it.”

A second later Shen Qingqiu feels the blood parasites start fretting. It’s not the most pleasant feeling, but if it’ll make his husband stop humiliating him, he’ll take it happily.

“Shizun is healthy.” Luo Binghe says dumbly. “But then why would he say that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Shen Qingqiu cries. “Why is it so hard to believe? Why do everybody, including my own husband, keep suggesting that I don’t feel as strongly about Binghe as Binghe does about me?”

“Did Liu Qingge say something?” Luo Binghe asks, eyes narrowing.

“No!” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “But I’m sure he would, if he had a chance. Because apparently, I don’t look in love!”

Luo Binghe’s face is quite red, Shen Qingqiu notices.

“But they’ll see.” He continues. “Ang you! You’ll see too, Binghe.”

“I’ll see?”

“Yes.” Shen Qingqiu nods decidedly. He knows how to fanboy, okay? Binghe’s cooking and fretting and gift lavishing won’t stand a chance against Shen Qingqiu’s skill. “Take me home this instant. I have posters to paint.”

“Posters?”

“Now, Binghe!”

Luo Binghe squeaks and reaches for Xin Mo. Shen Qingqiu jumps through the portal before it even fully opens.