#i had to read all of your nasty opinions when the rumours dropped out and I had to sit quietly bc I knew they would shut all of ur asses off

[sanayeon]

this misamo almost-debut goes to.. ME I deserved this it’s everything I could have ever asked for!!!!!!!

[iratetourist]

pour some sugar on me // eddie munson x reader

summary: an early morning meeting opportunity with eddie quickly takes a heated turn…

pairing: eddie munson x fem!cheerleader!reader

word count: medium-length (written on phone)

warnings: smutty stuff (18+, in a classroom, fingering, eddie does some nasty shit with his coffee, implied bl*wjob), banter in between it all

author’s note: he wasn’t even around for the song the title is based on… rip king you would have loved it… this fic contextually fits with my other one - after school only - which is kind of becoming something of a series, i guess? but this is separate enough that it can be read on its own… it is pure smut after all lmao

——————————

It was far from subtle or secretive anymore.

Sure, the technical extent of it known by the student body was still just that you were tutoring Eddie Munson, and given how long it had been going on… well, the jokes about him not graduating a third time had certainly ramped up, despite your deterrence and the obvious improvement of his grades. Rumours flew that the teachers had schemed to get you off final exam-free for the agonizing, dedicated venture, because why else would you, lovely straight-A cheerleader extraordinaire, continue bothering with the bum-ass skid kid wonder?

Now… you were well, well aware of what Eddie Munson could offer to keep you around - his hands, ring-clad and rough-palmed down your thighs, and oh, those lips buried between your legs - but at some point, you began to recognize it was just as much, if not more, the little things, the affection and the warmth it stoked in your chest.

Today was no different, the butterflies in your stomach no less fluttery at waiting for him, no less bursting when he walked in the classroom door that early, early morning, easy smile dimpling his cheeks and coffees and a small crinkly bag clutched in hand.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The nickname never not caused you to melt, and despite trying to keep your expression casual, your demeanour breezy, you practically beamed back at him, already moving to draw him to you. “Hiya. Almost thought—“ Your short greeting was cut off by a sudden yawn, only half-stifled by your hand.

“Oof, you need this,” he smirked and placed the to-go coffee tray on your desk. “How else are you gonna survive the arduous trial of dealing with me before 8AM?”

“Mm, I’ve done it before,” you remarked cheekily, “but thank you.” Standing straighter, you gave a little stretch, revelling in how obviously he was watching each and every movement you made. “Honestly, though, what I think I need more is…”

You leaned over and kissed him, hand gently holding him over your desk by the shirt. He returned it without missing a beat, dropping the bag in his hand on said desk to wrap around your waist. It was longer than intended, content and lazy in the warm morning rays, and most definitely exactly what you had required.

When you parted, Eddie lingered close for just a few moments, face flushed and eyes opening slowly to study you. He seemed almost mesmerized, unusually quiet and all attention on you, and you felt a paradoxical flood of guilt wash over you even as your heart skipped. He looked at you like that, made you feel like this… and yet, you had both convinced yourselves into a place where it couldn’t be acknowledged.

You wanted nothing more than to take his hand in the hallway, sit with him at lunch, kiss his knuckles and call him yours - but what kind of target would all that set up on him, on you?

You hated that you still let their opinions control you, seep into and poison the bright, simple happiness he brought into your life.

“Hey, you good? You kind of zoned out there.”

He brushed his ringed fingers down your arm, voice soft and low. You were struck out of your spiralling thoughts at the contact, and you shook your head and plunked yourself down before they could take root again, anchoring your mood to his presence, the way he angled into you and bumped his knee against yours.

Even with all that doubt and shame nagging at the edges of your mind, you weren’t about to let it ruin a rare morning with him.

“I’m all right,” you nodded, giving him a genuine smile and taking a sip of the coffee he had brought. A little burnt and stale, courtesy of the gas station, but triple-sugared and two-creamed just as you liked it. “Thanks again for… oh, you remembered! Thank you, Eddie.”

“S’nothin’,” he shrugged, but you could see a crooked smile dawn on his own features. “Got you this, too… uh, remembered you said you'd, quote unquote, 'kill a bitch' for one of those Daily’s everything bagels when we drove by there last time, and they actually had some left this morning, so…" He dangled the flimsy bag he had brought in front of you, brows waggling all the while.

Maybe it was the fact that you were ravenous, but it took everything in you not to lunge him into another lip lock right there and then. God, he had you completely and utterly whipped in the stupidest, sweetest ways possible.

“You, Eddie Munson, are an absolute godsend.” You had the bag playfully snatched from his hands before he knew it, a delighted, self-satisfied noise leaving you as you bit into the bagel. “Literally everything I could ever need in one perfect circle.” Your voice became theatrical as you next spoke. “However can I repay you, good sir?”

“Hmm…” He put on a look of mock-consideration and tapped his chin. “Well, I do seem to be in need of some… say, sugar, fair lady—“ He tipped his own coffee cup in your direction, “Perhaps you may provide?”

Your brows drew together at him for a second, before he matched your earlier gesture and was leaning in to press his lips to yours, kiss just as tender as the first. When he went to pull away, you instinctively gathered your hands up his chest, fingers gently tracing the line of his collarbone up to his jaw before settling on his neck. He was putty in your capable hands, an appreciative noise leaving him at the way your thumb massaged his nape, head tilting automatically to deepen the kiss. What was definitely meant to be something short and teasing quickly had him shifting to bring you to his lap, fingers ghosting beneath your skirt and tongue pushing to yours.

Breakfast was forgotten as the kiss went from unhurried to something desperate, needier - your hips grinding down on the growing tent in his jeans, seeking the friction the rough fabric provided, his hand under your shirt, bra shoved aside, his thumb and forefinger circling, rolling, punishing, appreciating… Every kind of noise left the two of you, a gasp and moan from endlessly-kissed lips, a groan that rumbled from his chest against yours, more than a few fucks shared alongside your names.

You were hyperaware of the location, the fact that a too-early student or janitor or teacher could wander by and see your activities, but something about that only added to the fervour with which your hands explored him, to the want coiling low. You weren’t sure you were quite ready to just straight up fuck the man right there in a classroom, but there were most certainly other ways to go about this…

He already had one hand holding you at the back and the other sliding down to press fingers against the thinly-clothed, increasingly-wet apex of your legs, spreading your folds, and you rolled your hips forward to meet him, earning a stutter and stir of his own and that groan you loved so, husky and yours.

“Raring to go, I see… damn near soaked…”

“Mmf, E-Eddie…” You buckled down on him as his thumb grazed your clit, a test of a touch, his mouth fixing itself into a smirk against yours. “God, are we—“ Another euphoric flick of a calloused fingertip, a sensitive whine falling from kiss-swollen lips, “Are we really doing, ah… this, mm—“

He kissed you hungrily, teeth hooking into the plush of your lower lip as he readjusted you higher on him, hand relocating to ass, his tongue following close behind to soothe the area and then sink upwards, never once settling on an angle to maintain. You matched his enthusiasm, tangling a manicured hand in his hair and tugging, nails and all, while you propped the other beneath his chin, thumbing the annoyingly-attractive dimple in it and craning his head to the side to kiss him even deeper, longer.

You were forced apart for air after who-knows-how-long, and with sweat sticking your foreheads together and your chests heaving in-time with hammering hearts, he gazed up you, dark eyes hooded and completely captivating. Finally slipping a finger past your soaked panties and into you as effortlessly as could be, he maintained the eye contact with little more than a crooked, cocky smile, watching smugly how the simple action had you writhing.

“Why don’t you tell me, sweetheart?” he practically purred the words into your ear, nose nudging at the shell of it. You nodded eagerly against his temple, arms tightening around his neck, but he did not heed the way your hips fidgeted, how you clenched around the digit deep within you. Rather, he only slowly added another, curled just the once to further your impatience, your desperation.

“Eddie—“

“I said,” he whispered, pressing a light, infuriating kiss to your jaw, “tell me.”

A hand of yours fell to grab the wrist of the one of his pressed to you, running over the chain bracelet he wore, heated all the same as the three bulky rings denting your asscheek and the jewelled one, slick and edging deliciously just at your entrance. Eddie’s hand twitched at the featherlight dance of your fingers against his inner wrist, the movement jolting his drenched fingers sat punishingly still within you, and you moaned, grinding down to any source of relief to be granted by your words.

“You’re going to take those fingers,” you breathed, quiet with mind to the potential for being heard, before guiding his hand closer, watching as he did so, your own fingers gliding over tattoos. “And you’re going to fuck me with them—“

“‘Atta girl,” he nodded, eye contact still intensely held peripherally, his stubble scraping at your neck and jaw. “Go on—“

“Curl them—“ He did so abruptly, fingers eagerly hooking and stroking, working into a steady rhythm, and you gasped, your walls spasming around him, spurring him on. “Oh…”

“And?” He shifted a little, letting his frustratingly-clothed arousal press slightly from where his fingers played, just below your backside, and your mind blanked as you naturally strained down and back for it. He kissed the hollow of your neck and then prompted again, an amused lilt to his low voice. “…And?”

“Th-thumb,” you murmured, hand rising from its place at his wrist back to around his neck, clutching at his shoulders to maintain your own pace against his relentless fingers. “You’re gonna keep fingerfucking me, and you’re going to take that thumb and— now, now—“

Eddie took the cue, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, hips chasing every movement he made, and finally darted his thumb back to that point of pleasure. Abandoning any care that you could be caught, you made an obscene sound that struck him clear through to the cock, pressing almost painfully against you, and he rocked his hips once, twice, again and again as he teased and kneaded at your aching clit.

“Don’t stop, Eddie,” you moaned, fisting his shirt, frantically riding his hand, “you’re— you’re going to— it-it feels - I’m—“

“Oh, it’s all you, sweet thing,” he exhaled raggedly, “Feel that, feel me? What you do - fuck, babe, you deserve it all, never gonna let a day go by where you don’t know that… so come on, right on my fingers, right here, right now, babe… let me look at you…”

He kept at it as he basically babbled, fingers continuing to glide and curl and thumb, never once easing up on you. His words paired with his movements had you climbing ever-higher to that peak, the tightening in your lower belly cresting, close, close, until you were crushing your mouth against his and cumming hard, cursing as muscles contracted and your cunt clenched around his hand. Your chest heaved against his and you had to break away after a long moment to breathe, lungs and heart feeling as though they were about burst, and you caught him staring, simply watching, luxuriating in you as he always did when either of you came, whether together or apart.

Sinking down against him, you pressed your face, flushed as could be, to his collarbone, a lazy kiss or two from your lips to the skin lingering as you came down, body impossibly warm and thrumming, mind blanketed blissfully in a fog of just him.

Slowly, reluctantly, Eddie removed his fingers from within you, and your face grew all the warmer as he raised them in front of you both, a devilish grin on his face as he admired them, slick and shiny, in the morning light. His ring practically glittered, and he caught you watching it alongside him, his smile turning into a glowing sidelong smirk as you buried your face back where it had been.

“Eddie…” you groaned, balling up your hand and lightly play-hitting him on shoulder, embarrassment welling up in you. Shifting slightly, you could feel the mess you both had made below, underwear - of which you clearly didn’t have another pair readily available - absolutely drenched, your legs automatically pressing together as your embarrassment only mounted… fuck sakes, you still had the whole school day to get through…

“Mm, shy now, are we…” he teased, rolling your face from the crook of his neck to look back up at him. “Not sure why,” he mused, self-satisfied smile widening as he raised those glistening fingers higher. You watched with wide eyes as they finally arrived at his mouth, and he gave his thumb a long, thorough lick upwards, heavy-lidded gaze never breaking from yours, a low, appreciative hum leaving him as he continued.

He proceeded to spread your slick over his lips then, tongue darting out to lap it up immediately, a mockingly-playful bite taking to his lip as he carried on with his agonizing display. “You taste fuckin’ amazing, as always, sweetheart.”

Though a part of you felt nothing short of thoroughly bashful, the sight stoked at you all over again, and you squirmed against him, too overwhelmed to think or act coherently quite yet. “God, you are utterly ridiculous,” you huffed, allowing your embarrassment to be soothed by pride at the way he, still hard and straining, rutted beneath you, into that tantalizing soaked heat of yours.

“Can’t deny a man his sugar, princess,” he quipped, leaning past you with a groan and reaching for his coffee. You gave him a curious look that almost instantaneously re-registered a maddening flush of desire and mortification as he popped his index and middle finger into his coffee as casually as could be, swirling them around before taking a long, long sip.

“Y-YOU— Did you JUST—?”

“Yes? Just a little natural sweetener, babe. Courtesy of you, of course.”

You swore you were about to burst into flames, hands flying to cover your face, ears burning and heart palpitating. “Ohhh. My. God…” He would be the end of you, and would relish in every second of it.

“Don’t be like that,” he laughed, a genuine thing that, along with the glorious aftereffects of the orgasm and bizarre, heady flush of your embarrassment, had you going light-headed and those butterflies returning to your stomach. “You’re my favourite flavour, after all.”

“Okay, you know what?” You leaned back on his lap, very deliberately reaching down to fiddle with his belt and zipper, his erection tickling the skin of your inner wrist as you went along. “I think it’s about time you shut up—“

“Oh, of course, you’ll hear not a word,” his face split into yet another grin and he pulled his fingers across his mouth, miming them zipped. His hands then fell to help you with his belt, but you swatted them away, and he exhaled a breathy laugh, running a hand back through his hair.

“I highly doubt that,” you grumbled, finally freeing him from the restricting confines of his jeans and boxers. You caught his eye for a brief second and licked your lips, swallowing through a dry throat at the way his rigid cock bobbed before you, precum practically beckoning you to bend down and—

“Mrs. Pratt, Mrs. Pratt, do you know where the AV equipment was last seen? It’s been missing since Wednesday, and Kenny and I need it—“

The shrill call of a voice much, much too close to the classroom you two occupied had you freezing and your heart leaping to your throat, and one quick glance at Eddie showed that even he had tensed into something of a panic mode.

“Fuck, what’s the time—“ Eddie shifted the chair you were both on at an angle away from the windowed door, obscuring at least a bit if a passerby were to skitter down the hall, before quickly checking his watch. “Goddamn, already 7:55…”

“So much for helping you with last minute review…” You blew out a breath that had his bangs flying up, and he laughed hoarsely, still very aware of your fingers skimming around his length, before leaning forward to tap your nose.

“Ah, it’s not like I didn’t learn something new,” he smirked for the umpteenth time just that very morning, and as always, it made you all the more hot and bothered. “For one, now I know you have a thing for going at it in classrooms… kinda figured you might, what with the whole studious, goody-two-shoes cheerleader act, but damn, you didn’t even hesitate…”

“I thought you were going to shut up,” you narrowed your eyes at him and ran your thumb under the length of his cock, and he groaned as he leaned in and kissed you squarely on the mouth - you wondered briefly if you could taste yourself on his lips…

“People are about to start flooding into the school… gonna be walking down that hallway, going about their day…” he whispered against your lips, “and yet here you are, still basically begging to suck my dick like half your cheer squad and the basketball team aren’t about to walk in that door any minute now… god fucking damn, you’re a bolder one than I, sweetheart…”

“Am I, now?” you finally found yourself leaning into the goading, to the excitement and danger of really, truly getting caught. Experimentally, you brushed the head of his cock with another featherlight skim, and his hips drove forward instinctively, heat throbbing and twitching against your palm and your mind going haywire with the need to sink down on him.

“No shit, babe,” he nuzzled your neck, voice a little breathier than before, “but whereas you somehow might have ended up as the freakier of us - no idea how that happened - I—“ He sighed and made to retrieve his tossed-aside belt, “Well, I’m a glutton for punishment, and the only person I want seeing you like this is me. So, unfortunately, sweetheart, I do believe this little foray is gonna have to wait until at least lunch…”

With that, he was, with much difficulty, removing your hands from his length and rearranging it in his boxers and pants, hissing and half-bucking as he did. You watched with confusion for a second, before squinting at him in frustration and, Jesus, really, truly whining, none of which helped with Eddie’s issue.

“Are you for real right now?”

Your voice was incredulous, your face screwed up in genuine exasperation, and fuck, the indignation had him wanting to drag you to the parking lot and to his van that very instant.

“You want my cock in your mouth that bad, sweetheart?” He jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, eyes sparkling with pure ego as he took your chin in his fingers and tilted it downwards. Through it all, your fingers still toyed around him, something he was more than happy to allow. “God, I love it when you get needy, like, seriously needy. Whore-adjacent, even.”

A sharp, abrupt laugh left you at that, his words doing nothing to alleviate the coiling sensation deep in your gut. “You’re lucky I like you so much, pretty boy,” you murmured as you rolled your eyes and looked away, and yet he knew you were quietly revelling in his taunting, in the name-calling.

“Mm, I am…” Finally having put himself back together, he reached up and brushed his knuckles along your jaw, a fond flash to his eyes and a gentleness to his touch that both contrasted and complemented the entire odd air of the situation. “Very, very much so.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, more embarrassed by the blatant affection than the teasing about, you know, being a desperate slut whom wanted little more than to blow him right then and there.

“Fine,” you humphed, sitting up and back in your own chair, crossing your arms in a way that deliberately hiked up your breasts as you did so, receiving an approving raise of his brows at the action. “But you best believe this is happening the second that fucking lunch bell rings, you hear? Your van, 11:45AM—“

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot,” he groaned, shooting forward to tilt you back in your chair and kiss you absolutely breathless. You clutched to him out of sheer surprise, but he had you completely secured in one arm, the other tending to your seat.

It was a little mischievous, a touch longing, and warm above all, and you couldn’t help wrapping an arm around him to kiss him even deeper. Despite the potential for being walked in on at literally any second, it wasn’t rushed, rather quietly, intensely yearning, all-consuming, the ever-present butterflies in your stomach going off erratically as he angled back further and further yet.

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, could keep me away,” he whispered as he finally broke away, once again just caressing you, his thumb stroking down your neck, tickling the flushed flesh. “Putting this off for the next few hours, s’gonna be pure fuckin’ agony—“

Pure fuckin’ bliss—

The delayed gratification was already stoking at the fire in his gut, and it had only been barely ten minutes… “—only thing I’m gonna be thinking about is you and that gorgeous goddamn mouth—“ Fuck, he was not helping himself, cock still as hard as ever and clearly evident to you before him, a raised eyebrow directed at it.

“But, oof, the come-up and drop down—“ He put his fingers up to his head and pretended to shoot off like a gun. “Gonna send me to seventh heaven, cloud fuckin’ nine, baby.”

“Mm, right answer,” you smiled, playfully rolling your eyes at his puppy-like enthusiasm, while letting him slowly put your chair back on four legs before you let go of his leather jacket. “And we’re listening to ABBA when we get out there.” You could have requested fucking gospel music and he would have agreed like it was nothing. “Now I suggest you do fulfill your previous promise and stop talking before you blow your load right here and now, Munson.”

At that, he stretched out his arms and did a goofy half-curtsy, applying a kiss to your hand, before turning and retrieving his coffee and bagel, eyeing you the entire time he took a good, long, loud drink of the beverage. “Better eat that,” he pursed his lips at your own once-bitten everything bagel, “Gonna need the energy for later, sweet thing.”

With this, he waggled his eyebrows and took off to his officially-designated desk several spots and a row behind you, leaving you to splutter as your fellow classmates conveniently started to filter in. Unable to mutter or scold or whatever, you tried to school your composure and instead took to his cheeky request, grabbing your bagel and taking a ragged bite, knowing all the while he was watching you, munching away at his own.

Just as a few more people entered the room, you heard a slurping sound from behind you, and you went ramrod straight as you slowly twisted around to find Eddie doing just so, his coffee cup hanging at his lips, doing nothing to conceal a massive smirk. Your attention now on him, he dropped the cup, finished, to the desk, and maintained eye contact as he slowly, heinously licked his lips. He was all casual in the way he held himself above the desk, shoulders relaxed and whole demeanour unbothered, but a quick glance below showed him unsubtly trying to angle his chair to the side, legs awkwardly half-crossed trying to hide the quite obvious.

When he caught you so blatantly staring there, accentuated all the more with a challenging, cocky wink, that smugness of his fell away in a second, replaced with something a little wild, more than a bit pathetic, and nothing short of desperate.

With a furtive little smile and definitive lick of your lips, you turned back to face the blackboard, mind swimming with anticipation and your gut aching with a familiar warmth all over again.

Oh, the next few hours were going to be torturously fun for the both of you, indeed.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Barely Alive (Chris Evans) (Pt. 2)

PART 1

Characters: Chris Evans x fem!reader

Summary: A zombie apocalypse happened on earth. You've decided to do something impulsive which will lead you into a life or death situation. But despite that, an unexpected savior came to rescue you and he was far more scared for your life than his. (Part 2)

Warnings: Reader is the same age as Tom Holland, but she's legal. Don't go pointing at me like I've created some sin yo. (Pls don't look at my Sebastian Stan oneshots 18+ hehehe 😅) I've read some rumour about H.C dating a 19 year old back then but I'm not sure if it's true. 😂

Words: 2,800+

A/N: I have no idea why I love writing this. Maybe because I love Resident Evil? Anyways, this is only PART 2 and there's going to be part 3. 😊 FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi.

Dedicated: @readermia​ @mcuclintasha​ @itsallyscorner​

The drive back took only minutes. Once the truck stopped inside the huge factory, Chris had swiftly scooped you in his arms. People came stalking towards the car, surrounding the truck as known faces came in view. The man who was holding you had his heart beating so fast, too rapid even though he wasn't even running. "Is that--" The other Chris intervened, Chris Pratt to be specific. His green eyes bulged out of his eye sockets as he saw Y/N in his arms, all bloody and weak.

"She needs help!" The latter helplessly worded out, entirely shaken from your bruised form as he quickly strolled towards the part of the factory where there were sets of hospital beds. "Ch-Chris," You finally managed to hush a whisper, it was too faint to hear but Chris was too focused on you and so he heard. "I'm here," he panted, heartbeat thumping so fast. The constant worry unconsciously travelling towards his eyes which began to fill with tears. He was trying not to, so he kept on swallowing the jitters. "I'm not leaving your side," whispered the man who gently dropped you on the soft, white bed.

Your pained moans started to come as you felt his warmth gone in just a flash. You couldn't form a word nor any sentences that everything was starting to hurt again and it was too excruciating to begin with. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm here, everything's going to be just fine," Chris choked, hasty eyes finding someone for help and he saw Zoe came rushing to his side, asking what happened and what was wrong.

"She was ambushed by men, four were killed by her. Yet, Caesar had her on the ropes," he uttered pointedly, biting his lower lip in apprehension. He felt Y/N moan another painful one. Instinctively, he reached out his hand to grab onto her hand that wasn't bruised, caressing the pad of his thumb on top of hers to let her know that he was there for her.

It was obvious that Zoe would've seen it, and she did. But, she'd rather not acknowledge it. Chris wouldn't dare be in love with a girl half his age, plus the fact that she had a boyfriend would he?

"Caesar? Caesar Brown?" Zoe subtly shook her head, maneuvering towards the other side of the bed as she began taking care of Y/N. "He's dead, already dead." The latter swallowed a lump down his throat, peering down at the bruised woman. An ache forming inside his heart that began to fill with dread. "Shot to the head," he said almost straight to the point that it sounded remotely restrained.

"By who?" Zoe inserted a needle that made Y/N silently moan, a tear escaping the sides of her eyes in which Chris immediately wiped.

"Me,"

His sympathetic friend stopped in her tracks as she was grabbing a cotton ball, her back facing him. Well, killing wasn't new to the world especially when they were in a middle of a zombie apocalypse. Though, what was bemusing her was from the moment her friend knew Y/N went east to grab some resupplies, he immediately flew out of the base despite of how many people didn't want to come. Nobody wanted to be with Y/N because there was no possibility that there were no infected. The fact that not even her own boyfriend, 'William' stood by her side when she went on her own was like a death wish or an ambush by the infected.

Nonetheless, to her surprise she was actually ambushed by nasty people.

Chris didn't know a thing about her impulsive plan because he went west with the gang to find more survivors. Once he came back and knew Y/N was all alone grabbing resupplies with no back-up, he went completely berserk as there were hundreds of bad outcomes inside his head that will make him regret living in the world they were in.

Thus, he didn't risk it. He'd rather risk his life just for her. As for Zoe's understanding with how he was acting since a month ago, he was acting strange that even his ex-girlfriend who was with them came to notice.

He was always with Y/N. Where Y/N was, he was also there. When he was asked why he was being too overprotective of her, his answer could always make them nod because it seems like he was telling the truth.

"She's like a baby sister to me. Nothing more, nothing less."  

Yet, his actions tell otherwise.

"Please, Zoe. Please, I need you to help her, please..She's..just...please, help her." Chris begged, washing his face with his hands in frustration as he stared in nothingness. Avoiding the state where Y/N was in, appearing to feel like he was hurting to see her in pain.

He was confused and Zoe knew deep inside it was his heart who was in a puzzle and that was the truth.

"Alright, I'll do my best, Chris."

Days have passed and Y/N still hasn't woken up. Those days that he felt like she was barely alive was horribly agonizing for him that he felt like his days weren't normal without hearing her hideous laugh and seeing her youthful smiles. His days went by like he felt as if he wasn't awake. He felt horrible that he hadn't been back before she has made that sudden decision that not everybody supported.

He felt like his head was floating as it ached at the same time while he was explaining tactics and opinions to certain people who were gathered up in the middle of a room with chairs, tables, papers, maps and radios. "We head to Maryland," Chris suddenly paused, sighing deep as he stood in the middle of the room, a table and map flat in front of him. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot as another shock of headache visited him, making him tightly shut his eyes.  

"Chris," Robert interrupted, analyzing what was happening to him. "You don't look too good," his friend stated as a matter of fact.

"I'm fine," Chris muttered more to himself, shaking his head to clear the head ache away. "So, where were we?"

"Maryland," Paul and Dave spoke at the same time with worried smiles on their faces. The latter nodded at that and tried to remember what he wanted to say before he was interrupted by his own head ache, but nothing. He remembered nothing as his thoughts were drifted to you who was currently in a coma.

"Ah, shit." he shook his head in disappointment before speaking an apology as he deeply sighed, a tight frown plastered on his face while he spun on his heels and left the room in which the team was definitely not used to besides his outgoing personality and large smiles that can get any human infected. Even Y/N.

The team looked at each other with knowing faces and bewildered eyes.

You were moved to a much safer room inside the factory where a hospital bed lays for you. In request by Chris, of course.

His frown tightened even more when he ended up leaning against the door to your room, watching you sleep, entirely motionless and his heart could feel the pricks of dread creep onto his heart for the hundredth time. He was feeling completely down in the dumps since you haven't woken up and it was tearing him apart.

(Just imagine him with the beard first, he’ll get to shave it soon. Hehehe)

"Dorito," Anthony revealed himself and appeared to walk beside him. A solemn look on his face. "You okay, man?"

It took a second for his friend to reply, "It's been three days," he lowly uttered, swallowing the sadness away, his melancholic blue eyes fixated on your form with his eyebrows cinched tight together. "She hasn't woken up since the last three days and I don't know if she will,"

"And you haven't taken at least one decent meal since the day it happened," his friend said with utmost concern. Anthony glance back to where people were encircled around a lit up bonfire. Y/N's boyfriend looking like he was having the best night of his life as he chugged on some beer while talking to some brunette lass. "You look more worried than William over there," he gestured to the back.

"Psh," Chris suddenly reacted, giving no attention to Y/N's boyfriend because as he was walking towards her room, he saw how her lover was coping up to her coma. He was enjoying.

"What kind of boyfriend even is he?" said Chris as he shook his head in disdain as he continued to state a fact. "You know your girlfriend's over here in a coma and he hasn't even visited her," the man mindlessly spat, sounding in much seeth.

"He did," Anthony butted in with a small grin. Remembering the day he saw William visit Y/N for five minutes and never came back. "But, it was only one time!" said the latter who was too irked to even talk about it.

"Kid was telling me he was scared to see her almost close to dying,"

"The kid's an asshat," Chris stated with a raise of his brow, folding his arms against his chest. "Woah, woah. Chris, you sound like a jealous man," There was no doubt, a little tone of mockery in his words. The latter huffed to himself as his eyes continued to gaze at your unmoving form.

"You sure you only see her as your baby sister?"

Chris continued to scowl as he was hearing him out. "What if you actually see yourself as her dad?" Anthony added with a huge grin that made him give him the stink eye.

"I sure as hell don't see you looking at her like she's your baby sister," His friend interrogated him as he was just stating the obvious. Chris couldn't say anything back. "You look at her very differently than you look at your real sisters," Anthony paused, lightly shoving Chris's shoulder to enlighten him. "Everybody knows how you look at her,"

"How do I even look at her, Anthony?" questioned Chris in curiosity. His eyes completely unreadable. Definitely blank. He was an actor after all. "You give her the look whenever the Russo's shout action as Steve Rogers stares at Peggy Carter," his friend trailed off.

"I know she's young and all, but she's legal and I don't see anything wrong about it--" Anthony added for Chris, smirking in the process as a thought came in mind. "--That didn't stop Henry Cavill from dating a 19 year old woman back then,"

Chris couldn't help a snicker leave his cherry red lips, "Stop before he hears you," he quietly chortled. Shaking his head at his friend's abrupt theories. "As I was saying," added Anthony with a nod. "Know your priorities, follow your heart because it's already the end of the world, Dude."

"--I thought Resident Evil or the Walking dead wasn't real, but here we are."

There was a sudden silence that wrapped them both together. Their gazes fixated on you who seemed to be barely alive from your lack of presence. No matter what Chris does in his everyday life, he couldn't get to push himself harder because of the reality that you were facing.

He couldn't accept that maybe it was because of him. You got hurt because he wasn't around.

"Try and think about your feelings and stop being serious like Steve Rogers. It's freaking me out, "

Feelings. All Chris felt was platonic. In his head, he knows his actions meant nothing. It was neither romantic nor sexual. Yet, to some of his close friends or family knew his heart says otherwise.

"Anthony, I'm not in love with her," His forehead creased a little too deeply at his sudden confession. His heart feeling as if it began to drop more stones on top of it.

"Sureeee, Christopher." bantered Anthony, his voice entirely full of contempt. "You know, you're too old to be an indenial boy already."

The guilty man huffed at the back of his mind as he tightly bit his lip to refrain from saying anything more. His words earlier seem like it wasn't right. It feels as if he made himself more frustrated and overwrought. He anxiously bit the underside of his own lips as he blankly stared out of nowhere, seeming to be in too deep inside his thoughts.

To catch his friend's attention, Anthony managed to tap his shoulder to rip him off from drifting into another world.

"So, what's the deal for tomorrow?"

Chris did a double-take, his expression solemn as he was staring straight at your motionless body laying peacefully on top of the hospital bed. He subtly cleared his throat, eyebrows knotted in a twist.

"We head to Maryland, bring back survivors since Scarlett had evidences that there are atleast thirty of them. Some are kids. Some are already suffering from starvation. We might need tons of back-up because the place can be a trap. Lots of infected come by there every now and then as it was said by Hiddleston. We need to take risks,"

Anthony kept his eyes fixated on his friend. A small grin plastered on his face as it reached from ear to ear. "Noted, Cap."

"Shut it, Ant." he playfully spat with another shake of his head. Chest puffed up and arms folded together.

"Stop being an indenial bitch before it's too late,"

"I told you, I can only see her as--"

Anthony interrupted his sentence like he knew what he was about to say next, "--my baby sister, nothing more. Nothing less. Alright, alright. I'll leave you to it,"

Chris seemed to drift off somewhere after a minute or two. His thoughts suddenly were in a haywire just by looking at you and it was frustrating him why he was feeling stressed because of everything.

It's not like living in a zombie apocalypse wasn't as stressful as before.

Anthony gave Chris a manly pat on his back, turning around his heels with a smile. "I've managed to sneak up a stack of Heineken when we were back at that abandoned mall. Caesar and his friends had it,"

Chris had his eyes solely on you, his lively blue eyes now filled with dread and uncertainty. Staring at every bruise on every parts of your body and cursing the heavens why Caesar had found you vulnerable to the point that he wanted to dominate you into demise.

Chris wasn't in love with you. No. It was impossible.

Anthony's laugh pulled him off his head space. His next words making him lift a small smile on  his face.

"You're free to chug it all down, man."

Ya’ like it? GO REBLOG AND GIVE THIS POST A HEART! Heehee!

XOXO, TATA

[thezfc]

Wow, that’s going on with her chippers? I regret deeply that I kept quiet through the NY run, especially the beginning when Zawe said so many things about the play that didn’t match how she played her character. And her acting was so bad in London that during the play I thought that I don’t know anybody who vaguely behaves this way in real life. Afterwards I only tweeted however that Tom’s acting was brilliant and exactly how  I had expected and Charlie and Zawe not at all. When I went a second time, I had added a photo of mine to my Twitter account in the meantime, and during the play I saw Zawe throw a pretty nasty look in my direction. I went a second time partly to see if her acting was any better being elsewhere in the theatre, which it wasn’t. When we stood at the other side of the street she threw us a condescending look as she came out and I thought “Wow.” and “What kind of hideous shoes is she wearing?” I guess the lack of sympathy is mutual. She triggers me all the wrong way by now, because I went to the theatre to enjoy myself and to watch Tom act  and not to get that kind of treatment from his costar who is so full of herself that she seriously tries to shut down everybody who does not agree with what she thinks about her character? Five months into the play she hadn’t even understood the play as a whole and was overly astonished by things Tom and Charlie said and that should have been obvious to her even by then.

I think a huge problem is that many haven’t even read the play and never formed an opinion of it on their own. They just go along with whatever Zawe said. Zawe demonstrated a pretty hefty lack of empathy. She seemed not to even get the character that Tom was playing. Tom must have felt slightly fooled when she said something like it being such an enjoyable play. There were grown up men crying in the theatre! And not from laughter. She also said that she never felt her character was judged at any point in the play. It was the whole point of the character Tom was playing, Robert bottling up his emotions and not showing his feelings about it to safe face. Why did she even cry along with him? I gasped how cold blooded that Emma then went to buy a cover for the lovers dent. Zero remorse. And Zawe did say that she is playing this wonderful person who has everything in life, a husband, a lover, a family with kids, a career.  Not quite what Jamie Lloyd also said in his recent interview, is it.

I didn’t agree with what Tom said about the three relationships either though, because if Robert hadn’t had that work relationship with Jerry, that’d have been it after Venice. And I don’t know about divorce law in the UK at the time. Zawe played her character incredibly emotionally abusive towards Robert in London. I gasped thinking that Tom has to go through this every night. But hey, a happy, funny play…

Did she really say anything worthwhile in the interviews? Other than that she knew that she’s great and that they are such a great trouple and having such a wonderful time together? I thought  that personal relationships are clouding their judgement of the play obviously. Besides it never being such a good sign, because if people display their supposed happiness too much, there’s always something wrong there and such relationships rarely last. They didn’t even communicate about the play properly. Charlie was surprised that Tom considered him a friend. Zawe made fun of Tom saying that his character went to the island in Italy on the podium that was supposed to be about the play. Much was about her, her, her and her again. 

So the men on the play were nice to work with. Good for her. Not so good is how she took full advantage of it. She said much without really saying anything in interviews. When the rumours came up, she put oil on the fire by talking about weddings and babies. If she was in a relationship with Tom that he wanted to keep a secret that was a pretty bad move.

It was however a very good move to get people talking about her, follow her every move, buy her book to find out what kind of a person she is, pay attention to her play. She wouldn’t even have been on Broadway without Tom.

Her chippers claimed that the relationship rumours would sell the play because people would want to see the couple. This is not true. Sales dropped with the rumours despite Tom’s tv appearance. They only rose again with the Comicon and then dropped again which is why, I think, they gave these interviews towards the end. They could have made so much more with the play. Even the 92Y event was only half sold. It seems people rather paid a lot of money to see Tom on his own at the Comicon than see him for longer for less money at this event together with her.

If she as least had anything useful to say, but all she does is steal from others. Her roles were written by others. The dresses are made by others. Even her hair and make up is done by others. She cannot even throw a facial mask on her face on her own. Her own play wasn’t well researched, spent only an afternoon in the library, she said, the idea came from somebody else and she wrote it within a day. Critics remarked that one can tell that she has parts in the play where she doesn’t have any personal experience and it shows, because nobody talks this way in real life in such settings. She said in interviews that she can only imagine doing things she’s seen others do.

In the SiriusXM interview towards the end of the run in NY she repeated exactly what the interviewer had just said. It’s common practice by people who want to make what somebody else said their own. This interviewer and the one on 92Y made sure that Tom and Charlie got more time to talk and they had so much more valuable things to say. She’s not an Emma Watson, a Jessica Chastain or Elisabeth Ohlsen.

When I heard about people wondering about that events company in Atlanta, I also immediately thought “Did she not get enough attention lately?” and “Is she trolling again?” It’s interesting that I wasn’t the only one to think so. I checked, her Instagram. Her posts with Tom got the most likes. Her follower count went up from 2000 I imagine to remember to 52000 when I looked last week or so down to 46000 the other day. Her posts only received 2500, which is still a lot, but less compared to the Betrayal run. The ones promoting her play got only around 700 likes. Approachable, by the way, for those who might not know, is part of the publicity game to gain followers.

Sorry for the long post. I found your tumblr in November and enjoyed reading it, saw many things mentioned but thought I familiarize myself first, not familiar with turmblr. Such long posts are probably also a no go. I’m still pretty clueless how to navigate this and to find other tumblrs and see what’s common practice. I just couldn’t hold back anymore seeing that people are bullied because her fans cannot stand people not agreeing with them. I kept quiet for far too long because I didn’t want such people at my throat. Keeping quiet didn’t do me any good, gave me some sleepless nights.

----

Hi and welcome, but yeah, shorter posts more often will get your point across, super long essays may not get read by most people :)

[orangememory]

The one where Jingyan gets a Tramp Stamp

Don’t look at me - this is a Langya Hall friends episode, brought to you by Discord chat, my sad attempts at crack and humour, and Lin Shu not being subtle in any fucking way. Be warned for historical inaccuracy and utter trash. 

Lin Shu knows he likes Jingyan. I mean, in a very cousin brother-ly, best friend-ly way, hugging tight while bedding down together every night-ly way of course. Some say that he should protect the Seventh Prince in a liege-servant-ly way as well, but fuck their entrenched ideas of hierarchy.

Jingyan is a strong boy, he doesn’t need any protecting. (Except from Nihuang and Dong-jie and Auntie Jing who can hand all the boys their asses on a shining, golden platter and their victims will still say thank you afterwards.)

But as they grow older, Lin Shu finds his notions of ‘Jingyan doesn’t need protecting’ increasingly challenged. It particularly perplexes him once Jingyan’s voice breaks - because even though the seventh prince is still gangly and pimply - men and women start flocking to him like he’s the last tasty morsel on this planet. Women start dropping their hastily-embroidered handkerchieves around Jingyan, and men start listening to Jingyan’s boring discourses with rapt attention, inching ever closer to him, till one offensive asshole is almost in Jingyan’s lap one day and Lin Shu almost bursts a vein and a pimple reigning in his anger.

(It’s that annoying, slutty Lin Chen who is visiting the Lin Manor with his dad - and Lin Shu hates all of him just as much as he likes Jingyan. The flowing hair and the flowing sword movements - and the rather unsubtle gestures with his tongue and cheeks and hands which imply...pleasurable activities he wants to undertake with Lin Shu’s Jingyan - which is never going to be possible because Lin Shu would roast Lin Chen slowly over a fire if he ever got that close to Jingyan.

But Lin Chen did get that close to Jingyan, and Lin Shu almost killed him before he remembered his dad and Uncle Lin would whoop his ass. Lin Shu likes his ass very much, thank you, it’s a good cushion for Jingyan’s legs to rest at night when he wraps them around Lin Shu while bedding down together.)

Lin Shu manages to only put an itching powder in Lin Chen’s bath and fend off all the men with the butt of his sword, but there is only so much a Young Marshal like himself can do about the rest of the fanboys and and girls.

So he spreads rumours of Jingyan having horrible ailments, diseases of the skin, the genitals, nasty warts and a crude disposition. The bride/husband price for an Imperial Prince soon goes waaaaaay below average, but there are still people thirsty enough to lust after Jingyan - mainly because of that fucking velvet, suddenly-erupted baritone voice, and somewhat because an Imperial Prince will still be rolling in cash.

Lin Shu cannot take this. He thought he had all his bases covered when it came to keeping Jingyan’s virtue intact. He even slept and bathed and dressed with Jingyan for god’s sake, so sneaky interlopers like that itchy Lin Chen could not intrude on Jingyan’s personal space. It was at this time, Lin Shu decided it was time for a more permanent solution.

I mean, if he somehow marked Jingyan with something that would keep all these suitors away - a light scar on Jingyan’s face would be painful and excessive, maybe some mark across his chest or hands? Some kind of lettering just like in all the painful, somewhat porny soulmate AU reworkings of popular novels sold at seedy bookstores?

*Boom* That’s when an idea clicked in the mind of the extremely well-read (in porn, at least) Young Marshal Lin Shu. Lettering, a mark - it would not be something the Great Confucius would like - injuring the body your parents would give you. It was only done to criminals and slaves - and sometimes by the ladies and gentlemen of the night for better eyebrows and lips, but a tattoo would solve all of Lin Shu’s problems! Jingyan would bear this mark forever, and everyone who tried to get close to him would know not to mess with Young Marshal Lin Shu’s property.

Wait, Lin Shu wondered, When did he consider Jingyan his property? (Ever since you tried to eat Jingyan by biting on his cheeks at Age two and called him ‘mine’ of course, you idiot). The Emperor would be furious if he ever found out and probably charge even his favourite nephew with treason for daring to call an Imperial Prince his property. Lin Shu wonders for a wild moment if he should wait till Jingyu-ge becomes Emperor (so that he would only be maybe flogged a 100 times and lose feeling in that butt that warmed Jingyan’s legs) - maybe offing his Uncle gently and early would help? Nah, still treason and heartbreak for Jingyan - out of the question, then.

Wait - would Jingyan even agree to this madness in the first place, Lin Shu realised? Sure, he was destroying any hopes for any future possible consorts but Jingyan always went with whatever Lin Shu said - even destroying his principles of brotherly piety when Lin Shu had poured dung into Jingxuan and Jinghuan’s shoes for calling Jingyu-ge a fool. (Although Jingyan’s face may have turned redder than his robes and he may have sniffed back a tear because he liked being irritatingly righteous, not underhanded.)

Exasperated, Lin Shu realised he had too many questions and doubts. The problem of being the most radiant boy in Jinling came with the natural problem he tended to overthink things. Lin Shu thought of applying the great strategic books he had read to this case, but ultimately got distracted by his sordid novels. Again. So he decided to follow the simplest route.

Jingyan was his - at least in all the ways that was not spousely duties. So Lin Shu would use a caveman approach - knock Jingyan over the head (with an intoxicant) and ask him for his opinion on having Lin Shu’s name written on any part of his body. Sober!Jingyan would probably beat Lin Shu for hours, and lovingly tend to his injuries for days. Lightweight Drunk!Jingyan however, liked spilling his guts, both literally and figuratively.

This was a plan. A very good plan.

This was not a very good plan, Lin Shu realised, as a handsy and drunk Imperial Prince was draping himself all over Lin Shu’s body at the ‘House of Entertainment’ the Young Marshal had dragged him to. They were sitting in public view of many other young noblemen and women, glaring daggers at the clearly not-diseased Prince living his life in his best friend’s arms, singing bawdy love songs in his hot voice, to no proper accompaniments, interrupting the graceful dancers who were just giggling in a corner.

If he was sober as well, Lin Shu would have picked up and carted Jingyan off on his back, but then he was not, and Jingyan would occasionally hotly whisper a line of said bawdy love song into Lin Shu’s ears, before suddenly changing tone and screeching the next line loudly to the angry audience. It made Lin Shu burn with anger because who had put such salacious innuendos and songs into Jingyan’s mouth? (It better not be that pretty Zhanying or that cursed Lin Chen, they would pay with their dicks). And how dare those sinful words make everything north and south of Lin Shu’s belly tingle and start to grow uncomfortably hard?

Lin Shu’s delightful ponderances and troubles, which were squirming deliciously in his lap, were interrupted by an unceremonious booting by large men outside the doors of the fine establishment - to loud curses from Lin Shu, of course. Wobbly, tingly and disoriented,  with a craving-human-contact pimply-faced Imperial Prince to take care of, Lin Shu was pissed at himself. His plans never failed, but here they almost did. He half-carried, half-dragged the object of his ridiculous best friend-ly affections across the streets, finally flopping down near a questionable establishment for some noodles.

Jingyan fell asleep in his gently steaming bowl of broth. Lin Shu sighed, and took him to wash the vegetables out of his finely, silky imperial hair, that Lin Shu would comb and braid for Jingyan everyday. This.was.not.a.god.day.

“Xiao Shu,” Jingyan drawled in his drunken haze, “Xiao Shu, do you know you and I make a pearl? You’re my pearl and I’m your pearl. You’re my best pearl.”

A pearl? What was Xiao Jingyan getting at? Right now, Lin Shu was just a ball of half-drunk exasperation and self-loathing at his failed plans and sad he didn’t even ask the question that he needed to ask Jingyan.

“Xiao Shu, do you know we make pearls together? My Yan, and Your Shu. Xiao Shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu....”

This Jingyan came with extra cuddliness, so he wrapped himself tight around Lin Shu’s abject failure and misery and made it all better, no matter the strands of greens in his hair. Sighing, Lin Shu jumped into the snuggle, and let his best friend’s words filter into his brain. Shu, Yan and a Pearl.

A bolt of lightning struck him! Of course! Of course! Why had he never thought of that? Lin Shu was the most brilliant boy of Jinling, and yet the biggest water-buffalo of Jinling had figured out this connection?

Dammnit, this was becoming a good plan again.

“Hey Yanyan, do you think...it’s a good idea to get a tattoo of our name on our bodies? That way everybody will know you belong to someone, and they won’t marry you! No treason as well.” Lin Shu’s reddened eyes glittered with mischief.

“Of course, my pearl. Anything you say.”

Success! Success! Success! Lin Shu was not a failboat!

But... where would one find such a place at this hour?

Lin Shu was not the luckiest boy in Jinling for nothing, for the second angry propietor of the day had come to find his errant customers doing questionable but brotherly things as he was assured, against a wall. He had heard their entire conversation - would they be interested in the ‘Ink Shop’ upstairs, run by his friend? Very discreet, he said. They even catered to spies!

This story is already long and winded-enough, so let me condense this part by telling you where Lin Shu and Jingyan walked up some stairs, found a woman with needles as sharp as her eyes, who gave them some strong alcohol to drink and drew a beautiful, lifelike pink pearl, floating in blue seas above Jingyan’s butt crack and marked an extra ‘Property of Zhu’ written above in red to make the fact more apparent. And no treason!

“My preciousssssssssssss.....pearl,” Lin Shu hisses with an odd emotion and drunken glee as he traces the lines on Jingyan’s hips, and the mistress of the shop looks at him with a mix of mirth and pity. (She later does get pissed though, when Lin Shu asks her for a discount because her fees are too expensive. She kicks them out of the shop after she wrenches out a jade pendant from his belt. Lin Shu wonders if he can recruit her for the army.)

Lin Shu’s plan is finally, excruciatingly accomplished.

Struggling, they somehow make it back to Jing Manor, where Jingyan wakes up with no memory of the previous night and a stinging pain on his lower back. Xiao Shu tells him they fell down some stairs, and then were stung by nettles. Jingyan rolls his eyes at the obviously tall tale, but lets Xiao Shu tend to him carefully over a few days, applying salves across places that made him tingle and blowing cool over it to soothe the skin. (Not to mention, Jingyan may secretly...like Xiao Shu giving him all this attention, especially after Lin Chen had offered to solve the problems of Jingyan’s heart using his Langya Hall analytical expertise and a year’s worth of Jingyan’s salary. Jingyan had felt sorry for the guy when he was itching-powdered by Xiao Shu, but fuck did the mercenary deserve it).

Jingyan doesn’t think much of it after the pain fades, and soon he is to be sent to Donghai. Months away from Xiao Shu, he rues.

“Bring me a pearl the size of a pigeon’s egg,” Xiao Shu asks, a ridiculous request and Jingyan colours because how dare Xiao Shu ask for a pearl so casually, doesn’t he know what it means to Jingyan?

Scared, Jingyan thinks if he blabbed something too much that drunken night. Naaah, Xiao Shu would never let him live it down. Ever. Jingyan would probably find his household decorated in pearls rather glaringly if Xiao Shu would realise why Jingyan liked pearls.

But anyway, Xiao Shu wants a pearl. In a few months, Jingyan will get it for him. And maybe he will tell Xiao Shu the meaning behind it as well. Maybe.

Lin Shu watches Jingyan depart in the early sunrise. He will be back, with fancy pearls! Yes! He can use it to replace the jade pendant on his belt, extracted by that mysterious Mistress of Ink.

He can’t wait for Jingyan to discover his tattoo, the fool. By the time he blows his top, Lin Shu will be far, far away. Well, at least then the world will know Xiao Jingyan with his gangly limbs and velvet voice is taken - he is Lin Shu’s property, in a cousin-brother-ly, best friend-ly way, of course.

*****

Jingyan doesn’t uncover the tattoo until two years after Chiyan, mainly because he was too heart-sick and full body bronze mirrors were luxuries in the battlefield. One day, he is injured across his back, and Zhanying and the doctor are shocked by the rather...indelicate declaration across the Prince’s body parts.

Jingyan is not shocked, but he becomes rather sad and bursts into tears.

Jingyan bursts into tears because of course, this has to be Lin Shu’s doing. He both loves and hates Lin Shu for doing this to him and then dying on him.

Lin Shu left his mark on Jingyan’s body and expected him to live on after that?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

*****

Prince Jing and Sir Su have been fighting a cold war over the last few days, mainly about some officials to be purged and some policies where they have to take a step back. Xiao Jingyan isn’t a complete fool, but he has above-board solutions to the clearly duplicitous dealings proposed by the Divine Talent.

“Ha, ha, ha! His Highness and Sir Su can always reach a compromise, you needn’t fight like spouses,” says General Meng rather haltingly to soothe their fight, and Prince Jing scratches his head at the obviously strange choice of words.

Sir Su sends Li Gang with a formal apology and invite through the tunnel, and things thaw a little bit in Prince Jing’s heart. Sometimes his strategist has to understand his ideas as well. Well, Jingyan gloats a bit in his victory, and draws things out, promising to meet in a few days when he is not busy.

That evening, Jingyan finds Fei Liu playing in his manor with Tingsheng, teaching him how to steal flowers. Not a very good practice for his imperial nephew, however Fei Liu if nothing, is a good and patient friend to Tingsheng. Seeing them run and play only reminds Jingyan of happier times in his life.

Seeing Fei Liu looking sourly at him, Jingyan feels a pang of pain, and decides to relent a bit and ask after Sir Su’s health.

“Su-gege angry! Then sad! Then coughing! Then angry! Then Sad! All because of water-buffalo!” The boy’s bristling, and Jingyan winces under his glare, while Tingsheng shakes in silent laughter at the old nickname.

“He’s coughing? Is he better now?” Jingyan asks with genuine concern, because of course, he values the strategist as a good friend by now, otherwise why would he even waste his time bickering and making his feelings known on petty matters? Jingyan would never go to such lengths if he considered Sir Su only a tool, he would declare his intentions and just give the man an ultimatum. He feels very sad he has caused the strategist to fall ill, he should pay a visit at least by tomorrow.

“Still coughing! Saying water-buffalo should pull out the pearls stuck in his butt!”

Tingsheng claps his hands over his mouth and Jingyan stills.

It cannot be. There’s no way Nihuang knows this secret.

That fucking idiot. Jingyan will murder him.

*****

Prince Jing arrives in the Su Manor the next day through the tunnel, and makes polite, even pleasant conversation with his strategist. Sir Su’s pinched look is rapidly evaporating, and he even begins lightly bantering with his prince. (I mean, in every universe, Lin Shu thinks Jingyan belongs to him.)

“I was hoping to apologize to Sir Su by taking him for some entertainment on the Spiral Market Street, there are many unique places that will surely pique Sir Su’s interests,” the prince offered calmly over some snacks, earning the arch of an elegant brow and the barely visible gnashing of teeth.

“Your Highness need not apologise to me for such minor matters, now that all is resolved. But I must refuse Your Highness’ invitation, I fear I am but a weak man to enjoy the pleasures of such establishments.”

“Ah, but I insist! There is a special place I must take you to.”

Sir Su’s expression only stiffened further, as he declared with an icy smile, “I did not know Prince Jing frequented the famous area, what specialty does this place offer?”

Prince Jing bit into a lotus seed cake casually, smiling unusually wide and sharp at Sir Su. “I believe they are very discreet. They are known for beautifully inking people’s bodies with art - particularly pearls on people’s backsides?”

Mei Changsu squeaks indecorously and drops his teacup. Jingyan smirks evilly.

“It’s not fair, you donkey. If I get to be your property, then you get to be mine too. Although I plan to be more direct. ‘This pretty ass belongs to Xiao Jingyan.’ How about it, Xiao Shu?”

Mei Changsu squeals (half-in delight of course) as Jingyan pounces upon him.

****

Mei Changsu doesn’t go to the tattoo parlour for weeks after that, because Jingyan ensures his rear-end is nice and stretched and sore in fifty different ways.

Mei Changsu also gets to see the pearl after twelve years, it has held up beautifully, despite the wrath of the artist. He likes tracing it out with unmentionable parts of his body. It’s fun.

When Eunuch Gao finally helps the new Emperor and his treasured Consort, the former Mei Changsu dress up in their Imperial robes for the first time, he nearly has a heart attack seeing the matching and mysterious ‘Property of Zhu’ on their lower backs. (There is also the hint of a round pink thing poking out but Eunuch Gao NEVER EVER wants to know what that is).

“My precioussssss....pearl,” the Consort whispers to the Emperor before giving him a kiss.

Eunuch Gao thinks he should retire. He has officially Too Much Information by now.