#i read his letter earlier its actually so fucking sad that he has to leave because people are too crazy to realize that idols are PEOPLE to

[solplease]

dude sm is fucking evil... wdym seunghan was back for two days... and now he's not even in the group..?

[snappleapple]

their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

[127-mile]

The drug in me is you.

Pairing: Doll maker!Kun x female reader.

Genre: Strangers to lovers, doll making | Fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings: This is NOT what a healthy relationship is, this is pure fiction. 

Manipulation, obsession, explicit major character death, non-explicit mention of death, violence, blood, alcohol consumption, oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight dirty talk, protected sex, drug use (note that the reader is unaware of the drugs being used at first, Kun tells her later) + The sex happens before Kun starts using the drugs on the reader.

Plot: One night, you met Kun in a bar. Kun was handsome, kind, caring, intelligent but he was also obsessed with dolls. You thought it was funny, until he made you one of his many dolls. Fear not, you are not just any doll, you are his best creation. 

Word count: +10k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day guys! This is part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by @du0tine​. Please mind the warnings. Title from Falling in Reverse.

Tag list: @moondustaeil​, @prettyjaems​, @svchengss​, @jaehyvnsvalentine​, @xiaojunssmile 

Chapter zero: his best creation.

It is said that the eyes are a window to the soul, but when they look at you, your eyes are glassy, it is impossible to read the slightest emotion, your soul is empty, your soul has been replaced by a void, by the nothingness. Yet, you smile. A smile that is hard to describe, it is not forced, but it is not genuine either. It's just there.

You look at yourself in the bedroom mirror, and you hardly recognize yourself. Your fingers rest on the choker that adorns your neck, and for a brief second, your smile wears off, and your eyes seem to clear, but it disappears just as quickly. The choker is in red satin, a heart-shaped pendant in the middle. A letter is engrave on it. K.

The alarm on your phone makes you jump, and you turn to the object on the nightstand. It's time for you to go downstairs for breakfast. Kun must already be waiting for you. You turn off the alarm, and leave the room. If the bedroom is warm, the hallways are cold, or maybe it is just the cold from the tiling under your feet creeping into your body.

The marble stairs shine under your passage, and you do not dare to put your hand on the railing, of fear of leaving a trace. The house is immaculate, pristine. Anyone entering the house unexpectedly would think that no on lives here, that this is just a show house. This is what you also believed the first time you came here. Everything is in its place. Everything is perfect, just like Kun.

You walk into the dining room, and you see Kun. He is seated at the table, his laptop where a plate should be, but you know that in the morning, he likes to work while you eat, so he can spend a little more time with you before going to work. And you appreciate that. At least, you think you do.

The chair creaks as you pull it away from the table, and Kun looks up from his screen. He takes off his glasses which he puts on the table, and he smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "Good morning, my love, how are you?" you hold out your hand for him, and he takes it to place a tender kiss on the back. "I'm fine. I missed you in bed this morning."

Kun nods, and he gets up from his chair to fill your plate with fresh fruits, and pancakes drenched in maple syrup, just the way he knows you like them. "I'm sorry, doll, I had some late work to finish." if you live for Kun, Kun lives for his work. It is sad, but that's how life is sometimes, but that does not mean he does not love you.

"Eat everything." he says, and you nod, picking up your fork. He takes your glass and pours some squeezed orange juice into it. He turns to a locked glass cabinet, and takes out a small bottle filled with a translucent liquid. He drops a few drops in the glass, and you watch him to it, your head cocked to the side. "What is that?" you ask, and he sighs.

"I told you before, it helps keep you a sweet little doll." you nod again, you seem to have heard that phrase once or twice before, even though Kun has had to remind you every morning for months now. But he doesn't mind, he likes to remind you that it is thanks to him that you are such a sweet doll. He kisses the top of your head, and you close your eyes at the contact.

"Am I your favorite doll?" you ask before stuffing a strawberry into your mouth. Kun sits down again, and he watches you for a second. "Of course. Of all the dolls I made, you are the one I love the most, you are my best creation."

Chapter one: finding the doll.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

You are surprised to hear a voice above the hubbub of music and conversations in the bar where you are. At first, you expect to find Taeyong grinning like an idiot, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he's been drinking ever since you arrived, but when you turn on your stool, you frown when you see a man you've never seen before. You tilt your head to the side.

"And why would I say yes?" you ask, and the man smile. He has two dimples that make him look a little more childhish, a thin layer of sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, but he is still handsome in the dimmed lights of the bar. The first two buttons of his shirt are open, and you can't help but glance at the sliver of skin. "The question is, why would you say no?"

You do not have an answer to that, so you nod and the man sits on the stool next to you. He calls out the bartender, and asks to put two glasses of whatever you were drinking. "My name is Kun." he says, turning to you, and he holds out his hand. Hand that you squeeze for a brief moment. "Y/n." he smiles once more. "Pleased to meet you."

"So what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asks, and you shrug, sliding your index finger across the rim of your glass. "This is my brother's bar." you explain, and you see the colors disappear from Kun's face, and when he is about to open his mouth, probably to apologize, you smile. "I'm just kidding. My best friend got dumped, so I'm here to support him as he drowns his grief in overpriced cocktails."

Kun's shoulders relax, grinning. "What about you?" he brings the glass to his lips to take a sip, and he winces at the sligh burn of the liquid in his throat. "Terrible day at work, I needed to relax." he explains in a low voice. "It's true that being in a crowded bar that smells like sweat and cheap alcohol is the best way to unwind from a day at work." you say, looking at him above your glass.

Kun chuckles softly as he puts his glass back on the bar, he rests his fingers beside it, and immediately regrets his decision when he feels how sticky the bar is. "It's always better than being alone at home." he says, and you agree, altough you are more the type to relax in bed with music rather than in a crowded and noisy bar. You would never have entered this place in your life if Taeyong had not begged you to come with him for over an hour earlier.

"Tell me about you, Kun." you ask, finishing your drink in one go, and you turn on your stool to face him. "I work in my best friend's law firm, I have a dog, and I love reading." he speaks in a bored manner, and you bite the bottom of your lip so as not to laugh. "I'm not the most interesting person here." you shrug, putting your hands flat on your thighs. "That's true, but there must be more than that, come on Kun, don't be shy."

Kun seems to think about it for a minute or so, yes he has more than that, but he can't really afford to tell you, not during your first meeting. His idea is to have a good time, and why not bring a girl back to his house, not to scare anyone and end up in prison that same evening. "I have an obsession with dolls."

This time around, you can't contain your laughter, and Kun is not offended, this is what he was expecting. "Dolls? Like barbies, or porcelain dolls?" you ask after catching your breath, you appreciate his presence, you do not want to see him go so soon, so you have to look and sound interested. "Porcelain dolls, but they are different, they all have stories."

"Stories? What do you mean?" you tilt your head, and Kun turns on his stool too. His knees bang against yours, and you glide your gaze down your legs for a brief moment. "These are not just porcelain dolls you would find in a store, they all come to my house with a clear story, and it is up to me to make sure they end their lives peacefully, and happily." that's fucking weird. "I don't know if you are being serious, or if you are making fun of me Kun, and you know what? I'm not sure I actually want to know."

You do not know how, but you went from an odd discussion about Kun's obsession with dolls, to this situation. Pressed against the door of Kun's room, you pant while feeling Kun's lips on your neck, his teeth digging into your skin, his tongue soothing the burn right away. Kun's hands are everywhere, under your top, along your still clothed thighs, you do not know where to focus.

"You are so hot, doll." Kun whispers hotly against your ear, and you bite your lower lip. "Is that why you brought me here?" Because I remind you of a doll?" Kun's gaze meets yours and he smirks. "Perhaps." you roll your eyes, and before you have a chance to open your mouth, Kun drops to his knees, ignoring the burn of the carpet, and when you give him permission to continue, he busy himself by removing your pants and panties. He slips one of your legs over his shoulder, and he covers your thighs with hot burning kisses and bites.

Kun does everything he can to avoid the area you want him the most, and you begin to whimper impatiently. He laughs as he licks his last bite to soothe the pain, and he looks up at you. You look like a work of art, with your head thrown back against the door, your eyes half-open and parted lips. "What do you want, doll?" he asks, and you sigh. "I don't know. Everything. Give me everything Kun, don't be an asshole."

"Everything?" Kun asks, and you nod with vigor. "Alright, your wish is my command, doll." he kisses your ankle, and he brings his lips up close to your core, and he blows gently. The cold air makes you shiver slightly, and you close your eyes, resting one hand in Kun's hair, and the other on the door for stability, because as he slides a finger in between your folds, your knees buckle.

"You are so wet doll, and all because of a few kisses? Cute." you pull his hair lightly, and he growls. "Stop talking please." you mumble, and Kun shrugs his shoulders but with your eyes closed, you can't see him. Neither do you see him approach his face and replace his finger with his tongue. "Oh." that's all you can say before he lays his tongue flat against your clit.

You are convinced that Kun will spend the next few minutes teasing you, but he does not. He licks your clit with vigor, and you can't help but roll your hips for more contact, and his free hands keep your from moving too much, which make you whimper loudly. His mouth is hot, insanely so. He pushes a single digit into you, making you mewls, not expecting him to do so. "Such a good girl." he says, moving his face away to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

"More, more, please." you whisper, and Kun obliges. A second, then a third finger join the first, and you bite your lower lip to cover your moans that are getting loud, and embarrassing, but Kun doesn't seem to agree with you. "That's what we are not going to do. I want to hear you." he says in a firm voice, slapping your thigh. You almost lose your balance, but he stops you from falling by resting his hand on your waist. His grip is strong, and you know you'll have bruises of the shape of his fingers for days.

You already feel so close to your orgasm, you can feel it, you can taste it on your tongue. Kun keeps stimulating your clit with his thumb while pumping his fingers in and out of you, your muscle tightens around his fingers and he loves the feeling of your hot, wet walls, so much that he feels himself throb in the confined of his jeans, he can't wait to put his cock to good use inside of you.

When you feel heat spreading through your body, Kun's fingers pull back and you whine. You feel empty, and you do not like that feeling, not with how good Kun's fingers made you feel. "No, no, why, I was so close." you sob, and Kun smiles when he sees a single tear run down your cheek, it is so beautiful to see how fucked out you look with only his fingers. "You will cum. Later. On my cock, doll." fuck. "If you are nice, I'll make you cum twice, how does that sound?" you nod, that's all you can do right now.

Kun puts your leg back on the floor, and when you lower your head to look at him, he slides his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of your juice, and you roll your eyes. "Kun." you are out of breath, and he straightens up before kissing you. He doesn't wait to get your permission before sticking his tongue into your mouth, and even though the kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing and salive gathering at the corner of your mouths, he puts his hands on your waist, to keep you upright because this simple kiss makes your legs feel like jelly, and he can feel it.

"Lie down on the bed." he orders, and you obey. You do not know how, but you get to the bed without tripping. Before lying down, you get rid of your last pieces of clothing before throwing them somewhere in the bedroom. You lie down, your head resting on Kun's pillows which smell of his perfume, and a mixture of sweat and soap, which is weirdly addicting, you think.

When you turn your head to look at him, you are disappointed to see that he is already undressed, but that's okay, you'll find another opportunity to touch his soft skin. He rummages in a drawer, and you see him walk up to the bed with a condom in hand, and without waiting, he climbs onto the bed to hover over you.

He places a quick kiss on your lips, and he begins to open the condom's packet, but you shake your head, resting your hands on his. "Let me do it." Kun nods, but he gasps when you push him to the other side of the bed to straddle his thighs. His cock is hard, the tip is red and leaking precum. You lean in, and run your tongue through the slit before swallowing the sticky liquid, all under Kun's hungry gaze.

"You drive me crazy." he groans, and you smile, perfect, you like that. You throw the condow packet on the floor, and before rolling it over his member, you lick the vein on the side from bottom to top, a groan snarling out of Kun's mouth. "Can I ride you?" you ask, while rolling the condom over his thick member. "Whatever makes you happy, doll."

You take his cock in your hand, and you nudge the tip over your entrance, you take a deep breath, and you ease the member gently. Kun's hands rest on your waist, and he gently helps you, and when finally you bottom out, he stays still. Yes, he wants to fuck you into oblivion, but he is also human, and he doesn't want to hurt you. At least not that way.

When you feel ready, you put your hands flat on Kun's chest and you roll your hips. "So tight, doll. You were made for me." Kun looks handsome from above, you think, looking at the way he bites his lower lip with every movements of your pelvis, the way his fingers tighten around your waist. But after a while, Kun starts to get impatient, and he plants his feet on the mattress to thrust harder into you.

"Oh fuck." you moan following the movement of his thrusts, but soon, you feel the burn in your thighs. You, who wanted to have a minimum of control, are already losing it as your legs fall asleep on either side of Kun's thighs. "Kun, Kun." you sob, your vision misted with tears once more. "Yes, doll, I'll take care of it." he pushes you onto the bed, and you wrap your legs around his waist when he enters you again.

He nestles his face in the crook of you neck, and he bites, hard. You close your eyes, a lewd sound coming out of your mouth and you throw your head back. Kun's thrusts are quick, strong, and deep, so much so that if you legs weren't secured around his waist, you would be pushed against the headboard. He is not holding back, and fuck you are grateful for it.

Kun sits up, and his hands grip the headboard to speed up his thrusting if that's even possible. His cock rocks against your sweet spot, and your orgasm crash over you without you even realizing it. You vision turns black, and you see stars for a moment as Kun growls when your walls tighten deliciously around his lenght. "Oh fuck, yes." he kisses you but fucked stupid like you are, you are unable to kiss back, all you can do is pant, and whimper at how sensitive you feel.

"One more?" he asks in a soft voice, which contrasts with the way he pounds into you. You are not sure you can do it, but you nod anyway, your body might hate you tomorrow, but it will be worth it. Despite everything, Kun opens his mouth. "What's your color?" he asks, and even though it takes a minute for you to figure out what he is asking, you speak out, in a broken voice. "Green, green, Kun." Great.

Kun doesn't know if he wants to cum, or if he wants to spend the rest of the night fucking you. It is so good, and at the same time, he wants to taste the sweet release he can feel creeping up slowly. He keeps thrusting, his knuckles turning white from the force with which he squeezes the headboard, and even his growls get louder. As for you, a flood of moans mixed with his name flows from your lips which he kisses, and bites hard enough that the skin breaks and a drop of blood flows before he licks it clean.

"Close, close." that's all you moan, and it's enough for Kun to understand. He nods, and one of his hands slides between your bodies to your clit, which he strokes with his thumb. You grab Kun's shoulders and dig your fingernails into the skin, and that's what seems to do, Kun cums in the condom. You feel it. You feel the hot cum against your walls even with the latex in between, and your legs start to shake with the intensity of your second orgasm.

Kun continues to thrust, slowly this time, riding his orgasm, but you are so sensitive that you shake your head. It is too much. "Stop, stop, please, I can't take it anymore." Kun obeys, and he stops his movements and he cages your face with his hands, being careful not to put his full weight on you. "It was perfect. You were perfect, doll." he whispers near your lips before kissing you for quite a while, and much more tenderly than before. And when he pulls out for air, he gets up from the bed to remove the condom and put it in the trash. You feel really empty, but ready to fall asleep.

When Kun returns to the bedroom with a damp cloth, he finds you asleep. You seem peaceful, so much that he doesn't want to wake you up and force you to go home, not that he wants you gone, so he doesn't. He puts on some sweatpants, and he lies down next to your after cleaning you briefly, and covering your naked body with a blanket, and he watches your for a moment before he too falls asleep, a smile on his face.

Chapter two: the morning after.

It is around 11am when you open your eyes. At first, you are lost. You do not recognize the sheets your are in, and you do not recognize the scent around you. The presence next to you is foreign, and it takes you two or three minutes to remembers. The bar with Taeyong. Your meeting with Kun. Kun! You spent the night with Kun, now you remember, and when you turn your head, you see a tuft of blonde hair coming out of the comforter.

Oh fuck, Taeyong!

You left the bar last night without telling him you were ditching him to go home with a complete stranger. You get out of bed slowly, ignoring the pain in your legs, and you find your pants neatly folded on what you supposed is Kun's desk, and you are definitely not the one who did that. Your top and lingerie are laid aside, and you wonder if all the one night stands are as kind and considerate as the sleeping man. But you doubt it. In your pants pocket you take out your phone, and you are surprised to see only two messages from Taeyong.

From Yong: I'm leaving with someone, don't wait for me. From Yong: Can you come get me? Pretty please?

The last message was sent less than twenty minutes ago, which means he must still be waiting for you, and probably with one hell of a hangover. You are glad you didn't drink more than two drinks last night. You put your clothes on, and before leaving the room, you find a piece of paper to write down your number, and a little note. "Call me." and you leave the room.

The problem is, you do not know where you are. You do not know which part of town he took you to, you were to busy cleaning Kun's tonsils with your tongue in the taxi to watch where they were driving you. All you know is that you are in a house, with marble stairs, and modern decor without a hint of dust around you. You go down the stairs, not daring to put your hand on the railing, and you wonder if Kun decided to illegaly enter a show house the night before.

Everything is clean, tidy. Everything is in the image of Kun, perfect. The front door is unlocked, which greatly simplifies the task of leaving like a thief. You dial Taeyong's number, and the boy answers immediately. "Where are you? I'm tired, I want to go to sleep." he says in a hoarse voice, and you look around. "I wish I knew, Yong." you walk down the street, at least until you find a street name. You are in a nice neightborhood, the kind you never go to, way too far from your comfort zone.

"What do you mean you don't know where you are?" Taeyong asks, and you roll your eyes. "I left the bar with a guy last night, and I don't know where I am!" you hear Taeyong giggle before growling, probably from his pounding headache. "Slut." you sigh, as you look around. You probably look suspicious. "You can talk, you did the same." you mumble, and you hear him say something to an unknown voice, so you take the opportunity to hang up to call a taxi, it's the only way for you to get home. Or at least to get to Taeyong, then you can figure it out together.

Chapter two and a half: Kun.

The following week, busy with work and with well, life, you stopped thinking about him, about Kun. You stopped thinking about the night you spent together, you stopped thinking about his hands, his lips, his scent, you just stopped. Work is mostly the cause, and also Taeyong who spends most of his time whinning about his ex partner, he is not recovering from his breakup, and it's tiring, really.

And when your phone rings, an unknown number appearing on your screen, you answer without a second thought. The perfect way to get you killed, Taeyong said once, but maybe one of your friends changed number and need something, you can't take the risk. But when you hear the voice, you do not recognize it. "Hello?" the silence is rather short. "Y/n, hello! How are you? Sorry I took so long to call, I was busy and didn't know if you actually wanted that." you frown, sitting on the sofa, the rerun of a show playing on the television. "I'm sorry, but who is it?"

"It's Kun?" the man says in an uncertain voice, and you remember. "Ah, Kun. Hi, I'm okay, and you, are you doing alright? Sorry for leaving last time, but my friend needed me." Kun makes a sound of aknowledgment before speaking. "Don't worry, I understand. I wanted to know if you wanted to meet?" you hesitate. You are not used of sleeping around with a man you met in a bar, so you are not sure if you really want to see him again. But also, why the hell not, you have the next week free of work, might as well make the most of it. "Yeah, why not."

"Do you remember the bar where we met? There's a café across the street, maybe we could meet up there later. Is around 3pm okay?" he asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Yeah that's fine with me. See you later." the man lets you know that he is excited to see you, and you hang up. You have a few more hours left, so you huddle once more in your blanket, and watch the television, wondering if going out is actually worth it.

Chapter three: How to make a doll: step one.

The meeting/date in the café is what changed your life.

You were not sure you wanted to see Kun, and yet, a month later, you are unable to part with him. There is something appealing about Kun, something highly addicting. He is kind, caring, smart and of course, he is breathtakingly beautiful with his dimples, soft eyes and honey-like voice.

The mere thought that one day he might not want you anymore is painful. You can't imagine your life without Kun, without his smile, without his kisses, without his hands that make you feel things that you've never felt before. And without his love, because Kun's love is amazing, it's like he has not limit to the love he gives, no matter what he receives in return.

When he tells you that he loves you, you feel like hearing it for the first time, every time. You have butterflies in your stomach when he looks at you, or when he talks about you like you are the eighth wonder of the world to his friends and colleagues. You are proud to be with Kun, because you know he could have had any girl, and yet, you are the one he decided to choose. The one he decided to love more than anything.

"Y/n? Come have a glass of water." you smile when you hear your name coming out of Kun's mouth, it's like hearing the most beautiful melody, the way it rolls on his tongue. And he is so attentive too, you think and you leave the living room to join him in the kitchen. He is sitting on a stool around the kitchen island, and he hands you a glass of water, which you take, smiling. "Thanks Kun." you say, and he smiles too, dimples in full display. "You are welcome, doll."

You take a sip of water, then a second, and you grimace. "What's wrong?" he asks, tilting his head. "I don't know, the water tastes weird." Kun shakes his head, and takes a sip of hiw own glass. "I don't feel it, it must be you. You stay too long without drinking, you forget the taste." when Kun says something, you take him at his word, so you shrug and finish your drink. "Sit down with me for a bit." he pats the stool next to him, and you settle down, your head immediately resting on the shoulder of your boyfriend who kisses your forehead.

You stay like that, in silence, for a few minutes before Kun opens his mouth. "How are you feeling?" he asks, and you frown. If he had not asked you the question, you certainly would not have realized the fatigue that suddenly fell on your body. Your eyelids are heavy, and you limbs feel numb, your mouth is dry, and movements around you seem to be slowing down. "I do not know." you whisper tiredly. "My poor little doll." Kun responds, without a hint of pity in his voice.

Chapter four: Bad doll?

This is not the only time the feeling of losing control of your body sets in. At first it's once a week, and now it's every morning, but you adjust pretty well to the side effects, and Kun is so nice to you when you feel bad, he takes care of you, he makes sure that you drink enough water, and that you eat enough food. He regularly returns from work at lunchtime to cook for you, and to remind you how wonderful you are, and how proud he is of you.

He gives you presents, but the one you prefer is the choker you never part with. You love the color, and the pendant reminds you that Kun is near you, even when he is not at home, and that's all you need. Time passes, and yet you do not realize it. You stopped responding to Taeyong, and even going to work. Kun said you did not have to go anymore, he may very well support the two of you with his job alone. No, you do not realize anything. You only see Kun, only hear Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. His name echoes like a mantra in your head.

Today, going down the stairs, you are surprised to not hear the slightest noise. When Kun is at home, he enjoys playing music on his turntable. He says that even though the sound is not as crisps there, it is much better, he can appreciate the music more, but now you can't hear anything. Not even the sound of his computer keyboard where he spends most of his time when he is not at the office.

"Kun?" you ask, poking your head through the living room door, which is empty and as clean as usual, if not a little cleaner. You walk into the kitchen, and you pout when you notice that he is not there either, but a note is stuck on the fridge door.

"My doll, my beautiful doll. I'm sorry, but I had to leave for work. I know I promised to take you to the movies, but a case we are working on must be finished today, the trial having been brought forward. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to cook for you, and I'm so sorry. You can cook for yourself, but please be careful with the knives. Remember to drink at least 5 glasses of water today. I have my phone if you need anything. I love you. Kun."

You silently read Kun's words and nod. It's a shame, you were excited to go to the movies. You really haven't been out of the house since moving in with Kun. At least you think you moved here. Kun bought you enough clothes to fill a full closet, and your mind is far too cloudy to think about the clothes you already own, and the apartment you were renting back then.

You do not know if it's because Kun is not here, or because you are too lazy to cook, but you are not hungry. You come out of the kitchen, and once in the lobby of the house, you look around. You do not know what you are supposed to do. Even though Kun leaves you alone to go to work pretty much every day, he still advises you to do certain acitivites, or you usually feel far too tired to do anything.

But today, you feel good. Still a bit groggy, but much better than usual.

A name suddenly comes to your mind, for the first time in months, and you frown. Your heart does a weird thing when you think of this person. Not the same as when you think of Kun, but differently. A certain warmth spreads through your body, and you realize that you actually miss this person. Taeyong. You know you were used to spend a lot of time together, and that you even decided to save your money to find a big apartment to live in together.

He forgot about me, you think.

But you do not realize that you forgot about him, not the opposite. But you are too lost in your own head to realize it. You walk up the stairs, being careful not to put your fingers on the white wall or the railing, and push the door to the room you share with Kun. The decor has changed since the first time you came here. Several pictures of you, and you and Kun together are on the walls, and your favorite color can be found in small touches on the satin sheets, on the curtains, and a few trinkets here and there.

You find your phone in the bedside table drawer, and when you try to turn it on, nothing happens. After so long, the battery must be dead. Finding a charger is not difficult, you just have to walk around the bed to Kun's place. You take it, and you return to the living room. For some reason, you do not like being in the room on your own, you feel like you are being watched, it makes you uncomfortable.

Once in the living room, you plug in the phone, and while waiting for it to turn on, you turn on the television. A serie is playing, and even though you do not understand it, you watch, your head resting on a pillow, and soon, you find yourself wrapped in your favorite blanket, ready to fall asleep. So much for feeling full of energy.

When you open your eyes, you are hardly surprised to see the living room bathed in darkness. It often happens to you, to close your eyes before realizing that night has already fallen. It takes a moment before your eyes get used to the darkness that is only broken by a lit bedsite lamp next to Kun. Kun who is seated on an armchair, his arms crossed against his toned chest. You sit up, smiling. "You are back."

Normally, Kun would smile. He would get up to give you a long, tender hug and ask you how your day was. But today, he doesn't. He looks tired, stressed and disappointed. It is indeed an emotion you have never seen on his beautiful face, disappointment. "What's wrong?" you ask as you sit on the couch, legs crossed, your blanket falling from your shoulders, revealing the same pajamas you wore last night.

You look down, and notice that your phone is in Kun's hand, and tild your head. "Why?" he asks, pointing to the phone. "Why what?" He gets up, and he sits down next to you. You are not afraid, you know Kun will never hurt you, but you also do not know what to expect. You have never seen him angry except at one of his colleagues on the phone, and each time he makes sure to leave the room so that you do not see, or hear anything.

"Am I not enough?" he asks in a voice so weak that you wonder if you heard correctly. "Why do you ask me this?" he sighs and puts the phone down on the coffee table, it's on this time, and you can see the many notifications when the screen lights up. That can't be good, you think, but you do not even think about reaching for the phone, since Kun turns your head to face him by gripping your chin between two fingers.

You frown, your mouth opening slightly at his sudden move. "You haven't touched your phone since you've been here, and today you decided to do it, because you knew I wasn't coming back, why?" he asks in a firm voice, and you avoid his gaze, which doesn't seem to please him. "Good dolls look at me when I talk to them." he says with clenched teeth, and you shake your head. "I- I'm not a doll."

Kun scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. You are not, you are right. You don't deserve to be one of my dolls." this sudden realization makes you open your eyes wide, shaking your head. "What? Of course I deserve it!" when he shakes his head, your eyes fill with tears and he refrains from stroking your cheeks to calm you down. "No. A doll doesn't look to see someone else when I'm not around." it's crazy how fast a few words made you change your mind about being a doll.

You manage to extricate yourself from his grip, and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kun is surprised at your sudden behavior, and even though he knows he cannot give in, stay firm, he does nothing to stop it. But he doesn't touch you either, even though his hands only want one thing: to rest on your waist. "You are wrong, Kun, I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to watch, and I didn't even do it, I fell asleep before it turned on." you speak in a quick manner. "Hey, breathe." he says, and you take a deep breath.

Kun looks at his watch, and he makes a noise of surprise or aknowlegdment, you don't really know. "Did you drink any water today?" he asks, and you are surprised at the sudden change of tone in Kun's voice. "No, I was sleeping." now, he understands. "That's why you decided to act like this! You silly goose, you know you need to drink." you pout when Kun puts you down on the couch, because you already miss Kun's warm touch and scent. "I'll be right back."

A minute or two later, Kun returns with a glass of water in his hand, and he hands it to you. "Drink it all." you nod and take the glass to drink the content. Over time, you started to ignore the weird aftertaste that burns your throat a bit when Kun give you something to drink. He settles down next to you again to pull you onto his lap without waiting, except this time, he wraps his arms around your waist to press your chest against his. "You can't disobey me anymore, okay?" you nod.

"Yes, I will not do it again, I promise." he puts his hand on the back of your head, and he pulls you in for a languid kiss. But before you can initiate anything, he breaks the kiss. "I'm so sorry, I just want to be a good doll." you whisper close to his ear, and he smiles weakly. "I know that my love, and you are, it's just that sometimes you get distracted. But that won't happen again, I'll make sure of it myself."

Chapter five: Taeyong.

For the following weeks, Kun makes sure not to leave you alone for too long. And the more time passes, the less able you feel to regain full control over your body. Kun does everything for you, he doesn't let you lift a finger, if only to clear your plate. If your thought were yours, you would wonder when he plans on spoon feed you himself, but they haven't belonged to you for a long time.

Sometimes you have moments of lucidity. Your eyes clear, and your memories come back, the times you spent with Taeyong, the life you had before meeting Kun, and during those brief moments, you wonder if you'll ever get back to those times you genuinely took for granted. You began to write in a notebook what you remember in these moments, and the time when it happens. And every time, it is before breakfast, when you get out of bed.

Like all plans, Kun's isn't foolproof, luckily you manage to keep it to yourself. You refuse to think about what would happen if he ever found out that sometimes you become yourself, Y/n, and not Kun's doll. Even in these times, you are not afraid of Kun, because you know he'll never hurt you, at least not physically, he is way too sweet, and too in love to do it. Because yes, despite the mental ordeal he makes you live on a daily basis, he loves you, you know it.

Maybe you should stop forcing yourself to remember your old life, and come to terms with what you have become. Maybe you'll get used to it, and start to appreciate what is offered to you, you think, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the only place you can have a little bit of privacy. You rub cold water on your face, because you know that in a few minutes, when Kun gives you your drink, you will not be yourself. And when you turn to take the towel, you hear a little noise coming from the bedroom.

You frown, it is not Kun, you can hear the noises coming from the kitchen. So you come out of the bathroom, and you follow the noise that continues, to Kun's bedsite table which you open, and what a surprise when you find your phone. It's on, and Taeyon's photo appears on the screen. You take it, and with a trembling hand, you answer.

"Hello?" you ask, and the noise you hear coming from Taeyong is barely describable. It's a mix of surprise and relief. "Oh my god, Y/n! Do you have any idea how scared I've been for months?" you bite your lower lip. "I'm sorry." you answer, and he growls from the other side. You can't imagine what he felt. "Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?"

When you are about to answer, you hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom door. "I have to go." and you hang up before shoving the phone in the drawer before closing it. And when the door opens, you turn to him, smiling. "Is everything okay?" Kun asks, and you walk up to him, nodding your head. "Perfectly fine, I was ready to come down." you put your hands on his chest, and you kiss Kun softly.

Kun answers to the kiss, one of his hands fiddling with the pendant of your necklace. He doesn't express it very often, but he is extremely proud to see you wearing it every day. It shows that you belong to him, even if you do not need it, you prove it to him every day. "Come eat." he says against your lips, and you take his hand to exit the room.

Once in the kitchen, you drink the glass of juice offered to you, and the effects come much faster now. And when you are finally in Kun doll's mindset, you feel stupid for answering Taeyong, so much so that you feel ready to confess everything to him, and ask him to throw the phone away for you to no longer be tempted, but you do not. "I love you Kun." you say, which surprises the man who smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "I love you too, doll, more than anything in the world."

Chapter six: Yes, bad doll.

Kun has to go to work.

To do that, he made sure to give you a double dose last night, to make sure he wouldn't have to deal with another scene like last time. He trusts you, but you can never be too careful, he thinks, looking at you. You are sleeping peacefully, and you are so beautiful, he wonders what he has done to have a person like you in his life. You are the most beautiful doll, his best creation. However, when he met you, it was not a won situation. But you proved to him that you were capable of changing, and he would give his life for you.

He places a kiss on your forehead, and he pulls back when you stire in your sleep. For a second, he thinks he woke you up, but no, you turn, your breathing still deep. His little angel. He gets out of the room, takes his satchel, and leaves the house.

When you open your eyes, it is not because of the sun coming through the curtains, but because of the knocking on the door. You whine, and wonder when the noises will stop, but they don't. Kun must not have heard it, or he is not home. So reluctantly, you get out of bed. You have to hold on to the wall to walk, to avoid tripping. You feel feverish, and so so tired.

When, at least, you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you approach the door. Everything is silent, and you regret having moved, but as your turn on your heels, the knocking on the door resumes. You open it, and you frown when your eyes fall on a man. He is not very tall, his hair is pink and washed out. He looks like he has not slept in weeks, and when his eyes fall on you, you wonder if he is going to cry.

"Y/n!" he throws himself on you to hug you to his chest. You know if Kun witnessed the scene, you would be in trouble, and yet, you stay in the man's arms. The warmth that he gives off, his perfume, his simple way of being are not unknown to you. "Taeyong." you breath, and the boy pulls back, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "I hope you have some explanations for me, young lady. I've been looking for you for months!"

"How did you find me?" you ask, cocking your head. He is truly struggling to recognize you. Your eyes are glassy, and he can no longer see the happiness and mischief he used to read in your eyes back in the days. "Thanks to your phone. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." you nod, hugging your body with your arms. "Of course I'm safe. Kun takes good care of me, and he loves me very much. I love him too."

Taeyong frowns, he feels liks he is listening to a robot, or a pre-recorded message. It is no longer his best friend that he has in front of him, but someone else, and he does not know how to explain what exactly has changed so much, or what could have happened. He even wonder if you weren't brainwashed, joined a cult, or had a frontal lobotomy. He knows it's stupid, but he is stupid, and those are the only thought that come to him. He is far from reality.

"Can I come in?" Taeyong asks, trying to see the inside of the house over your shoulder, and you bite your lip. You are not sure Kun would enjoy seeing a stranger in his own home, but he is not here right now, and a good doll must also be a kind and welcoming host, so you shrug. "Yes, of course." you push yourself out of the door to let Taeyong in, he wolf-whistles when he sees the inside, and how clean and shiny everything is. "Wow.

You head for the kitchen. "You can sit if you want. Do you want something to drink?" you ask, but he shakes his head. "No thanks." he sits down on a stool around the kitchen island, and you sit across from him, your hands resting on the cold surface of the counter. "So? Tell me everything that happened." yes, you suspected he would ask you the question. "I met Kun in the bar where we were that night. And I don't know, things happened naturally after we saw each other again. I think moving here was the next logical step, it just happened."

"But that doesn't explain why you stopped responding to my messages, and giving signs of life." Taeyong's voice is painful, even for you. You sigh, playing with a thread on your pyjama sleeve. "I don't know, Taeyong." it's the truth, you do not even know why you stopped caring about your phone, you who spent most of your time on it. "But I'm sorry." are you really? Not really.

You spend the next two hours talking. Well, Taeyong talks about things that have happened over the past few months, and you listen. You try to smile, nod at the right time, and be happy to be with him again, but you can't stop thinking about Kun, and what he is going to think when he finds out he's been here today. Not that he is preventing you from having contact with the outside world, but seeing how he reacted when you wanted to use your phone, you suspect that he is not going to be very happy.

"...and Ten started screaming." Taeyong says, and you open your mouth to laugh, but instead, your mouth opens in a silent cry as Taeyong's face makes contact with the kitchen island in a violent manner. So violent that he loses consciousness almost immediately. Behind him, you see Kun, and what you read in his eyes is nothing but pure rage. Your breathing is plowed, and you get up from your chair.

"Why would you do that?" you ask in a panicked voice, and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "You should thank me." he says as he approaches Taeyong. He grabs his hair to lift his head, and you gag when you see the amount of blood on his face. "But he didn't do anything!" you defend, and he laughs coldly, so much so that an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine.

He lets Taeyong's head fall back, and he looks at you. It's not longer disappointment he is showing, but something more intense. He is scary, and yet he smiles at you. "You know, I really thought you were different. When I met you, I finally thought I had found it, the perfect doll. I loved you so much, and I would have given you everything, even my life, and yet you decided to betray me." you shake your head as you join Kun.

"I didn't betray you Kun. He came on his own, I didn't contact him. I didn't tell him anything, we didn't do anything either." you say, cupping Kun's face, but he takes a step back to avoid the contact almost immediately, and ouch, that hurts. "I love you Kun, I love you so much." you continue in a whisper, and he shakes his head.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have let him in. You would have told him to go, and you would have moved on with your day. But no, you decided to be a little slut." A little slut? You would never dare to do such thing. You love Kun, and only Kun. No matter what he puts you through every day trying to make you the perfect doll, you have never loved anyone as much as you love Kun.

"I'm not a slut, Kun. I'm your little doll." you say in a low voice, not daring to look Kun in the eyes anymore. You feel him approaching you, and you refrain from taking a step back. "Are you sure of that? Are you my perfect doll?" he asks, and you nod. "And what would my perfect doll do for me?" you lift your head, and run the tip of your tongue over your dry lips. "Anything Kun. I would do anything for you."

"Very well." that's all he says before heading to the locked cabinet. The one in which he takes the small bottle of transparent liquid every morning. The bottle is full, and you wonder how get manages to get so many. You follow his every move with your eyes, and you frown when you see him emptying the entire bottle into a glass. And he pours a small amount of fruit juice into the glass before mixing everything.

He hands you the glass, and he says. "Drink."

You shake your head with vigor, you do not intend to drink the content of this glass. Only god knows what could happen to you. "You said you would do anything for me, and I want you to drink." he walks up to you, and every time he takes a step forward, you take a step back. At least until your back makes contact with the kitchen wall. You are stuck, you know it, Kun is too fast, if you try to escape, he will catch up with you in an instant.

"You said you were a perfect little doll. And you know very well that dolls listen and obey when I ask them something." his voice is much softer now, and you get lost in his big dark eyes. So much love are in his eyes, so he might not be able to hurt you, right? He is just playing with you to see your reaction, to see what you are ready to do for him, right? Taeyong growls behind Kun, but he doesn't pay him the slightest attention. "So?"

"I'm going to drink, because I love you Kun, and I want you to know that I am your perfect doll. Your best creation." you say in a whisper as you take the glass, and Kun looks satisfied. You pursue your lips, and it takes a minute for you to muster the courage to open your mouth and drink the content of the glass. The taste is horrible, and the burning sensation in your throat makes you cough hardly. You drop the glass which shatters to the ground. Kun hasn't moved, unlike you, he is too busy looking at you. He knows what is going to happen, and for many reasons, and he doesn't want to miss a thing.

"You know, Y/n, I've had a lot of dolls before you. They were different from each other, and each time I thought I had found the right one, but each time, I was wrong. They always found a way to lie to me, and betray my trust. But when I saw you, when I saw the effort you were willing to make to please me, I really believed you would be the last." he cannot hide his disappointment, and his disgust.

"I loved all of my dolls, trust me, but you... I never felt something so strong for any of them. You were the exception. The one and only." you are having a hard time keeping your eyes open, and slowly, you slide along the wall. Not only do your legs seem to weight a ton, you feel like your heart is doing things it shouldn't be doing. It beats too fast, and too slowly at the same time.

You have chills, and a cold sweat covers your forehead, and rolls down your spine. Soon, your lungs are racing, and it becomes more and more difficult for you to breathe. Kun crouches down in front of you, his fingers sliding down your wet cheeks from the tears you didn't know were rolling. "You are lucky, because your life will end in a much more peaceful way than theirs."

"I could have let them go. I could have helped them get rid of the drugs in their bodies, and let them go back to a normal life, but I couldn't afford to risk being reported to the police, or to see them with someone else, I hope you understand." he turns to looks at Taeyong who gradually regains consciousness. "And unfortunately, your little friend won't have an ending as sweet as yours. It'll teach him to not stick his nose where it does not belong."

Kun talks, but it's just gibberish to you, you can't concentrate. You can't. All you can do is put your hand down to your chest, it's so painful, everything burns. You are hot, and cold. A broken sob escapes your lips, and Kun places a kiss on your lips. "I will never love any of my next dolls as much as I loved you, I promise." he whispers against your lips. "I don't think I can love anyone after you. You were all I ever dreamed of."

You vision gradually fades. You see nothing, except the contours of Kun's body. You do not feel anything either. You do not know how long you've been on the ground, but you are not in pain anymore. You are at peace, you think, as you take your last breath.

A single tear rolls down Kun's cheek when he sees you take your last breath. His heart breaks, but he gets up. Kun could have forgiven you, of course, he dreams of nothing other than spending the rest of his life with you, but he hates being betrayed. No matter how intense his love for you was over the past few months, he refuses to be used. Trust is what matters most to him, and he knows the next few months will be horrible, it will take time for him to recover from your death, your "accidental" overdose, but he will. And he'll try again.

One more name to add to his list of failure.

But first, he has to take care of Taeyong. He can't have a witness in his house, or maybe he can use him. He is a handsome boy, he could be useful in his search for the perfect doll.

[skycollides]

Hi are your requests open? If so I LOVEDD the last Billy Russo fic you wrote, with that being said, can you write something with smut&angst? For Billy Russo please

Hello, I love your writing. Can you give me something smutty and filthy for Billy Russo? If your ok with that?

Thank your for reading my work. It means a lot!💜

I combined these to I hope that's okay!

I Need You

Billy Russo x Reader

Authors note: I apologize in advance for grammar or spelling mistakes

English isn’t my native language.

Let me know if you want to be tagged.

Requests are open. Feel free to send them in.

Warning: angst, smut, mentions of body fluids, swearing

Words: 2.170

Billy is more and more busy with Anvil. You actually thought after he quit the Army you will be able to spend more time with him, to have him around more often. You always felt so lonely when he left to another tour but having him home now doesn’t change the way you feel. You still feel lonely. Actually you feel more lonely than before. You barely see Billy anymore. You wake up in the morning he is gone, you go to bed at night he’s still out. The only time you see him is when you wake up in the middle of the night. You’ve reached the point where you cry yourself to sleep nearly everyday because you can’t take the distance and these feelings anymore.

It’s time for a change because you don’t wanna continue living like this anymore. You asked your cousin if she would take you in for a couple of days, at least until you know what to do. So here you are packing a bag while crying your eyes out. You’re so scared that this will be the very end of your relationship. Still you are taking only the necessary stuff hoping that you won’t have to stay long. Once you’re done you take the bag and leave your shared apartment.

Billys Pov.

Billy comes home earlier than the last couple of months and he is greeted with an empty apartment.

’’Y/n? Babe where are you?’’ asks loudly but there is no answer. He searches the whole apartment for you but you’re not there. So he decides to text you.

Hey baby,

I’m at home where are you?

It’s lonely without you here.

It takes a few minutes before he gets a reply.

Guess now you know 

how I’ve been feeling since

you came back from the army.

First your head was still over there

and now it is with Anvil.

I’m not really mad Billy, 

more sad but hey people change

maybe it’s a sign that we 

aren’t the people we used to be.

That’s okay! 

Billy reads the text over and over again. He’s now thinking about the past couple of weeks even months and he realizes his mistake. He didn’t give you the attention you deserve and need. He also realizes how much he missed you and how scary the thought of loosing you is.

Come home sweetheart.

Please come home.

I beg you Y/n.

I need you as much as you need me.

I love you.

Billy puts his phone on the coffee table in front of him and hopes that you will return to him.

Your Pov.

You read  the message and hand your phone over to your cousin. She reads the message and looks at you waiting for a reaction. 

’’What should I do?’’ you ask her and she gives you your phone back.

’’Go home and talk to him. I mean you just got here couple of hours ago and I don’t wanna get a rid of you but you two should talk. At some point you’ll have to so why not now.’’

’’Looks like I’ll be going home then.’’ you say and get off the couch.

You take the your stuff hug you cousin and drive home.

———————————————————————————————————————————

’’Hey’’ you say softly and drop the bag. Billy looks up to you and smiles.

’’Hey. Thank you for coming home Y/n. Come here.’’ he says and holds his hand out for you. You walk over to him and sit down next to him.

’’Tell me everything that’s been bothering you Y/n. I know I fucked up. I need to know how much my actions actually did affect you.’’

’’Everything?’’

’’Everything. Don’t hold back Y/n.’’

’’I cried myself to sleep nearly everyday. I feel like shit Billy. I feel like you forget about me, like you don’t care about me anymore. I feel more alone having you here than back then when you were with the Marines. When you were on those tours you at least called me and send me letters. You didn’t bother doing that over the past couple of weeks. The text you sent me earlier - it was the first I love you I received in a really long time. All I know is that I won’t continue living like this. I wont continue feeling like this. I don’t want you to throw away your dreams and I won’t make you chose between me and Anvil.  We have two opportunities right know Billy. Whether we go separate ways, which I don’t want at all or you find a way to have both, Anvil and me. Then you need to work on your time management because I’m not a doll to throw in a corner and get it back when it suits you. What happens now is on you.’’  you say and he gets off the couch leaving you there which makes you cry even more. He soon returns with your favorite blanket and a pack of tissues. He sits down next to you again, hands you the tissues and wraps the blanket around you. You take them gladly, blow your nose and wipe the tears away.

Billy pulls you in his arms stoking your back.

’’I’m so sorry baby. I worked so hard on Anvil, on my future - our future that I forgot what’s most important. You my love. I want to be able to take care of you. While I put all my effort in Anvil I stopped putting effort in us. I stop working on weekends. Saturdays and Sundays are ours from now on and I will be home sooner during the week. All I can say is that I am sorry. I love you with everything I have Y/n you’re the one for me. Don’t give up on me.’’

’’Promise?’’ 

’’Pinky promise’’ he says and holds out his finger.

’’Idiot’’ you say and laugh.

’’There is one question left Y/n.’’ you give him a questioning look at him and raise your eyebrow.

’’How can I make it up to you?’’

’’I’ve got an idea Russo.’’ you say and smirk. You grab his hand and drag him to the bedroom.

’’I love the way your brain works baby.’’ he says and you push him on the bed before you slip out of your dress.

’’Go gonna strip for me?’’ Billy asks.

’’You’re going to make it up to me not the other way around. You Mr. Russo don’t deserve it. So no I won’t be stripping for you and now get out of your clothes.’’ you reply.

’’Someone’s desperate.’’ he says and smirks.

’’Considering the fact that I can’t even remember the last time we had sex, I’m allowed to be.’’ you say as you watch him undress.

’’Well get over here then ba-.’’ before he can fishes his sentence you’re on top of him , straddling him, cutting him off with a kiss. 

’’I need you Billy!’’ you say not caring how desperate it my sound.

Billy pulls his face closer to his, kissing you like his life is depending on it. His hand goes straight to you neck keeping you place. 

’’Get off me Y/n.’’ he says after he releases your lips and you sit down next to him. You take off your bra while Billy takes care of your panties. As soon as you’re completely naked you lay down.

’’Relax baby I’m gonna take care of you.’’ Billy says pushing two fingers in your mouth. You suck on them right away, getting them nice and wet. Billy pulls his fingers out he starts rubbing your clit. You let out a sigh.

’’Can’t believe you’re already this wet for me. We haven’t even started yet.’’ he says and pushes his fingers inside of you. You moan loudly finally being this close to Billy again. He starts to move them in and out slowly, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable since its been a while since you were intimate.

While he is pumping his fingers in and out you start rubbing your clit looking straight into Billys eyes.

’’Does that feel good babygirl?’’ 

’’So good babe’’ you say and whimper as the pleasure is building up more and more.

’’Such a good girl you are Y/n. Are you close baby?’’

’’Yes. Please let me cum.’’ you beg as you feel your orgasm building up.

All of the sudden Billy slaps your hand away and removes his fingers licking them clean.

’’You won’t cum unless my dick’s inside of you. You taste incredible by the way.’’ he says once he is done licking his fingers.

’’On your hands and knees Y/n. NOW!’’ Billy demands and you do as you’re told. He gets behind you right away. His hand moves to his now hard cock, stroking it a few times before bringing it to your pussy. He pushes the head between your folds moving up and down to tease you.

’’Stop teasing me and fuck me Russo!’’

Billy pushes himself inside you carefully. You hold onto his pillow which in laying next to you trying not to cum right away. Once he’s inside you all the way he waits a moment to make sure you okay.

’’Go on babe’’ you say and he starts to push in and out of you faster now making you jolt forward.

’’Fuck Billy just like that. Don’t make me wait that long for you ever again.’’

’’Never again Y/n. Fuck I don’t know how I was surviving without this tight beautiful pussy of yours. Shit you feel so good babygirl.’’ he says and your pussy clenches around him because of it. Billy lets out a low moan. 

’’Tell me what you want Y/n’’ he says and smacks your ass a couple of times.

’’I want you and I want you hard and fast. Destroy this pussy. Show me who owns it.’’ you beg and after those words there’s no holding back for Billy.

He is now slamming his cock in and out has hard and as fast as he can. He grabs a fist full of you hair and pulls you back into his chest. Once you’re up he wraps his hand around your throat choking you slightly while the other arm wraps around your waist holding you in place.

’’That’s what you wanted right? Am I making you feel good babygirl?’’

’’Yes Billy god yes don’t stop.’’ you say and he pushes you down again.

’’Such a needy girl you are. I swear once I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk properly for a week.’’ he says and smack you ass hard again.

Billys movements become more and more irregular and you know he is as close as you are.

’’Billy I need to cum. Please let me cum. I beg you. Please’’ you scream.

’’Cum for me baby. Cum all over my cock.’’ he says and you let go.

You arch you back and Billy can’t hold back anymore as he feels your pussy clench around him.

He finds his release inside of you not stopping to thrust inside of you. The both of you are moaning messes not wanting this feeling to end. He stays inside you for a little longer before slowly pulling out. You’re not able to move. You simply lay there trying to deal with this intense orgasm you’re pretty sure you passed out for a moment.

You feel his and your juices dripping out of you.

’’You were absolutely incredible Y/n. Fuck woman.’’ he says but you don’t reply.

’’You okay there baby?’’ Billy asks as he stokes your back. You turn your head to look at him.

’’Mhmmm’’ is all you get out.

’’You’re dick drunk Y/n’’ he says and laughs.

’’Probably. No one’s fucked me as good as you do.’’ you confess and he smiles.

’’We guess what? Your pussy is the best I’ve ever had and you know my record.’’ he says and kisses you deeply.

’’I love you William Russo.’’ you say and stoke his cheek with your thumb.

’’I love you too Y/n L/n more than anything in this world. Ready for round two?’’ he asks

’’Give me break Russo. Ask me again in 10 minutes.’’ you say and he laughs. Billy gets off the bed and pulls his phone out of his jeans before laying down next to you again.

’’What are you doing?’’ you ask.

’’Setting a timer.’’ he replies as if it’s the most normal, thing in the world.

’’You’re impossible.’’ you say shaking your head.

’’And still you love me.’’

’’True that. By the way just because you fucked me good doesn’t mean you’re off the hook yet.’’

’’That’s fine the night is still young and I meant what I said once I’m done you won’t be able to talk anymore. I will destroy this sweet little pussy of yours.’’

’’That’s a threat?’’

’’No babygirl that’s a damn promise.’’ he says with a smirk.

Taglist:

@justatiredfool

@artemisausten

[margridarnauds]

St. Patrick and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Douchebag

(as suggested by @fallenidol-453​)

St. Patrick’s Day, for me, means that it’s time for my yearly rereading of Patrick’s Confessio, his autobiographical justification for his time in Ireland. The work is, essentially, a masterwork of rhetoric and theology, held together with, perhaps, a touch of whingeing and pious self-deprecation, and, given its age and how many works didn’t survive, it’s a miracle that it’s survived as long as it has, and it’s a testament to the bravery and courage of the man who set the stage for Ireland to become a hub of learning and literacy during the Middle Ages. Patrick, in later texts, is often referred to with epithets such as “Patrick of the Clear Pen” and, as critical as I can be of the impact of Christianity on mythological narratives (and as critical as I can be of the modern church’s actions in Ireland), the simple truth is that, without literacy, without Patrick (or someone like him), none of the texts I study would have been written down. 

What’s lesser known is that, actually, there was a second work from Patrick’s pen that survived: Patrick’s letter to Coroticus, a warlord (popularly believed to be British, due to an account in Muirchu’s Life of Patrick, though recently doubt has been put on this by Patrician scholars Dumville and Thompson, the latter of whom notes that Muirchu’s Life of Patrick also says that Coroticus ended his days as a fox. Yes. A fox.) who, while he had formally adopted Christianity, continued to enslave and kill Christian converts with his band of warriors that consisted of Scots and Pictish mercenaries. Unlike his usual image of a meek and mild “good shepherd”, Patrick, here, shows his clear (justified!!) anger at Coroticus’ actions, showing a human side that is often missing in retellings of Patrick’s life that present him as invariably mild and even tempered, alternating between sharply criticizing him and his men while also begging for the return of the captives: 

For this reason, let every God-fearing person know that those people are alien to me and to Christ my God, for whom I am an ambassador: father-slayers, brother-slayers, they are savage wolves devouring the people of God as they would bread for food. It is just as it is said: ‘The wicked have routed your law, O Lord’ – the very law which in recent times he so graciously planted in Ireland and, with God's help, has taken root.

Of particular worry to Patrick was that the local population continued to have positive dealings with Coroticus’ men. He returns, repeatedly, to the idea that the Christians of Ireland should have no dealings with him, they should not “fawn on such people, nor even share food or drink with them, nor accept their alms.” Clearly, Coroticus and his soldiers were quite popular, far from any idea of him as a roving, barbarian warlord whose favorite hobbies included murder, murder, and tossing the bones of his victims to his dogs. He was a douchebag, but he was a douchebag who was smart enough to know how to get people on his side. 

As noted by Thompson, it was very common practice to kill slaves that were not sellable, and this was a clear concern of Patrick’s, his anxiety edging its way into the epistle: “That is why I will cry aloud with sadness and grief: O my fairest and most loving brothers and sisters whom I begot without number in Christ, what am I to do for you? I am not worthy to come to the aid either of God or of human beings. The evil of evil people has prevailed over us.” To Patrick, enslaved in his youth and sent off to Ireland, this must have had a personal touch to it, though he does not directly say so, rather focusing on his sacrifice in (voluntarily) leaving his home for Ireland later in life rather than his earlier ordeal. 

(This sympathy shouldn’t be pressed too far, however: Roy Flechner’s suggested that Patrick attained the wealth he needed to settle in Ireland by selling off his family’s slaves which, as a noble Romano-British family, they certainly would have had. Furthermore, as noted by Flechner, Patrick’s primary offense comes from Coroticus enslaving Christians, not that he took part in the slave trade at all.)

In typical Patrician form, this letter, far from being intended to be read by just an audience of one or two people (which, indeed, wouldn’t be very much in keeping with the Roman epistolary tradition), was actually intended to be an open letter.  “I ask insistently whatever servant of God is courageous enough to be a bearer of these messages, that it in no way be withdrawn or hidden from any person. Quite the opposite – let it be read before all the people, especially in the presence of Coroticus himself.” He wanted Coroticus to know he fucked up, but he also wanted the rest of Ireland to know that Coroticus fucked up and, possibly, as suggested by Dumville, he wanted people even outside of Ireland to know that Coroticus fucked up. Given that, while less popular than the Confessio, this letter is still widely studied, read, and analyzed, both by Patrician scholars and laypeople alike, it’s clear that he got his wish. Long after Coroticus’ name has disappeared past the point of being discernable, not being mentioned (to anyone’s knowledge) in any annals or literature, the world knows Coroticus as a Class A Douchebag. 

Now, let this be a lesson: Make sure to leave out cookies for Patrick on St. Patrick’s Day, or else get turned into a fox. 

Works Cited: 

David Dumville, “Coroticus”.

David Dumville, “Verba militibus mittenda Corotici: an analysis of St. Patrick’s tract on the crimes of Coroticus”.

Roy Flechner, “Patrick’s Reasons for Leaving Britain”. 

E. A Thompson, “St. Patrick and Coroticus”.

The edition/translation of the epistle used here is taken from the one used on Confessio.ie. I highly, highly recommend a trip to that site, both for the letter itself and the other materials on Patrick that are available. 

[aibari]

safe returns

a @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

notes: this fic is set after the s15 finale. there’s a bit of canon-typical grief at  the start, but this is a fix-it fic :)

read on ao3

Afterwards, the world knits itself back together slowly, like broken bones healing. People come back to their loved ones, but not all at once, filing in gradually. Dean guesses they've had a long way to go. Wherever the hell they went, when Chuck had punted them out of existence.

So it's a slow and gradual thing, and it sucks. He catches himself out constantly, thinking that maybe -

And then Sam will give him a concerned look, so understanding and careful it makes him feel like he's been skinned alive.

And he knows by now what that feels like.

Anyway, the point is that while people are still coming back, he can't quite let go of the thought that Cas might, too. Even if he's in the Empty. Even if it's dumb as hell to think that it could ever -

So. The thought sits in his chest like a tumor metastasizing, like a rusty fishhook, like a birdcage. Hope is a thing with feathers, or however the fuck that saying goes.

He can't think about it for too long. If he does, he starts needing a drink, starts to feel his jaw lock up. Can't touch it, or he'll slice his fingers open.

So instead of thinking about it, he joins a pie eating competition. Goes on a series of hunts with Sam that all resolve easy. Drinks beer and sleeps in motels and eats greasy diner food, and it's familiar in a way that's both familiar and deeply fucking depressing if he lets himself think about it. He's forty-one, he's helped defeat God, and he's still doing this shit? Does he even know how to be anything else? Does he have it in him?

Six months after the end of Chuck, the stream of people showing back up slows to a trickle and then dries up. Dean takes his fragile hope and buries it as deep as it will go.

So it goes.

-

He dreams about Cas, which is business as usual. Dreams with Cas used to mean something, and maybe that something was covert fraternization and angel politics, most of the time, but it was Cas. Now it's just trauma. Dean sits on their bench, and Cas sits next to him, and Cas says:

Because you cared, I cared.

And Dean says:

Don’t do this, Cas.

And then he starts to choke, words and letters pushing up against the back of his throat like yesterday's dinner.

Cas is still talking, words fading in and out like a radio with bad reception, and his hand rests heavy on Dean's arm, and he says:

"Dean."

And then Dean wakes up, gasping, staring up at the water-stained motel room ceiling.

The handprint on his shoulder burns.

He stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face and then stands there, hands clutching the edges of the sink, staring blankly at his own reflection.

There's a pull in his chest, tethered somewhere under his ribs.

He takes a deep breath, and then another.

Then he wakes up Sam, who groans and then squints at him in the half-dark of the room. The light of the neon sign outside paints a violet streak across his cheek.

“Dean, what -?” Sam says. “What’s going on, what time is it?”

“Don’t worry your sweet little head about it, Sammy,” Dean says. “Just got a little something to take care of, so I’m heading out.”

Sam frowns at him. “What do you mean, out?”

“What are you, some kind of detective?”

“Dean,” Sam says, with the kind of heavy, long-suffering bitchiness that means he’s gonna get passive aggressive about it.

Dean doesn’t have that kind of time. “I’m going to Minnesota and I’m gonna have to go there alone.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something.

“Don’t say anything, Sam,” Dean grits out.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Sam says, like a liar. 

Dean rolls his eyes at him and starts packing. It takes about a minute; it’s not like any of them ever really unpack.

There’s a joke in there, somewhere, Dean thinks, jaw clenching despite himself.

“Dean,” Sam says from behind him. Dean freezes in the middle of stuffing a t-shirt into the bag, unable to turn around and look at him.

“What,” he asks, stiff like set concrete.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Sam says, like he has his own ideas about where Dean is going. “Promise me, alright?”

“Sure,” Dean says. It’s a like, but he’s pretty sure they both know it.

It’s not like he even knows where he’s going, exactly.

He doesn’t even know what he’s going there for. He just knows that he has to.

He finishes packing and they say their goodbyes. Sam bitches about it when he takes the impala, but Eileen will be coming up later in the day to discuss some kind of hunt developments. Sam will be fine.

Whether or not Dean will be fine might be a different question.

He’ll figure it out.

-

He takes the I-35 up through Illinois and Iowa, barely stopping to take a piss. The burn of the handprint has settled into something gentler, but it still throbs in a telltale heart rhythm. He thinks about Cas, at the end, standing tall and telling Dean that he loved him.

It makes his jaw go tight.

He turns up the music. It’s Creedence, and he sings along as hard as he can stand, white-knuckling the wheel.

“That’s real healthy,” he murmurs to himself in the space between songs, but it does help to have something in the car that isn’t his own thoughts, his own fuck-ups and messes.

The closer he gets to Minnesota, the stronger the pull gets.

He’s playing with fire, not doing the research and going in solo like this. Whatever’s pulling at him could be freaking anything.

But it won’t be.

He knows that for sure, even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is.

He just has a feeling.

-

After he crosses state lines the final time, rolling on into Minnesota, he stops at a diner for dinner. He gets a burger and fries, and by this point he is so full of whatever thing is pulling him forward it’s hard to stop moving. His ribcage feels like it’s full of bees.

He keeps thinking about Cas.

“This is you, isn’t it,” he murmurs. “Whatever’s happening here. It’s about you.”

No-one answers him, but he’s used to that by now.

He can fill a silence like nobody’s business, so he launches into a rambling review of the music on the regional radio station, (bland enough to give Wonderbread a run for its money,) the scenery (cold and snowy), and the present company (non-existent; please, Cas, come back to me).

The waitress keeps looking at him funny. When he goes to leave, she won’t let him pay. For a second, he thinks she might be interested, but then she gives him a soft, sad look and tells him about how her partner had taken months longer than her to come back, and that she understands what he’s going through, that he shouldn’t give up hope, and then he has to go.

-

He sits in the parking lot for a while, hands on the steering wheel, wishing he’d paid more attention to the mindfulness kick Sam’s been on for the past month.

He can’t stop thinking about the look on Cas’ face, right before -

Fuck.

If he were in any other car, he’d be punching the dashboard.

He turns up the music again instead, and wipes his face, and gets back to driving.

So it goes.

-

He stops at a motel by the interstate and stumbles out the morning after to a bright winter’s day. The sky is blue enough that he has to squint against it; the snow crunches under his boots. With every breath, the cold air knifes down his throat.

He follows the pull of his invisible line.

-

The forest is quiet. The snow muffles all sound but the crunch of his boots, which reverberate like gunshots. Dean makes a quick mental inventory of Minnesota monsters. He’s unprepared for most of them; if any of them show up, or if this is a trap, he’ll be up shit creek. He’d probably deserve it, too, coming here like this.

He walks for hours, pulled forward, chest sweetly aching and handprint throbbing to the beat of his own heart.

By the time he reaches the field, he’s almost lost track of time.

It’s just a large, empty space. If it hadn’t been covered in snow in the middle of winter, it’d make a sweet concert space.

There’s no-one else here, but -

(something in his chest wrenches)

-then there is.

A man in a trenchcoat stumbles into the clearing, and Dean knows him. He knows him, with a bright and certain rush of heat that leaves him breathless.

“Cas!” he yells, and hears the answering, “Dean!” and then he’s running and laughing and tearing up at the same time. He’s a mess, but he can’t help it, couldn’t stop it if he tried. They meet in the middle and it’s like a scene from Love freaking Actually, hugging each other tightly and spinning each other around. Cas smells like petrichor and ozone and day-old sweat. The stitching on his coat is rough and reassuring under Dean’s fingers. He never wants to let him go.

“Thank you,” Cas says, serious as a freshly dug grave, “for meeting me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, buddy,” Dean says. Then he leans back a little to look Cas properly in the eye. “Cas,” he says. “Earlier. I said the wrong thing.”

Cas gives him an expectant look. His hands are fisting into Dean’s coat. “What did you want to say, Dean?”

The way he says his name makes Dean shudder. He swallows thickly. “I. Back when you - I said don’t do this, but what I should have said was - me too, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head slightly to the side, like he’s confused by something. Dean had almost forgotten what shade of blue they were.

“What?” Dean asks, as softly as he can, which isn’t much. He’s not good at this. Not with Cas. Not yet, but hopefully - if he dares to hope - hopefully soon.

“You don’t have to humor me, Dean,” Cas says, stiffer than a freaking fridge magnet in a freezer. “I know I’m not what you -”

And Dean can’t stand hearing him finish that sentence, can’t stand not having them be on the same page.

“Alright, fuck this,” he says, and pulls Cas down into a kiss.

[lukef]

strong like a diamond, you can’t break me

Friday 16 April 2021; Morning. You wake like any other morning. Your routine is as normal until you notice new tattoos along your arm. 

peaceful. everything is so..peaceful. luke is sitting in his open living room, one or two meters away from his kitchen table, which already has some fruit on it, ready to be sliced into a fruit salad. since the field trip with cassius his mana channels are rough, burned out, barely noticeable and luke is clever enough to not use them more (as if he could, anyways). instead, he’s meditating, for hours and hours. since airang, he has barely left the house, only for a few trips to check up on cassius. his back hasn’t healed fully yet, but it’s getting there. the fire elementalist uses the same method to meditate he’s used for asra, the one his grandfather taught him. his grandfather, he should probably visit him some time soon, he hasn’t seen him in a long-

there’s a small spark, one that emits one of his left finger tips and he looks down immediately, both confused and relieved, just to-

Instead of the Q you drifted asleep inked on your arm, a J is now present. Further down you see the Initials KH and three arrows pointing down. This represents the current state of your favor with Ace Kang Harold, Head of the Academy.

“oh, for fuck’s sake.”

luke looks up, then down again, as if that would remove the disgrace that seemingly appeared over night. the q has become a j, jack of diamonds, definitely not something he likes to see. it’s been years since he’s been at this point, years since he..

there’s not one, not two, but three arrows pointing down, down in the direction of his wrist, in the direction of-

Before you exit your home, a letter is delivered from Ace Harold. 

there’s a letter laying right in front of his door, has been slipped through the slit right in time, right before he was about to stand up and get ready for work.

It states: Luke, Your diminished capabilities and standing in society make you unfit to hold such an esteemed position within the illustrious institution that is our Academy. To have its honor marred with one filled with such scandal hurts not only our pride but distracts the pupils we are tasked with nurturing. And what use is a instructor who is now a cautionary tale. Of course, I have always been proud of your work with our students but parents are concerned. I am placing you on a brief suspension, with partial pay. For the time being, you are barred from entering the halls of our Academy.  Please use this time to consider the ethics we aim to instil in our pupils and detour the path you’ve taken to becoming a cautionary tale. Sir Harold

“your diminished capabilities? your standing in society? he has got to be kidding me. my standing in society is perfectly fine..!” he’s neither mad nor sad, he’s simply confused. he hasn’t been doing good, obviously, but this is not something he’s expected. luke is a proud queen, was a proud queen, he immediately corrects himself. it’s the stupid scandal, he tells himself, that stupid fucking rumor just because i wanted to help asra. does he regret it? hell fucking no. he hasn’t fully processed the seriousness of the situation yet, hasn’t realized what this means, hasn’t thought of the further consequences this might have.

and then, it happens.

first, there’s ambers in his veins, seething and burning ash right in his core. the temperature rises and rises, gets higher and hire until it’s fire, blazing and destructive fire and it travels higher and higher until it is pulsing underneath his skin. when he finally realizes that he’s not able to let the fire escape, that it’s ebbing out in the burned out mana channels he lets his anger out by punching his kitchen table, hard.

it slowly cracks, until it breaks into two halves, with all the fruit tumbling down and hitting the kitchen floor. he’s barred from entering the academy halls and there’s nothing he can do about it. nothing. and for what reason? for a simple rumor of him sleeping with one of his students - a rumor that was probably spread by glory ass himself, zuihuo juoi. zuihuo fucking joui, his radiance that luke would gladly like to radiate into some glacier in the alps so he can melt them down with his golden fucking fairy whatever. his anger should be directed at harold. and the second he thinks about him-

luke’s grandfather is a man that appears much less older (around 59 he says, around 65 or even older luke says) than his actual age. he’s going to be 151 in october, on october 25 to be exact. fifty years to go, he usually jokes around. like luke has lost his mother, he has lost his daughter only a few weeks ago. he seems to be doing fine, but luke knows for a fact that he just pretends and even he suffers from loosing so many people. “how were you able to forget your wife?” luke once asked him on a cozy evening, to which he simply replied to, “oh, the one that stole your heart better be pretty.” leaving luke exactly with what he expected. nothing. but now, his grandfather carefully reads through the letter luke just handed him. the younger elementalist is nervously prancing through the house (rather, the kitchen), hands crossed behind his back so he doesn’t have to see the new tattoos. 

after about fifteen minutes of silence, his grandfather holds a piece of paper in his direction. luke takes it.

“ dear motherfucker kang harold.

i hereby want to inform you that my foot will be going up your ass in meantime grandson parker luke is by all means a very responsible and way more tolerable persona than you are. he would never dare to lay hands on a student unlike you you stupid cunt. especially not ryu asra because that fire elementalist hobo cannot even take care of himself  who recently suffered from private issues. given the circumstances with his parents, the suspension is reasonable and more than just good for his health. however, banning him from entering academy territories is unreasonable, especially while his mana channels still aren’t functioning. you’re lucky they are not, or some houses in diamond territory would have been wiped out today. you would have deserved it, stupid stone face stonehenge monkey of an elementalist. i kindly ask you to rethink your decision and you better do because if not, i’m going to-”

the letter takes an abrupt end. luke slowly looks up, a rather concerned luke splattered across his face. “you’re not sending a letter.” going to his grandfather’s house is the first thing he thought of. there’s probably no one else that knows him better, has been with him through all the things he’s been through. he knows how to get him to calm down, knows what gets his fire going in the right direction. “and you’re not asking him for a duel just because of this. i think it’s only a warning for now, a warning to behave like they want me to.” the thought of punching something becomes more and more prominent with every word he says.

“i could-”

“no, grandpa.”

luke still doesn’t know how to feel about the whole situation. it’s a massive change (even if it doesn’t seem like it) and he still hasn’t gotten his fire back. it might take months, weeks, but he hopes for the best. he simply knows one thing, he doesn’t like the change. not at all.

so, he decides to write a letter back.

“ sir harold,

i send this letter regarding yours i received this morning. as an explanation, your wording is what makes me reply in form of this letter. 

i wonder how a simple rumor has led to having you think of me as a cautionary tale. i have been working at the academy for years and my grandfather is also no stranger to you. i only heard about the rumor from his radiance, zuihuo joui, at the yeon nen ball for highrankers.

the reason i was met up with asra once offside campus hours is the following: the student was suffering from a heavy depressive episode and completely disregarded classes. i wanted to make sure that neither he or someone else is in danger, given i already had experience with emotional outbursts including fire in my earlier years. after making sure he was fine, i gave him a quick catch up for lessons. i never contacted him with a purpose other than that. 

although there is nothing to worry about, i completely understand your reasons and will wait for further instructions in the future. i will stay absent from the academy as long as you want me to.

thank you for letting me clarify, i hope to see you again soon.

best regards, 

luke parker”

as soon as he gets his fire back, luke knows what’s going to happen.

fenris is going to happen.

*

mentioned: @croupiex @zuihuojoui

[captainjanegay]

someone holds me safe and warm | Stucky | Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent, Timelines, 4+1 | 5.4k words | Ao3

Summary:

Four times Steve was sick or hurt and Bucky tried his best to care for him and one time the roles were reversed.

A short trip through Stucky timeline with loads of softness and care on the way.

A/N: It's here! My Secret Santa gift for the loveliest @snarky-drabbles​ ♥ I was so worried I won't be able to finish it and it turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but I really hope you'll like it :') I was so happy when I've heard you wanted some nice and soft sickfic and I hope I was able to provide you with exactly what you wanted ♥ I wish you the happiest holidays season, love! Despite the stressing, it was such a pleasure to write it for you ♥ Also big thanks for @metalbvcky​ for hosting this event, it was so much fun :’) And thank you my sweetest Luisa @its-tortle​ for giving it a read and being your incredible, supportive self :’)

.

1. December 9th, 1928

The snow has been falling all night. Bucky’s mum had to almost forcefully drag him away from the window, because Bucky couldn’t stop looking at the tiny snowflakes making layers over layers of fluff on the ground. If he could, he would stay up all night, just to make sure the snow won’t disappear before he wakes up. The only argument that eventually makes him go to sleep is the threat his mum makes, saying that he won’t get to go out with Steve tomorrow if he doesn’t make it to bed in the next 20 minutes. He makes it in 15.

When his mom finally lets him go to the Rogers’ house the next day, it’s well past 11 o’clock. Luckily, the snow is still there and Bucky’s pretty sure there’s more of it than he remembered. On one hand he wants to take the longer route so he can spend more time kicking it up in white, fluffy clouds, jumping into snowdrifts or making snowballs. He doesn’t throw them at anyone, his mum raised him better than that, just drops them back onto the ground. The most fun was in creating a perfectly round ball anyway. But on the other hand, he wants to get to Steve’s house as soon as possible, so they can go out and do all of those things together. Eventually, he decides to take the shortest route possible but he kicks the snow around even more to make up for it.

Ten minutes later he runs up the stairs of the old tenement house and knocks on the door. Two slow and three rapid taps, as always. Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Steve to run to the door to let him in, as always.

But this time it’s not Steve who opens the door. It’s Mrs. Rogers, her face pale and with dark circles under her eyes. But as soon as she sees Bucky a big, genuine smile brightens up her face. It’s the exact same smile Bucky has seen on his friend many times.

“Good morning, James,” she says. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Good morning and likewise, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky grins, taking off his cap. “Is Steve here? It’s been snowing all night and I was hoping we could go play outside!”

Mrs. Rogers sighs, her smile getting a bit sad. Bucky senses that something’s wrong, and his excitement melts like the snowflakes he tried to catch on his tongue.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Steve’s sick. He won’t be able to go outside for a while. I guess you’ll have to face all this snow by yourself today.”

Bucky's face falls upon hearing that. He was really excited for today and he spent long minutes before he fell asleep last night thinking about all the fun he and Steve could have. But Steve’s sick and the idea of doing all of them alone doesn’t sound fun at all. So instead of saying goodbye and heading home, Bucky looks at Mrs. Rogers with hopeful eyes and asks, “Would you mind if I came in and stayed with Steve for a while?”

The warm smile is back on Steve mother's face as she ruffles Bucky’s hair in an affectionate gesture and steps to the side, letting him in. “Of course, I don’t mind. Steve will be so happy you’re here.”

Bucky quickly shrugs off his coat and kicks off his shoes. Just as quickly, he apologises for all the snow he’s brought inside and picks up his shoes to put them on the rag by the door. Mrs. Rogers only waves a hand at him. Instead of running straight to Steve’s room, Bucky follows Mrs. Rogers to the kitchen when she asks for some help. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Bucky takes a careful hold of the bowl of hot chicken soup and slowly walks after Mrs. Rogers who is carrying an armful of meds and a glass of water.

As soon as they enter the other room, a small, blond head peeks out from under a mountain of blankets. As soon as it notices Bucky, a smile splits its face.

“Bucky!” Steve says, his voice all raspy and weird.

Bucky only grins in response, sending a quick look Steve’s way before he focuses back on the bowl in his hands. Only when it’s safely set aside on the bedside table, Bucky jumps towards the bed. Mrs. Rogers stops him when he tries to give Steve a hug, saying he might get sick, too, so it’s better if he keeps a bit of distance.

Steve's smile falters. He tries to convince Bucky that he should go so he won’t catch anything from him. In response, Bucky calls him a dimwit and drops onto the floor next to the bed. 

Mrs. Rogers checks Steve’s temperature, rubs his back with something with a very strong smell and gives him some medication. Steve looks miserable and a bit embarrassed through all of it. Seeing his friend’s discomfort, Bucky tactfully looks away and starts babbling about the snow, about mean Mr. Flanagan slipping on the icy pavement in front of his house today and falling onto his butt while shouting obscenities. He tells Steve how pretty the park looks with trees and bushes all covered in snow. He asks if Steve would be able to draw them if Bucky describes it to him with all the details he can remember. When he glances up at his friend, Steve’s eyes are finally bright and happy again, and he’s really excited to try. 

Mrs. Rogers leaves a few minutes later, dropping a kiss to Steve’s head and ruffling Bucky’s hair before she walks out of the room. Steve adjusts his pillows so he can sit more upright and takes a small sketchbook from the bedside table. Bucky rests his folded arms on Steve’s bed and places his chin on top of them. As soon as he starts talking about the snowy park, Steve starts drawing. It looks just like the real thing. Soon enough, Bucky starts making up details, at first some believable ones but then he comes up with more and more ridiculous things. Giggling, Steve dutifully puts them on paper. It’s really nice, knowing that Bucky managed to make his best friend laugh despite the misery and terrible cough that escapes his mouth every so often.

The snow might be nice but there’s still plenty of winter left, so Bucky’s sure he and Steve will have a chance to play outside soon. Bucky is more than happy to sit by Steve’s side if it means he can save him from boredom this way.

Besides, their version of the snowy park is so much better than the real thing.

.

2. December 14th, 1936

It’s cold. The old stove is not giving as much heat as it’s supposed to. They’re slowly running out of things to keep the fire running and Bucky should probably check if there are any old wooden crates or something he could take from the docks tomorrow. It’s not freezing yet, but the nights are supposed to get even colder. He has to do something. The coughing fit from the other side of the room makes Bucky take another log from the quickly disappearing pile in the corner, before he goes back to stirring the soup.

He didn’t make it, just heating up a portion of what his mom gave him when he came by for a quick visit earlier today. It’s better than anything he could make, but it’s not as good as Mrs. Rogers’. God, there’s no way anyone could compete with her in terms of cooking or baking. Bucky was pretty sure her chicken soup had some actual healing powers, considering how quickly it was able to get Steve back on his feet.

It’s easier to think about Mrs. Rogers' soups and their magical properties than the fact that each time Steve gets sick, it seems to be worse than the last time. Thinking about that won’t do anyone any good. And Bucky would rather swallow a log than let Steve see how worried he gets sometimes. 

So he stirs the soup extra vigorously before pouring it into a bowl when it gets nice and hot. It’s filled to the brim, so Bucky furrows his brows in concentration as he slowly makes his way across the room.

When he’s halfway there, he hears a laugh from the pile of blankets on the bed. It’s a bit wheezy but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he looks up, Steve is already looking back at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Bucky asks defensively, feeling flustered all of sudden.

“Nothing,” Steve says. He looks tired and pale but his lips stretch in an even bigger smile. “When you’re concentrating on something, you still stick your tongue out. Just like when you were a kid.”

“Oh fuck off, Rogers,” Bucky mumbles, placing the bowl on a stool that serves as a makeshift bedside table. “You’re not getting any of the soup for being an asshole.”

“How am I an asshole?” Steve asks. “I just think it’s cute that you still do that.”

Feeling that his blush is only getting worse, Bucky turns around and pretends to be very busy putting away the food from his mom. After taking a deep breath, he gets a grip on himself and walks back towards Steve.

As he approaches, Steve tries to slowly pull himself up into a sitting position, his arms shaking with effort. When Bucky reaches out to help him, Steve sends him a warning look so fierce that Bucky just raises his hands in surrender and backs away. He sits on the chair by the small table, stacked with books, old newspapers, letters, some of Steve’s sketches and who knows what else. While Steve eats, Bucky tries to tidy it all up, putting it all into nice piles and filling the quiet with mindless chatter. He tells Steve about the new Christmas tree they’ve put up at the docks, and about Becca’s new guy who seems decent enough to get Bucky’s approval of going out with his sister. Every once in a while, he throws Steve a quick glance. He tries not to sigh at the sight of Steve’s shaking hands or at the fact that he needs to take a little break every few sips as if even eating tired him out. Bucky doesn’t offer help, no matter how much he wants to. Steve would probably strangle him with his bare hands if he did, even in his current weakened state.

So Bucky doesn’t say anything about that, just keeps babbling nonsense, getting an occasional hum or a chuckle out of Steve. After a few more minutes, Steve buries himself back under the blankets.

“It’s very tasty but I’m full,” he says. “Give your mom my thanks when you next see her.”

“How do you know I didn’t make it?” Bucky asks in mock offense, putting away the leftover soup. “You were asleep for most of the day so you can’t be sure.”

“You’re a decent cook, Buck. But that’s way out of your league. You’ve reheated it like a champ, though!”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Now scoot over - for such a small person, you’re taking an awful amount of space. I’m cold and you have all the blankets.”

They both know it’s just a guise. There’s a perfectly good cover on Bucky’s bed on the other side of the room. Steve doesn’t protest though, just move forward a bit, leaving space for Bucky to slide between him and the wall. As soon as Bucky’s settled, Steve’s body goes lax next to him and he presses his back closer to Bucky’s chest. Automatically, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. He rests his head on top of Steve’s, the soft fair hair tickles his cheek. Soon enough Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky closes his eyes, but it takes him a bit longer to drift away, as he anxiously listens to all the hitches and rumbles in Steve’s breathing. At some point, still deep in his sleep,  Steve in his sleep wraps his long, delicate fingers around Bucky’s wrist. The touch soothing enough to let Bucky calm down and allow the sleepiness to finally take him.

As long as he holds Steve close to his chest, nothing bad can happen.

.

3. December 20th, 1938

There are blood stains on Steve’s white shirt. Some around his collar and some on his cuffs, which means that he managed to pack a punch or two before he got beaten up by whomever he started a fight with this time.

Bucky’s lips are set in a thin line as he tries to get a better look on Steve’s face to assess his injuries. Which wasn’t that easy considering that Steve is currently looking anywhere but at him. 

“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just—,” Bucky says angrily, gripping Steve’s chin and turning his face up. He might be furious that Steve has gotten into another fight, but his grip is gentle. The last thing he wants is to cause Steve more pain. But God knows how badly he wants to punch that reckless punk himself, sometimes.

Steve jaw is set and at first, he looks like he wants to free himself from Bucky’s grasp. Changing his mind, his eyes gaze right into Bucky’s, a challenging expression on his face. Bucky would laugh if it wasn’t for the state of said face.

The blood is most certainly coming from Steve’s split lip. Or maybe it’s from the deep cut on his left cheekbone, surrounded by a darkening bruise. There’s some dried blood under his nose, too. He doesn’t have a black eye this time, so that’s good. Although by the way Steve flinched when squaring his shoulders to look up Bucky thinks it’s a safe bet he got punched or kicked in the ribs. Bucky prays none of his fragile bones are broken.

The anger he felt dissipates, at least a bit. What’s left is worry — which Bucky tries to hide, knowing that Steve would just get annoyed at that – and affection. He stopped trying to hide the latter ages ago.

“Who was it this time?” Bucky sighs, absentmindedly swiping his thumb across Steve jaw, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises.

“Some asshole, as always. He was shouting obscenities at a girl who didn’t want to go dancing with him or something and he tried to follow her home,” Steve says with a shrug, followed by a wince.

Bucky can’t stop another sigh that escapes his mouth. He really wishes the world would be a better place. A place where people weren’t harassed for no reason, so Steve didn’t feel obligated to help them. Damn Steve Rogers and all his righteous anger and his heart of gold.

“Sit down. I’ll clean you up, punk.” Bucky puts his hand down and takes a step back. When he sees that Steve opens his mouth — to protest, most likely — Bucky points a finger at him. “Don’t argue with me. I will kick your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes but there’s a hint of smile tugging at his lips before he turns around and walks toward the bed. Bucky goes to get something to clean up Steve’s cuts.

“I can do it myself,” Steve says when Bucky’s back, reaching out for the wet cloth Bucky brought.

“Oh, I know you can. Just let me be useful since you’ve stolen all the glory, being a hero who saves ladies in distress and all,” Bucky responds, taking a gentle hold of Steve’s chin again.

“If getting beaten up and kicked like a dog is glorious, then yes, I guess I have. You’d be more of a help than I was, if you were there.” Steve’s smile is full of irony as he tries to look away but Bucky’s hand keeps him in place.

Bucky drops the hand that was gently wiping at the cuts on his face and waits. Eventually, Steve’s eyes land on him, probably wondering why Bucky stopped.

“You are worth dozens of men, Stevie. Dozens of me. You’re half my size but you saved so many people already. You’ve stopped that asshole from doing who knows what to this girl and gave her time to get home safely,” Bucky says, his voice steady and sure and his eyes never leaving Steve’s, no matter how Steve wants them to. “You always know the right thing to do, and I swear your heart is made of pure gold. If that’s not glorious, I don’t know what is. You’re incredible, Stevie and help me God, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you keep putting yourself down like this.”

Steve chuckles at the last part and opens his mouth as if to respond but closes it a second later. The smile he gives Bucky is shy and soft. Bucky’s heart aches to just lean down and close the remaining space between them. Instead, he lets go of Steve’s cheek and goes to wet the cloth again. It’s not necessary, but he needs to take a grip on himself before he does something stupid.

A few moments later all the blood is cleaned from Steve’s face, his nose turns out not to be broken this time and most of his cuts have mostly stopped bleeding. Bucky counts that as a win. 

“Take your shirt off,” Bucky says, trying not to blush. “Gotta make sure your ribs are in one piece.”

“Just admit you want to get me naked,” Steve replies without missing a beat. When the words leave his mouth, his eyes widen in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to say them out loud. “I mean— I didn’t—,” he stammers.

Seeing how the blush colours Steve’s cheeks, still visible despite the bruising, and travels down Steve’s neck and past the collar of his blood-stained shirt, Bucky admits to himself that he is not as strong-willed as he liked to think. Sliding his hand down, Bucky traces Steve’s delicate collarbone with his thumb.

“To be honest, I’d prefer to do that for purposes other than checking if your ribs are intact,” he hopes he sounds nonchalant, but he can feel his cheeks are heating up. 

“Oh really?” Steve asks, cocking an eyebrow up. The challenging look is back, and Bucky is going to lose his mind if Steve doesn’t stop looking at him like that. All cocky and sure of himself, like his face is not beet-red at the moment.

Bucky clears his throat and picks up the cloth. “I guess we have to wait until your cuts and bruises are healed and check.”

Steve laughs, gripping a handful of Bucky’s shirt and tugging him lightly. “Can you— Just come here, you jerk. I’d get up but it really hurts, I think you should kiss it better.”

And Bucky does. He kisses Steve’s split lip and then very gently swipes his mouth across Steve’s cheekbone and jaw to go back to his lips a moment later. A giddy laugh escapes his mouth and he thinks that there’s no other thing he’d be doing. He is not naïve enough to believe Steve will stop coming home with bruises of all sorts, but Bucky will always be there to kiss them better.

.

4. December 1st, 2024

The room is quiet. Or relatively so, considering that Brooklyn rarely gets completely silent, even at night. But it’s quiet enough for Bucky to hear the change in Steve’s breathing, where he lays asleep next to him. He opens his eyes and turns around. Soon enough, Steve starts tossing and turning, his breathing becomes more erratic. All those sleepless nights, spent on anxiously waiting for Steve’s next breath, praying the next one would come are flooding Bucky’s memory. He’s not sure if it’s better now. Steve might not be physically fighting for his life now, but the night terrors that haunt him, certainly make him feel like he does.

Carefully not to startle Steve, Bucky places his flesh hand on his arm. He squeezes lightly and whispers Steve’s name. When it doesn’t help, he tightens his grip for a moment and speaks a bit louder. Steve breathing hitches and he goes still for a moment. But then a strangled cry escapes his lips and he tosses hard enough that it wakes him up. Immediately, he sits upright almost knocking Bucky down in the process and he pants heavily, looking around the room with wide, terrified eyes.

"Steve," Bucky says, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's OK. You're OK. We're in Brooklyn. It's 2024. You're safe, we're safe. Everything's fine, Stevie."

It's like a mantra that Bucky keeps repeating until Steve is able to take full, big breaths again. When he finally turns his head to look at Bucky, he looks scared and lost and it breaks Bucky's heart into pieces. Bringing his hands up, Bucky wants to stroke Steve's cheek in a comforting gesture. But before he has a chance to do that, a grimace crosses Steve's face and he quickly gets out of bed and rushes towards the bathroom. Bucky sighs at the sounds of retching he hears a moment later. He gets out of bed and follows Steve. With a voice no louder than a whisper, he repeats over and over those little affirmations he knows Steve needs to hear and believe anew as he gently rubs his back. 

It doesn't take long for Steve to calm down, but Bucky would gladly sit there all night if needed. Soon enough the dry-heaving stops and only a tiny sob comes out of Steve's mouth.  Bucky helps him to brush his teeth, since his hands are shaking so much it makes it impossible to get the toothpaste out.

After that, Bucky tangles their fingers together and walks out of the bathroom. Instead of going back to bed back to bed, he leads them to the kitchen. He turns on the small lamp by the couch as they pass it,mostly for comfort, since with their respective shares of the serum, navigating in the darkness is not much of a problem for them. The dim light softens the dark edges of the living room and open kitchen space.

Bucky puts the kettle on, his hand not leaving Steve's for a second. He smiles — a bit sadly — as Steve comes closer, and plasters himself to Bucky's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

Steve hides his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, right palm coming up to lay flat on Bucky's chest, right over his heart. Bucky takes slow, deliberate breaths, knowing that his calm will help Steve. So without a word, he lets Steve see and hear and feel that they're both alive and safe. That whatever haunted him in his nightmare is not real. At least not anymore.

Bucky brings Steve's left hand, the one he's still holding, up to his lips and places a kiss after kiss on  each of his knuckles. More reassurances are whispered right into Steve's warm skin. 

It's hard to tell how long they stay like this. The water starts boiling and the electric kettle turns itself off at some point but none of them as much as flinch at the sound. It could be hours and it could be mere minutes before Steve's muscles relax and his breathing finally steadies. While he doesn't let go of Bucky, he doesn't cling to him like a lifeboat anymore.

Slowly, Bucky turns around in Steve's arms. His hands gently cup his face and he rests his forehead against Steve's. 

"You're here," Steve says. The statement is just a shaky whisper and Bucky's not sure what to make of it, but he gives a small nod.

"I am. And I'm not going anywhere,"

"It's—," Steve starts, and then swallows. "You were— I thought—"

Leaning away just the slightest bit so he can look at Steve's face, Bucky shakes his head. "Shhh, Steve. It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. Don't torture yourself, love. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to, yeah?"

After a second, Steve gives a small nod. Even though the unease still hides in his eyes, he tries to muster a smile as he shifts his head and presses a kiss to the inside of Bucky's palm.

"Now, I'm going to make you a cup of tea because as Mrs. Rogers used to say—," Bucky says.

" 'A cup of Earl Grey always does more good than harm'" Steve finishes and closes his eyes but the smile grows a tad bigger.

"Bless her Irish soul," Bucky says with a smile of his own. "So I'm gonna make some and then we'll go back to bed. Or cuddle on the couch, or take a walk or whatever you want to do, OK?"

Steve looks up at him, his hand stroking lightly across Bucky's cheekbone. "I love you, Buck. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And you'll never have to know. I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'll be right by your side for the end of time because that's where I belong. And we've proven enough times that there's not a damn thing that could change that.”

.

5. December 5th, 2025

Bucky was never the one to get sick. When he was a kid he had a bad cold maybe once or twice but it was all forgotten within a week or two. Which is pretty surprising, considering that he was hanging with Steve all the time but never managed to catch anything from him. Later, he has gotten the serum so getting sick stopped being a real issue for him.

So why does his throat feel all scratchy, his nose is too stuffy for him to take a single breath and he feels both hot and cold at the same time?

It's because the world hates him, that's why. There's also a teeny tiny chance that it has something to do with his and Steve's last mission.

They were trailing someone who aspired to create a biological weapon, as one does. It wasn't hard to locate this mad scientist's secret lair or to capture him. Overall it was a pretty simple mission and it was going really smooth. At least until they were to extract the highly reactive bio-bomb that — quite literally — blew up in Bucky's face. It was good he was alone in the room when that happened because as the Avengers-issued doctor has later told him, the substances implicit in the bomb would be lethal to regular people in the dose that attacked Bucky. But to someone enhanced the worst case scenario would mean a heavy case of flu that the organism would be able to fight, eventually.

So, of course, the worst case scenario is exactly what is happening now. Every single muscle in Bucky's body is aching, including the ones he wasn’t even aware existed. The sheets are drenched with sweat and he's still shaking under his layers of covers.

"Steve?" he calls miserably. His voice feels like sandpaper in his dry throat.

Not even a second passes before he hears footsteps and Steve enters the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks. There's a worried wrinkle between his brows.

Instead of answering Bucky let's out a little whine and pouts, looking up at Steve from where he's buried under the covers so only the upper half of his face is visible.

And what Steve does? The fucker laughs at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking a nap?" Steve asks, looking amused.

"I can't sleep," Bucky rasps out. "I'm uncomfortable and everything hurts and can I just die already?"

Steve laughs. Again. Really, Bucky can't fathom where people got the idea that Steve Rogers is all polite, nice and righteous all the time. He's the biggest asshole Bucky ever knew. 

"I figured you'd be dramatic when sick, but I didn't expect that," Steve says as he sits on the side of the bed. He reaches out with his hand and places it on Bucky's shoulder. It's pleasantly cool against his skin and Bucky closed his eyes and sighs.

"You're a dick," he mumbles. "Absolutely no compassion for the weak and hurting, I don't know how you can live like this."

As Bucky says that, Steve leans over and peppers his face — or at least the part not covered by the duvet — with little kisses. It's nice but Bucky's point still stands. Steve's a monster.

"You need anything?" Steve asks, gently stroking Bucky's hair.

"Yes." When Steve makes a questioning sound, Bucky continues, "the sweet relief of death, please."

Steve sighs heavily but when Bucky opens his eyes and looks at him, his face is both amused and fond. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea and soup, how about that?”

“Huh, so you are going to kill me?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t go for poisoning but if that’s—”

Not letting him finish, Steve just gets up and leaves the room. Bucky tries calling after him but he doesn’t get any response and he has a coughing fit after raising his voice, so he gives up.

.

This time Bucky might have actually fallen asleep. He’s not shaking as much so he figures the fever must’ve gone down a bit but now his head is throbbing so he’s really not sure which option he preferred. When he confusedly looks around the room, his eyes land on Steve. He’s back, sitting on the bed by Bucky’s side.

Did Steve wake him up? Now that Bucky thinks about it, he vaguely remembers someone shaking his arm. His point about Steve being a monster still stands.

“Why d’you wake me up?” Bucky whines. “You said I need sleep and now you won’t even give me fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve slept for over two hours, love,” Steve points out, his hand on Bucky’s cheek. “I’m only waking you up cause you’ve barely eaten today and I’ve made some soup.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve. He looks at the clock on the bedside table, but since he has no idea what hour it was when he last talked to Steve, it’s pretty useless. He’s not really hungry, but he figures it’s a reasonable thing to do. So, with a loud groan, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. The monster beside him chuckles at that but actually helps him arrange the pillows so Bucky can sit comfortably and places the small bed tray in his lap.

Despite what Bucky said earlier, the soup is good. Recipes are probably the only rules Steve knows how to follow so he’s a decent cook and knows his way around the kitchen if needed. Bucky gladly eats the whole bowl, enjoying the way it soothes his sore throat. 

When he’s done, he thanks Steve, who takes away the bed tray and gets up, probably to take it to the kitchen. Before he can get up, Bucky grabs his hand.

“Stay with me for a bit?” he asks.

Steve’s face softens. He puts the tray down on the floor and gets in bed, lying on top of the covers next to Bucky. Soon enough Bucky is tucked safely into Steve’s arms and under his chin and he lets out a content sigh.

“You’re feeling any better, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know, I’m so miserable and tired all the time. I hate it so much,” Bucky whines. “Is that what you’ve been going through every time?”

“Mostly. I guess I was too used to this to complain much.”

“And too stubborn. You’ve never let other people see how bad it was,” Bucky points out.

“That, too,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You always were able to make it easier, though.”

Bucky smiles, tucking his face further into Steve’s chest. He feels sleepy again but this time the warmth he feels is not caused by the fever. He mumbles into Steve’s shirt, not sure if the words his brain is trying to communicate are the same ones that his mouth says out loud. But judging by the way Steve’s arms tighten around him and by the “I love you, too” whispered into his hair, Bucky thinks they are. 

[stayndays]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒: Kudos, Golden Trio

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! This chapter includes:

Injury/Blood

Foul Language (This most out of all the chapters)

Most Likely Incorrect Terms for Driving (I can’t drive yet)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : “You came here to assist your boss at a party he’s invited to, not to solve a murder with a group of strangers you’ve just met. Yet here you are, staring at the dead mansion owner who hosted the party in the first place, surrounded by eight men with high statuses in society: and one of them is a murderer. The question is who? And can you solve the mystery without being killed yourself?”

Visit the masterlist first before proceeding. It has all the info you need to read this series.

“Fuck you!” You shout at the killer before hurling one of your shoes right at the car’s window. To your utter disbelief, it somehow works, and the shattered glass falls all over the driver’s seat. You and Jeongin rush to enter the car through the window, Hyunjin trailing behind a split second later after figuring out what you two were attempting to do.

Hyunjin lets out a yelp once he realizes his jacket has been slashed by a throwing knife, but he’s quick to pick up the knife from the dirt and continue running. By the time he’s dived through the small hole, you and Jeongin are in the back seat, your exposed legs getting scratched with tiny shards of glass as you attempt to wipe them away from your seat. Your side of the car, however, is the one closest to the killer, which worries you greatly.

“FUCK! We need the key to start this thing!” Hyunjin exclaims in fury, clearing panicking as much as you two are. “WATCH OUT-”

Crash. The front window falls apart right in front of your eyes, and you could barely cover them in time for the glass to explode all around you. The three of you duck away from the windows from that point on, you in particular trying to stay in the middle of the seats. You whine with desperation. If the three of you bail on this plan, you lose your head start and will likely all get hit by Minho. It’s practically a lose-lose situation, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Not a very smart plan, huh?” Minho grins as he prances over to the car, his eyes targeting Hyunjin. Jeongin starts to hyperventilate, realizing how terrible of a mistake this was. He hides his face with his hands and stays in the corner, mumbling jumbles of words.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry-”

“THE KEY!” You scream out, your eyes lighting up when you remember one crucial part of your search. “The one that we deemed useless, try that one!”

Hyunjin’s mouth forms an “o” shape as he scrambles to fish out the key from his pocket. He grips the key and inserts it into the hole, twisting his wrist.

The engine revs up, and you almost let yourself relax and let out a sigh of relief.

And then you remembered: Oh, the killer’s still there.

“DRIVE!” You yell at Hyunjin’s ear, and he hits the pedal immediately, turning the car around so it’s now facing the opened gate. The car lets out a screeching noise as Hyunjin accelerates the car’s speed, speeding his way out of the mansion’s fenced off area.

Minho’s tricks don’t stop there, however, as he manages to break the other side of the car’s windows. The side Jeongin happens to be on. More glass comes tumbling into the vehicle, pouring onto Jeongin’s head.

“I-” Jeongin cups his right eye with his hands. “I can’t see! Fuck, the glass!”

You turn to look at the window behind you, which is somehow still intact. Locking eyes with Minho, who continues to run faster and faster, you gulp nervously. “Drive, Hyunjin! Faster!”

Hyunjin grinds his teeth at your demand. “I’m trying, Y/N!” He grips the steering wheel tighter, determination filling him. “We’re almost there, we’ll be okay!” The car makes its way to the turn Minho was referring to earlier, and your hands start trembling with anticipation. You turn to look at Jeongin, but the sight makes you wince with pity. Blood is dripping down the hand holding his injured eye, his other eye letting out tears instead of blood, and you rub his shoulder to comfort him. Hopefully, at the end of all of this, Hyunjin can treat both your hand and Jeongin’s eye.

“YES!” Hyujin shouts, pumping a fist in the air, as the car zooms past the goal Minho set for the three of you. He continues to drive while you look back to find Minho, only to see him walking back to the mansion without a final, single glance at you. The car eventually stops to your dismay with Hyunjin needing to hit the brakes, and his eyes furrow together, opening the car door to inspect the vehicle.

When he returns, he lets out a sigh. “Looks like he damaged a tire, must’ve been his last attempt to stop us.”

You nod in agreement while Jeongin catches his breath, processing what just happened. “The worst night of my life,” Jeongin lets out, his head falling back onto the seat.

“I second that, but unfortunately, we’re a bit screwed.” Hyunjin’s comment gives you an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

“And.. Why is that?” you muster the courage to ask him.

“Look at the mansion,” he nods his head in the direction of the house. You and Jeongin turn your heads simultaneously to get a look at it.

It’s a raging fire by now, escaping through the windows upstairs. Jeongin gasps, and you let out a curse from under your breath.

“We’ll definitely go to prison for that...” you realize, but you don’t have enough energy to freak out over it right now. “Well, if we go to the police right now, we’ll basically be turning ourselves in.” 

The three of you sit in silence for a while. You didn’t expect this reaction when you fantasized about all three of you managing to escape; instead you expected celebrating and smiles on everybody’s faces.

“Do you two want to…” Hyunjin starts to suggest. “Stay at my place for a while and hide there?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin timidly responds, earning a pleased hum from Hyunjin. “Sounds good. Okay, we can do that.” The tiniest smile forms on all three of your faces, nodding at each other in content.

“We escaped… we did what we wanted to do all along…” You start quietly speaking.

The images of the five other innocent members coughing in the flames and their bodies burning, along with Minho staring at the mansion proudly sets you ablaze. You finally let your tears fall, letting out a sad grin and looking down at the hand with the knife right through it.

“But at what cost?”

~

ENDING ACHIEVED: “At What Cost?” (SUCCESS?)

This ending is achieved by escaping the mansion with all your alliance members, but leaving the rest of the group behind with an unknown fate, along with letting the Killer King run free.

~

Congratulations. Technically, you didn’t die, so you were able to escape the mansion. With that being said, however, I’ll have to let the author out of her room, and let her get back to her blog. She’ll be answering asks sent after this chapter is posted.

Thank you for the fun October! Maybe next year I’ll return?

Kudos, players. The Killer King spared you today.

~

[ PLEASE TAKE ONE FINAL SURVEY TO WRAP UP THIS SERIES. ]

(best name of last chapter: “Fuck u Minho I knew u werent cool enough to dab (uwu)”)

~

WHAT’S NEXT?

Sometime these next few days, I’ll release a post explaining as many clues and red herrings in this series as possible, so be on the lookout for that!

Other than that though, the blog will actually be completely revamped (new theme!), and from November 1st to November 14th, I will be taking a break from posting my writing! (I need it very badly, I’ve been driving myself insane by writing 1k+ words every other night in 2-3 hours)

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this series! I hope you all had a good October <3

taglist:  @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @leggomylino @skzctnightnight @freckledberries @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @peachyhan @worldtriiiip @golden--rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox @k-pop-valda @skzwriternet

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[haikyuuwaifu]

Selfish

Kuroo x Reader x Kenma

MASTERLIST

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: Angst, swearing, implied sexual acts

MASTERLIST

PART IV:

The second time:

Third year was a time of stress, college, and change. Kuroo knew from the time he was in his third year of middle school, that he wanted to leave Japan for college. He had never been anywhere  outside of his home country. As laid back as he was, he busted his ass to keep up with his grades. Sure, he partied and had a good time; but he ensured he did well so he could apply to schools like Yale and Harvard. His hope was to get accepted into Harvard. He had heard from former Nekoma graduates that parties in America were wild and he wanted in. Harvard offered a great business program so he figured he’d kill two birds with one stone. You had no plans to leave Japan. As much as you liked the idea of going with Tetsu across the world, it wasn’t your dream. Aside from the New Years incident the two of you hadn’t had another issue. He stopped going to parties for the rest of that year and you two spent all your free time together or with Kenma. The summer before your third year Kuroo was made captain of the Volleyball club and suddenly all the parties started sprouting up again. As uncomfortable as it made you; you trusted him. He stopped inviting you out to parties and just went out on his own. The start of third year found you building time tables and study material so you could do well and get accepted into Miyagi. Instead of spending time with Tetsu at lunch, you were huddled in the library. After school you were usually at the internet cafe or occupying Kenma’s floor as he gamed. While you were busting your ass Kuroo was living the high life. School had never been difficult for him, so he never really had to try. He spent his lunches talking to the cheerleaders and the other sports captains. He would make sure to text you throughout the day, but more often than not if you didn’t text first; he wouldn’t bother. After practice he would go out with the girls of the volleyball team or the cheer squad. It depended on who got to him first. In his mind, what he was doing was harmless; you were his best girl, but you were never his actual girlfriend. Too bad no one thought to inform you of that fact.

As third year carried on the two of you spent less and less time together. When entrance exams came around you spent an entire week holed up in your room preparing. Kuroo spent the whole week in a different girls bedroom every night. 

After the New Years incident the year prior, things were awkward between you and Tetsu. Kenma being caught in the middle asked you what happened. When you explained what happened Kenma only shook his head and carried on with the game he was playing. He didn’t tell you, but that one moment solidified the fact that he just didn’t want anything to do with Kuroo anymore. He only dealt with him during practice and if he had to deal with him on the weekends it was solely because you were there. Any other time he pretended he was busy or ignored any form of contact Kuroo attempted.

While Kuroo decided to party and sleep his way through third year; Kenma was the one who made sure you were eating enough. He learned how to cook and made an extra bento for you every day. He made sure you weren’t overworking yourself and dragged you out of the library after he finds out you’d been sitting in there for hours. Sundays were usually days where you and Kuroo would go out and do something, but with studying and exams; you stayed in and he was hungover. Kenma ended up shutting his games off on Sundays and dragging you all over Tokyo. As much as he hated going out and dealing with people, he didn’t mind going out with you. In the time that he had come to know you, he had grown to see you as someone more than the giver Kuroo liked to take advantage of. 

Kuroo, though selfish, wasn’t an oblivious idiot. He knew deep down that if Kenma could he would tell you about what he had been doing. As aloof as Kenma seemed, he had always been a perceptive child. And he knew that Kenma had grown to respect you. Sometimes Kuroo would feel guilty about the things he had done, and the way he had treated you. But more often than not he would forget about it as quickly as the thought came. You were his best girl afterall, you’d never abandon him. He knew you didn’t have social media outside of FB. You never saw the need for it, so he made sure to keep his posts private and vague; just in case Kenma saw something he felt the need to share with you. 

Entrance exams came and went. You and Tetsu received your letters and were sitting in his bedroom waiting for the other to open it. He had no idea that you didn’t apply to any schools outside of Japan. You had no idea he only applied to Harvard. You knew what his dream was, but deep down you had hoped that what you had was enough to compromise. Ripping your letters open you both screamed as you received the best news you could possibly hope for. Clutching the letter to your chest you smiled. “I got into Miyagi Tetsu, I got into Miyagi!” He looked at you a little confused. “Miyagi?” he questioned taking the letter and reading it over. “Why would you only apply to schools in Japan?” he asked looking up at you. “I told you, Miyagi was my first choice; I want to be a teacher in the prefecture I grew up in.” You murmur softly folding your hands together. Shaking his head he scoffs. “You can be a teacher anywhere baby, and you can learn anywhere...you were supposed to come to Harvard with me.” taking your hands in his he pulls you closer. “We were supposed to go to the US together. Maybe its not too late for you to a-” cutting off his sentence you pull your hands back and shake your head. “I’m not leaving Japan Tetsu...this has been my dream since I was a child. You should be happy for me.” you declare getting up and placing the letter on your desk. “And what about my dreams? You knew I wanted to go to the US.” he demands standing and facing away from you. Touching his shoulder he shrugs away from you. “Sometimes  I wonder who puts more effort into this.”he states making his way towards the door. Opening it he waves his arm, “I need time to think, so you need to go.” You sigh softly, grabbing your bag. You whisper an apology as you make your way to the front door. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk [name] I can’t even look at you right now.” he states watching you walk out the front door.

You spent that evening mulling over all the times you and Tetsu had talked about the future. You recalled him mentioning Harvard and going to the US together. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for overriding his opinions. You had spent so little time together this year that you had forgotten. Laying in your bedroom staring at your ceiling your eyes started bristling with tears just waiting to fall. You felt so guilty for pushing him aside. For not communicating your thoughts and opinions. You loved him after all. Neither of you had ever said it, but you felt that you never had to say it. He must have known you loved him. While contemplating whether or not you were actually going to leave Miyagi your phone started ringing. It was Tetsu. You answered immediately and at first all you could hear was loud music in the background. A few seconds later you heard Tetsu talking into the phone. He was drunk and he had called you to pick him up. You spent 15 minutes trying to get a location out of him ignoring the lewd moaning in the background. Hanging up the phone you grabbed your parents car keys and threw your shoes on. Twenty minutes later you made your way to his most recent location. Weaving through the sweaty bodies you looked around trying to find his signature hairstyle. You walked up the stairs knocking on doors. You reached the last door on the left that was slightly open. 

Placing your hand on the door you push it open only to drop your keys at the sight of Kuroo, head back, mouth open. His pants are around his ankles and his hands are knotted in a strange girl's hair as she takes him into her mouth. “What the fuck Tetsu!” you screech at him. His eyes snap open, red from the alcohol he ingested before you got there. “Fuck, baby no!” he scrambles to pull his pants up as you grab your keys and make your way down the stairs. Rage and sadness fueling your feet to move to the car before letting your tears fall. He follows you stringing out half drunken apologies. “Baby, no...I’m sorry...fuck I’m sorry.” he sobs falling to his knees gripping the back of your knees as you stand in front of the drivers side door. “Fuck, I’m such a fuck up baby.” he sobs. You try to shake him off but he just grips you tighter. Sobs getting louder he pulls you closer. “Don’t leave me [name].” he begs into your thighs. “I know I’m a fuck up, but please...I can’t do this without you...I can’t have a future without you.” the crack in his voice ebbs your anger slightly. Turning you peer down at him and watch as the tears stream down his face. You sigh softly, and stroke his cheeks. “I can’t do this again Tetsu, I came because you called and that’s what I walked into?” you asked. Pushing his face into your thighs he squeezes softly. “I had too much to drink, I was upset because I want you to come to the US with me.” you stroke his hair softly as he continues to explain his reasonings. “I’m sorry I kicked you out earlier. And I’m sorry I said I didn’t support you.” He mumbles softly. “I want you to be happy, and if going to Miyagi is what makes you happy then...we can do the distance.” You pull him up and snuggle yourself into his chest. “Forgive me baby, I need you. You’re my best girl.” he smiles at you softly stroking your cheek. And with the soft smile you find yourself forgiving him once again.

@dabilove27

PART III|PART V

A/N: Angsty Angst >:]

[lettrespromises]

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : The cry of the heart.

Zoro Roronoa sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@me11orine​ sent a letter :  ❝hiii! i hope your currently feeling well and staying safe! may i pls request an angst but a happy ending with zoro? its not really specific so you could do whatever you’d like! pls take your time!❞

author’s letter :  ❝dear reader, i’m so, so, so, so, sorry for being so late regarding this request! i hope you’ll be able to forgive me. i really had a lot of fun writing this request and showing my undying love for zoro love my birthday twin, i missed writing for one piece so thank you for sending me this and thank you for trusting me with your request!! love you and take care.

sealed with a kiss,  nikki.❞

Warnings : Cursing, blood, injury. Genre : Kinda angsty, kinda fluff. Word count : 1.6K.

The weather was hot in Dressrosa, perhaps too ideal for a kingdom ruled by the living and breathing personification of evil, or maybe was it just another trick played upon the Straw Hat crew : how could this kingdom possess the weather of heaven and, paradoxically enough, be ruled by the new face of evil?

Although the sunny weather complimented the thoughts of relaxation, enjoying the sinful pleasures of life and whatnot, the reality drew a sharp contrast with these ideals— it was a hunt led on the scale of an island, a literal hunt, where the horn would only be blown once all of the targets will be taken down. It was a race against time, a permanent sword of Damocles was dangerously hanging over each member of the Straw Hat crew as a reminder that every action taken had a consequence— some reduced drastically the distance between the tip of the sword and their head, and others helped to deliver the last blow to their opponent.

Sword of Damocles or not, Zoro Roronoa could handle any situation with the help of his very own swords, that is… Almost all of them. His expertise regarding the art of fighting his opponents with both his most cherished and lethal weapons seemed like poetry in motion to the common eye— he was the living testimony of empiricism, each of his experience added yet another step-stone on the ramp to become the best swordsman alive.

Nonetheless, the legendary prowesses of his swords could not fix the deep wounds caused by the poisonous mix of emotional numbness and physical pain. His sole valid eye was entirely focused on your small form (or at least, from his point of view, it did seem smaller given the fact you were bending under the echoes of pain) caught in a whirlwind of distress. He should have trusted his guts, after all, trusting his instinct came as a second nature to him, and not let you face one of Doflamingo’s pawns on your own. Yes, the victory was yours, but was squirming in pain really worth having the bragging rights of a success?

Isolated in an alley, away from the preying eye of the Donquixote family, but certainly not isolated from the sounds of agony echoing from certain areas of the kingdom, you were left bruised and out of breath on the ground. Your palm was delicately covering the wound in your arm, while being careful enough to not apply to much unwanted pressure on it, your mouth was set agape, a position needed to allow several unsteady breaths to fall free from your lips in cascade. And although Dressrosa was moving under the rhythm of the cries of pain, the alley you and Zoro was stuck in was eerily silent, a form of silence imposed against your will, but perhaps was it because none of you knew what to say.

The wound was deep and blood was flowing a bit too freely out of the cut— you considered is a medal, Zoro saw it as a mark of inattention. His facial expression reflected almost too perfectly the vivid emotions rushing through his mind : a dash of sadness, a pang of guilt and a generous dose of anger. His brows were furrowed, teeth clenched, his eye never left your figure, he was hoping his stare alone could make you feel his rush of emotions.

« What the hell were you thinking? What’s wrong with you? You could have died if I hadn’t shown up at the right time! » Zoro barked, anger lacing his every word, you winced at the harsh tone of his voice.

« What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let you do all the dirty work and stand back in silence? Hell no! » You responded, with the same amount of volume and acerbity coating your voice.

« You knew damn well you couldn’t have beaten him on your own, why the hell do you have to be so reckless? » It was a rhetorical question coming from him, there was no answer, just the will to sting you where it hurt the most.

« Because I’m sick of you seeing me as some kind of person in distress, because I’m not! I had him right where I wanted and you let your savior complex get the best of you. I could have handled it on my own, I didn’t need you! » Now, now, talk about letting your emotions dictate your speech.

His eye widened in surprise, mostly because he was not expecting that such rage could have ever possibly takeover your wording, but he regained his composure almost immediately. His jaw felt tight as your haunting words kept repeating themselves over and over again in his head like a broken record.

« You don’t need me, hah? Fine by me, next time I’ll let you suffer on your own, and remember that you asked for it. »

Maybe you were right, maybe you didn’t need him. For the first time, he laid his eye elsewhere, he couldn’t muster the strength to look at you, nor stay close to you. And with that, Zoro had already made the decision to leave you in this alley.

Willing to mimic his actions and indirectly compete in this silent war of prides, you tried to get on your feet to go back to the Sunny. Your plan, however, did not match with the reality— as soon as you stood up, a cry of pain left your lips without warning, your knees gave up under the pressure and eventually you found your original position : sat on the floor. Zoro stopped abruptly in his tracks once this sound of torment connected to his eardrums. His pride yelled at him to continue on his way out, to leave you alone because you ‘didn’t need him’, but he was only a mere man to try resisting his pride.

« Don’t move, you can’t help being so damn reckless all the time, can you? » the anger lacing his words had faded away and instead, a hint of comfort replaced the former vivid emotion.

Zoro was back kneeling in front of you, his stare was once more focusing on you and you only, as it always has been. You, on the other one hand, couldn’t seem to gather enough strength to look elsewhere but on your wound, and oddly enough, the more you looked at it, the more it hurt. Why did it hurt? You ignored the real answer to the question, nonetheless, pearls of tears running down your cheeks, a sweet mixture of salt and guilty.

« Oi, oi, oi, what are you crying for? » You knew he didn’t mean to sound this harsh, but ‘Zoro’ and ‘delicate’ were oxymorons.

Your thumb was still brushing invisible forms near your wound, in a desperate attempt to ease the pain and distract yourself from Zoro’s acerbic words which had finally sunk in, it was similar to being caught in a whirlwind of pain without any escape. You couldn’t help these tears from falling free on your face, it was the aftermath of said whirlwind, and the consequences of regretting your poor choice of wording.

Zoro’s calloused fingers came right beneath your chin, forcing you to look elsewhere but on one of the many causes of your suffering, and instead, engage a new discussion. His attempt to earning an answer felt short against the deafening silence on your end, a silence, however, often broke by the sounds of your whimpers.

« I-… I shouldn’t have said that earlier. What I said about not needing you, I didn’t mean any of it. » You released a sigh you ignored you were holding, a manifestation that you felt a burden come off of your shoulders.

« Save your saliva and your breath, I got it. And even if you didn’t want my help, you’re not in a position to refuse my help right now.» A hint of a smirk was plastered upon his face as a sign of a silent victory against you.

Zoro was right, you had no choice but to give in to his help. His arms snaked around your knees and shoulders (while making sure not to enter in contact with your injured arm and let the wound free from any touch) and cradled your head against his chest in a modified version of a bridal carry. Perhaps, just perhaps, you should have accepted his offer to help you earlier on.

« Zoro? » You asked, your breath coming to crash against the skin of his torso.

« Mhm? »

« You’ve always been the person I needed, I was just afraid that you would get injured too. » A confession emanating from your heart, after all, you deemed this moment as the most adequate given the circumstances.

Said confession only comforted Zoro in the nature of the feelings he was holding in your regard, and also demonstrated that the nature of your anger was actually coming from a place of care and attention for him.

« I told you not to mention it. Besides, I’m never letting someone lay a finger on you ever again. » A victorious grin still plastered upon his facial features, this time, it wasn’t because he had won the argument against you, it was because he realized everything he had always wanted, everything he had always needed, was here in his arms.

[dinosaurtsukki]

all aboard the mystery machine | (feat. the gym 3 squad and y/n)

this was inspired by a post by @kenchiko which was the ‘being in a friend group with gym three squad’ which i like to read when i’m sad. anyway, they all dressed up as the mystery gang and i thought it was so cute i decided to headcanon it. (thank u kenchiko i love ur tsukki stuff but i’m too shy to interact with u *waves*)

it was the day of electric spookaloos aka halloween and you and kuroo were hyped af 

mostly because you could play ‘this is halloween’ on loudspeaker with less weird stares than usual

and kuroo’s all about gROuP CosTUmeS 

previously the five of you had dressed up as the power rangers (which you switched for m&m’s because the helmets were too hard to make), the breakfast club, and the teen titans and now the five of you were going to top it off with…

‘the mystery gang from scooby doo!’ kuroo mentioned in your groupchat

no one noticed it except for bokuto who haha-reacted and then it resurfaced three days before halloween

kuroo and akaashi are the only ones who went all out with their costumes

kuroo has a blonde wig for his fred costume and akaashi also got a wig and made a dress for his daphne costume

bokuto ordered a cloth scooby doo mask online and forgot to order the rest of the body so he looks like inosuke from kny except his head is scooby doo

you and tsukki went to the dollar store on the day itself and just bought shirts for your velma and shaggy costumes

kuroo: you couldn’t even bother to get an orange sweater?

tsukki: it was fifty cents more expensive also i’m the blonde one so i should be fred

kuroo: well you didn’t binge-watch scooby doo all night and got only one hour of sleep so you had to sip akaashi’s pumpkin spiced latte before getting kicked by the owner of said latte

bokuto worked on spray painting kuroo’s pick-up truck to look like the mystery machine 

but the painting didn’t work out and only half of the letters are legible so you’re all piled into a pick-up truck that says ‘THE  Y T RY    AC  NE’ on the side

but you’re off to the only halloween party you were invited to !!

and you blast ‘this is halloween’ on loudspeaker while dancing in the backseat

except on the way tsukki gets a call from his boss (he works at a museum) abt some missing artifacts

you: why did he call you, don’t you just deliver coffee?

tsukki: *kicks you*

you: *kicks back and accidentally kicks bokuto*

bokuto, behind his mask: :’( 

kuroo: missing artifacts??? museum???? 

tsukki: nO–

kuroo: SOUNDS LIKE A JOB FOR THE MYSTERY GANG *drives to museum before anyone can say anything*

akaashi: this is the only party we’ve been cool enough to be invited to this year and we’re going to spend it in mcdonalds again after this is over

bokuto: wE’RE GOING TO MCDONALDS IF WE’RE COOL ENOUGH?

akaashi: nO

anyway you, kuroo, and bokuto are excited for this ~~mystery~~

the five of you are miraculously able to sneak past the guards and enter through the back because the mystery gang gave you their blessing to break and enter almost any building on halloween night

kuroo, immediately getting into fred jones mode: alright let’s split up gang! daphne and i will check the upper floors while velma, shaggy, and scooby, you take the basement

bokuto: ruh-roh!·         

you: splitting up is a surefire way for someone to get killed but go off, i guess?

kuroo: also, if anyone curses, they owe a quarter in the swear jar

akaashi: you can only use things like jinkies, jeepers, jiminy, or zoinks

tsukishima: i’m not fucking doing that

kuroo: that’s a quarter

anyway, you’re with bokuto and tsukishima so what could go wrong?

everything

and it all starts when you guys go downstairs into a basement full of creepy artifacts and find a mysterious, glowing amulet

you: i don’t think we should touch that

bokuto, who can barely hear anything in his decapitated scooby mask: TOUCH IT!

tsukki doesn’t care enough to hold him back and bokuto touches the amulet

the basement shakes, the ground beneath you trembles, the amulet grows brighter and pale green apparition appears in front of you. its danny phantom a hooded figure with glowing eyes

ghost: YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE GHOST OF THE AMULET OF ETERNAL SUFFERING

tsukki: …a song by Fall Out Boy

you: *trying hard not to laugh but also scared shitless* …jinkies

bokuto: ruh-roh?

tsukki: huh, i guess someone rigged a hologram here as a prank. nice one

ghost: I KNOW NOT OF THIS PRANK YOU SPEAK OF. YOU HAVE BROUGHT ETERNAL SUFFERING ONTO YOURSELVES, MORTALS

you: i mean, i work at customer service so…

tsukki: nice one *high fives you*

ghost: YOU HAVE– *stops when he actually sees bokuto* WHAT ABOMINATION IS THIS?

tsukki: mean, that’s just y/n

you: *kicks him*

meanwhile kuroo and akaashi are sleuthing it up upstairs

kuroo: *having a staring contest with one of the paintings displayed*

akaashi: what are you doing?

kuroo: you know how painting’s eyes tend to follow the main character in cartoons?

akaashi:,,,kuroo that’s a painting of an apple

kuroo: i could have sworn i saw some red eyes 

akaashi: i don’t think anyone would be blazing it in a museum. come on, let’s check the next room

while walking past a row of suits of armor, one of the displays turns its head (but no one notices it yet shhhhh)

back at the basement

the ghost is wreaking havoc: chairs are thrown against the wall, vases are cracked, the faint smell of sulphur is in the air. you and bokuto are fucking terrified and look more like shaggy and scooby despite your shitty cosplays. tsukishima doesn’t believe in anything that’s going on

tsukki: man, these guys here are really putting effort into this prank

you: TSUKKI I DON’T THINK THIS IS A PRANK 

ghost: *starts chanting in some unknown, ancient language*

tsukki: ah, nice touch. you watch lord of the rings?

you: tSUKKI NO-

bokuto: don’t worry! i’ll exorcise this spirit with my bible knowledge!

you and tsukki: MANGA MESSIAH IS NOT THE BIBLE

akaashi: *shivers* i just had the strangest feeling that bokuto called manga messiah the bible again

kuroo: zoinks! sounds like him

akaashi: *trying not to cringe* anyway, they’re probably not doing anything right now

the basement, atm: just a complete fucking mess

the walls have started bleeding but somehow y’all are still a-okay

that’s because tsukki’s so salty he’s basically a salt circle with 10m radius but you didn’t hear that from me

and he STILL DOESN’T BELIEVE THAT A REAL ASS GHOST IS HAUNTING THEM 

the ghost is also tired at this point 

also bokuto is really fucking scared but decides to end things ONCE and FOR ALL

he stands up from under the desk and just tackles the ghost like a football player

he didn’t think that he’d pass through the ghost

but seeing a buff dude with a scooby doo head is enough to scare mr. blood-dripping-from-the-walls shitless, especially when he fucking passes through him

ghost: *disappears back into the amulet*

you: and you still don’t believe that’s real??? 

tsukki: ghosts aren’t real

you: *ready to throw hands*

bokuto: I DID IT! I FOUGHT A GHOST!

you pocket the amulet because you can send it to your enemies 

meanwhile: upstairs

kuroo: man, i’d give anything to be chased by a scooby-doo villain dressed in a suit of armor 

a suit of armor: *starts chasing them*

akaashi, in his best daphne voice: jeepers! we better get out of here! 

kuroo, crying out how perfectly akaashi emulated daphne: let’s split up gang!

they don’t split up tho that would be dumb

*cue classic scooby doo chase scene with the music*

and then as they round a corner they run into you, tsukki, and bokuto fresh from the basement and you all fall into a heap

tsukki: *sees the suit of armor running towards then* ah fuck, what now?

kuroo: laNGUAGE *hands him the swear jar*

akaashi: NOT THE TIME

you: GET HIM BOKUTO!” 

bokuto stands up and once again tackles the knight and this time he doesn’t pass through

it takes five (5) of you to tie up this one (1) guy 

kuroo: oh my god, i’m ready

you: ready for what?

bokuto: the final unveiling

kuroo: now let’s see who’s behind all this! *rips off the helmet which tears off like a mask don’t ask me why but apparently that happens*

and it’s…Bokuto!!

everyone: *gasps and turns to Bokuto who FINALLY removes the scooby doo mask*

tsukki: *gasp* you’re the creepy british dude who keeps trying to buying our local artifacts to display at The British Museum!

akaashi: neo-imperialism is real

bokuto in the suit of armor: guys help!! he kidnapped me!!

all of you (except tsukki because he’s so done at this point) tackle mr. british villain who you thought was bokuto

finally the right person has been tied up

kuroo: your days of stealing artifacts are over!

british villain (let’s say he looks like jude law or something): and i would have gotten away with it…

kuroo: *grabbing your arm* oh my god! he’s gonna say it! he’s gonna say it!

british villain/jude law: …if it weren’t for you fUCKERS!

*dead silence*

kuroo tries to hand him the swear jar but akaashi puts his hand down

you: can we call the police? 

akaashi: *gags* fuck the police 

you: he’s white, british, and a man. they won’t do anything to him

akaashi: exactly

tsukki: hey, you still have that amulet from earlier, right?

you: the CURSED amulet with the GHOST inside?

akaashi: the what now? 

tsukki: yeah, maybe leave it with this guy? and then he’ll get pranked

at this point you’re too tired to argue with mister ghosts-aren’t-real so you leave the amulet with jude law and the five of you get out of the museum and pile into the mystery machine

akaashi: do you think the party’s still going?

you: we could hang out in mcdonalds again like last year

but otw to mcdonalds kuroo’s phone rings and he picks up

kuroo: hello? b-bokuto?

bokuto, over the phone: guys where are you??? the party started hours ago and my headless scooby-doo onesie is hard to get out of and i need to pee !!

akaashi: but…

you all turn to look at ‘bokuto’ sitting between you and tsukki in the backseat. he removes his mask.

it’s…jude law !! 

*cue ending music*

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

The war ends, the boys get married, life is good

final chapter of the story y’all!! I am... more than a little emotional TAT Thanks to everyone who followed this story, and reblogged it, and extra special thanks to those people who chatted in the tags because honestly that made my day each time TAT This fic has been a fucking adventure and I wouldn’t have managed without y’all reading it TAT

Nothing has changed. Nie Huaisang is engaged to Lan Xichen, as he already was. He’s in love with Lan Xichen, as he already was. Lan Xichen loves him which… he wasn’t sure of, but he had strong suspicions about that, so it’s not exactly new either.

Everything is still the same.

Everything is different, because Nie Huaisang wakes up to strong arms holding him, to his face pressed against warm skin, to tangled legs, to a dozen proofs that he didn’t dream, that Lan Xichen is still alive, that they are in love, that they’re going to marry not because they were ordered to, but because they want it. Nie Huaisang grins to himself, giddy with happiness after months of bleakness.

When Lan Xichen too wakes up, Nie Huaisang sees his joy mirrored on his fiancé’s face and he has to kiss him once, and twice, and enough times that he starts losing count, his mind empty of anything but the happiness of knowing Lan Xichen is there with him.

They were good last night, both of them too exhausted to do more than fall in bed and quickly drift to sleep as they clung to each other, but that was last night. This morning Nie Huaisang doesn’t see any reason to be so well behaved. It’s not unwelcome anyway. Lan Xichen doesn’t protest or stop him as his kisses grow more insistent, nor when his hands start wandering and caressing in a way they never got to before, exploring the warm skin hidden by Lan Xichen’s inner clothes. Nie Huaisang starts pressing biting kisses down his fiancé’s throat and playing with the hem of his pants, just as a suggestion for Lan Xichen to take or reject.

A knock on the door interrupts what otherwise promised to be the best morning Nie Huaisang ever spent in the Cloud Recesses. Even like this it’s tempting to ignore this unwanted visitor, until they hear Lan Qiren’s voice, threatening to enter if they don’t answer.

Lan Xichen throws an arm over his eyes and sighs deeply, as if this exact moment is the very worst thing he’s ever gone through.

“I’ll be here in a moment, uncle!” he announces as loud as he can without breaking even more rules, before dropping his arm to smile weakly at Nie Huaisang. “I’ll probably be leaving the Cloud Recesses after talking with uncle but… I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

Just like that, reality creeps back into Nie Huaisang’s perfect little bubble of happiness. There’s still a war out there. The people he loves are all alive for now, but that can change at any moment.

Nie Huaisang curls up on himself as he sits up, unable to so much as look at Lan Xichen now. All of this could end at any moment, the Wens could return to the Cloud Recesses this very instant and slaughter them like they did to Lotus Piers, or they might catch Lan Xichen alone later and kill him then, or he’ll disappear like Wei Wuxian and never be found, or fall in battle, or…

He feels movement on the mattress as Lan Xichen too sits up, his fiancé’s hands on his, trying to catch his attention, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin. Nie Huaisang refuses to look and wants to tear his hands away. Everything felt so good and perfect earlier, but now…

“Give me a second,” Lan Xichen asks, dropping a careful kiss on his forehead before getting off from the bed.

Instead of getting dressed as Nie Huaisang expects, Lan Xichen walks directly to the door, barefoot and in nothing but his inner clothes. Shocked out of his bout of misery, Nie Huaisang looks up as his fiancé exchanges a few words with Lan Qiren, demanding further delay before coming to talk about whatever he’s needed for. Although Lan Qiren is hidden from his eyes Nie Huaisang can tell he’s not happy about this whole situation, and yet Lan Xichen doesn’t back down. Nie Huaisang can’t quite catch what they’re saying, but he can tell when Lan Xichen wins the argument, closing the door again with a satisfied smile. A little puzzled over what happened, Nie Huaisang tries to leave the bed as well (there’s so much to do, there’s always so much to do) but Lan Xichen stops him with a gesture as he starts searching among the clothes he so carefully folded last night.

“Sit down,” Lan Xichen asks, pulling his xiao from its qiankun bag. “I’ll play for you.”

Nie Huaisang quickly obeys. He doesn’t even need to ask what Lan Xichen intends to play, though he feels embarrassed that his mood was so obvious. His only defence is that nobody has really paid attention to that since he arrived in the Cloud Recesses, and so he’s stopped trying to hide… but Lan Xichen isn’t just anybody, of course he noticed.

“Don’t you have important things to do?” Nie Huaisang mumbles as he gets in a meditative position on the bed.

“This is important too,” Lan Xichen replies without hesitation. “Uncle can wait. And when I talk to him, I’ll tell him that you might need that song played to you. I can’t solve everything that’s wrong in our lives at the moment, A-Sang, but this… this I can do, and I will.”

Even the song doesn’t solve everything, no more than it did the times before. But like before, Nie Huaisang at least finds that his terror and distress are a little less sharp after and when Lan Xichen has to go, Nie Huaisang can kiss him and say goodbye and truly hope that they’ll see each other again soon.

-

It surprises Nie Huaisang a little when Lan Qiren does, in fact, start playing that soothing song for him once a week. He doesn’t think his fiancé’s uncle likes him much, partly due to some of the mischief he got up to as a student, partly because his failure to pass at the end of his first year must be a stain on the teacher’s career. And yet Lan Qiren plays that music for him, simply because Lan Xichen asked him to, and slowly Nie Huaisang finds himself dealing with things a little better.

Away from the Cloud Recesses, the war continues. Nie Huaisang starts paying more attention to that. Most of what reaches him is nothing but gossip of course, but whenever Lan Xichen comes home to discuss the situation with his uncle, Nie Huaisang gets to be there and to find out what’s true. So far, it seems that the wildest rumours are usually the ones closest to the truth. 

Like when Wei Wuxian is found alive, refusing to say where he’s spent the last three months or how he’s suddenly a master in a brand new form of cultivation that he might have invented while he was gone. From what Lan Xichen says, and the letters from Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan he passes on to Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian’s new powers are nothing short of terrifying, and this alone should shorten the war. They’re all worried about him though. Jiang Cheng in particular, every time he writes, does that thing of his where he gets angry to avoid showing he’s sad. Something happened to Wei Wuxian, and it has changed him.

Another big rumour is about a new Qinghe Nie disciple named Meng Yao. Nie Huaisang never gets the whole story until after the war, but what he hears during it is this: this young man, this boy really since he’s roughly the same age as Nie Huaisang, somehow rose to become Nie Mingjue’s second-in-command for a few weeks, then was welcomed into Lanling Jin because apparently he’s actually one of Jin Guangshan’s many, many bastards, and Jin Zixuan has decided to help out his half-siblings if he can. Only that backfires when this Meng Yao fellow just murders a Jin commander, right in front of Nie Mingjue, and escapes to maybe join Qishan Wen. Only it later turns out that Meng Yao has gone there with Jin Zixuan’s blessing to be a double agent, one who saves Nie Mingjue’s life when he is captured (although the details of how, exactly, he saves his former employer’s life seem to have provoked some argument between them) and he’s the one who kills Wen Ruohan, ending the war, and…

And so, the war is over. 

The sons of a servant and of a prostitute shorten it by months, by years even perhaps. Wei Wuxian is acclaimed for the victories he’s won on the battlefield. Meng Yao, soon given the courtesy name Jin Ziyao by Jin Zixuan, earns his place in the family in which his father apparently never wanted him to join. From what Nie Huaisang hears, Madam Jin is not particularly happy about this development, but cannot object when Jin Zixuan, Lan Xichen and even Nie Mingjue points out all that Jin Ziyao has done for the Sunshot Campaign.

The war is over. 

It is over, and they won. 

-

Because mourning periods must be observed, it is still another few months before Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen can marry. In the meanwhile Nie Huaisang goes back to the Unclean Realm where there is much work to be done. 

It is odd to be back there, knowing when he leaves it again, it will be for good. Without anyone to play music for him Nie Huaisang falls into occasional bouts of melancolia again, but months of Lan Qiren playing for him seemed to have healed him enough that his mood never really got as bad as it used to, or at least never for long. It also helps that there is so much to do. New territories to be assessed, war prisoners to check on, debt to pay, the wounded to heal, the wedding to prepare…

Then suddenly, Lan Xichen’s mourning is over, and the wedding is there.

Nie Huaisang feels nearly dizzy on his last day in the Unclean Realm, as Nie Mingjue and Nie Zonghui help him pack the last of his possessions. His whole life now lies in a dozen wooden chests. His fans, his paintings, his best robes, all his brushes, his books. It feels so little, and it feels so much. It’s terrifying that everything is about to change, and it is just as scary the intensity with which Nie Huaisang craves that change. He has barely seen Lan Xichen since the end of the war but they’ve written to each other as often as they’ve been able to and it only strengthened Nie Huaisang’s conviction that this is what he wants for his future.

He wants this.

He still spends most of that last night cuddling his brother who is just as emotional about seeing him leave. There might be a few tears spilled, although Nie Mingjue firmly denies it. Nie Huaisang teases him about, because Nie Mingjue thinks he’s so tough now that he’s the oldest leader among the Great Sects and he has a title, but really he’s still as much of a brat as Nie Huaisang himself.

Even if things are good with Lan Xichen, it’s a relief of sorts when Nie Mingjue promises his brother that should things go wrong, he’ll always have his place in the Unclean Realm, that it will always be home, even if he’s making a new one in the Cloud Recesses.

“Even if things go bad because I’m the one messing up?” Nie Huaisang.

“Yes, you brat. It’s an unconditional promise. I don’t think you could mess up badly enough to make him give up on you at this point, though. He’s stupidly in love, which shows even the best education can’t give you taste.”

Nie Huaisang pinches his brother for that remark, which soon turns into a playfight like they haven’t done in years. Nie Huaisang is proud of himself for holding his own pretty well, though he still ends up having to yield.

-

It’s a little weird to walk around with that veil on his face, but the Lan elders insisted that it would be a break of tradition for Nie Huaisang not to have it. Lan Xichen negotiated for it to be a more translucent veil than usual so that they both get to enjoy the ceremony. Initially Nie Huaisang was somewhat indifferent on the matter, but now he’s glad both that he can see what’s around him, and that he doesn’t have to bother about hiding his emotions.

He almost cries when Lan Xichen helped him down the sedan. His fiancé looks amazing in red and gold, it accentuates his jade skin, his ink black hair. Lan Xichen is always handsome but like this he is breathtaking. Nie Huaisang is so distracted that he almost falls on the ground as he gets down from the sedan, only to be rescued in time by Lan Xichen.

“It’s becoming a habit,” Lan Xichen chuckles against his ear as he helps him on his feet.

“I guess I just can’t help falling for you,” Nie Huaisang retorts.

There’s no veil on Lan Xichen’s face to hide the way he blushes, how he looks at Nie Huaisang in wonder, as if even now he can’t quite believe this is real, and… Nie Huaisang’s heart speeds up because he loves him so much, they are getting married, and maybe he’s also having trouble realising it’s all real. He just wants all this stupid ceremonial to be over already so they can take those damn bows and just be together already.

Of course, that’s too much to ask. A sect leader’s marriage is too important an event to be rushed, and the Lans love their traditions too much. There’s a dozen steps to follow before they can go to the ancestral hall to take their bows before their guests, and even when they get there, Lan Qiren has to delay everything by starting a long winded lecture about their duties and what marriage means in Gusu Lan.

Nie Huaisang’s attention starts drifting away about ten words in, and hidden by his veil, he takes the chance to look around at the assembly.

The first face he spots, mostly because he’s so stupidly tall, is Nie Mingjue who looks like he’s trying hard not to cry. Of course to anyone who doesn’t know him that might pass as a scowl, but… Nie Huaisang knows better. His brother can act as stern as he likes, he’s a sap. Jin Ziyao, standing next to Nie Mingjue, has the smile of someone who also knows what his former employer’s expression really means, which makes Nie Huaisang grin. Things are a little tense still between those two, but everyone agrees that with a little more time, they might get back to the good relationship they briefly had during the war, when they worked together.

Not far from these two, Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan are standing together, whispering quietly under Wei Wuxian's suspicious gaze and Jiang Cheng's resigned one. Something happened during the war, which Nie Huaisang is still trying to get the full story for. Some business about soup that Jiang Yanli made for her former fiancé, only for an ambitious servant girl to take the credit. If Jiang Cheng hadn't happened to notice that soup during a visit to Jin Zixuan and explained the truth, things might have gone bad. Instead, Jin Zixuan ended up thanking Jiang Yanli for what he apparently called ‘the best part of his days’ (Jiang Cheng reported this to Nie Huaisang with a grimace) and they started chatting whenever they had time for it. It is now almost certain that these two will resume their engagement when their own mourning is over. 

Wei Wuxian is not happy about that. In fairness, he's not happy about much these days. Jiang Cheng is getting pretty anxious about what happened to his adopted brother while he was gone, as is Lan Wangji. Nie Huaisang hasn't been able to do much on that subject, all the way up in Qinghe, but he's determined to get the truth into the light now that he'll be closer. If nothing else, maybe that soothing song which helped Nie Huaisang will do Wei Wuxian some good as well. He'll start throwing the idea around next month, when he goes to Lotus Piers for that brotherhood oath that Jiang Cheng has demanded to take with Nie Huaisang. 

"A-Sang," Lan Xichen whispers, low enough others shouldn't hear. "Pay attention, it's almost time." 

Hunching his shoulders, Nie Huaisang feels grateful for the veil that hides how he blushes at being caught like this. Lan Xichen doesn't seem upset though, clearly knowing the effect his uncle's lecture can have on others. 

When finally Lan Qiren finishes his drawn out speech, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen step forward. Lan Xichen undoes the white ribbon on his forehead, and together their tie it around their wrists before taking their three bows. When they stand up for the final time, it's done.

They are married. 

Nie Huaisang’s hands start trembling from the shock of that realisation. He has spent nearly half his life waiting for this moment, either with dread or anticipation, and it's over now. They are married. If he could, if it weren't a breach of tradition and decorum, Nie Huaisang would kiss his husband right now. Lan Xichen looks down at him with such wonder on his face that he knows it wouldn't be unwelcome.

There’s still more stupid ceremonies and traditions to go through before that. Nie Huaisang bears with it as patiently as he can until finally, finally it is time for them to retire from the ceremony and go to their new home. Nie Huaisang doesn’t pay attention to anything on the way there, except for the warm sensation of Lan Xichen’s hand in his and the way his husband can’t stop smiling, how gorgeous he is like that.

When the door closes behind them, when they are alone at last, Nie Huaisang feels so nervous and excited that he’s sure he must be vibrating from it. He wants to tear away that stupid veil and just kiss Lan Xichen already, but through an immense effort of self-control, he doesn’t. 

“Won’t my husband uncover me?” he asks, delighting in the way Lan Xichen blushes at the word, the slight gasp he can’t contain, the way he smiles as if this is the best day of his life, as if nothing in the world could be better than this exact moment.

“If my husband wishes,” Lan Xichen replies, which sends Nie Huaisang’s heart racing and his cheeks burn. 

He’ll have to tell Lan Xichen not to call him that too much, because the embarrassment might kill him. He’ll have to tell him to say the word husband over and over again, because he loves the way it sounds in Lan Xichen’s voice.

Before anything else, Lan Xichen undoes the knot on the ribbon that tie their wrists, gently tying it again on Nie Huaisang’s arm in a gesture that feels almost too intimate. Then, with great care, Lan Xichen takes the hem of Nie Huaisang’s veil and slowly lifts it, revealing his face. Nie Huaisang knows he probably doesn’t look like much at the moment, he’s blushing so much, and his eyes must be red as well from trying not to cry, and he’s grinning like a fool. But Lan Xichen must like what he sees because as soon as the veil is out of the way, he lowers his hands to Nie Huaisang’s cheeks and pulls him into a kiss, as if he cannot wait a second more, as if he too has been biding his time all day.

Nie Huaisang half laughs into the kiss, too giddy to contain himself, and throws his arms around his husband’s neck to keep him close, as close as they can be.

They are married, and Nie Huaisang never thought it was possible to feel so happy.

-

It’s still mostly dark when Nie Huaisang opens his eyes again and half panics because he can’t breathe right. He struggles and kicks until he can free himself, only to hear a discontent grunt and be pulled back into a tight embrace.

As his eyes get used to the meagre light and his brain continues waking up, Nie Huaisang realises where he is and relaxes. This unfamiliar room is his own now. That tight embrace is his husband's, who even in sleep can't seem to let him go. Nie Huaisang chuckles quietly at the idea, wondering if anyone else would ever guess how clingy Lan Xichen, the mighty Zewu-Jun, can be in private.

Clingy doesn't even begin to cut it. Last night was… well, Nie Huaisang has no complaints about that. He used to think that his married life would be a cold one, but that clearly won't be the case. Lan Xichen is, to put it mildly, very enthusiastic about marital activities, and Nie Huaisang can't wait to show him some of his more private books to give him a few ideas on how to use all that enthusiasm. Even just like this though, being together was better than Nie Huaisang expected. Of course his only basis for comparison is that afternoon with Jin Zixuan. It's funny how different last night felt. It was mostly the same acts, but with this much pent up emotion behind them, driven by desire rather than just curiosity… 

So far, married life is pretty good. 

If he could, Nie Huaisang would go back to sleep. It’s awfully early, they’ve had a long day yesterday, and today promises to be longer still, with more celebrations they’ll have to take part in. Sleep, however, eludes him. There’s too much to think about, too much novelty. After trying for a while to close his eyes and wait, Nie Huaisang gives up and decides to just leave the bed.

That’s easier said than done. Lan Xichen really is clingy, and he’s stronger than anyone has any reasonable excuse to be, so it’s a struggle to escape him and not be caught back. Nie Huaisang manages in the end, and makes a mental note to tease his husband about it later.

For now, he dresses up and takes a moment to wander a bit around the house. Their house. He hasn’t had a chance to see it before. It used to be Lan Xichen’s father’s house, and since it was left relatively untouched by the fire, it’s theirs now. 

In his letters, Lan Xichen has somewhat hinted that he isn’t too happy with this state of affairs and would have preferred to live nearly anywhere else in the Cloud Recesses. A sect leader must have a house worthy of his rank though, and the circumstances make it difficult to justify building a new one. Maybe in some years, when everything else has stabilised… until then, they’ll make do with this. Nie Huaisang is intent on decorating this place and leaving his mark everywhere. Lan Xichen, so far, hasn’t explained why it upsets him to have anything in common with his father, but it doesn’t matter. If Lan Xichen is upset, then Nie Huaisang will do his best to distract him from it.

As the night gets lighter, Nie Huaisang quickly explores a few rooms. This one will make a great office for Lan Xichen, that one needs to be tidied but could be used by Nie Huaisang to paint because the light in it must be perfect during the day. Here to see guests, there to welcome family and friends… there are even rooms that could be great for children, when they decide how to deal with that.

Dawn is fast approaching when Nie Huaisang gets to the house’s entrance. He’s tempted to go for a walk, even if technically that’s a break of curfew. Hopefully, being the sect leader’s husband gives him a few special rights.

He only makes it through the door of the Hanshi before he has to stop in his tracks. There, in front of the house, there’s an old tree to which he barely paid attention yesterday when he came in. Now, he can’t take his eyes off of it.

On the branch of that tree hangs a bird-feeder.

Not only that, but there’s a few sparrows enjoying breakfast in the first ray of the sun, chattering between themselves and fighting for the best seeds. It’s nothing much, it’s just sparrows, but Nie Huaisang feels himself grinning at the sight. It’s just sparrows, and wild ones at that, but they’re his birds, his husband’s way of making him feel at home and he could almost cry from how emotional that’s making him.

All thoughts of a walk gone, Nie Huaisang sits on the porch of his home, watching his birds.

Then, because life is good, before very long he hears some ruffling behind him. The sparrows freeze for a second at the noise, a few even flying away, but most quickly go back to their feast as Lan Xichen sits down right behind Nie Huaisang, covering both of them with a blanket before wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist.

“You were gone,” Lan Xichen sleepily mutters, just a hint of reproach as he buries his face in the crook of Nie Huaisang’s neck.

“But you found me. Is it okay to stay here a bit?”

In answer Lan Xichen shrugs and vaguely grumbles, already relaxing against Nie Huaisang’s back, as if he’s already falling asleep again. Nie Huaisang bites his lips not to laugh, not wanting to scare the birds or wake his poor tired husband again. He puts his hands on Lan Xichen’s and leans into the embrace, a wide smile on his lips.

Life is good, and he can’t wait to see what awaits the two of them.

[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

Scars: Year four, Chapter four

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Self Harm, cursing, wounds, bruising, mild nudity, scarring,

Y/n's P.o.V.

We waved goodbye to James's parents from the door of the Hogwarts express. After that we left to find a compartment. Once we found one the boys put their luggage in the overhead compartments and I had to ask Sirius to put mine up.

"Short arse!" James broke out in a fit of laughter because I had to ask for help. Remus ended up joining in the laughter too and, eventually, Sirius, Peter and I.

I ended up sitting beside the window, Remus beside me, Peter beside him, James in front of me and Sirius beside him. Remus was reading his book and chatting with Peter while James, Sirius and I did quidditch talk. I won an argument dealing with the last world quidditch cup.

After a while the trolly witch came and the boys all bought things to eat, it had honestly become a custom that one of the boys bought me something to eat ever year on the rides to and from Hogwarts because of the stupid rule mum made and this year Sirius got me what I regularly had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon it became time to get changed into our school clothes. After James helped me get my clothes out of the trunk I left to go get changed. While on my way I bumped into Lily Evans, who happened to be on her way to the bathroom to change as well so we went together. It was nice catching up with her and all but I had to head back to the boys soon.

When I got back to the compartment I burst out laughing. " OH MY GODRIC! Who preformed Densaugeo on you?" I used hand motions to tell the boys to line up in front of me in turn so I could shrink their teeth back to normal. By the time I had finished it had become time to exit the train.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We rode carriage's pulled by thestrals up to the castle. I was the only one of us who could actually see them so, I didn't say anything about them. You know, didn't wanna freak the boys out.

Once we got into the great hall we found a spot to watch the sorting from, clapping everytime a student other than Slytherin got sorted. Dumbledore said words of wisdom then he started the feast.

After the feast we had to leave to go back to the common room where I hugged each of them, in turn, before going off to bed.

Once in the dorm I placed a silencing spell around my four-poster because I tended to wake up screaming, crying or in a cold sweat and I didn't need any unwanted attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Le three weeks before Christmas

Because why nooooo

~~~~~~~

12:45 at night ish

Abruptly, I jerked awake clinging onto the sheets for dear life, balling one fist in the sheets. Shakily I slid up against the beds backboard before wiping the sweat off my brow. I will never be able to get the mental image of Crucio out of my head, Never.

Shaking, I bent over my bed and pulled Remus' sweater and a teddy bear the boys had given me out from under it. I easily slipped into his sweater and pulled my knees into it along with the bear and my arms. Laying inside his sweater and cuddling the boys bear eased my nerves. Slightly.

1:20 ish

By now I had calmed down enough to stop crying and had stashed the sweater and bear back where they were. Then, the memory of my mother's letter from first year came back and I froze, clutching the sheets for dear life. Quietly I pulled the curtains away from my four-poster and threw my cloak on over my clothes, pulling my pocket-size switchblade out from the secret compartment on my nightstand and slipped on my sneakers; after enchanting them to make no noise. Then, I started my trek to Myrtles bathroom.

*Trigger warning*

I sat on the floor of Myrtles bathroom slowly digging a switchblade into my left thigh. While wincing, every few cuts I counted down from 50 in my head. No, I didn't do that many lines I just, I sit on the bathroom floor and count down from fifty, when I finish I move and clean the area up before moving onto my ankle. Then, I do the same for my ankle, shallower cuts, lower number.

Once finished I looked back at my work. I winced slightly while looking back at the older scars. Soon after, I bandaged them. Once done I chatted idly with Myrtle before moving onto my upper arms.

In total it took about another thirty/forty-five minutes before bandaging the wounds and heading back to Gryffindor tower.

Only to find Sirius, shirtless, attempting to stitch a wound on his lower abdomen, on the couch. I gasped quietly and held a hand to my mouth. Apparently he had heard because he turned to look at me, by the portrait hole. Quite suddenly he dropped the needle and sat up, wincing from pain. " It- its not what it looks like Y/n..."

Slowly, I walked up to him and picked up the needle, sat in the middle of the couch. " Lay down Sirius." At first, he looked surprised then, he crawled over to me, laying in my lap. I winced when he put pressure on my leg and when asked I simply said later. " If your going to stitch up an abuse wound or any other type, ask for assistance. Well, or just come to me." I said while steadily stitching the two wounds he was attempting.

He lay there, wincing slightly while looking up at me from his spot on my legs. After stitching up about three more wounds he asked me a question, " Y/n, if you don't mind me asking why do you have bandages on your ankles?" I winced slightly before finishing up the wound I was working on. After that I lay down the needle while Sirius shrugged on a shirt, wincing slightly. He sat beside me on the couch and looked at me.

I expertly muttered a very offensive string of curse words under my breath before pulling my cloak off and crossing my arms under my chest. Seeing as I hadn't done anstiphamore Sirius had visible access to my wounds. I felt his gaze traveling up and down my body, lingering where I had bandages. He looked at me in concern and I bit my lower lip. "do you cut yourself because of it?" Yet again I found myself nodding my head.

I winced slightly when he brushed his hand against one of my older scars. " Take off your shirt Y/n." Abruptly I turned my head towards him and gave him a look that screamed 'Are YOU CRAZY?!'. He noticed my response and gripped my wrist carefully before saying,

" Not in a sexual way. I just wanna see them."

I looked into his eyes and saw no lies. No pity, just concern. Yet again a string of very offensive curse words came muttered out of my mouth before I carefully pulled my shirt over my head and crossed my arms again under my bra, a blush creeping it's way onto my face. His eyes flickered all over my body, wether it be my abdomen, stomach, arms, sides, face, hands. Everywhere.

He gently cupped my face with his hand and asked me for permission. I nodded my head slowly while looking down at the floor. Then, he picked me up in his lap, my back to his chest, and swept my hair off to the side. I could feel his fingers tracing spots all over my back before I flinched.

He had just ran his thumb over a deep cut in my back from when Jonathan, one of her boyfriend's, threw knifes. " fuck" I whispered out while biting my lip. Almost immediately he retracted his hand. I shook my head at him as if saying you're okay.

After that he went to tracing the scars all over my back and neck before turning me over and tracing the scars all over my frontside: arms, stomach, abdomen, neck, shoulders, forearms, hands, sides and eventually he pulled down the straps of my bra.

I was still covered up and he's like my brother so I know even if he did take it off, he wouldn't do anything bad. After he finished I pulled my shirt back on. Then, he gently pulled me into a hug, keeping his hands away from the bad scars and cuts. There seemed to be a mutual agreement that no words were needed to describe the situation, make it better or worse and Sirius didn't feel the need to ask about the scars because his earlier suspicions had been confirmed.

In that moment, sitting there on that couch in his arms, I felt a sudden rush of emotions. I felt safe, for once in my lifetime, I felt loved, I felt wanted and appreciated. The only other time this feeling has appeared has been when I was with Remus, Every emotion I had felt over the past few weeks, months, days and years suddenly hit me and quick enough the tears started flowing.

Soon, I found my face buried in his chest crying. The only result was for him to hold me tighter and soon he wrapped me in the cloak before carrying me to his dorm room and putting me on the bed. By then the water works had sub-sided and my breathing was starting the become semi-normal.

He left and went to the bathroom before grabbing some sort of jelly type stuff and pulled the shirt off once more before rubbing it over all the scars and putting bandages into them. Once he finished he gave me one of his shirts to put on before pulling me down onto his bed and holding me protectively and comfortingly in his arms. I felt safe, secure and he made me feel like everything was going to be okay. He made me feel loved.

It was in that moment when I knew I was going to be okay, I would get through this.

And I would stick by them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edit: Okay guys I went back to re read this to write the new chapter and I just need to say I was very thoroughly depressed when I wrote this which caused my sadness to leak into the chapter. So, if this troubled you in any way blame it on my depression at that time.

Drop a vote, drink some water, eat some food and remember You Are Loved!

^ - ^

[lizzybeth1986]

Quick Thoughts on The White People Waambulance, Chapters 18 and 19

• Sorry this QT is coming out so late, guys. I regret to say my heart wasn't really in this one...and it hasn't been with regards to my QTs for a while. This one might be my last, unless we count me finishing them off for the (not rewritten) Book 1. It's been two years since I began, and the last two books made the process honestly really exhausting.

• I clubbed the two finale chapters together because I really couldn't be bothered to do separate ones for both.

• In fact...I won't be doing any of what I have been doing for my QTs so far. I'll be honest to you: I usually do multiple replays, the last few in tandem with the other routes on YouTube. I go through the scenes one by one. I keep note of differences and variations and carefully choose screenshots that will reflect the gist of the scenes.

But I couldn't be bothered to do any of that this time. I pressed the "continue" and then the "end book" buttons as soon as I finished my first run of those chapters. I'm drained, guys. And I don't think I'll be coming back to the TRH series at least, not even for Liam or Hana or Kiara. Maybe my mind will change by the time the second book comes out (update from present-day Lizzy: no it didn't) but I'm not counting on it. And you'll probably know why by the time this QT ends.

• TW: Discussions on racism, both fandom racism and from within the narrative. The last section of this QT is going to be...pretty heavy, guys.

There's also going to be a lot of anti-Drake, anti-Olivia, anti-Madeleine and anti-Penelope content here, so if you like any of those characters...well, you've been warned.

The ensuing post is going to be LONG, and I know a lot of you have good reasons not to deal with long posts, so here's a tldr:

1. The TRR writing team stick to their weird obsession for jobless whiny white men.

2. Read this book once and you'll feel like you're drowning in an ocean of white tears.

3. WOC continue to get scraps from the writing team, even as they boast of being diverse and inclusive. In fact, they're regularly treated as mere tokens, exotic eye-candy or non-entities, while their behaviour is measured on standards that are very different from their white counterparts (this happens in other books as well).

...okay I wasn't expecting for the tldr to be long too 😅

• Me @ my QTs then:

Me @ my QTs now:

• I'll probably be finishing off my TRR Book 1 QT series when I'm a little less burnt out, but for now this is where it ends, I guess.

• So...here is to summarize the last two chapters: Accident happens. LIs mad. Paparazzi sad (but largely get away scot-free). MC and baby safe. At the Council meeting Kiara slam dunks the murderer of Liam's mother with the style and elegance this fandom still refuses to acknowledge her for. The MC is nice to her for like half a second. Last Apple Ball. New clothes for everyone as if they had a Diwali bumper sale the week before or something. Godfrey is somehow responsible for the security (who thought this was a good idea) and seeing the Auvernese Royal Guard outside our doors is SO not-creepy.

We get to see if we impressed our Auvernese and Monterriso allies enough. Bradshaw compliments Kiara for like half a second. Olivia sees the dude from the Q&A session (Jin) at the Ball and (if you pay) you get to see her catch, interrogate and lowkey flirt with him.

Leona and Bianca make it to the ball (where is Bartie Sr. Where are Xinghai and Lorelei. Where is Regina) and this time the narrative makes sure to shoehorn a plot element into their presence here: Leona is there so we can do something about the reveal that she constantly ratted us out to the press for money. ("oh look! Walker Ranch was plot related after all! We have a reason (albeit a flimsy, paper-thin one) to set 9 whole chapters in Texas. Even though we had to literally come up with this bit in the last minute, because really - all we wanted to do as a writing team was nut collectively over Drake Walker")

(I also can't believe that between the time I wrote this line and the time this QT finally came out - they literally found a way to re-fucking-write Book 1 so they could nut collectively over Drake Walker earlier)

• Why were we required to dress down in Texas for these assholes when they couldn't even bother to dig up their Sunday best for this ball??? Oh right, they're Walkers. Hypocrisy runs in the family.

• Good thing is you can choose to banish Leona if you want. She's angry about it for a second then accepts it and leaves. But like what is the point of banishing her when she hardly even bothers to come there in the first place? She's not going to be bawling her eyeballs out saying "boohoo, they threw me out of this country that I spent like five minutes in and never even wanted to visit in the first place".

• Bianca is present at the end of Chapter 18 mainly to deliver to us a plot point at the very last minute: a clue about where we could find proof about Queen Eleanor's murder. Bianca mentions conversations Jackson had with her, and a secret room somewhere. Her leaving the palace and abandoning her children is addressed, and the MC gets to berate her. It's...short.

• Why this important piece of information was given to Bianca when idk LEO could have pitched in and spoken about it, no one knows. Oh wait. I keep forgetting. Bianca is Drake's mother. That's why.

• Okay so Amalas valiantly found out about Leona's involvement in this and gave us tangible proof via photographs. But we're kiiiinda forgetting that the scrutiny and privacy invasions were happening even before we hauled ass to Walker Ranch? Who was responsible for those? Who was the "source" that the Chapter 17 paparazzo was referring to, the one that mentioned they would triple the price for more photos of the Queen/Mother of the Heir (Coz like why would she do that. She's already broke)? How did Amalas come by this information so easily and why was she really that invested? Why is no one asking these questions? Why isn't the group asking these questions? Why are they stupid. Jesus, they're all so stupid. HOW ARE YOU SO STUPID, SQUAD.

• Shortly after they get rid of Leona and Bianca, the rest of the group give the happy couple a choice of toys for the nursery - and that's our final nursery purchase. You can either go for the corgi - which is on brand for the series by now I think - or the lion, which is seen as very Cordonian.

• More party shenanigans. We're nice to Kiara for another half-second. Kiara arranges a photoshoot for us. The team can't pretend to give a fuck anymore about its fans so they will ask us to pay for an edit that I've seen millions of edit-creators in the fandom do wayyyy better. Like let's be honest - compare the engagement shoot pics (messy as they were) to the shoots we eventually got this book. You can see the difference. You can tell which one required more work.

• Anyway, if you choose this scene you wind up going back to the ballroom, dance with your spouse, aaaaand it's time for another diamond option. This time your spouse gives you something you've been craving (mousse parfait for the Liam MC, chocolate chip cookies for the Hana MC, handmade chocolates for the Maxwell MC and a choice between bacon and a veg version of it for the Drake MC. Damn, team TRR. Your favouritism is showing). The couple also writes a letter to the baby that the child can read growing up, in a bit of a parallel to Eleanor's letter to Liam that we see at the end of the chapter.

• After this, Liam reveals he has been pondering over what Bianca said, and wants to find out where they could find that secret room. Cue Liam's own flashback scene for free. Godfrey bringing to Queen the same goblet that the RoE MC found in a flea market in Book 2 for Regina (or perhaps just a similarish one). Liam and Eleanor reciting a rhyme that turns out to have clues for the secret room.

• To give the team credit, they seem to have (finally) put some thought into this. Like this actually feels like Liam's scene. Not one that delivers information about his family but is really about another character. They seem to incorporate all the things Eleanor seemed to be known for - things that were hardly addressed in the books when it came to talk of her. She is shown with a love for books given that books and poetry form an important part of the clues she leaves for Liam. One of the books is about foraging, which is unsurprising considering her love for gardens that was established in Book 1 of TRR.

• So...like...nice job but why was practically everything about Eleanor (including the way she'd stand up to Constantine, her displeasure at the sound of Godfrey and Bartie's names, her nature that Liam not only inherited but also learned) left only for your finale? Why no buildup? Why was I seeing you lot constantly pandering to Drake's family the entire time? Why do I know way, way more about Jackson than I do about Eleanor whose story this WAS? Why is she and her son suddenly getting this burst of attention at the tail end??

• They still manage to push young!Drake into a scene focusing on Liam and Eleanor, so we can see how Eleanor's teaching of how to be a responsible royal began to make inroads into Liam's way of thinking. It's the ultimate irony, that Liam took his mother's advice so much to heart that he lets Drake stay in his home, eat his food, and complain about those dastardly nobles to his heart's content for free.

Poor Eleanor in her grave is like

• Very fitting, how Constantine's proposal to Eleanor happens in the hedge maze, very much like Liam's first declaration of love in Book 1.

• If you're married to Liam, you get an extra letter that's addressed to Liam's future wife. She clearly knew her days were to be numbered by the time she gave birth to that second child at least.

• Lmao @ how the team somehow managed to remember that Eleanor would have been Leo's stepmother too. He's mentioned a couple of times. They didn't have enough time to develop a sprite for young!Leo but somehow had all the time and resources to make one for young!Savannah who had literally no purpose in Drake's flashback scene? Hmm. Hmm.

• They somehow manage to find the twin to the RoE MC's gifted goblet that Godfrey gave Eleanor the night she died, and Liam reveals that he's been obsessed with poisons enough to know that it wasn't the drink that was poisoned, it was the cup itself. Everyone is shook.

• Love that extra little detail about Liam's obsession with learning about poisons and how it's a sign of how deeply Eleanor's death affected him. But tell me honestly if you remember this plot point coming up even once before in any significant way. Even during the one time a person is poisoned in the previous book (by the laws of karma, the victim in this instance is Godfrey's only daughter) Liam shows very few signs of this "obsession". At a time when he has also lost a father. Convenient how something that could have added more depth to Liam is kept aside until there's a scene where his knowledge is required. Convenient indeed.

��� I kind of understand why Liam acts on impulse, okay. The man just discovered who murdered his mum, at least some amount of irrationality is allowed (esp considering he hardly got to express ANYTHING when his goddamn father died). But you'd think Liam's friends would hold him back and help him think this through? Convince him that there are more effective ways to confront and get a confession out of Godfrey who after is in charge of security at the moment? You seriously think charging into the ballroom and suddenly stripping this man of his titles is going to actually work??? You couldn't figure out how to make him vulnerable instead so that he wouldn't be able to escape???

• I mean like, sure, one could always rationalize it all as "well see Lizzy, they needed a dramatic end to this story and they needed to wrap this mystery up quick". But there were other ways they could have spread it out than make it all sound so...so random. And you bet we all know why the narrative had to scramble around last minute to solve this. It's because we spend half the damn book in a dilapidated ranch with a shit family!

• Anyway, Godfrey escapes...and the MC tells her spouse that she's going into labour after...two contractions? Um. Okay.

• So. That ends Book 1 of this new series. And with it my QTs, for this series at least. My QTs for Book 1 (the OG, not the rewrite) might continue, but I'd need to repeat my failplay again because I lost most of those screenshots 😭

General Thoughts on the Book:

• So far, this is what I can see as happening in the next book:

- The birth, obviously

- Any extra perks from our purchases (ie. the nursery and the garden)

- Subplots involving the LIs' conflicts regarding parenthood and their own childhoods

- The mystery behind Eleanor's death isn't quite over yet, nor is the truth behind the constant paparazzi presence in TRH. Leona was the scapegoat this time around, but how did Amalas get all this information so quickly?

- Where is Eleanor's other child? Olivia's investigations may or may not lead to that answer. I'm pretty sure Jin might be involved as well.

- Another possibility is that Madeleine may give us important information since she was potentially aware that Eleanor was pregnant at the time.

- The mystery behind Jackson's death and what he knew regarding Eleanor's condition.

- What part did Bartie Sr have to play in all this? How involved was Constantine in the murder (if in fact he was)? What more dark secrets will we learn about Constantine, Godfrey and Bartie Sr during this time? What ultimately caused the breakdown in Constantine and Jackson's relationship, since Drake mentions Jackson being around when Regina was Queen as well?

- Speaking of Regina, how involved was she in any of this? We know she was Godfrey's cousin-in-law and Bartie Sr made a comment on her during the announcement about the heir, and that she married Constantine a couple years after Eleanor's death, but was she aware of any of this or was she largely out of the major plot and brought in later to cement Godfrey's position and power?

- I'd mention the possibility that Lorelai could know something, but they didn't really give anyone connected to Hana any time at all, so I have my doubts.

- Operation Swan, and possibly a visit to Monterisso. Liam's younger sibling must be in one of these places but my guess is on Monterisso.

- I'm guessing the team will write a nice wedding for Penelope and Ezekiel next book, while Kiara continues to get scraps from the same team.

- Drake and Olivia will continue to eat into the plot. Madeleine will join this unholy trinity as well because they've set the stage for her to have plenty of angst.

With that over, these were my thoughts once this book was finished:

WHERE ARE THE DUCHESSES?

Remember how, back in Book 3, we all marvelled at the number of women in this country who were in positions of power? Adeleide and Emmeline were powerful duchesses while their husbands were secondary figures, and Joelle though married into a noble family is an influential artist and - according to Liam - the embodiment of King Fabian's values. It seemed like, despite the underlying sexism and racism in the story, women were at least at the forefront of Cordonian politics.

This is virtually gone in TRH1. Godfrey (who wasn't even interested in Krona in the first place, much less Cordonia) and Landon (whose only concern seemed to be Penelope, leaving Emmeline to manage the duchy) have a seat in the Council. In fact we never even see either of these woman in the book. I can maybe understand the logic behind not appointing Adeleide, but the fact that Emmeline is passed over for her far-less -qualified husband is a mystery to me!

Also, has anyone noticed how white-male-centered the whole Eleanor story is? Notice how we never see Eleanor's friends, besides Jackson? We never see any of the courtly ladies of that era? She's the Queen. She'd have her own court. I find it impossible that Eleanor would have no interactions of importance among her own goddamned court, that Joelle, Emmeline or Adeleide wouldn't even be mentioned in her story thus far. It's fascinating that forget being part of her story - these women are largely forgotten in the book itself.

(Note: It's also important to add that none of Kiara's family - besides Zeke - makes an appearance this book. At all. One member of Penelope's family and one member of Madeleine's family is in the council, but we never really see or hear anything from Kiara's, even though Hakim was Constantine's old friend and Joelle could have easily been connected to Eleanor, given that Eleanor was exactly the kind of ruler Joelle would have loved and respected.

While we're on that subject, Lorelai could have been connected to Eleanor as well - considering that we know next to nothing about her years in Shanghai. There were ways Hana's story could have been tied into the overall plot as well that were largely ignored. The fact that both the main and secondary WOCs presented opportunities for better plot and story, and despite that they were largely ignored in the books...I think that says a lot. But I will get into more of that in detail in a different section).

LI SPACE AND STORY

• Now...as we all know, The TRR/TRH series is primarily a romance-focused book first, with an underlying plot about royalty and politics. So it makes sense to evaluate the book based on what it gives its love interests. That includes the number of scenes they get, and the kind of focus their story is given. So...here's the rundown of how that goes in TRH Book 1:

Liam: Overall, not too bad. He gets one individual scene, a free and paywalled childhood scene (though the free one is essential for the group's realization of who killed Eleanor). The letter his mother writes to Liam includes an extra section towards the end, meant for the MC who marries him. However, we must note that a lot of this "attention" was thrust into the very final chapter of this book, and 99% of the same book didn't exactly make an attempt to explore his inner thoughts on anything - his mother's death, the dealings with the foreign countries, his political activities. Eleanor being pregnant came from a scene that made Olivia the center of attention, the MC had the opportunity to ask him how he was feeling only once or twice, and most of the time the narrative relegated it all to "the matter is still being investigated". It's a slight improvement from the absolute lack of concern the MC and the narrative showed about Liam's emotional state post his father's death in Book 3, but not much.

Variations wise, the team did step up on the basic ones for most of the LIs, so clearly we've moved past the days of seeing cut-paste scenes and the likes of Liam and Hana saying "I'm so dumb in love with you". However, in playthroughs where the MC is Liam's wife and Queen of Cordonia, her lack of genuine concern for her country and lack of curiosity about the place she's ruling, sticks out like a sore thumb. The fandom loves to highlight how the plot is "written for Liam" or is "easier in Liam's playthrough", but besides his own child being the heir, nothing else from Book 3 onwards seems like it was particularly written with him in mind.

Drake: Hoo boy. So 2019 was clearly the year that many people didn't believe me about Drake eating up space, and the year they had to eat their words because in TRH it was too obvious to be ignored. On an overall scale you cannot avoid the extra perks even his LI scenes got - his Valtoria scene in Chapter 4 was longer, set in a different place and he was allowed to expand on his decision to say yes to Liam's request in a way Hana and Maxwell never were. We learned way more about his familial relationships and dynamics than all the LIs combined. His childhood scene was the first to be given variants depending on whether the MC was his wife or not. His sister's wedding takes up almost half the book, leaving little to no space for either the intrigue, or even the pregnancy that was supposed to be THE most important part of the book.

An insane amount of retconning was done to emphasize strongly on the "marshmallow" part of his personality, having him state time and again that for the MC he can even "sport a tutu if you said you had a thing for the Sugar Fairy". Part of these changes could be attributed to the backlash the team got for having him call a pink cake "girly".

There is a strong possibility that Jackson might be explored further in the second book, and it's no surprise considering that he's the one parent that is most talked about in the series. The book looks like it was truly written with Drake in mind, with a heavy dose of Olivia, and everyone else was added as a bit of an afterthought.

Maxwell: Pretty awful treatment for a character that the head writer of the team claims to like. He has no individual character scenes, and one childhood scene where his older brother Bertrand is given more focus. Ironically, Maxwell was more wary of Bartie Sr in TRR Book 2 than Bertrand was, but somehow they changed this little detail so that Maxwell could be written out of his own story.

His LI scenes were also not given much effort - some were badly written, and some scenes (like the free ones) showed little to no variations between the friendly and romantic playthroughs. One that comes to mind is the baby announcement photoshoot, which was so poorly done it added nothing of value to the character or the relationship.

Like the last book, Maxwell isn't allowed much development in TRH1, and he's still forced into a largely "court jester" role in the story. This reflects very poorly on him in certain situations, such as the chapter where we finally get glimpses of his book. The aim was to be humourous and light about the events of the series, but he comes out of it sounding thoroughly insensitive towards his friends, none of whose consent he took to write this self-centered pile of garbage.

However, there is hope that they might do things a bit better for him next book, if the rewrite of him in TRR 2.0 was anything to go by. However, it would be awful if they tried to do a better job of him and then left out Hana. Speaking of which...

Hana: I'm going to begin this section with a comparison to another character, someone who should have been treated as a secondary character - Olivia.

Olivia in this book has 2 character scenes (they're very plot driven, but they also explore her outside of her friendship with the MC and dynamic with the group). The spy scene with Auvernese royalty, and the scene with Jin, the Auvernese spy. An entire chapter is spent in her duchy (by now we've seen Lythikos four times and I'm now sick of the place), and she winds up taking over Maxwell's Q&A scene as well.

So that's technically 2.5 scenes AND a childhood scene that revolves around her even though it's about Liam's mother. In addition to this, Olivia also gets her own mini-book, The Royal Holiday, that revolves (again) around her duchy and has the group clamouring to give her attention when no one else wants to.

Here are the stats for Hana, who by virtue of being an LI, is also a potential co-protagonist in the series:

Nothing.

Zilch. Zip. Zero. Nada. Nothing.

She has one childhood scene that is part of the group's scenes - a beautiful, heartbreaking one that serves as a slap in the face to anyone who'd dared to be dismissive of what she went through earlier - but none after that, and no individual scenes either. The team - in one of their most offensive choices this book - force a storyline where she has fertility issues just so the MC can be the one carrying the child, and the same MC can opt(!!) to ask about her well-being after two days. The same MC has the chance to whine about not getting pregnant soon enough in front of Hana.

There have been a few efforts made to make the MC appear more caring towards Hana: she can angrily defend Hana against Isabella's jibes, and she can make Hana relax for once during the baby shower (unlike the wedding reception where the same MC treated her like a bridesmaid). The MC even gets to tell her wife that she should never consider herself secondary or unimportant.

All of these are nice, but at the end of the day they're all scraps. I'd equate it to how we're allowed to give Kiara compliments on the final two chapters, but the white women around her still get a far bigger chunk of space, story and attention dedicated to them. The team have a pattern of adding these tiny tidbits that will temporarily satisfy stans while still maintaining the status quo, and that's precisely what's happening here. Its important for us to understand this. Underneath all this surface concern and all these scraps, Hana is still getting dust in place of actual story and characterization. And given that they made ZERO major changes to Hana's scenes in TRR 2.0, I'm not expecting that to change.

As for the book in general...I don't have to go into why this book is a mess, do I? We all know. We've all witnessed how disproportionate the writing has been and while I'm glad more and more people recognize what I've been seeing since Book 3, it's sad that it took 9 whole chapters in Walker Ranch for so many to understand exactly how much space Drake has been eating up for no good reason.

BLACK HOLES AND WHITE TEARS

I'll begin this section by talking about Drake Walker. He's the most prominent sign of the larger problem.

Drake Walker is what I call a Black Hole LI. And yes I mean black hole as in the one that exists in space (Beckett from TE also fits into this category). He is the kind of LI that sucks up everything. Love. Light. Joy. Common sense. Other characters' spaces.

He is the kind of love interest that will have Liam's traumatic experience centered around him. The kind of love interest for whose problems - largely created by his mammoth ego - we have to resolve in Shanghai, the home of the lone female LI. While that same female LI gets nothing, and then disappears in a subsequent chapter. The kind of love interest whose love confession can take precedence even over the MC's own issues (remember the Beaumont House chapter in Book 1? The one that took place the day after Tariq nonconsensually kissed the MC? 98% of the dialogue revolved around Drake's feelings. Not about the faulty lock, not the possibility that the MC's security had been tampered with - Drake's feelings). The kind of love interest that was given an entire extra wedding and artwork for his mother in Book 3 itself - none of which were given to any other LI.

A Black Hole LI is totally the kind of LI that would get 9 whole chapters in their home while we have never even visited the homes of the others since the early books of the previous series.

This wasn't something that began just this book. It's been a constant since Book 2, and you can even see signs of his story gaining way more importance in Book 1. It's also not something we can - in all honesty - blame simply on finances and fan popularity: the writers confirmed Drake to be one of their favourites, and attempts to give his scenes additional perks (eg plot elements pushed into both the Whiskey scene and the Beaumont Office scene) happened long before they could make any conclusions about his popularity. I bought the Beaumont Office scene to find out more about that family. I bought the Marshmallow scene so I could find out more about Liam and Hana's conversation post Coronation (remember - Hana was never even allowed to speak about her return to Cordonia because that scene was given to Drake). I bought the Italian Restaurant scene to learn more about Liam's assassination. The funny thing about all these three is that these were their stories to tell, yet Drake is the focus. Quite a few of Drake's initial scenes sold because the team consistently made the effort, consistently ensured that the information from his scenes would benefit us in the long run. The narrative allowed for Drake to have his own story, and additionally let aspects of his story overshadow that of the other LIs' (see the examples I've given above). Even though he has very little of value to contribute to the larger story (no job, his friendships are shallower than a wash-basin, and no genuine communication with any commoner in the story - only endless whining).

The treatment Drake gets that no other LI does, is a problem in itself, but it also is a small part of an even bigger issue. He isn't the only white character who gets this sort of attention and detail to his story.

Take Olivia, for example. Started out as a rival to the MC, before her sad sad childhood and her genuine love for Liam was revealed in the Book 1 finale. Over the course of the story, her role changed from petty rival to Warrior Duchess to reluctant bff. Over the course of the original series, Olivia became one of the most prominent characters in the story, on par with the male LIs. I'm not sure how many people realize that Lythikos is the ONLY duchy in the kingdom we've seen thrice (four times if you count Holiday). To give you an idea of how big a deal that is, here's how many times we've visited other duchies besides the capital and Applewood:

Fydelia - 2

Portavira - 1

Castelserraillian - 1

Ramsford (the home of our sponsors!) - 1

Hana's mother's home - Never.

Lythikos has a detailed familial and cultural history, and I wouldn't be lying if I said we know more about this one region than we know about the entire country of Cordonia. And honestly for me, the obsession with this one duchy has reached saturation point. Lythikos is not Cordonia. Lythikos is not all there is to Cordonia or even the only place that should matter. Yet it seems the team is more than eager to flog that horse until there's nothing of interest left.

Olivia is the only character who gets an entire mini book that revolves around comforting her and making her feel better about her background and origins. I don't think we've ever given Hana this much attention when she left her home for us. Or when she was being bullied by Madeleine. Or when she was the other bride in that grand wedding. Or when we received the news that carrying a child to term would be dangerous for her body. Or --

We were given an entire mini-book to comfort Olivia - the woman who continued to call Hana "damaged goods" and " a failure" for not marrying a man, while Hana's friend/wife stood by and watched. The woman who didn't have to think twice before making snide remarks about an equally skilled courtier who never did her any harm, only because she could get away with it. Istg when I heard that most of the court snubbed her during that first event in Holiday, this was my reaction:

Like girl I feel bad for you but at least now you know how it feels to be held responsible for shit beyond your control!

Hana, in the meantime, is forced time and again into situations that would break most people - but with very little payoff. Her arc with her parents was given a resolution that confirmed that Hana could only be considered worthy if she was useful. She was made to interact time and again with the woman who harmed her with such glee in Book 2. The MC - as a friend or as a wife - is at best neglectful of her issues and at worst someone who uses and discards Hana as she sees fit. And now...in her romantic playthrough she's given a storyline that doesn't allow her to bear children easily, and the MC spends less than two minutes to actually check on her. Hana is one of the co-protagonists, yet a side character given the treatment she should be getting. One could technically blame finances for the way she's being treated too, but keep in mind that the bad treatment goes as far back as the Applewood chapters in Book 1. Technically a time when she was bringing in money.

I get it. Olivia is a fan favourite. Many in the fandom wanted her to be an LI, the writers didn't, so they carved out this middle path where she'd have a major portion of the story anyway. But keep in mind that a lot of this attention came - and is still coming - at the cost of Hana. The team pretty much gave Olivia what they'd been refusing to give Hana all along.

On a smaller scale, you see similar patterns with the secondary characters - especially the women of the court. Madeleine and Penelope had elaborate backstories designed to make people forgive and sympathize with them, and Kiara - even though her backstory in Book 1 was inherently tragic and deserved to be handled sensitively - was given validation with great reluctance from the team, and with no consequences if we treated her cruelly. Even now, the team has only tossed Kiara a couple of scraps in the final chapter, while already setting the stage for Madeleine to get her own tragic "patriotism" arc for TRH Book 2, and a possible wedding for Penelope in the near future.

The difference here doesn't just lie in who gets attention and who doesn't. It lies in how the MC is supposed to view these women as well. A lot more sympathy and understanding is automatically extended to the white women, and the MC faces consequences if she fails to acknowledge their pain. Far less sympathy is offered by default to the black and the Asian woman - the MC may be friends with Hana but a huge chunk of their relationship is mostly about the MC benefiting from Hana's skills without giving much in return.

Even though their misdeeds are acknowledged and spoken about, both Madeleine and Penelope are written in such a way that the problems they're currently facing matter more than anything they've ever done in the past. Hana is made to sweet-talk Madeleine despite being bullied by her in a previous book. The MC herself never gets ANY opportunity to directly address what Penelope put her through in Portavira, because what the MC went through matters less than Penelope's condition.

Compare this to the relatively small scale of Kiara's "misdeed" (being honest about not continuing with an alliance - I'm surprised people think this is an actual thing to be offended about!), and the way the MC is allowed to mistreat her sans consequences afterwards. We're even allowed to call Kiara a snob in the books - which isn't at all true if you look at any of her scenes in canon - and constantly make fun of her desire to learn (in fact, if anyone in the series could be called a snob, it would be Olivia). If I were to sum up how a woman of colour is spoken about in the books, vs a white woman - this screenshot would do the trick:

(Notice how none of the options to speak about Penelope allow us to speak rudely of her, yet in Kiara's case we're allowed to make judgements on her as a person. In Hana's case, while we don't exactly drag her the way we can drag Kiara - we get precious few opportunities to actually defend or support her when others talk rubbish about her).

When you explore the series overall, it's impossible to ignore the casual racism that makes disrespecting people of a certain race/colour easier than on another. It's impossible not to see where the narrative chooses to give consequences to an MC who treats a white woman badly, and where it allows the very same MC to suspect, and then (optionally) gaslight, a woman of colour a couple chapters later. It's impossible not to see which people are meant to be respected despite their bad behaviour, and which people can still be treated badly despite their better behaviour. It's impossible not to see a pattern emerging.

This is not even a problem that plagues only the TRR series. From TCaTF to ACOR to Platinum to even MoTY, there is an ongoing pattern of discrepancies between the way white people and people of colour - particularly women - are treated. Many POC characters are placed in situations where it's easier for them to suffer/die/be shown disrespect, than it is to show them kindness or mercy. MOC are regularly either exoticized (Prince Hamid is the most glaring example of this) or placed in very traumatic situations for which the payoff isn't always going to be that great (I know this happens to Dallas, but I don't know about the payoff for Syphax).

WOC particularly suffer quite a bit in a lot of PB novels, in comparison to their white counterparts. Rowan Thorne of TCaTF, as a character, didn't deserve for her death to be made easier than her survival (in contrast to Diavolos, who was given far more opportunities AND will live simply by virtue of allying with Kenna), any more than Kiara deserved to be interrogated by the people who should have been concerned for her safety or Xanthe deserved to be shipped to slavery. All this, while a Vanessa (who is in a position of power and who plays an active role in rendering the MOTY MC financially helpless) gets a diamond scene where she "explains" her situation and a Madeleine doesn't even have to hear about her bullying from her victims.

The fandom, too, has contributed to this on a number of occasions. Speaking specifically of TRR, how many times have we seen Hana being dragged on Olivia posts? (also, if we were really measuring Olivia by the impossible standards that we held for Hana's characterization, Olivia would appear pretty damn one-note too: after all, 80% of her characterization consists of knife jokes). How many times was Hana being looked at with disdain for either her niceness or the poor writing for her, while the same fandom would regularly coo over a nice-presenting Penelope (whose characterization is one of the most inconsistent in the series)? How many times have we seen Kiara being called a creep/obsessed for merely looking at a man, while almost no one judges Olivia for kissing a man without his consent? How many times have people forgiven a traitorous Penelope and hated on a far more innocent Kiara in the same breath? How often did the fandom hate on Liam for accepting the MC's advances after she rejected him, yet not say a word when Drake did the same thing? How many times has Maxwell been loved for his humour and childlike nature while people of colour with a similar personality (Lily from Bloodbound, for example) were hated on instantly? Clearly, there have been more instances of people in the fandom sympathizing automatically with the white character, than with characters of colour. Time and again, brown and black characters - particularly women - have been required to match up to impossible standards (if they're nice they're boring. If they don't like the MC they're <insert every gendered sexist insult you can think of here>). The standards are far more relaxed for white characters, and they're often given more breathing room and to most of what they want without the constant judgement that black and brown women get. The standards set up for both are grossly different.

Racism is a beast that assumes many forms - and not all forms of racism will appear obvious to some, especially when such stereotypes are so normalized in media and popular fiction that we almost accept it at first. Almost. To get to the root of why there's such an imbalance in this series - among others - we need to first acknowledge the sexism and racism that are such a vital part of its narrative, and that its fandom regularly buys into and (sometimes unwittingly) promotes.

At this point, it's important to understand that having queer characters or characters of colour simply exist in the books isn't enough. Token rep can be found in PB's books by the dozens, but at the end of the day it means nothing if there is a constant reluctance, over and over and over, to treat those characters with the same care and sensitivity that they treat their white ones (or their "exoticized brown" ones).

• Like I mentioned earlier, I won't be playing TRH from this point forward, but I do hope to finish my TRR QTs soon. I have a LOT of thoughts! If you'd like to be tagged on those, do tell me!

[justsmilestuffhappens]

Day 5 (14th of February) - Valentine’s day gone wrong @buddietinesweek

Coincidence for your thoughts

Eddie couldn't believe he was doing this. Yeah he'd tried to dated one nice woman a few months ago but was this okay. He didn't know how he felt entirely about this.

Tía Pepa: Eddito try it. You don't have to sleep with them just mingle and take it from there.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he stood in front of the restaurant. He couldn't believe she signed him up for this.

Tía Pepa: Don't roll your eyes at me like you do sometimes chico.

He huffed as he walked in. He got seated at his station for the speed dating. He felt like this made him look desperate but Eddie didn't want to judge the others here everyone had their own reasons. Maybe some of them were looking for meaningful connections and not just a lay on valentine's.

The first round began. As he started talking to a sweet red head he heard a distinct laugh. Huh?

Eddie turned from where he was seated on the outside corner of a square seating arrangement with the guests facing outwards towards their moving dates.

"No one's ever said that about my birthmark before. An angel kiss huh. That's a new one." Buck said with a smile to a tall brunette.

"Well that's what we call them in babies where I work. Some fade but not always. My sister has one by her lip. So what kinda name is Buck?" She smiled and squinted.

"Well Meg it's my nickname from my last name Buckley." He laughed.

"Umm. Eddie was it? Look if you'd rather wait for her to come around then fine. It was nice meeting you." Layla said as she checked out of the conversation and pulled out her phone.

"Sorry." Yikes. Way to go Eddie.

He didn't correct her that his attention was actually drawn to Buck and not the woman. It wouldn't have made much of a difference he felt. Buck was here too?

The bell dinged. Eddie had one more person before the brunette was at his table.

"Hi. I'm Reina. What's your sign?" His new date asked with dirty blond hair and a streak of blue.

"Umm. I don't really know that. I think it's scorpio or taurus." Eddie answered with a shrug.

"Uh. No. I'm sorry. I'm not DTF or whatever. I've got a strict no sex on the first date policy now." Buck chuckled then nervously looked down from his date.

"You're wasting my time? If the sex is bad then why would I bother." Another blond said throwing her hand up in annoyance. "Ring the bell already!"

Wow. Eddie didn't know whether to be happy or sad buck was having a bad time with this one. He decided he could be both if she wasn't willing to wait it was her loss. Buck was worth waiting for.

"Oh God. Help!" Meg the first girl paired with buck who was between them now shouted.

Both Eddie and Buck got up and moved together to help her date now.

The guy between them was clutching at his throat.

Eddie lowered him down on the ground with Bucks help who didn't even question Eddie's presence. They fell into their usual routine.

"Anaphylaxis?" Buck asked as he kept people a safe distance from them for breathing room.

"Yeah buck. Sir I'm gonna check your pocket. Do you have any kinda EpiPen?" Eddie was already checking both. Nothing.

"I've got one!" Reina pulled it out of her purse.

Eddie injected his thigh as Buck was already on the phone for an ambulance to be dispatched.

"Peanuts." He rasped.

"Okay sir. An ambulance is coming. They're gonna make sure you're okay. We don't know if you'll need another dose before you get to the hospital." Eddie looked at the table.

There were no peanuts out to trigger his allergy though.

"Meg?" Buck asked as if he'd read his mind.

"I ate some earlier. Fuck! I didn't know." She was crying. "I'm sorry"

"He's gonna be alright. It's not your fault. We've got him." Eddie tried soothing her worry.

It was an easy but dangerous mistake. She was still a stranger to him after all and he didn't know to tell her.

The paramedics from another station took the guy and nodded at the handoff as they strapped him to a gurney .

Blake, as they'd learned was the man's name, had insisted on giving Meghan his business card with his cell written on the back.

The speed dating session had sorta broken up in all the chaos. Only a few were still willing to stay and went back to their seats.

Buck, Meg, and and Eddie among the ones to leave.

"Dude that was crazy. I feel bad for the guy. Reminds me of my bad valentine's day experience. Choked on a breadstick. Abby managed to give me a tracheotomy, it didn't scar too bad." Buck was standing with Eddie outside.

"Wait. That was on valentine's? I just remember it being bad. Holy shit Buck!" Eddie's glad she saved him. It sounded horrifying and must have been worse to experience or remember.

"Yeah. I think it was just us both being nervous. Took it as a sign from like god trying to help me not have sex after our date. I was still Buck 1.0 back then." Buck turned to his name being called.

"Are you two paramedic?" Meghan asked as she walked over.

"Uh, well my partner Eddie here is more so than me. We're firefighters for the 118. It could have happened to anyone. He'll probably be fine. Don't beat yourself up." Buck said.

"Oh wow. Maybe it's fate you two saved him. Thanks again. I woulda been scarred for life and Blake would be dead." With that she left to her SUV.

"Hey. Wanna grab a bite? Chris is with Pepa tonight since she wanted to make sure I had no excuse for not coming."

"Dude I'm starving. When Maddie told me about this I thought it included dinner. I couldn't even enjoy happy hour because of my blood thinners. It's bogus." Buck laughed making Eddie laugh too.

"Well if you'd read the letter at the door. So follow me back to mine or wanna go to yours?"

"Definitely yours. If you drink too much you won't have to drive." Buck patted Eddie's arm before going to his jeep.

Eddie's truck read out a voice command text he got from Buck. He'd order wings and rice that'd get there a little after them.

Once they were at Eddie’s they went inside.

"So. I didn't know you were gonna be there, it's good you felt to trying. Maddie had to threaten posting my karaoke routine if I didn't agree to try it. My own sister blackmailing me, can you believe that?" Buck joked as he got the door paying.

"I know how you feel. It could've been worse. That could have happened to us or we might not have been there." Eddie helped sort their order after Buck brought it to the table.

Buck could have one of his egg rolls since he always gave Eddie a few of his wings.

"Maybe Meg was right? Fate brought us together to help save that guy. And got us out of Amelia's love is a battlefield warpath. She’d have gotten to you in a few rings of that dumb bell." Buck poured some of the hot sauce Eddie liked and had gotten him into.

"Dtf?" Eddie joked.

"Oh man. You heard that? We're be being that loud?" Buck cringed.

"No. Umm. I'm just good at picking you out of a crowd. Gotta be able to find my partner to have his back Buck." Eddie said

He was avoiding saying how he'd been drifting to listening to Buck and his date thought he was interested in the woman with buck but she was wrong.

Buck drank from his glass before talking again.

"You ever seen Love Actually? Me and Mads watched it for the first time the other night. I think it's running again tonight or we could look it up." Buck waited for a replay.

"Only pieces of the beginning. We can look after we're done."

Watching a romcom sounded good. After they could see something else.

They both ended up passed out on the couch a little after the movie was over and they'd switched to an action movie with spies fighting over a girl dating both of them.

Neither had said much after the first movie was done and the revelation that the guy was coming home from overseas to return to his boyfriend or husband. They’d been starting to doze off.

They'd wake up after an hour to lay down properly as Eddie reminded Buck of his back.

It was a great pseudo date even if neither of them wanted to risk calling it what they felt.

Eddie couldn't tell if it was the beer, him being rusty, or him feeling comfortable when Buck but he woke to him in the morning without being startled.

"So. I'm gonna start on breakfast if you want first shower." Buck said from Eddie's doorway as he turned to him knocking on it.

"You're the best. Be our live in chef Buck." Eddie half joked before yawning.

"Careful or I might take advantage of sleepy and hungry Eddie's offer." Buck teased with a wink.

"You say that like it's a bad thing" Eddie grinned.

Was that too flirty? Uh.

"I'm sure we could work something out. Living here. Getting to see you guys more. Commuting to work. Sounds like it'd have its perks." Buck shrugged and laughed. "Alright sleepy head. Get up. I've got pancakes and eggs to make."

With that buck left to the kitchen.

Eddie thought about it. Buck's place was nice but they had room here. He wouldn't mind if Buck actually did take up his offer. Eddie would tell him again later, sans sleep in his voice.

For now he needed to get ready. Buck could go with him to pick up Christopher and drop him off at school. Chris would love that.

Eddie knew Christopher would love Buck moving and being around more too. It felt right.

He let the water wake him fully as he heard Buck whistling and singing while he cooked. Eddie wouldn't mind waking up like this more often, that's for sure. He hoped Buck would think about it.