#if i said outright in a post tagged with either pairing that i like them both...

[thrilling-oneway]

i thought about this for a bit longer because i was like "surely surely there's gotta be a slash or femslash where people do that" and while there are some instances, from observation flanderisation and mischaracterisation of both the character and the ship generally seems to happen more with m/f

M/f ships especially for whatever fucking reason

[sunnylolli]

Stop going after us///uk shippers. Stop hating on them and stop mentioning my name when you are going after people in fandom for enjoying their pairing. If you don't like it, don't interact with it.

If there is something you dislike in fandom on the internet, you can filter your tags and you can stay away from it. Let people ship what they ship, let people use the platform to enjoy their hyperfixation/hobbies/safe spaces in peace, because it's not your business what other people enjoy doing in their free time.

I made a post recently expressing personal frustrations about us///uk shippers, NOT MENTIONING, ALLUDING INTENTIONALLY OR WITH MALICE AND BAD INTENT TOWARD THE COMMUNITY AS A WHOLE, but I meant to address the shippers that go after my art to reblog it as ship regardless of my wishes, reblogging my art tagged with us///uk, despite numerous times expressing my personal dislike of the pairing whenever the subject has come to be relevant.

In the post, which I have deleted for the sake of hopefully ending this whole thing, but have saved screenshots of in case I need to quote or reread it and cite it to prove I am not trying to run away from something I'm not afraid to say I could have been more mature about, I express a pretty dramatic show of frustration towards us///uk shippers who continuously reblog my art with the ship tag, but I never meant to make it out as "bashing" or soiling shippers and/or proshippers for shipping it, neither did I mean to cause so much unrest about it.

I have my opinions about this ship, but until I got an ask about it and felt urged to make a post to address my irritation, I have simply had the tag BLOCKED so I wouldn't see it. I have not gone out of my way to tell someone what to ship and not to ship, and neither should any of you.

I have never encouraged others to share my opinion and I have never gone out of my way to make posts about how much I dislike us///uk shippers as a COMMUNITY.

No matter opinions, no matter pairings or controversy about it, NOBODY should be sending hate, harassment, bullying or other such things over something like shipping wars.

I have said things in the post mentioned that I do regret, and I am sorry. I never meant any malice and I never meant any harm, all I wanted was to express frustration at the issue I've mentioned above;

NEVER did I EVER intend NOR ENCOURAGE, ANY TYPE OF HATE TOWARDS PEOPLE JUST DOING THEIR OWN THING.

DON'T go hating on ANYBODY for what they like. People have their opinions, it's not anybody's business to push that opinion down onto others. It's disrespectful and it's not even REMOTELY humane.

I won't be answering anons about this ship any further, I won't be addressing any more comments about it either, because fact of the matter is that I respect my own peace as much as I respect people who ship this ship, DESPITE my personal thoughts and feelings about it.

There is never a need to outright bully people for what they like to ship. Opinions are valid, expressing them are also valid, but don't do so in people's anons and inboxes.

[wittlesissyb4by]

The White Rabbit - Chapter 1: Persephone

Finding a needle in a haystack. A diamond in the rough. A four-leaf clover. A unicorn. Waldo.

Whatever idiom or cliche you’d like to use, none of them can accurately portray how difficult it is to find a good, competent online dominatrix.

Let me rephrase.

It is damn near impossible to find an online domme that doesn’t want to drain you of every cent in your bank account, and if you do? It’s a bot…that also wants to drain you of every cent in your bank account.

That didn’t stop me from trying, though. 

I traipsed every site I could think of. Fetlife, Reddit, Twitter, 4chan. Begging, pleading for someone to “use this sissy in any way you see fit.” I commented “wish this was me” under every single Tumblr post about sissies getting humiliated in hopes that it would somehow yield a strong, dominant, willing woman to my inbox. I even put an ad on Craigslist. 

In all my attempts, the only thing I got was creepy messages from dudes, and bots. LOTS of bots.

The only thing I’d had even moderate success on was Kik. I wouldn’t even call it success, really. More like a handful of messages every now and then from girls interested in seeing me in panties. My cock would be so hard, the g-string I was wearing looked more like a slingshot. But things rarely took off from there. 

They either wanted too little from me, outrighted ghosted me, or wanted too much from me.

I know, I sound hypocritical. What do I mean, ‘too much’? Right? Turns out, I’m not willing to spoon feed myself my own shit for someone else’s amusement. Everyone has their limits.

But then, just when I’d abandoned all hope, along came Persephone.

“Hello,” her first message said, what everyone said when they first messaged. Could anything be more boring and uninspiring to a conversation?

But she wasn’t done.

“I found your *adorable* blog on Tumblr and just had to message you.”

Okay, so it’s a bot. Or a findom. One of the two. But usually phishers will have a stereotypical profile picture of some bimbo or a MILF that they ripped from the internet. Persephone’s, however, was a hand drawn image of, well, Persephone. Or at least what I thought was Persephone, I hadn’t really brushed up on my Greek Mythology. Or was it Norse Mythology? Whatever it was, the picture was of a bronze-skinned woman with leaves and flowers going through her auburn hair. She was clutching skulls in her left hand, and eating what looked like a pomegranate in the other. 

“Just tell me how much your tribute is.” I shot back coldly.

It took several seconds for her to reply. Usually bots had an automated response that would give their list of demands (in poorly written english) as well as a price tag. 

“Tribute? What’s a tribute?” she eventually said. “I just want to see you in panties.”

I was skeptical, but let’s be honest, any submissive sissy would already be intrigued by the prospect at this point.

I quickly found my lacy pair of pink ones, my favorite.

“Cute!” she replied after I sent her a picture of the panties just beneath my shirt. “But now take the rest of your clothes off so that you’re only wearing those.”

Again, I still had my reservations, but that didn’t stop me. I positioned my phone on the dresser. Trying to get just the right angle and distance to show off my body, without showing my face. I definitely didn’t trust whatever this was enough to put even a modicum of my identity out there. 

I wasn’t in great shape by any means, but I wasn’t overweight either. ‘Flabby’ would probably describe it best.  It occurred to me just then that I should start going to the gym. It took me several attempts to get a shot I was happy with. I quickly uploaded it to the chat and hit send. A part of me was worried that if I didn’t go fast enough, I would end up losing her. 

“You’re such a pretty sissy!” She replied shortly after. It was oddly comforting. I felt validated. “Do you have anything in black?

This was really happening, not only was someone showing interest in me, but they haven’t even asked for money yet. 

I got out my black g-string. In my angst to get it on I pulled up a little too far and flossed my crack a bit. It singed from the friction, but I ignored it. Tucking my erection into the waistband so it was held upwards. 

“Hahaha! That one makes you look super slutty! And look how happy your clitty is! What other colors do you have?”

I spent the next half an hour going through the various pairs of panties I’d accrued over the years, modeling each and every one of them for her. Persephone was just the right amount of encouraging, dominating, and wicked. 

“Your tushy looks great in that one.”

“I bet I could make your cheeks that same shade of red.”

“Wiggle that butt and tell me you’re a sissy slut!”

My body was shaking. No, more like shivering. It had to be because I was naked and cold. Or was it? There was an icy chill flowing through my veins. A pressing weight from the intensity of the thrill. Like when you ride a roller coaster. You know you’re probably safe, but that doesn’t stop you from getting paranoid, panicky, and excited all at the same time. I could feel my heart thumping through my chest. 

“Are you ready to wet your panties?” She eventually asked. 

There it was. For some reason things always had to escalate into toilet stuff. I know beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to getting dominated, but I really wish I wasn’t so picky. 

“I’d rather not piss myself 😔” I told her. 

I hoped she’d understand, I hoped she’d be lenient, I hoped I didn’t scare her away. 

It took a long time for her to respond, or maybe it just felt like it did. But eventually my phone pinged. 

“Not piss yourself, silly. I was asking if you wanted to wet them with cummies. Even though it looks like you’re already halfway there with your pre-leakies 😏”

My face flushed in embarrassment even though she wasn’t even there. It was just words, but it still had an effect on me. How could someone without a face and a voice still make me feel so small? It was intoxicating. 

“Touch your itty bitty clitty for me, sissy.”

She was so poignant, so forward without sounding demanding, like I was comforted but under her thumb all at the same time. 

I reached into my panties. I’d be lying if I said it was the first time since we started chatting. My cock had been screaming to be touched since the first or second message. I obliged it several times while being careful not to go too far. I didn’t want this scene to end. But now I had permission. 

I reached into my panties and wrapped my hand around my cock. It wasn’t the biggest, maybe 4  and a half inches, 5 on a good day. Right now it felt like I was pushing 6. I had to stop because I was getting too excited. I sent her the video, doing my best not to touch myself again and cum too soon.

“I’m sorry…” she said after I sent her a 30 second video of me slowly stroking. I was confused, until she said “is that how someone in panties is supposed to be touching themselves??”

Ok. I was still confused. 

“How should I do it, Miss?”

“Call me Goddess.” She replied. “And you should do it like most girls do when they play with themselves: one finger, on the sensitive part of your clitty. Do NOT stroke.”

I flushed again. This was so humiliating, but I was achingly erect. I propped my clit—err—cock up into my waistband again. It was enough for the head to stick up just above it. I dipped my finger into my mouth and wet it with saliva to lubricate it. Not that I needed to. As soon as I touched the frenulum at the bottom part of my penis, I noticed it was covered with precum. 

I aimed my phone at myself, seeing how pathetic I looked on the screen as I started swirling my finger back and forth along the tiny, sensitive line. 

I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I heard a pitiful, high-pitched sigh escape my lips. It wasn’t a lot of stimulation, but apparently I didn’t need much. I felt the urge to cum again.

I had to stop myself. I didn’t want to go yet. I wanted to stay in this headspace forever. I scanned through the video real fast to make sure I didn’t accidentally show my face, then hit send. 

“God you’re so fucking pathetic! Lol. Such a horny sissy! I can hear you making little girly moans! But I want them to be louder. I want you moaning like a fucking whore while you beg me to let you cum in your sissy panties!”

I didn’t have to embellish much, just had to stop suppressing the sounds I wanted to make, and bring them up an octave so they were a higher pitch. 

“You’re doing so good, baby girl!” She teased after I sent her another 30 seconds of me moaning and whimpering. Normally I would be a bit put off by being called a baby, but nothing could stop me now. 

“Please let me cum, Goddess! Please!” I squeaked. I had two fingers rubbing my clitty as I anxiously awaited her reply. 

“You can cum. But I want you repeating ‘I'm a sissy making stickies in my panties’ the whole time. And I want to see your face while you do it.”

I gulped. My cock retreated a bit at that last sentence. I hardly knew this girl. I couldn’t even be sure she was a girl. And what would she do with a video like that? What I'm doing is far from illegal, but it’s still not something I would like being spread around. 

“Do I have to show my face?” I asked. 

“Yes.” She replied, “but only if you’re comfortable… and only if you want to cum 😉”

‘Only if you’re comfortable.’ For some reason, that made me feel better, like she had my best interest at heart, but still maintained a firm grip on my psyche. 

I did want to cum. Probably more than ever. But I didn’t want to put my face out there. I never had before, was this the time to start?

Yes. The horny devil on my shoulder told me instantly. I didn’t even hear the angel, no idea where that guy was right now. 

I sighed as I opened my camera again. Pulling my arm back a little further than normal so as to allow my face to join the rest of my splayed out body on the floor. My cheeks were a bright red, whether from embarrassment or being more horny than I've probably ever been in my life, I couldn’t be sure. 

“I’m a sissy making stickies in my panties” I said as I fingered my clitty. It was weird saying something out loud, basically to yourself, in an empty apartment. 

“I’m a sissy making stickies in my panties!” I had to close my eyes because I didn’t want to see how pathetic I looked on the screen. Unfortunately, there was no way for me to stop myself from hearing it. 

“I’m a s-sissy,” my legs were shaking, I could feel the pressure building like a volcano about to erupt, “m-making st-stickies in my…my…PANTIES!!”

I practically shouted the last word as my clit erupted into the soft, silky material. It just kept going. Spurt after hot, sticky spurt of jizz into my red panties. They were now a darker shade of crimson as the wetness spread through them. It was probably one of the biggest loads I’ve ever made, but the fabric itself was terrible at absorbing any excess. It was all sloshy and gushy inside, and the creamy load made its way all the way down the thin line to my taint and crack. 

My libido evaporated and was replaced by a bit of shame. But even with my post-nut clarity, I was blinded by the power Persephone held over me. I wanted to impress her. I wanted to please her. 

“Thank you for letting me make cummies in my panties, Goddess” I said before hitting stop on the video. 

If there was ever a time to go back on my word about showing my face, it would be now. I didn’t have to send it. I could just move right on and she would never be the wiser. She would probably forget about me and move on to some other sissy to play with. 

But that realization hit with a pang of jealousy. I wanted to be the one she played with. I wanted to be the one she called a slut and even a ‘baby girl’. 

Women like this didn’t come around often, or like…ever.  I didn’t want to lose my chance with her. 

The angel on my shoulder finally appeared. “You just met her an hour ago.” it said, “you actually haven’t even met her yet. Who knows what she could do? Who knows if she’s even a ‘she’?”

Valid points, all of them. But even without my horniness intact, the devil was winning.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he said. “Opportunities like this don’t come often. If you let her get away, you’ll be kicking yourself.”

After several seconds of deliberation, I made my decision:

I hit send.

I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

It was the waiting game that was torture. The message indicated that it had been read. She was probably watching it now. But after several minutes, the length of the video had passed. If she was watching it, she had to have finished by now. What was she doing?

Then the screen changed. Persephone is typing…

“Good job, sissy slut! You sure made quite the mess! Now it’s time for me to upload it everywhere and send it to all your friends!”

Fuck! 

God damn it! 

Oh god oh god oh god…

How could I be so stupid??

I knew. I knew she would do this! I should have fucking listened to myself. That little inkling of doubt and reason. The one you realize was there only after you fuck something up. 

What will my friends think when they see me gushing into panties? What will my Mom think??

My phone pinged again.

“Just kidding!” it read, “Oh how I WISH I could have seen your face!! 😂” 

The gravity was turned off in the building. All the crushing weight had been lifted. I didn’t even know what to say, I was just happy I could breathe again.

“You got me…haha 😅” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I made you do something *else* in your panties too 😉” 

I didn’t exactly know what she meant by that. But I didn’t question it. I was just happy to have her still talking to me. 

“Well I’m off to bed, sissy. And in case you haven’t guessed: You will be sleeping in your gushy panties all night. Sweet dreams!”

To be continued…

I just released Chapter 5 of this story over on Subscribestar. Things are starting to pick up if you'd like to continue reading!

[silver-heller]

"I make murderous men cute, that's just my thing."

Note: For personal reasons, I like writing soft villains. I don't like the implication that makes my version of them "fake", lesser, or completely devoid from the canon I take large inspiration from. I'm not going to argue over preferences/interpretations, just don't be a dick about it. Ranking certain depictions as more "true" than others will get you blocked.

Greetings! I'm Nightmares or Silver. I'm an asexual, 22 year old transman (he/him) and this is my blog for most of my self shipping antics. I have a type and it's either evil or slightly crazed with glasses lol. I mostly write (too much) fanfiction and make random posts for my ships. I love hearing about other's F/Os and seeing all your guys' lovely creations! I am plural. If you don't know what this means or how to avoid spreading negative plural stereotypes, do not follow me.

I am okay with sharing all F/Os (except the OCs).

My main f/o is Mordecai Heller from Lackadaisy, who I've paired with my S/I Silver (he/him). I've written a lot of lore about them at this point, so if you ask about them expect to get your ear talked off.

Ao3 / F/Os / Lacka FOs / NSFW / Lacka College AU

DNI

*Certain canon x canon ships make me uncomfortable, particularly Rocky x Mordecai, Rocky x Serafine, and Rocky x Mordecai x Serafine. I also am not comfortable with Mordecai being shipped with Atlas or Mitzi, and/or Ivy or Freckle being shipped with Mordecai, Viktor, or Mitzi and Atlas as well. Freckle x the Savoys would also make me uncomfortable.

Please tag these ships properly or let me know a tag you use for them so I can block it. This does not include poly selfships with them, except where Atlas and Mitzi x Mordecai or Ivy x Mordecai are concerned. Viktor x Ivy or Freckle too, and Ivy or Freckle with Atlas or Mitzi. For those I will just outright block you. Sorry, but they squeak me out.

Not plural safe (if you make jokes about or reblog jokes that go along the lines of "I have an alter ego/other personality so I'm crazy" you're not plural safe). Minor x adult, incest, or bestiality shippers (aka characters that are just animals). Pro ship. Anti self diagnosis. Bigots of any kind. Exclusionists. Unnecessarily dictate how characters should be written (especially asexual characters). If you have F/Os from creepypastas I probably won't be comfy interacting with you. Drama/discourse blogs. Please tag things pertaining to the deaths of my F/Os, including theories. Thank you!

I have villain F/Os and enjoy following others with villain F/Os. If that bothers you this is not the place for you. That being said, characters that canonically commit acts of CSA, SA, or child abuse/murder make me extremely uncomfortable and I may block you if you self ship with villains of that descriptor. I am not comfortable with Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde F/Os, please don't follow me if you have them.

I hate vague posting with a passion and will block you if I see you do it.

About Discord Servers

I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but, I don't join Discord servers. Why? Simply put, I block people for the sake of my own mental health. Some of these people are within the communities I reside most often in. However, Discord servers often mean I have to bend my block list to get along in and have a comfortable time in said server. 9 times out of 10 the instincts that made me block someone were correct. Therefore I prefer my blog because I can have an easier time curating my interactions with the community.

That being said I am totally down to chat with you on discord if you want to add me! Chatting one on one gives me more power to block people that make me uncomfortable and avoid people on my blocklist.

[soulshen]

Oh, the mwah of it all

—a collection of weekly uploads of small bingqiu oneshots based on word prompts for Valentine's and the month of love because I love bingqiu too much to not write about them being idiots in love.  

Ch. 1, Feb 1  - sticky

Ch. 2, Feb 6 - kiss

Ch. 3, Feb 14 - husband + red

Ch. 4, Feb 20 -  I love you + drunk

Ch. 5, Feb 26 - soulmates

[ᰔ]↳ pairing; Luo Binghe/Shen Qingqiu

↳ a/n; omg I finally finished this lmao. I posted this on ao3 before I did here, so happy!! Now I just need to get the rest all done and dealt with, ahsbhjebf. Either way, hope you all like a sticky lbh oneshot with a closeted, equally sticky Shen Qingqiu!

[ᰔ]↳ CW: riding, crying during sex, hickeys, marks, overstimulation, slight voyeurism, possessiveness, jealousy, sexual tension-ish, no plot lol, top lbh, bottom sqq, body worship

[ᰔ]↳ tags; @sleepyymc

Luo Binghe has always stuck like glue to Shen Qingqiu’s side. 

It wasn’t even this bad when he was a disciple, merely bumping into him during practice (which he now knows are all false mistakes), and occasionally hugging him when Shen Qingqiu allowed it. But nothing more. 

At the start of their marriage, his stickiness had become evident. Shen Qingqiu had thought that it was going to go away after a few months or years after their marriage, but he was proven wrong as the weeks and months passed. 

With each second they spent together, and the more he loosened up, Luo Binghe was only growing ever more insatiably sticky!

With every chance he could get his grabby hands on, he never hesitated to attach himself to Shen Qingqiu via back hugs, resting his head atop Shen Qingqiu’s lap, holding his hand, and even making him sit on his lap as they eat, spoon feeding a red-faced Peak Lord with such joy and satisfaction in his face that it’d just make Shen Qingqiu feel outright cruel if he didn’t indulge him. 

Either way, he’s getting fed well in a comfortable spot, with the most powerful and handsome man in the world — ever — there to do all the work for him. What reason is there for him not to like it? 

The stickiness continued throughout the whole day. Every single day . Luo Binghe wouldn’t leave the bed in the morning without a kiss from his beloved, tears always threatening to pour out if Shen Qingqiu hesitated for too long or turns away, and it’s such a pitiful sight that he really can’t be blamed if he gives in anyway, completely ignoring the way the soft lips pressed against his shift into a smug smile. 

At night, Luo Binghe couldn’t even sleep unless he got a kiss and they were wholly tangled together, nuzzling into him as if he were the luckiest person alive and, knowing Luo Binghe, that probably isn’t too far off the mark. 

Even when Shen Qingqiu was asleep, he couldn’t catch a break away from this man-baby of a demon! It hadn’t been this often in the past, but as Shen Qingqiu grew more comfortable in their relationship, he let Luo Binghe get away with popping into his dreams more than once a week. 

Twice a week turned into three times a week, gradually altering to four times and then to how it is now, which is quite literally every night. 

Binghe-ah, dear, is there a need for that when they’re already glued hip-to-hip together 24/7 in the physical world already!? 

As soon as he opened his eyes in his dreams, there was always an armful of Luo Binghe on him, beaming up at him even as Shen Qingqiu whacked him with his fan, apologizing unapologetically like — like a brat! 

Luo Binghe wouldn’t leave the bed without a kiss from his beloved, tears always threatening to pour out if Shen Qingqiu said nothing for too long or turned away with a red face, and it’s such a pitiful sight that he really can’t be blamed if he gives in anyway, completely ignoring the way the soft lips pressed to his shift into a smug smile. 

Other times, it’s different. More intense. 

"Shizun, Shizun,” Luo Binghe would groan lowly into their kisses during sex, licking and biting and sucking wherever he could with his mouth like he was a starved man who couldn’t get enough of the meal laid out before him, almost like he’d die if his lips strayed away a moment too long. 

The title made Shen Qingqiu’s chest burn with embarrassment, but he was quickly distracted as dirty confessions and remarks were whispered into his red-tinged ears, making his stomach churn and contract with hot arousal. Shameless.

He wanted to bury his face into the pillow from the sheer embarrassment of it all, but the hot spike of arousal he felt thrumming through his veins at every word was an undeniable force he didn’t try to fight against. 

Damn Luo Binghe and his sexy ass voice!!! He cried internally. Where did you even learn how to say all these nasty things?! 

It was overstimulating; the deep pressure was presently there inside him, still desperate in their rhythm and making him throb for something more despite how sensitive he already was, with Binghe caging him possessively underneath his broad, toned frame, the intensity in that hot crimson gaze whenever they made eye contact — it sent him over the edge. He’d never get used to such a sight, to such an experience, he’s sure, and he knows he’s right. 

Whenever Shen Qingqiu rode his husband on a lucky day, Luo Binghe would always crush their fronts together like he wanted to fuse them into a whole, wrapping an arm around his waist and mouthing at his swollen lips with more technique than he originally had at the start of any of this, free hand splayed possessively over his back. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t understand the point of this; he wasn’t going to ever leave or choose anyone else even if he was forced to.

Of course, he never says anything of the sort, but he hopes Binghe gets the message. 

Sometimes, Luo Binghe got too consumed in his lust and went back to his old ways, using way too much teeth and tongue, but Shen Qingqiu finds that he doesn't quite all that much. Not as much as he did before. It's not like he could pay full attention to it when he's too busy getting his ass railed to the heavens, dirty praises constantly getting whispered into his ears. All his senses of touch, sound, taste, and the likes made him clutch onto Luo Binghe's back tighter, scratching till skin tore and bled. 

Hands larger than his endlessly caressed and mapped out his whole body, as if he were the world in Luo Binghe’s hands. Shen Qingqiu’s waist fit perfectly in Luo Binghe’s hands, strands of loose hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead would be carefully brushed away, Luo Binghe's hands would reverently, and desperately run over his thighs, worshipful and full of so much emotion even in the heat of lust — it drove him utterly mad. 

Oh, and of course throughout all this, Binghe is crying the most! Who's the one taking one for the team here?! How Shen Qingqiu wants to kiss those tears away every time, and he does so without fail. 

His hips would be lovingly bruised come the next morning, his neck and collarbone area absolutely scattered with marks, all from one person. Once Shen Qingqiu got most of his ability to think straight back, he’d huff and scold Binghe, complaining that he’ll have to go and buy more high-collared robes because the last one he had was ripped to pieces the previous night by a little eager someone . 

Luo Binghe merely followed him out the bed and hugged him from behind as Shen Qingqiu inspected the damage through the mirror, a pleased smile forming on his stupidly perfect lips as he did a once-over of his artwork. 

“Apologies, Shizun, this one can’t help it,” The sly bastard had mumbled into his skin unapologetically, voice hoarse and content. “Shizun was so irresistible last night, I couldn’t help it. I’ll buy you as many sets of robes as you’d like later, don’t get mad,” 

“I’m not mad…” Shen Qingqiu mumbled, skin tingling as Luo Binghe softly kissed the side of his cheek, smiling. Oh, he’s a weak, weak man. 

In public, Luo Binghe would keep his hands to himself when necessary, understanding that both of them had a reputation to maintain even if he couldn’t care less about his image — Shen Qingqiu did, and that was enough! This was all true and going in order unless Luo Binghe got even slightly jealous, to which Shen Qingqiu would let him do whatever all while assuring him that there truly was nothing to worry about. Who else besides you would find this old man attractive, huhh? Don't worry too much, what do you mean that's not true? I don't know the true extent of my own beauty? Oh, Binghe! You're so funny! Hush, hush now, we both know the real true beauty here is you. Let's just finish hunting down these low IQ ghosts and then go home because I'm seriously craving your dumplings again! 

They held hands, brushed their hands against each other, sneaked kisses when no one was looking, and Shen Qingqiu let Luo Binghe cling onto him when they rode their swords together, even if it was unnecessary. 

Luo Binghe had his sword and could even slash open a portal for them if he ever so desired to, but when Shen Qingqiu asked, he teared up at the speed of light like no other and spoke with such utter devastation, “ But I won’t be able to be close to Shizun for long enough… ”. 

Ah . He didn’t bother to respond after that, truly puzzled but not doing anything to push Binghe off when he latched onto him once again. Shen Qingqiu seriously wonders just where he got such max levels of stickiness from, acting like a lovestruck maiden all the time.

Aren’t you supposed to be a fearsome demonic emperor?  A harem master taking hold of wives in the three digits!! ! He wanted to laugh hysterically, mostly out of bemusement, because holy shit. How the hell have they reached this point? 

Shang Qinghua sneezed in the quiet of his office right then, wondering why he suddenly has goosebumps creeping up his skin. 

When Shen Qingqiu was feeling especially comfortable in public, Shen Qingqiu let Luo Binghe take the liberty of openly embracing him or clutching onto his arm, leaning into it without a second thought. To them, it wasn’t too obvious, but everyone around them who fell victim to such sights couldn’t help but feel as though they aged decades more — God damn couples!

Whenever Luo Binghe joined in on the sect meetings, he’d pick the seat right beside his husband and not-so-subtly scoot as close as he could to him until their chairs touched, seeking his hand under the table or instead choosing to wrap his arm around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, rubbing soothingly and innocently blinking up at him whenever Shen Qingqiu gave him a look. 

Sometimes he’d rest his hand atop a thigh, just resting it and nothing more. Sometimes, and only sometimes , he’d try to sneak his hand into his robes and Shen Qingqiu’s focus during the meeting would drift off somewhere they shouldn’t be, fighting to keep the blood from rushing to his face and trying in all his power to keep his expression straight. Why he didn't just smack the hand away? Ah, don't ask him, he has no valid answer to that.

More than once, another person in the room would take notice of his cracking expression and check on him, ask him if he were alright, do you need something, yada, yada — Leave this master alone!!! You’re making this worse for me, Shidi, Shimei! 

The thought of being caught in this full room, it wasn't proper, it was disgusting and made him feel like he lost ten layers of face, but there was something else there. Something he thinks he'd have a heart attack of embarrassment from if he were to ever speak on it. 

He’d have to quickly excuse himself from the meeting after some time, unable to go through all the matters without the heat to his skin going away.  Of course, Luo Binghe would follow him out not too long after, endlessly smug like a cat  He’d trail after him into his room and chuckle, apologizing when Shen Qingqiu admonished him like a child for being so shameless, before kissing him silly.  

Luo Binghe knew how to shut him up; all the complaints that were about to be spouted out instantly died in his throat just like that, sated all at once. As he reciprocated it, his limbs began to reach that familiar gooey state whenever they were close like this. 

Luo Binghe hummed, pleased. The way their lips glided against each other was perfect, not at all gnawing like their first few kisses had been at the start — although Shen Qingqiu didn’t quite mind that all too much either, Luo Binghe had worked hard these past few months improving his kissing skills, and now he can get his title back for the best kisser, as fit for his role in the novel! He’s so proud! 

The countless pings of satisfaction points skyrocketed near his ear, but he tuned it out. Shut up, you're ruining the moment. 

Perhaps he may be worse off than his own husband, to be letting every sticky action he does slide like that, and even enjoying it himself. It does always feel nice to be hugged all the time, Luo Binghe is a walking furnace, keeping Shen Qingqiu’s often cold body warm — warming up his heart. His hands are also comforting, always holding him close and rubbing gentle circles over his naked back before they slept.  There was another thing to note; whenever Luo Binghe had to reluctantly leave to deal with duties in the demonic realm, Shen Qingqiu would be fine for a few days or so before he began feeling like a widowed housewife. He’d be less expressive with others, his stomach would grumble and ache for heavenly meals hand-made by his husband’s godly hands, and he’d miss waking up to an overly energetic Luo Binghe holding himself above him, beaming and smooching everywhere he could reach. 

Shen Qingqiu put his cup of tea down and laughed. 

He waved an elegant hand, dismissing himself as he smiled at seemingly his own words, “Oh, God, no way. Binghe is the true clingy one between the two of us, of course. I think he’s rubbing off on me.” 

Shang Qinghua stared at him with wide eyes across the table from him, holding a small pouch full of melon seeds he got from who knows where. His eyebrows cluster together in an am-I-really-hearing-you-say-that-right-now kind of expression, to Shen Qingqiu’s utter confusion. What? 

“Cucumber-bro, while your relationship with your Bing-er truly terrifies and amazes me all at once,” Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes but that didn’t stop him, “I genuinely believe that you lack some brain cells — ironic, I know right? — but, like, seriously, how much more are you going to deny this till you accept it? I’m going to have a stroke just listening to you!” 

Shen Qingqiu languidly fanned himself, looking elsewhere and feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t deny anything, I’m just stating the truth.”

Shang Qingqiu dropped his pouch full of melon seeds in favor of grabbing at his ruffled brown hair, yanking frustratedly and shutting his eyes. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re both the same! You’re just as insane as my son, but like different — I don’t know!  I can’t do this while sober, give me a moment.” He pops open a bottle to pour himself some liquor that Shen Qingqiu is sure wasn’t there in the first place, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He has other things to consider now.

“Yeah, okay, I’m just as insane as Binghe, sure, sure.” He scoffs, lazily fanning himself. But he doesn’t lie when he says it. Shang Qinghua probably isn’t wrong, and he doesn’t mind it. He just likes seeing the hack of an author get frustrated with him sometimes. 

When they both finish their monthly hang-out session and he leaves An Ding Peak later that evening, it’s already dark outside and his cheeks are slightly flushed from drinking a bit much. It’s awfully quiet once he gets back to his peak, his disciples must be getting ready for bed by now—just how much time has he spent away today? 

He flew on his sword as a way to cool himself down, hoping the chilly wind could keep his plastered state at bay, or at least make his flush less noticeable. He almost yelps when he stops at his destination and misses a step off, alarms blaring in his head. Shit, shit , he shouldn’t have drank so much!

A shadow he doesn’t notice flashes from in front of him, and before he can even begin to stumble in such an undignified manner, there’s a familiar strong set of arms holding him up by the waist and shoulder, firm yet gentle as they help him gain balance. 

Shen Qingqiu’s world is swaying for a good few seconds, a headache starting to form from the quickness sequence of events. He doesn’t say anything, but when he realizes just who it is with him, the flush from his cheeks which he thought were nearly gone comes back in full blast to haunt him.

Of course, Luo Binghe is outside waiting for him! He just had to be there to witness the peerless Shen Qingqiu make such a baby mistake, all drunk and messy — embarrassing! Couldn’t he have stayed inside a little longer??? 

“Shizun, are you okay?” Luo Binghe quickly asks after giving Shen Qingqiu some time to recover, cupping a hot cheek with one hand and using his free hand to brush aside all the stuck-out strands of his hair that had gone rampant while flying. There’s a faint redness in his eyes, like he had been holding back the urge to cry. 

His perfect brows are pinched with worry, the touch against his skin tender with such utter care and love — Shen Qingqiu’s heart leaps against his ribcage. Always so sticky, always there for him. His earlier embarrassment sizzles away into nothingness when facing Luo Binghe’s undeniable love for him.

Perhaps it’s due to the liquor still brimming in his system that emboldens him, but he puts his hand over the one on his cheek, closing his eyes and nuzzling into it. He sighs with a shiver, just taking the memory in. There’s a sharp intake of breath from Luo Binghe, but it only makes him smile softly. He kisses the scar that simply refuses to heal, the guilt he’s tried so hard to lock away resurfacing just slightly.

“How long have you been waiting here for me?” He finally whispers, still not opening his eyes. 

Luo Binghe doesn’t immediately answer him, choosing to instead take his time threading his fingers through his hair before they found their way to his waist, thumb comfortingly stroking his sides. 

“This husband of yours had gone outside to wait for you once the sun began to set.” Subtly, he pushes Shen Qingqiu closer to him till their lower halves touched intimately, seemingly only for the reason that he wanted to b as close as possible to him and nothing more than that. “Shizun kept this one waiting.” 

There was a pout in his voice. Shen Qingqiu cracked one eye open, holding back the urge to snort. Always seeking attention, always wanting more. He loves him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I drank too much,” He didn’t even bother with the formal speech, feeling far too lax and loose right now after a long night. “You know I’ll always come back.” 

“If Shizun never came back,” Luo Binghe’s eyes flashed dangerously, “I would kill everyone and everything and then myself—” 

Shen Qingqiu interrupted him with a chaste kiss, quickly letting go and chuckling when Luo Binghe’s carefully blank expression switched into one of pleasant surprise, the red eyes sparkling and damn near turning heart-shaped, skin blossoming into a lovely shade of pink. Those lips he'd just touched parted ever so slightly, almost tempting him to do it again. He usually never initiates much action, but whenever he does, the end result is always worth his efforts. So handsome, so beautiful, so perfect, maybe a little blackened, but it was okay. 

“Alright, enough with that, hm? Let’s go inside now, it’s too late and cold to be out.” He patted Luo Binghe’s cheek before tugging himself out of his loosened grasp, rushing inside before Luo Binghe can catch up to him. 

“Sh–Shizun! Wait!” Luo Binghe yelled after him, sounding all too desperate to have him back in his arms again. Too bad, he’ll have to wait until he finishes eating and bathing — oh, but he does hope Luo Binghe finds a way to spoon feed him again, or even join him in his dreams. Those are always so nice. 

Tomorrow morning, he's going to regret saying and doing a lot of things out of pure embarrassment. But that didn't matter. This is alright. More than alright.

[Satisfaction Points +500!]

[Coolness Points +500!]

[mutual-monsters]

get busy living or get busy dying

Pairing: dark!poly!Ghostface x gn!reader

TW: kidnapping, dubcon, manipulation and mental abuse, lots of implications but not a lot of follow-throughs

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Summary: kidnapped by the boys,,,not much else to say 🤷🏻

Word count: 240 (tiny)

A/N: old drabble i forgot to post based on a line from this fall out boy song (because of course it is). prompt/lyric is in bold. also the first time i've written for stu??? not outright said in the fic but he is meant to be the gentler hand here. anyways, enjoy :)

tagging: @ouijaboardemo

They never say a word, but one of them is always there, just on the cusp of your periphery, stalking and lusting, hungry and ready to take what he’s come for. They take turns, swapping out to let the other shower, sleep, eat, and so forth, but their eyes never wander. You may be tied down, but there’s no way either one would let you out of their sight. Every so often, you hear the basement door slam shut, or some scuffling behind you, nevertheless, their eyes always remain glued to your figure, covetous as always, aching to make their move. 

They bring you food and water, they allow you up to use the restroom a generous twice a day, they even bring you gifts when you’ve behaved. They’ve told you many times they don’t want to be harsh with you unless they have to, that they adore you, that this is only temporary until you can learn to mind your place– after all, why would they lie to you? You’re all they have. 

Sometimes you can’t help but cry, but don’t worry, they are always there to remind you that it’s okay, that they are there, that you’ll never be separated and you belong to them. 

It’s nights like that that make you remember what Billy said to you on your first night with him and Stu, “Oh, baby. I know. I know this hurts, it was meant to.”

[lovesangg]

Under Your Watch (J.YH) [pt. 1]

★ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

★ Word Count: 1449

★ Genre: fluff, romance. 

★ Warnings: Part 1 is pretty soft but part 2 might contain some nsfw, Idol Ateez, You’re the manager, curses??? LMAO. HOW DO YOU TAG THESE.

★ Note: I have not proofread this, any grammatical error you might see- they’re not real aaaaadffgdg. Part 2 will be posted tomorrow or later on.

———

You've been managing Ateez for more than five years now. You've been with them since before their debut, and you have never heard a complaint about you, despite only being older than Seonghwa for about eight months. They all wonder how you did such a thing, "must have been from my Strictland," meaning your home.

You have adapted to their lifestyle and live with the boys, making it impossible not to. Sometimes they say you're the female counterpart of either Jongho or Yunho, nearly scared of none- except for bugs; you take care of the bugs. "Noona, there's a fucking cockroach flying in the kitchen!" is something Wooyoung would shout whenever he barged into your room, and you could only sigh to take care of it. Sometimes with Seonghwa's help if he's around.

Usually, the boys are quiet- they have their own lives inside their rooms. Yunho and San are busy with their games, Jongho and Yeosang usually having a competitive workout, Seonghwa is busy binge-watching his dramas, Wooyoung would bother anyone he could, Mingi would sometimes be with San and Yunho, and Hongjoong, he's barely home, and you? Busy with whatever you can fidget in your room, or you're just busy watching in the living room.

Unless- the day comes when they want to randomly bet their money with FIFA; Yunho wins a lot, and Jongho comes second. They teach you how to play console games, or randomly, you'll be seated in front of San's PC with him coaching you behind as you try and trash players in his games, and surprisingly you're good at it.

Remember when they said you're the female counterpart of Jongho or Yunho? None knew that you'd been physically and mentally vulnerable during your sleep, a nightmare. Sure, it's nothing to be scared of, but when it's recurring for almost a week, and it's about you getting devoured by several demons- you wake up in the middle of the night, helpless- hugging your knees as you try to calm yourself.

There has been one name you've been calling unconsciously through the whole week, and San told him about it.

San passed by your bedroom to get a glass of water when he stopped his tracks after hearing something in your room," Y…Yunho…Yunho…" you repeated as you squirmed on your bed. It did not sound right to him; he thought it might have been some fantasy that made him run back to their room with a wide smile. "Yunho…" San's voice trailed; his eyes were smiling in crescents, "hm?" Yunho hummed as a response before looking at the other, confused as to why he was smiling that way, "what? Why are you smiling like that?" he asked, "tomorrow, same time. Try to pass by Y/N's room; no questions asked! Just do it." Yunho was confused, but he dared not say another word, or San would continue to blabber about things.

And so he did, same time, he passed by, and you're there again calling for his name which gave him a little shock, Yunho stood there with his lashes repeatedly batting, "what? That can't be… she can't be doing that…?" he pauses before running back to their room to confirm what he just heard. "Are you going to confront her about it?" San asks while he's busy playing, "I don't know, won't it be too rude?" Yunho frowned while sipping his banana milk, "I mean, you're not going to say it outright, but just be lowkey about it!" San nodded, "Sannie, it's easier said than done," Yunho rebutted. He's right. "Whatever, we'll see. I'll sleep it out for now," he added. And the night passed the way it usually would.

You woke up at the sound of your alarm, and you barely had enough sleep, but you've got schedules to do today; photoshoots, interviews, and some other types of meetings. "Ah, fuck, my head hurts," you muttered under the pillow, but you got up and went with the usual routine; cooking breakfast and waking everyone up.

Hongjoong is surprisingly home today; you woke the eldest first, then the three roommates, then mingi. You heard noises inside Yunho and San's room, "singing," you mumbled before knocking thrice and opening the door, only to see the two already dressed up. Is this some dream? "Good morning, y/n!" San greeted with an eye smile, "you okay? You look like you haven't slept." There was worry in his voice despite you being clueless about the things you do at night, "yea, I haven't slept much. Well, breakfast's on the table. Just go out, I'll prepare the other stuff," you smiled at him before closing the door.

Hours passed, and everyone was in the car; you sat in your usual front seat. Taking a mental note of how long the car ride would be, "3 hours..." you mumbled, "hm?" the driver asked; you just waved your hands before leaning back to close your eyes. Yunho sat behind you; little did you know he's been watching your head move here and there as you slept, and he couldn't bear watching it that way. He looked behind and tapped Jongho's knee, gesturing for the small pillow; once acquired, he slid it beside your head.

"Y/n... wake up, we're here," you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, "mhmm? we're here?" you mumbled softly; Yunho smiled at you, "mhm, wake up," you only nodded sleepily before trying to get off the bed, only for you to nearly slipping if it weren't for him holding you by your waist. "a fuck, thank you... thank you, Yunho," you heaved a deep breath while holding on to his arm. You smiled at him before pulling off gently, patting his arm, "are you okay?" he asked as you both walked into the building. "Hm? What do you mean?" you asked in confusion, "nothing, I just noticed you seem restless the past days?" Yunho felt like what he may have heard from your room was something else based on how you've been acting the past days. "Oh, yea, there's just a lot of things to deal with the past days, hence, this result," you could only chuckle, "go go, I'll wait for you guys out here" you gently pushed him in, and you watched he go, you could only sigh.

If only you were brave enough to tell them what you're going through, it probably wouldn't last this long, but- you kept thinking, what could they possibly do either way?

 The day went as normal as it usually would; photoshoot done, interviews done, other stuff taken care of, finally. Everyone's finally home; you went straight to your room and plopped on the bed. There's barely enough energy in your body; you blacked out fully clothed and with complete make-up.

 Yet, despite the tiredness, it didn't stop the nightmare from coming in. This time, it felt too real. You're nearly shouting in agony, calling out Yunho's name, and there he was, barging into your room, seeing how beads of sweat roll down your forehead, colliding with your tears. "Y/n! Y/n!" he pulled you to him, hugging you to his chest, "wake up!" he shouted, loud enough to wake you back to reality, and you gasped for air. You were shaking in fear, your eyes constantly flowing. "Shh, I'm here," he spoke softly; he didn't want to spook you with why he was in your room. Yunho pulled off to cup your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumb, "how come you never told us?" he frowned in worry, "I... I don't know how to say it, but I have always been perceived as a strong person, but these nightmares have made me so vulnerable at night. I don't know what to do." your voice cracked as you spoke, Yunho could only wrap his arms around you- his hand soothing your back.

 “but... what are you doing here?" it hit you suddenly, "I was passing by when I heard you.... calling my name," your tears went back up at what you heard, and you pulled off to look at him, "what? What do you mean I called for you? huh?" confusion written all over your face. "You were calling for me, y/n- for days" he was looking down on you, and you were staring back up at him, "ah," was the only thing you could say. You know Yunho would never lie. "It's okay, I mean, like... I... if you need help, I'm here. That's what I'm trying to say," he felt defeated, "you know what, you... should go take a shower. You need it, y/n. Go on," he gently pushes you to stand up.  

I know it’s kinda cut too short but I was too excited to post! It’s my first story after 3892384991 years. Let me know how it is? ;;

[ephemeronidwrites]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @my-dumb-obsessions. Thank you, it's my first time participating in anything like this and I'm excited!

(So excited that apparently I'm posting even though it's not Wednesday anymore most places in the world, but hey.)

My current longfic project should have had its last update two whole months ago and I'm sorta just... stuck at the moment. Which is kind of a shame, as I do have bits written for the later chapters that I would love to get around to posting, but I have to write the part that comes before... before.

So maybe if I get the opportunity to share a WIP snippet here without having to feel too self-conscious about it, that can help me get back into the groove.

Without any further ado, the snippet in question:

And now Hawke was walking far ahead of the rest of the group. She was brisk and light on her feet, not limping that he could see, but he hadn’t heard her reply to his yelled-out question earlier, and there was something about the way she carried herself on her right side...

And come to think of it, had she always been left-handed?

Anders lengthened his stride and quickened his pace to catch up, falling into step alongside the Hawke girl.

“Are you all right after that last fight?” he asked her. “Those dogs were pretty savage.”

“I’m fine,” she said, eyes looking straight ahead... and pointedly not at him. “I just need to walk it off.”

Anders had to raise an eyebrow at that. Now that he was right beside her and keeping pace, he could see that she was definitely holding her right arm oddly, tucked into her side and bent loosely, but not doing anything with it or supporting any weight. Almost as if she were cradling it in an invisible sling… which in his experience was the first indicator that the arm in question should already be in one.

“Walk off an injured arm?” Anders said, no longer bothering to hide the concern—bordering on intrusive, he feared—that was creeping into his voice.

“There’s no blood, I can move it, it’s fine—” She brought herself up short, a look of chagrin clouding her face, realizing too late that anything less than a flat denial at this point gave her act away.

“The dogs got you, didn’t they?” Anders asked, finally moving to block her path outright. Hawke shot him a scowl from under knitted brows, behind the disheveled fringe of sooty black hair that fell into her eyes and half-obscured one of them.

“Just over the wristguards!” Hawke protested, as Anders reached for the offending arm, but she seemed to know the jig was up, as she didn’t pull away from his touch, even as she rolled her eyes. “It’s… I already looked at it. They didn’t break the skin.”

“The healer will be the judge of that,” Anders said brusquely, as he unbuckled her wristguard, not missing the way she winced at the lightest pressure of the rawhide and the leather straps as he pulled them off her wrist. “I’d say that your job is to tell me how it feels from your end, except apparently you don’t trust me enough to do that either.”

By now Carver and Varric had caught up to the pair, but they both crept away once they saw what Anders was up to with the Hawke girl, seeming to think for some reason that whatever he was up to with her, the two of them required privacy.

Not unless she’s been hiding a lot more from me than I thought, Anders thought to himself, with a hint of sardonic amusement. But I really hope I won’t have to go there. For both our sakes.

“I��” she said as he turned his attentions back to her arm. “I do trust you,” she said finally, after a heavy pause.

“Your lying to me earlier says otherwise,” he said, as he got to work.

No sooner had he said that than he regretted his shortness. Even forgetting the massive favor she had done him—

—which, how could he ever? no matter how much she insisted on him acting like nothing had ever happened, no, he couldn’t, wouldn’t forget something like that—

—in this moment at least she genuinely was his charge and his patient. It was care she needed from him—at this moment, anyway—not a dressing-down.

“Not that I’d blame you for it, with what I told you a week ago,” he began to sigh by way of a half-hearted apology.

“If I didn’t trust you, do you think I’d be letting you do this to me right now?” Hawke asked.

Her answer brought his awareness crashing abruptly into the realization that it was much easier to see inside her than it should have been, under the conditions: in high relief he saw the crushed nerves and vessels underneath the superficially unbroken skin, inflammation beginning to set in, sprains in the muscles and the tendons. Damaged tendons and ligaments were the worst, they almost never healed properly without magical help or a lot of proper rest, the latter of which his patients almost never had the luxury.

He got the feeling the Hawke girl was no exception to that trend.

“Maker,” Anders cursed under his breath. “Those blighted mongrels pulled the muscles in your arm all the way up the shoulder.”

“Careful there,” Hawke grunted, as Anders unwittingly jostled her arm a bit harder than he’d meant to: he was starting to get antsy again as he finally saw the full extent of the damage the dogs had done.

Her reaction—or rather, the lack thereof—puzzled Anders: his slip, unintentional though it had been, should have been painful, and provoked a concomitant flare of resistance, a throwing up of mental barriers to push him out as he tried to reach inside with his mind to restore bruised flesh and knit breaches in the weave of bone and sinew and vessels.

And yet there was nothing of the sort, not even the tell-tale blip that would appear in the most worn-down, stupefied mind as an instinctive response to pain. Only a Tranquil would be this unresponsive naturally, and Hawke was decidedly not that.

It was as if she were keeping her own aura under strict control, like a chevalier’s prize charger trained to canter and rear and lash out with knife-like hooves on command, knowingly keeping herself open and exposed for his benefit. To make his job easier on him, as much as for her own sake.

“For someone who tried to ‘walk off’ a mauling, you seem to know a lot about how magical healing works,” he said, his voice now considerably softer than it had been when he started.

“My father was one,” she said. “A healer mage, I mean. Among other things.” She smiled, so briefly he might have missed it if he’d blinked just a second too late or early, flashing teeth white as bird eggs behind lips pulled nervously taut. “Though Mother always did say I got my stubbornness from him, so I guess the other meaning works too.”

A mage father. So that explained where she’d gotten it. Both her powers and her impressive command over them.

“Da healed my siblings and me,” she continued, as Anders briefly turned away to extract a roll of bandages and an emergency poultice from a utility pouch at his belt, “and he made sure we knew how best to receive a healer’s care. Said it was just as important for the patient to hold grace and acceptance for the care they got, as it was for the healer to be kind and skilled and trustworthy.”

“Sounds like a wise man,” and the very idea gave a fierce, sharp tug at his heart.

Here, right at his fingertips, was proof, in the flesh, that something he’d thought impossible until now had existed all along. A mage, who’d had a family, children who he’d gotten to raise himself and who remembered him fondly. A healer mage who had gotten to use his gifts not just catering to the whims of any officious noble who flashed coin in his face—or rather, the face of the First Enchanter who held his leash—or drafted to play nursemaid to mistrustful country boors who’d gladly spit on him once they were done reaping the benefits of his long study and discipline, but on healing his own children, the people he loved. A child who’d not only inherited such a mage father’s powers, but got to grow up seeing them as the gift that they could be. Not as a curse, or a sin she had never even chosen to commit but had to spend her whole life atoning for regardless.

A mage who had gotten a choice.

[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield 6

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 5: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/655170472428830720/sword-and-shield-5

Warnings: none really. 

Without further ado, I present to you the moment you’ve all been waiting for. *bows deeply* *backs away*

6: Confessions

You snorted to yourself. Not act on it, that’s for kriffing sure. You sighed, shaking your head. Even if someone wanted to get into a relationship with you — already dangerous territory — why would they even consider accepting you harboring feelings for others? Ridiculous. Everyone you’d ever known besides your Vod’ika had been fiercely possessive of what they viewed as their own — and besides, even the 501st had been super protective and jealous of you in most aspects.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to suffering in silence as always. They would never know, and you’d simply continue to work with them. Hopefully, best case, your crush would pass and fade away in time. After all, maybe this really was just a reaction to the kindness the Bad Batch had shown you after you’d been neglected for so much of your life.

You staunchly decided that you didn’t want to look further into it than that. Best not fan flames of false hope, after all.

Having made a decision, you refocused on humming and popping the finished three pans into the oven. You moved onto the icing you’d decided to put on the cupcakes. The team ate a lot, after all, and it’s not like you got sweets a lot on missions. The sugar might be a nice pick-me-up or reward for their hard work. Plus, you decided, the ship smelled nice now.

Whisking away at the icing in the chilled bowl, you let the contentment settle over you. Humming to the music, you started to sway a little and step lightly in time to the beat. The ship was warm; you felt content for the time being; and you were where you wanted to be.

“Whoa, what’s that smell?”

You almost started, turning around to see Wrecker in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes. You felt your face burn as you realized that Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker had caught you dancing as you baked. Setting the bowl down, you gave them an embarrassed smile.

“Welcome back. I figured I’d make you some cupcakes-?” You offered, tugging at your hair that you’d put up and out of the way. “I just put them in the oven: I’m making frosting right now.” You picked the bowl back up.

Wrecker blundered into the kitchen, clearly a bit tipsy. His eyes lit up. “Whoa, seriously Shiv?” he exclaimed giddily. “Cupcakes? You’re making them? For us?”

You had to laugh at his flushed cheeks and childish grin of excitement as he plopped himself down on the floor and watched you. “Yes, I know we don’t really get sweets or anything on missions usually, so I figured I’d just... you know. I mean, you all work really hard, you deserve something for it. Plus, I owe you a snack, remember?”

Hunter nodded at you from the door. “Appreciate it, Shiv. I’m going to go back to my quarters for a while,” he mumbled, clearly on sensory overload.

You nodded back. “I’ll leave some for you in the cooler whenever you want some,” you promised. “Please get some rest.”

He nodded, trudging off.

You hesitated, glancing at Crosshair. “Would you... would you like to join, or... or should I just save you some?” you asked tentatively, unsure if the quiet and usually sullen sniper would want to be around.

He glanced at you, and you couldn’t tell if he’d even drunk anything or not. Then he grunted. “Too warm in here. I’ll be in the common room. Thanks for the... stuff.” With a curt nod, he headed off.

You blinked, then took it as a sort of thanks. Crosshair had always been short with everyone, so you took no offense to it; but you’d also realized over time working with him that the fact that he was never outright rude to you was his way of being personable. And the fact that he even sat in the same room as you for periods of time was another silent proof that he, at the very least, didn’t hate you. He normally never complained about working with you either, only making constructive suggestions that, while sometimes terse, weren’t overtly or purposely vitriolic.

You shook yourself and refocused to see Wrecker staring up at you with a sort of stupid grin.

“Are the cupcakes almost done?” he asked eagerly, turning to look at the oven.

You laughed. “Not quite, I just put them in a few minutes ago, so it’ll be another fifteen minutes or so.” You offered him the mixing bowl. “My arm is getting a little tired, can you help? I just need to mix this a little more.”

He took the bowl and started to whisk, still careful even in his tipsy state not to spill too much. Well, he tried, you had to note with some amusement. He still splashed a little, but you weren’t really bothered by it. You’d purposely put extra in there anyway, just to be safe.

“Did you have a good time?” you decided to ask, turning the music down and going to check the timer.

“Yeah! The drinks weren’t too bad, and I got to see a couple of familiar faces,” Wrecker said, still diligently stirring away at the icing. “I mean, I was a little sad when you left, but I knew why, you know? I kinda hoped you’d have fun, not have a bad time.”

You almost froze, desperately trying to calm your heartbeat that had picked up. Straightening, you sent him a jittery smile. “Th-Thanks, Wrecker. You were there, so it wasn’t all bad. It was just one guy.”

He notably cheered up at that. “Good, good,” he said with a decisive nod.

“Oh, can I see the icing? I think it should be done,” you said, trying to change the topic. Your newly-discovered feelings could absolutely not handle any sort of encouragement.

He held it out, glancing into it. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

You peered into the bowl, noting with satisfaction the peaks of the icing. “Yep. Could you put it in the cooler please? Once the cupcakes are out and cooled enough, I can put the icing on.”

He nodded and got up, carefully putting it away in the cooler. He rather gingerly sat down on a chair, then accepted the glass of water you offered.

“Thanks. I think I maybe had one too many,” he said, gulping down the glass.

You gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well, the water should help,” you encouraged.

“Do you drink, Shiv?” Wrecker asked curiously, peering at you.

You blinked, then shook your head. “Never really started in the first place,” you admitted. “I mean, I understand the draw, but I never was allowed to before, and then it just sort of... I don’t know, I figured that after all this time, why start? Caf is my poison of choice, and I don’t fancy the hangovers, not after taking care of the 501st with Kix too many times.” You rolled your eyes fondly at the memory.

“Huh. Makes sense,” he conceded with a nod.

The timer went off just then, so you grabbed the oven mitts and opened the oven. The toothpick came out clean, so you grabbed the trays and set them on the cooling racks, turning off the oven.

“Are they done?”

You hummed and nodded, poking at one. “Yep, they’ve baked all the way through and the top is spongy,” you said in satisfaction. “I knew it would be a good batch.”

“What flavor are they?” Wrecker tilted his head at the trays curiously.

“I made one flavored Nabooian chocolate, the second vanilla, and the third mint,” you answered.

“Whoa, Nabooian chocolate? Isn’t that pretty expensive?” Wrecker looked surprised.

You shrugged. “Yeah, usually, but the GAR usually gets things a little cheaper in bulk and I decided it was worth it this time around. Sometimes you just... need to indulge while you have the opportunity, you know?” You gave him a smile.

He smiled back and nodded. “Yeah... makes sense.”

Once the cupcakes had cooled enough, you carefully lifted them out of the tins and set them on the racks. Grabbing the bowl of icing from the cooler, you started applying it in neat swirls. Wrecker shuffled up behind you, peering over your shoulder at the process.

“They look nice,” he remarked encouragingly.

You glanced up at him with a smile. “I’m glad. I chose a buttercream icing so it would pair well with the flavors.” Once you were finished, you licked your fingers clean of the icing that had gotten smeared in the process. Cleaning out the bowl, you set everything away and began placing the cupcakes in containers. Grabbing a few, you took three plates and placed a few on them to go take to the others. Turning, you smiled up at Wrecker.

“Help me carry these?”

He grabbed two plates, letting you get the other one for Hunter. He followed you down the hall, and you stopped briefly at Hunter’s room. You knocked lightly on the door.

“It’s open,” a voice came from within.

You slipped through the door, then placed the plate on his bunk. “Here you go,” you whispered, trying not to agitate his senses.

He glanced from you to the plate, then nodded. “Thank you, Shiv.”

You just nodded back, then slipped back out and closed the door. Following Wrecker down the hall, you went into the common room to find Tech and Crosshair still there.

“Yo, Cross, Tech, Shiv made us some snacks!” Wrecker said, putting the plates down.

“Oh- the one with more on it is for Tech and Crosshair,” you said quickly, “and the other plate is for you, Wrecker.” Everyone knew that Wrecker ate more than the rest of you, due to his size and genetic mutation.

He grabbed his and sat down, gleefully beginning to tuck into his cupcakes.

“There’s Nabooian chocolate, vanilla, and mint,” you repeated for Crosshair and Tech’s benefit, twisting your fingers in your sleeves. “I hope they’re okay....”

“They’re so good,” Wrecker all but groaned around his mouthful.

You noticed that Tech was still engrossed in his work, so you decided to go and gently tap on his shoulder. He started slightly and looked up at you owlishly.

“Oh, Shiv.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “I know you’re doing good things, but please take a little break? You haven’t eaten or drank anything in a while.” You offered him water and a cupcake.

He blinked down at it, then seemed to automatically reach out and take it. “Oh. Uh... th-thanks, Shiv,” he said hesitantly, looking up at you with a sort of surprise buried in his eyes.

Impulsively, something in you drawn to his wistful expression, you reached out and brushed your fingers briefly through his mussed hair, smoothing the wild strands. “I thought you might be a mint type of person,” you said, giving him a smile.

He took a bite of the cupcake, chewing it thoughtfully. “I do like mint,” he confirmed, then began tucking into the cupcake, almost wolfing it down. He didn’t remark on your gesture, so you decided not to address it and instead turn around.

Crosshair was already halfway through a chocolate one. Glancing up, he lifted the cupcake in a sort of half-salute of acknowledgement.

You smiled back, glad that the sullen trooper seemed to enjoy the treat.

“Hey Shiv, come sit!” Wrecker motioned next to him. He offered you a cupcake once you sat beside him, but you shook your head.

“Oh, I’m okay, thanks. I sort of scraped the batter bowls when I was making them, so I’ve already had a taste.” You shrugged, picking up your datapad. “You enjoy them.”

“Boy am I,” Wrecker enthused, grinning. He polished off the others on his plate, smacking his lips. “These are super good.”

You briefly glanced up at Tech, noting that he’d absently begun on another cupcake while tapping away again at his screen.

“Do you think they’re going to put us through a battle simulation soon?” you asked warily, frowning down at your datapad.

“Statistically, probably,” Tech answered. “It’s been a while since our last one, and they do tend to keep up with us as a modified unit.”

You sighed, shoulders hunching on yourself. “And now I’ve been added to the force,” you concluded glumly.

“Is somethin’ wrong, Shiv? I like the simulations, they’re fun.” Wrecker glanced down at you curiously.

You sighed. “Well, I’m... I’m a weird factor in the whole mess. I’m usually either told to sit out on a simulation because they’re testing the functionality of the troopers, not me; or I’m limited to stun-only weaponry, which is really difficult to hold as a form. I’m made to be a lethal weapon, so my default is to use live ammunition, not training weapons. I can, of course, but it’s an extra thing for me to remember when I’m utilized in a simulator. The Kaminoans really don’t like it when I mess up and damage either their training units or their equipment.”

Tech tilted his head, brushing crumbs off of his lap. “I hadn’t realized it before, Shiv, but what relationship exactly do you have with the Kaminoans? You never really said how you came to be a weapon for a clone unit. Why wouldn’t you have been assigned to a Jedi or an officer?”

You grimaced, tucking your legs up to your chest. “That’s... a long story, Tech. Not that I wouldn’t tell you, but... I don’t think right now is the best time. Besides, I think Sergeant Hunter should be here to hear it, too, as my leader. But for now, I think it’s safe to say that the Kaminoans are interested in replicating my DNA, so using me with a clone force to see how I would react to and mesh with their clones is a convenient experiment for them.”

Tech conceded. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said with a nod. “But we will most likely be asked to participate in a training regimen soon.”

You reached up and brushed hair out of your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creep up on you. “I think I’m going to go to bed.” Standing, you sent everyone a tired smile. “Get some sleep, if you can.”

“Thanks for the cupcakes, Shiv. I’m gonna eat more tomorrow,” Wrecker declared, waving at you.

You nodded and stepped out, shuffling down the hall to your small room. You might have to spend the next couple of nights in the GAR barracks, considering the probable training regimen you’d be called in for tomorrow plus the report you’d have to give to Commander Rex.

You quickly fell asleep, exhausted at the mere thought.

~

Commander Rex raised an eyebrow in vague amusement as he faced you. “You didn’t have to send me an entire comprehensive report, as much as I’m sure the command base will appreciate it.”

You shuffled your feet sheepishly. “Sorry, Commander,” you laughed self-deprecatingly. “You know me.”

He nodded. “I think I do, which is how I also knew that giving you time to compile a report would result in me being able to see data for myself.” Standing, he sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. “I personally see your integration as a success, Shiv. You seem to be integrating into the team very well, and the team seems to accept you. But you also know that my report of success will have a natural repercussion.”

You looked down at your feet. “Tipoca,” you said resignedly.

“Yes,” Rex confirmed with a nod. “Tipoca. The Kaminoans have already requested the presence of Force 99 for checkups, especially since your integration has been considered a success.”

“I figured, Commander,” you said quietly. “I also mentioned it to the team last night. I might have to... tell them.”

“If you think it’s prudent.” Rex left it up to you. Then he sighed, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “It was good to see you again, Shiv. You seem to be thriving in the Bad Batch. But I do have a word of warning.”

You blinked up at him, a little surprised. “Y-Yes?”

“You know that most Regs don’t look on defective clones very... positively. And you already know your own reputation on Tipoca. Keep your head up.”

You nodded. “That’s another reason I’m going to tell them, sir,” you admitted. “They’re probably going to say something, but...” You shrugged your shoulder.

Rex nodded. “General Skywalker asked about you the other day. He seemed pleased to hear that you had found a place with the Bad Batch.”

You had to smile at that, grateful that he’d remembered you. “If you see him again, tell him thank you for thinking of me. I didn’t think he’d remember me.”

“Will do. Go on, Shiv. You probably have to leave soon to get to Kamino on time.”

You nodded. “Have a good day, Commander. And-“ you paused before you headed back out, turning briefly to glance at him. “I hope to the Maker that you see nothing but success on your missions.”

He nodded. “Same to you, Shiv. Take care of yourself and your team out there.”

You left, letting the door slide shut behind you. Walking down the hallways and corridors, you sighed heavily and tried to think about how to tell the Bad Batch about your past. They deserved to know, not only as your teammates but also considering they wouldn’t otherwise understand the routine you’d have to go through once you arrived on Tipoca.

As soon as you got back to the ship, Hunter found you. “Good, you’re back, Shiv. We’ve gotten commands to go to Kamino again.”

You nodded resignedly. “I know. Um, Sergeant, would it be possible to talk to the whole team? I have to explain a few things before we arrive at Kamino. It has to do with why we’re being called there.”

He paused and stared at you for a moment, then nodded. “Gather in the common room once we’re up in the air.”

You nodded, heading off to the common room and trying to think of the best way to go about it. Everything felt... distant, in a strange way. You had to figure out how to distance yourself, at least enough to explain the standard procedure you were always subjected to on Kamino, not to mention what they’d have to look forward to.

Everyone shuffled in once the ship was in hyperspace to find you curled up on one of the seats, staring blankly at the floor. Wrecker plopped himself next to you, while Tech took his usual seat and Crosshair and Hunter sat opposite the three of you.

“So what’s all this about, Shiv?” Hunter asked evenly, opening the floor.

You sighed, uncurling enough to not hide your face. “I know I haven’t said that much about my past, or how I even started working among clone troopers. And now that we’re being called to Kamino, I figured this is probably the best time to tell you about it, since... it’s going to be important.”

You grimaced, reaching up to pull a hand through your hair. “I’ve already said that I’m a weapon, and that there aren’t many of us throughout the galaxy. I’m not the only one, but... definitely one of the few left. I... Since I can remember, my earliest memories start with me being a slave.” You didn’t even flinch, used to the memories. “I was bought, sold, traded off, moved hands throughout my earlier years, until I fell into the hands of a well-known Separatist leader who bought me to be trained as a personal bodyguard and weapon.”

Wrecker grunted, clearly displeased as he frowned thunderously.

Leaning back, you wrapped your hands around your knees pulled up to your chest. “I was... well, there wasn’t that much known about my kind or species, still isn’t. So naturally, I was... poked and prodded at for a long while until I was about... ten? That’s when my formal training began.” You rolled your eyes. “As if I hadn’t been forced to kill since I was six,” you said tiredly, shaking your head. “All that was different was that I was forced into a grueling regimen for three years.”

“You were forced to kill when you were six?” Hunter frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at you intently.

You nodded. “Yes, that’s the earliest kill I can remember. I don’t even know what might have happened before that. My memory has been proven to be faulty concerning anything before seven.” Glancing around, you felt the familiar knot twist in your stomach. “Anyway, those three years were not just for combat training but also for etiquette training. I was groomed to be not just a weapon but an ornament for a rich, upper class noble that liked to flaunt his money and... eccentricity. After all, I was a rare commodity.”

“A very clinical outlook,” Tech remarked, tilting his head at you.

You glanced at him. “It was the only way I knew to view myself. I’d been taught since I could remember that I was a slave, that I lived solely to be a slave to someone else, whoever that may be. I was to be bought and sold freely at my master’s whim, passed from hand to hand. After all, I was just a weapon, right?” You shrugged, the bitterness twisting your lips. “It was all I’d known for most of my life. I was to stand still and look pretty staring at the ground unless my current master decided to use me to either protect himself or... reaffirm... his power.”

Wrecker cracked his knuckles. “Let’s go find him,” he suggested darkly, glaring.

You smiled at him slightly, patting his arm. “Thank you, but unnecessary. The War broke out, and after another three years serving as a weapon for the Separatists, my former Master was unfortunate enough to run into General Skywalker and his squadron, the 501st.” You shook your head. “Once my Master was defeated, I was freed from his control. I didn’t know what to do except offer myself to Commander Rex, since he’d basically won me in combat. One Master for another. Their confusion turned to horror once they managed to access the surviving information about me and figured out what and who I was.”

Despite yourself, you had to smile down at your knees at the memory. “Looking back... it’s almost funny,” you sighed, shaking your head. “The way they lost their minds trying to figure out what to do with me and how to interact with me. Long story short, General Skywalker decided that for the time being I should stay with the 501st and Commander Rex, since I’d latched onto him instinctively and refused to leave his side. It was my conditioning, so it was all I really knew. I’ve spent the past... four or so years with them until now. But there was a long process for me in those years.”

You winced. “This is where Kamino comes in. Not knowing what else to do with me at the time, Commander Rex and General Skywalker decided to send me to Kamino in order to figure out more about my biology and my mental conditioning. I’d been fitted with several inhibitor chips at the time, including a microchip that reinforced my obedience to whatever master held the other half of the microchip. Since my former Master had been incapacitated, the chip damaged, I’d reverted to the other inhibitors and latched onto Commander Rex. Kamino... was very excited to discover me.”

Crosshair snorted. “Of course they were,” he sneered.

You just nodded. “Of course they were,” you sighed. “I was another opportunity to look into for their scientific experiments. After removing my inhibitor chips, they put me through a long reconditioning process that re-taught me a sense of individuality and being. Since I had nowhere else to go, I decided to make myself useful and pay back my debt to the 501st by agreeing to subject myself to Kaminoan jurisdiction just like the clones. Clones became... my new identity.”

You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Bracing yourself, you continued.

“I chose to allow the Kaminoans to continue experimentations on me as long as I could stay under the command of Commander Rex unless he decided otherwise. Commander Rex was kind enough to take responsibility for me, and I was reconditioned to learn to work with clone troopers. The Kaminoans are interested in studying me in order to decide if it’s worth using me as a new DNA template for cloning.”

“An endless supply of versatile weapons,” Crosshair deduced cynically. He had his arms crossed, toothpick clenched between his teeth.

You nodded. “Yes. Once Commander Rex decided that I would work better with a smaller group... well, I’m here now. But that also means that as soon as he reported that my integration into the Bad Batch had been successful...”

“We’re going to be going through tests in order to test us now that you’ve been added,” Tech concluded. He nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Makes sense. After all, this could be the proof that they’re looking for that one of you in a group of four enhanced is worth an investment.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry. I did mean to tell you, I just... didn’t know when would be the best time, and...” you sighed. “Commander Rex did warn me that I’d have to tell you, especially since I’m not... I’m not very well favored among the Regs, especially on Tipoca.” You uncomfortably shifted, looking away.

Hunter sighed. “Well, that won’t really be a problem. We’re not well accepted among the Regs either.” He shook his head. “As long as you’re one of us, you’ll never be accepted.”

“I guess they’re right when they talk about being in good company,” you said with a weak smile. You already felt exhausted just trying to sum up the weirdness your life had been in general.

“Well, while it’s interesting and valuable data, it doesn’t really change much,” Tech said, looking down at his datapad. “It’s not like we weren’t an unusual unit in the first place. It’s just another added member and test.”

“Yeah! Don’t worry, Shiv, we’ll take care of ya,” Wrecker cheered, patting your shoulder. “Anyone talks bad about ya and we’ll take care of it.” He cracked his knuckles again.

You had to breathe a laugh. “Thank you, I appreciate that. But I am used to it, so please don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Wrecker’s always looking for a fight anyway,” Tech said, the eye roll clear in his tone.

Hunter stood with a nod to you. “Good to know, Shiv. We’ll just have to keep it in mind once we’re there, but I don’t think it really changes all that much when it comes to procedure. We’ve always been put through training anyway every time we go back.”

You nodded, relieved that the talk had gone well. “Thank you. I’ll... continue to do my best.”

“You’re going to need to if you’re coming in with us, this time,” Crosshair remarked, standing. He just glanced at you. “Wrecker, come with me to the cockpit.”

Wrecker patted your shoulder again, then stood and headed toward Crosshair. “What? Why? Did Hunter need us again for something?” His voice trailed off as he went off down the hallway after the sniper.

You blew out a breath, letting your forehead rest against your knees. The knot in your stomach had loosened, relief spreading through you in a sudden rush. You had, in the back of your mind, worried that the team might resent the added scrutiny your presence would bring. But it seemed as though they’d just accepted it as inevitable. Sometimes, it was still hard to accept the kindness and acceptance you’d been shown.

“Are you alright, Shiv?” Tech spoke up from his seat.

You looked up at him, feeling the shadows pool under your eyes. “Oh... I’m fine, Tech, thanks. Just...” You shrugged. “Telling that story is kinda exhausting for me. Always has been. Plus, I always feel tired whenever I try to remember anything that happened before I was seven.”

He tilted his head. “Did the Kaminoans figure out why?”

You shook your head. “They couldn’t tell if the damage to that part of my memories was a natural biological reaction to some trauma or an after effect of the myriad of inhibitor chips that had been implanted in me. Thanks to their conflicting effects at times, the Kaminoans decided that using an inhibitor chip in me was an unnecessary risk. Besides, I’d been so willing to stay that there was no point except for conditioning to reinforce my... loyalty, I guess.”

“I understand.” Tech nodded. “Do the questions bother you?”

“No.” You shifted, turning to better face him. “Besides, you guys deserve to know. I mean, I’m basically in your head most of the time anyway. I’d say we’ve passed the point of being afraid to ask personal questions.”

Tech glanced down at his datapad. “I know that our inhibitor chips are mostly disabled because of our mutations. You say that you don’t have one?” he asked curiously.

You subconsciously reached up and rubbed your head. “No, all of the older ones were removed. And the Kaminoans didn’t put one in. Too much risk without enough data. All I have right now is a high-grade birth control implant,” you said thoughtfully. “I’d been outfitted with one during my time as a slave, though I could never figure out why.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “I mean, they never intended to use me in that sense. I was strictly an ornament and a weapon; and besides, they’d conditioned me thoroughly with the implants to never seek out any sort of physicality in that sense, so why put the implant in?” you puzzled wonderingly.

“Perhaps as just an added measure of protection? A sort of security of the purity of a possession?” Tech suggested without malice.

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, though that might be a good guess,” you agreed. “The Kaminoans asked if I just wanted it removed, but I figured I’d just ask for a safer and better replacement just in case,” you said dismissively. “It was offered, why not. Besides,” you said with a dark sense of amusement, “I don’t plan to procreate, but I did have to sacrifice my virginity for a mission.” You rolled your eyes at the memory. “Kix and Fives almost lost their minds over that one.” You snorted.

Tech looked a little flushed, the tips of his ears stained with color as he shifted.

“Sorry, Tech,” you had to laugh a little. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He glanced at you. “It’s alright. But, uh, why were they upset?”

“Oh, not at me,” you said, shaking your head. “They’ve always been my brothers, so they’ve been protective of me. I guess I worried them when I told them about it because they thought I’d maybe been forced into it.” You shook your head with a sigh. “I just... I’ve never really been allowed to make any of my own choices, you know? It was one of my first big decisions I made, albeit kind of stupidly. Anyway, it’s not like anyone would want a relationship with me.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair.

“Why not?” Tech sounded surprised, staring at you. “I mean, I’d think that choosing a weapon as a partner might be beneficial. Not that you’re just a weapon,” he added.

You smiled at him. “Thanks, Tech. But I mean... I am a weapon,” you pointed out. “I’m meant to be used as one, and... I mean, even now, I’m the weapon of a team. I don’t know that anyone would want all the baggage I come with, or even be able to handle sharing me with four other people — it’s just. A lot to ask.” You fiddled with your shirt. “Besides, I don’t know who’d be interested in me anyway.”

Tech seemed to open his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again as though he couldn’t help himself. “Wrecker is.” He jerked a little as though cringing.

You blinked, looking up at him. Telling your brain to shut up, it’s not what it sounds like, you tilted your head. “What? I mean, I’m glad he likes me, but-“

But Tech shook his head. “We’ve all noticed it. Wrecker definitely likes you. He pays a lot of attention to you, and he’s super protective. I probably shouldn’t tell you his feelings, but I...” He fiddled almost nervously with his gadgets. “It sort of just came out before I could stop it,” he admitted.

Your mind fairly spun. “I- I don’t-“ your entire brain short-circuited. Wrecker liked you? No, no, that had to be wrong. “What?” you choked out, feeling your hands start to tremble a little.

Tech grimaced. “Sorry, Shiv, I shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t worry about it-“ ”How could I not worry about it, Tech?” you exclaimed, your chest tightening. “I’m always in you guys’ heads, and- it’s not fair for me to know that when he’s been so kind to me and protected me so much that I-“ you choked on your own words, tears welling in your eyes. You rocked back and forth with a little whimper, reaching up to dig at your eyes. “It’s not fair.”

Tech looked like he didn’t know what to do, face pinched. “Shiv- I’m sorry, I... I don’t know what to do. I-“ He looked toward the door. “I should go get-“ “No, please-“ you blurted, trying to gasp for breath. “It’s not- not your fault, I just-“ You shivered, swiping tears away. “I’m sorry, I’m not being fair to you either.” You drew in a rasping breath. “I- I really- I just...”

“What can I do to help you?” Tech asked, his hands nervously moving as though trying to figure out what to do.

“I... it’s not fair,” you whimpered, not looking up at him. “I... I’ve grown so close to all of you, and... and I’m being stupid.” A hiccup wrenched out of you. “I- I realized last night, at the 79s... I realized that I- that you all have been so kind to me and it- it’s made me so selfish, Tech,” you half-sobbed. “I just want to do everything I can to be- to be a good teammate, a good friend, a- a useful weapon to you all, but I- it’s just that- I’ve been stupid and allowed- allowed myself to- to wish for more than I should.”

Tech sucked in a breath, straightening. “Shiv-“ ”I’m sorry!” You flinched, sure that he would be upset that you’d allowed yourself to blurt out the feelings you’d promised yourself would stay hidden. Sure that he’d remind you that you’re just a teammate. Sure that he’d tell you that Wrecker shouldn’t have formed... something.

“No, Shiv-“ Tech reached up and ran his hand through his hair. He abruptly stood, then placed a hand on your knee. “Wait right here for a minute. I’ll be back.”

You didn’t have the strength or presence of mind to stop him, the anxiety starting to seize you with a force that left you gasping. Hands shaking, you clutched at your chest with tears dripping down your face and tried to just breathe. This had to be it. They would find out, they would be upset about it, they’d decide that they didn’t want you as part of the team because what mad person is shown basic kindness and latches onto it to the extent of forming feelings for not just one but four people-

“Shiv!? Maker, Tech, what happened?” Hunter’s voice curled through the air, washing over you. A warm hand landed on your knee, making you flinch with a gasp.

“Shiv!” Wrecker’s voice made you feel even worse. Two giant hands landed on your waist, and you gasped as he lifted you up and sat down, setting you in his lap. “Shiv, what’s wrong?”

Despite yourself, you had to curl into him for the warmth he radiated through his blacks, desperate for some kind of grounding strength. Anything to help you calm down.

“I... I may have made a mistake,” Tech admitted, his voice laced with distress. He relayed the conversation as you let out a sob, shoulders shaking.

The way Wrecker stiffened made you abruptly try to push away, almost launching yourself off of him. Only his firm grasp on your hips stopped you.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- please-“ it wrenched out of you, leaving you raw and shaking. “Please, I-“

“Why are you apologizing?” Wrecker’s voice asked, sounding confused. “Shiv, don’t apologize.”

You looked up at him through watering eyes. “But I-“

He tilted his head at you, still keeping a tight hold on your hips. “Tech is right. I do like you.”

But it only made you feel worse. “Wrecker, I don’t- I- I’m always in your head through the Bonds,” you pleaded, trying to explain. “I- your kindness toward me- I- I don’t want to take advantage of that. It’s not fair for me to- to ask you to return my feelings just because- because I’m with you all the time or anything, I- I shouldn’t have even said anything, I told myself I wouldn’t-“

“Why not?” Wrecker demanded, a frown curling his lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face in your hands. “Because I’m in love with all of you!”

A silence fell in the room, only broken by your hiccuping sobs. Everything was wrong. You’d never meant to say it, never meant to do this.

“Say it again.” Hunter’s voice was low, demanding in a way that made you instinctually obey.

“I’m- I have feelings for all of you,” you whimpered, curling in on yourself in absolute misery. The truth of it resonated through you, a blessed sting of lovely pain.

“I guess that’s good for us, then,” Crosshair drawled, a smirk tilting his lips up.

Wrecker let out an excited whoop. “Did you hear that, Hunter? She said she likes all of us!”

Nothing was making sense. You looked up, trying to understand. Why weren’t they upset?

Wrecker grinned down at you, squeezing your hips in a way that made your stomach flip. “We all like you, Shiv.”

You gaped up at him, mind spinning. What?

Hunter reached out, using a finger to tilt your head to him. “Shiv, all of us have feelings for you, too. We had to discuss it because... normally partners aren’t comfortable with being shared. We Clones are used to sharing things, especially with each other. We didn’t think you’d want to be with all of us, so we decided to step back and let Wrecker have a chance, since you seemed to accept his attention. Not to mention, we’re not normal in any sense.”

You swallowed thickly, breath hitching as Wrecker’s hand came up to brush tears away from your cheeks. Your lashes felt heavy with them, and you sniffled, fingers unconsciously curling in his sleeves.

“You’re- you’re not angry with me?” you asked tremulously, peering through your eyelashes up at Wrecker.

“Course not, Shiv.” Wrecker’s ever-present grin had softened at the corners, his one good eye focused on you unwaveringly. “We’re super glad that you like all of us.”

Lips parting, you turned to look at the others, hope starting to bloom in your chest. You could feel heat starting to creep up into your cheeks as you realized. You’d confessed. They’d actually accepted and... returned it?

The corner of Hunter’s lips tilted up, dark eyes focusing on you. “You’ve taken care of us ever since you joined, Shiv. You’ve tried your best to acclimate to us, worked with us without complaining about anything, took responsibilities you didn’t have to, made food for us, even on the very first mission took damage for Tech and I. Why wouldn’t we appreciate that at the very least? We want to take care of you, too.”

This time, the tears that welled up weren’t because you were upset. Reaching up, you brushed them away shakily. “You... you like me?” you repeated, almost dazed. Surely you’d been hearing wrong. All of them? Liked you? Liked you?

Hunter chuckled. “Yes, Shiv. We do.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to grasp it. “I...” Your mouth seemed to insist on betraying you. “No one has ever liked me before.” You flushed. “Sorry, I-“

“Better for us, then!” Wrecker cheered. He practically crushed you to his chest, laughing. “So does this mean we get to call you ours now? Oh, does that mean I can kiss you, Shiv?”

“Wrecker,” Tech spoke up, sounding a bit alarmed.

But you stared up at Wrecker with a blink. “You... you want to kiss me?” you asked, surprised. The one fling you’d told Tech about had been just that— a stupid, hasty fling with no feeling to it, done to keep cover on a mission.

“Yeah.” Wrecker sobered. “But only if you want it, too, Shiv.” His honest brown eyes gazed down into yours.

You swallowed, fingers clenching against his chest. “If... If all of you... if you like me, then... then what does that mean for us?” you asked quietly.

“It means we all want to be part of a relationship with you, Shiv,” Hunter said firmly. “But only if that’s also what you want.”

You looked up at him. “I am your teammate and your weapon,” you said honestly, feeling a little lost. “I... I don’t want to be hurt more than I already have. If you- if you’re serious, then— then I’ll give you whatever I have,” you said, looking down at your hands. You closed your eyes, swallowing. “I’ll give all of you my all, equally, wholly. I’ll be a teammate, a partner, a weapon for all of you, as much as I can. But you have to know,” your voice cracked, “that if I do... you’ll have the power to completely break me. And I- I’m willing to take that risk. But you have the right to know that, before you— before you decide that you want—“

“We want you.” Hunter spoke lowly, confident.

“We love you, Shiv,” Wrecker pitched in.

“We don’t want to break you or leave you,” Tech said, shaking his head.

Crosshair met your eyes and nodded slightly, gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

You decided to continue to trust them. “Then... I’m yours,” you said shyly, suddenly very aware of how closely Wrecker had pulled you.

Wrecker grinned widely. “Can I kiss you, Shiv?”

You flushed but nodded, giving him a shy smile. Your eyes fluttered closed as he bent forward.

Wrecker’s kiss was... so distinctly him. His mouth burned, breath hot against your own lips. He tasted like the buttercream of the icing you’d made for the cupcakes, and his hands clenched eagerly around your hips. Still, it was gentle in his own way, and you found yourself dizzy from the heat when he finally let go.

“You okay, Shiv?” Wrecker asked, hand sliding up to your lower back to support you.

You took in a breath, leaning against his chest. “Y-yeah- s-sorry,” you stuttered, “it’s just— your breath is so warm.” You swallowed, closing your eyes.

“Is it?” Wrecker quizzically looked down at himself, breathing on his hand. “Huh.”

“Can-“ you sucked in a steadying breath. “I-“ The Bonds, usually passive in the back of your awareness, were lighting up with emotion. Wrecker’s pure elation was coursing through you, making you lean your forehead against his chest for a moment. You let out a soft whine. “Wrecker, you- you’re broadcasting so much-“

“Huh?” Wrecker paused, then let out an “Oh!” The elation quelled a little after a moment. “Sorry Shiv. Is that better?” he asked sheepishly.

You looked up at him, still feeling a little punch-drunk from the overflow. “You- you’re happy?” you asked, tilting your head at him. He grinned, a wave of adoration crashing over you. You shivered, collapsing against him and burying your face into his shoulder with a soft cry.

Hunter let out a quiet, husky chuckle. “I think you’re overwhelming her, Wrecker.”

“Sorry Hunter,” Wrecker said sheepishly. “Can’t help it.”

You felt yourself being moved, and the flow of emotion slightly slaked off, enough for you to try to look up. You found yourself gazing up at Hunter, who had pulled you into his lap instead. He reached up, brushing his thumb under your eye.

“A little better?”

You stared up into his eyes, noting hazily how much darker brown they were compared to Wrecker’s. While Wrecker’s Bond had stopped being so overwhelmingly loud, it was still present. Instead, you started feeling a new trickle of emotion from Hunter’s Bond. A muted sense of pride, of fondness that ran deep in its strength.

Your hands braced you against his arms, wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. “I-“ your eyes fluttered as you lost yourself to the emotion, lips parting with quick breaths. It was so clearly directed at you, meant wholly for you to feel. It washed over you with a warmth in its strength that you had no defense against.

Hunter bent, his mouth briefly pressing against your shoulder. “Can I kiss you, Shiv?” he asked lowly.

You just nodded, barely registering the question, completely pliant. Wrecker’s kiss still burned against your lips, only the feeling of Hunter’s arms holding you grounding you still.

Hunter’s kiss, you thought fuzzily, was as sure as he was. The care was there, certainly, but the way his mouth slanted against yours and the way his tongue brushed against your lower lip held a confidence that Wrecker’s hadn’t. His kiss gave as much as it took, a soothing coolness trickling between your lips in exchange for stealing your breath.

Your fingers tangled in his sleeves, and once he let go, you had to helplessly collapse against his chest and gasp for breath. Your mind whirled, simultaneously drowning in the projected emotions as well as your own. This was really happening. They really— they really cared for you. Accepted and returned your feelings.

The Bonds didn’t lie; and they refused to allow you to doubt the reality of it all as they continued to pour affirmation into your starved soul.

“Please-“ your voice was a weak cry, tears hovering on your lashes. “I— it’s so much-“

“Do you believe us, Shiv?” Hunter murmured into your ear. “Can you see how much we care about you?”

You looked up at him through blurred vision and sticky eyelashes. “Hunter,” you whimpered, desperately trying to focus. He bent and simply pressed a brief kiss to your parted lips.

“I think Cross wants some attention.” He smirked at you briefly, then turned you around.

Crosshair’s fingers grasped your chin, tilting your head up to him. A single emotion crossed your Bond with the sniper before he bent.

Crosshair’s kiss was possessive. Far from cold, the brief flash of fierce want underscored the fiery way his lips caught yours. He demanded entrance, quickly staking a claim on your mouth as soon as your lips obediently parted without question. It was the least distant he’d ever been toward you, and he pulled away to leave you almost cold.

The corner of his lips curled up in a smirk as he observed you with dark eyes, the pad of his thumb briefly brushing across your lower lip. “I think I’ll find a way to bruise you a little more, Shiv.” The promise made you realize that your lips had swollen, bruised by his kiss. He let go, turning to walk back to his seat.

You reached up to rub at your eye, still dazed and flushed. Everything felt so... surreal, yet not. Taking a moment to try to gather yourself, you swallowed and turned. Hunter helped you up, and you teetered your way to Tech’s chair.

Tech caught you, easing you into his lap. “Are you alright, Shiv?” he asked.

You nodded. “I’m okay,” you murmured, almost dreamily. You reached down, touching his hand that rested on your waist gingerly. “Do you— do you want something? I always feel like-“ your eyelashes fluttered as you started to feel his emotions bleed over your Bond. “Like you keep wanting to ask me something.”

He swallowed. “I—“ He glanced nervously at you, then down to his hands.

You tilted your head. “You can tell me, Tech. Tell me through the Bond,” you murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek.

He shuddered, eyes closing. A hesitant thought slunk over the Bond. Can I... can you please... A non-verbal image bloomed.

You smiled a little, then reached up and pulled Tech’s head down to your chest as you leaned back a little. You brushed your fingers through his hair, gently letting your nails drag across his scalp.

He shivered with a quiet groan, his hands unconsciously clenching around your waist.

Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Is this what you want?”

His head moved jerkily in a nod. “Please,” he groaned.

You let your hands move down his neck, dragging your nails across his shoulders, sweeping back up to bury in his hair. “Thank you, Tech,” you whispered softly, gratefully.

He looked up at you. “What? Why?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Your hands rested against his shoulders. “For always being honest with me. And being kind.” You offered him a shy smile.

He stared at you for a minute, seeming to drink in your face. “Do you- are you happy? I mean, with me?” His eyebrows furrowed uncertainly. “I did sort of... blurt-“

“Tech.” You closed your eyes, then, and reached out to all of the Bonds. “This is how I feel. About all of you.” You let your own feelings pour into all of them, returning the flow of emotion.

You bared yourself, showing them. How deeply you trusted them. How much you respected them, looked up to them. The things that you admired about them: their strength, their acceptance of you, their uniqueness. How much you wanted their attention, how much you loved their kindness. How deeply they’d managed to crawl into your very soul, how much you belonged to them already.

Tech shuddered, almost collapsing into you, head leaning against your shoulder. Wrecker sighed from somewhere behind you. You could hear Crosshair let out a quiet huff of breath, and Hunter grunted.

Your fingers gently cupped Tech’s head against your shoulder, assuring yourself that he was okay. It took you by surprise when his head abruptly tilted up, his lips finding yours. You let out a little noise of surprise, hands still cupping his cheeks. The desperation that colored Tech’s kiss had your heart fluttering as you hummed softly with contentment.

“Shiv,” Tech mumbled against your lips, his nose brushing yours.

“I’m here,” you murmured back.

His eyes closed, and he tilted his head to kiss you again. His kiss was hungry, needy, full of a soft sort of desperation that made you want more. His mouth begged you for attention, opening against yours in a way that pleaded for you. He almost whined into the kiss, and you had to brush your fingers against his cheeks as you answered.

“You’ll stay with us, Shiv?” Tech asked thinly, as though making sure before he surrendered.

You nodded. “As long as you want me... I’ll stay,” you promised.

“Forever, then,” Wrecker piped up, clearly pleased.

You fell asleep against Tech, lulled by the lingering emotions.

Forever.

Tag list: 

@subbing-for-clones

@darkangel4121

@ladydiomede

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please message me! Thank you for the support!

[thescarleteyes]

One Last Kiss; I Love You Like An Alcoholic Pairing: Diluc Ragnvindr x Tartaglia Rating: Explicit Tags: Alcohol, Diluc Is An Archon Au, Trans! Diluc, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Intercrural Sex, Making Out, Hate Sex, Top Tartaglia/Bottom Diluc, Porn With Plot Word Count: 5,755 Cross Posted on Ao3.

Summary: The Tsaritsa wants the Gnoses of the archons. Tartaglia did his research and got himself his own little ticket to praise. But can he get what he needs without causing too much trouble? No. Such things are not the harbinger's forte. So he'll do whatever it takes to get his hands on the Gnosis he seeks.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. THANK YOU.

Diluc Ragnvindr was a hard one to find. That being said, Tartaglia was a smart and cunning man. Even with Signora being in charge of finding the Gnoses, he figured he might as well try to beat her to the chase and claim one fully for himself. And that cold Snezhnayan night might just be his chance to prove that he truly was the best once again.  Just a few weeks prior, he had sent out a lovingly crafted letter to the nobleman, asking him to make the trek out to his homeland in search of a “business opportunity”. That was how he framed it, at least. Outright saying that he was with the Fatui wasn’t going to get him much even with his status as a harbinger, so he figured… perhaps try to gain the man's favour through wine. He did receive a letter back, though it wasn’t nearly as eloquent as he had made his own and very straight to the point: Diluc Ragnvindr would be there that night .

None of the other harbingers knew where he was that night. He supposed it may have been useful to tell them that he was headed out to some remote location, but… the only outcomes of that were either them realizing his plan or teasing him about a date. Either option was insufferable, but dwelling on it wouldn’t make these last few hours go faster, and he was getting particularly antsy as the minutes ticked by like molasses. So to calm his nerves… he started cleaning.

Sure, sure, it was a little out of character for the harbinger, but he had to tidy up after his siblings when he was home and it had started to bring him peace. It reminded him of home, for one, and two, it was probably the second-best way to get out your frustrations in his experience. The other best way was fighting it out, but there was a snowstorm raging on outside and he didn’t think it proper to have the house in shambles when the richer man arrived to make a deal on wine. As he dusted one of the shelves just above his head he thought that he might prepare some drinks for the two of them when they got there, but he only had Snezhnayan vodka, and that might be a bit too strong for the grape juice lover. He chuckled to himself at the thought of the vodka being “too strong”; he’d been drinking the stuff since he was able to get his hands on it. 

At the very least, he was right in assuming that cleaning would help pass the time somewhat. The shelves were dreadfully dusty and cleaning those off made him cough just a bit, but it was worth it, and he made sure there wasn’t a speck of dirt on the floor. Though it was an old cabin and it was hard to make it look good , he did his darndest to make it presentable. And so the harbinger sighed and fell back onto the bed. He winced as the mattress was just a bit too hard on his healing injuries, though he didn’t mind all too much.  He should have been paying more attention to the time. 

Tartaglia rolled over to check the bedside clock only to find that there were fifteen minutes left until their meeting. There were fifteen minutes left and he was rolling around on the hard bed like some sort of teen before their first date. He stood up and attempted to tidy his clothing and hair, a futile attempt to look presentable before the other man.  And then there was a knock at the door. 

“Really? Over ten minutes early!?” he thought to himself, only now realizing that the covers on the bed weren’t back in order yet, but there was no time for that. His company was at the door and surely would leave if he didn’t answer it. To be granted an audience with the ever-cynical Diluc was an honour in and of itself and he couldn’t afford to let this chance go to waste. Not with so much on the line.  He opened the door.  Standing in the doorway, just a tiny bit shorter than him, was a red-haired man with his typical scowl. Was it even a scowl at this point if that was the only expression he ever wore on his face? Tartaglia didn’t know for sure. 

“Welcome! It’s a pleasure to have your company,” he said with a smile as the other walked into the cabin, “especially all the way out here. I do appreciate the willing response to my letter—” He was cut off by a “Hmph.” and Diluc pulling out a chair from the table.  “Cut to the chase already. What is it that you called me out here for?”  Tartaglia blinked. Did he already know his plans? He couldn’t, could he? 

“I wanted to establish connections with Dawn Winery here in Snezhnaya, as stated in the letter I sent you some weeks ago. Surely you hadn’t forgotten about that?” he said, taking his own seat adjacent to Diluc.  “But I already have connections here in Snezhnaya. Why would I need more of them?” “I’m not sure, why don’t you ask yourself why you bothered to come out all this way to make more of them?” 

Diluc stared at the smiling man in front of him. He was obviously trying so hard to keep up appearances and he already hated him. He was infuriatingly intriguing. Diluc’s eyes followed his supposed business partner as he got up from his seat at the table and walked to the cabinet, pulling out two expensive looking glasses and a tall bottle of clear liquid. Surely, thought Diluc, the other man couldn’t be hoping to get him intoxicated enough to agree to a partnership? But those were Tartaglia’s intentions for the most part — the only thing that the winemaker was missing was that the ginger knew his true identity. 

A half-full glass was placed on the table. Well, to say it was placed was generous; it was more slid to the other end and lucky that it didn’t just fall off and spill into the lap of the esteemed guest. If it hadn’t been stuck on his face, it was sure that Diluc would have made the most displeased face possible. The drink didn’t even have any ice in it. At least brush up on serving technique before giving a bartender a sad, iceless glass of vodka.  But at least it was cold.  Diluc pushed the glass away from him. “Surely, you must know that I don’t drink? The feel of alcohol displeases me.”  “Oh I know,” said the other man, returning to his seat, “I just wanted to see if you’d really decline an offer to loosen up a bit while you're here. No harm in that , right?” 

Diluc sat up straighter in his chair, “I’m here on business. I don’t need to “ loosen up ”. What I'd actually like is to discuss why I’m here before it gets too late.” “And what is too late for you, Mr. Ragnvindr?” he gestured to the bed on the other side of the cabin, “You could stay here all night if you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind.” 

The harbinger’s grin never faded from his face. Diluc placed his arm on the table.

“...Right. I already have connections with the wine industry here in Snezhnaya. Judging by your drink of choice, perhaps you're with the vodka industry? Do you have credentials to show me?” 

Tartaglia’s expression grew worried. Credentials? The alcohol industry required credentials ? Either the man was fucking with him, or he didn’t do enough research on his little trick.  “Um… I forgot my papers at home! I can get them to you in a few days' notice if we settle on a deal.” “Even I remembered to bring my paperwork in the event something came out of this. Are you sure I’m here for something worthwhile, or are you just wasting my time?” 

Tartaglia swallowed hard. Was it possible that the nobleman had already figured out his plan all along? He really didn’t know anything about the alcohol industry, let alone the wine industry itself, he had just figured that it would have been the easiest way to get him all the way out here. Other ways would have included kidnapping, but the man had no wife despite everything and pretending to kidnap the man's brother would have never worked as they sure got along famously . 

“Aha, but what could I ever be wasting your time for?” he asked, grabbing his glass to take a sip.  “You could be trying to swindle money out of me, or maybe hold me for ransom. You look like the kind of guy to do shady things like that.”  And shady things had Tartaglia done in the past.  But Diluc didn’t need to know that just yet. He could hold himself for a little bit longer; he knew he could buy himself some time. 

“I’d never dream of doing such a thing to you! Come on, I can’t possibly look that bad, can I?” 

There wasn’t much of a response from the other man besides a “hmph.” as he looked away and adjusted his gloves. Tartaglia himself cursed under his breath — did the other man really think that badly of him even after their brief meeting?No more than thirty minutes could have possibly passed (not that either of them were actually paying attention to the time) and the man he needed the favour of already thought so lowly of him. Despite his time in the Fatui, he still wasn’t quite good at pleasantries. He made a mental note to get better at introductions next time he met someone new. 

“Alright, alright. Hear me out here: if you sell the product I have on the table, I’ll make sure you get at least 15% of the profits that you make from it. Is that alright?” There was a pause as the deal hung itself in the air.  “You’re associated with this brand of vodka that you're serving?”  “Why of course!” “But you don’t have your paperwork on hand and we’re meeting in a half-rundown cabin in the middle of Snezhnaya?” 

Another pause from the other end of the table. 

“I’m not on official business per say, so I thought it best to meet somewhere casual.”  “Assuming you were to get your paperwork to me as soon as you could, 15% still isn’t very much. And what would you be getting out of this deal from me, besides spreading your product outside of your country?”  “I guessed that it’d be an even trade — you sell our product and we sell yours?”  “People don’t tend to ask to sell a Mondstadt specialty.” “We could be the first!” 

There was a loud scrape of wood against the wood floor as Diluc pushed his chair out of frustration. The black-clad man stood, arms crossed, and began to tap his foot on the floor. A couple times he even shook his head as if to say “ By the Archons you can’t be serious about this ”. 

On the other hand, Tartaglia took another sip of his vodka, thankfully drinking it as slowly as he could. In reality, he had no idea what he was talking about, and if Diluc actually accepted it… he’d be in for a whole other world of trouble. He threw out a random idea with a random percentage of profit that he at least knew had a low chance of actually working. His plans were vague even to himself and he had yet to reveal to the man what he had really called him out here for. And he had to at some point or later.  Diluc let out a hefty sigh before sitting himself back down at the table. 

“So, say I do agree to this deal and you didn’t just waste my time. Would you be able to get the correct paperwork to prove yourself and make the partnership official within two days time?” 

Tartaglia knew he couldn’t provide shit.

“Absolutely, I’d get started on setting up everything as soon as our meeting ends.” 

Diluc held out his hand, “So that’s settled then?” 

Tartaglia shook the other’s hand just a bit too firmly. “It’s a done deal.” 

The faintest beginning of a smile crept up on Diluc’s face as he withdrew his hand. He pushed himself away from the table yet again, this time with a bit less force,  “If we’re done here it’s best I get going.”  And so the man started to walk towards the door.

Without thinking, Tartaglia shot up out of his seat, one hand slamming on the table and the other reaching out towards Diluc. “Oh no. We’re not done here yet. There’s something else I think we should discuss.”

Diluc haphazardly reached his hand back and swatted Tartaglia’s own hand away from him. “What else could there possibly be to discuss?” 

Tartaglia slowly lowered the hand that was out, coming to place it on the table beside the other,  “Nothing much at all, I just thought I should clue you in on something. But…” the man finally relaxed himself and sat back down, “I can’t tell you until you're back at this table.” 

Begrudgingly, Diluc turned back around and sat down in his seat. The only reason he was even bothering to give this man the time of day was ‘cause of the chance that he had information regarding the Abyss Order, and anything to do with them was always good information.  A smile crept up on the ginger’s face. “So… I hear that you're looking for intel regarding the Abyss Order?” “Yes.” “So you can pretend to be some sort of vigilante, right? Protect your city without the people knowing it’s you?” Once again, if it had been possible for Diluc to look any angrier while resting, he would have.  “What if I told you that I knew a way to keep your city safe that’s even easier?” 

One moment passed. One tap of Diluc’s foot against the floor.

“And what would you know about keeping a city safe?”

Tartaglia smirked. “Don’t underestimate what I know and you’ll get the “why” soon enough. Let’s just say that I have… sources.” “Sources?”  “Sources! And these sources let me in on a tiny little secret: they're out for a bunch of people, and will stop at nothing to get their hands on what they want. So then it came to me that maybe, just maybe, if you told the people of Mondstadt who you truly are… then the threat to that city would be gone!” 

Diluc clenched his fists as tightly as he could,  “The people of Mondstadt already know the truth. I have nothing more that could save them from what these “sources” claim they are going to do.” 

“But that’s where I know you’re wrong! See…,” Tartaglia allowed himself to take a breath and another sip of his vodka, “When I was a kid, I heard stories about Mondstadt. That their archon kept an even tighter and harsher rule on them than the Tsaritsa does here. But even through their archon’s harsh rule, she rewarded the passionate. It didn’t always make sense to me, how someone who kept her city so strictly together would also allow the passion of her people to exist freely. But as I grew to enjoy the thrill of battle as it came, I came to understand that without the rules of battle… there would be no fun in breaking them.” 

Tartaglia was only met with red eyes staring directly into his. “And how does this pertain to anything else that is being discussed? There’s no purpose in that other than being a childhood tale.” 

“Well you see, there was always one other part that people loved to leave out: the archon of war loved to not show her face. Sure it wasn’t as bad as the archon over in Natlan, but even as she was spoken of with reverence, most of the people had no proof she was around at all any more. And with the information from my sources, it got me thinking…. What if I were to find this archon of war and help her out a bit?” Deep breaths came from the both of them. The smirk could never be wiped off of the taller man's face.

“But my searches led me all the way to you! I thought that it had to be some sort of trick along the way, since you seem to be just a normal, wine-hating man, but… you do have the same red hair as some of the people in Mondstadt, and you have a pyro vision but for years hated to even mention that you had it. Who’s to say that vision is even real? And if the vision wasn’t real… who’s to say that you aren’t even Diluc Ragnvindr?” 

Another loud scrape against the wood floor as Diluc’s chair was pushed out once more.  “If you’re trying to imply something here, just come on and spit it out already. I don’t have the time for stories and run-around explanations.” 

Tartaglia chuckled. “Fine then! I firmly believe that you, Diluc Ragnvindr, are Murata, the archon of war. You changed your name and gender — which, for the record, I have no problem with, all the more power to you — and tried to live amongst your people. But now you have no way to help them as their archon cause half the population doesn’t even believe their archon exists .” 

“And so what if I was? Why would my status as an archon concern the likes of you?” He seemed just about ready to either punch the man in the face or walk right back out the door he came in. The air was slowly growing a tad bit warmer as Diluc’s anger grew in tandem.  A chuckle again from Tartaglia. “That’s the why I mentioned earlier! For you see, Diluc… I’m the eleventh of the Harbingers. And the harbingers are after all of the gnoses. So for you, I think it’d make it so much easier if you just announced you’re Murata to Mondstadt, and gave me your gnosis. Saves Signora the trouble of wrecking your dear city and I get more recognition from the Tsaritsa. There’s no way to lose with this!” 

His chuckle finally grew into crazed laughter as the harbingers words fell from his lips. The room was hot now, and if there had been any ice in the glasses of vodka it surely would have melted long ago. It was almost like the two of them had their own personal summer day inside that little cabin, but outside was still as chilling to the bone as Dragonspine was. And before Tartaglia could stop his laughter and regain his breath… He was hit with a strong, gloved fist to the jaw.  The man just kept laughing as he rubbed his face,  “If a fight is what you want, I always welcome the thrill of battle as it clears the air!” 

Diluc pulled on his gloves as the other fashioned blades of water in his hands. Vision users always have to have something up their sleeves, thought Diluc, before his arm was cut by a slash of water. Steam rose out of the wound, blood starting to pool along the edges and visible through the slashed fabric of his coat. Diluc tossed his coat to the side without care; it’d just make it harder to fight in the end, so it was of no use anymore. He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his gloves once more for good measure, clenched his fists. Diluc would be damned if he let the harbinger best him in a fight; so he swung, fabric making contact with fabric as his own arm stung. The aim here was to disarm his opponent, but his opponent had an unmatched grip. Besides their footsteps against the wood, the only thing that could be heard was laughter coming from the harbinger's mouth.  And of course, the breaking of a vase as Tartaglia rose his arm back.  Oh well, he supposed. 

Diluc stepped forward before Tartaglia could successfully get a hit in. A hit to the side, to the arm, to his face once more.  A low swing of a blade to try and trip up the Archon. Both of them stumbled back. 

“Can’t keep your balance?” Tartaglia sneered. Diluc only gave an angry huff in reply. 

As Diluc was momentarily distracted, Tartaglia swung low with his blades again, leaving a few deep scratches on the other’s legs, then his side. More steam filled the air as blood droplets littered the floor, leaving stains on the wood and the dark clothing of the archon.  Tartaglia inched closer to the other man, each step making anger bubble more and more. The room was hotter than ever as Tartaglia reached out to grab Diluc by the hair, but was met with a fist to the stomach.  He stepped back, a hand grabbing at his stomach as he spit blood onto the floor. 

“Woah there firefly,” he said as he coughed, “you sure seem to like things hard and rough, don’t you?” 

Laughing through the pain, adrenaline kicking in, Tartaglia again started walking closer to Diluc. There was blood on his lips and teeth and his eyes were wide; anyone who could have seen it would have easily flipped his prior statement back onto him. 

Closer and closer he was getting, backing Diluc against the wall. There was a crunch as they walked back, in tandem, and stepped on the shards of the broken vase. Diluc met the wall with a thud, his angry expression growing even more bitter as he didn’t have anywhere to go; there wasn’t quite enough space for him to turn tail and run, not with Tartaglia coming closer. So he’d just have to see what would happen next. Tartaglia, close enough now, slid his fingers into Diluc’s hair and clenched hard. 

“I’m sure I hit the nail right on the head, but is it enough for you to believe me that people are coming for you? That I can save you?”, he laughed, “Everyone looks beautiful as they fight, did you know that?”

The harbinger pressed his lips against the fiery archon’s.

Diluc’s body tensed up as their lips met and he pressed his hands against Childe’s chest as if he were ready to push him away. In most situations, he probably would’ve without any hesitation. He himself didn’t really pursue many relationships, not like this, but it seemed as though the harbinger had done this more than a few times.  Tartaglia’s scarf had fallen to the floor a while ago, leaving the now relaxed hands on his chest to grasp at the sides of his slightly unbuttoned shirt. The range of emotions that the archon was going through was messing with the atmosphere in the room still, the heat wearing off slightly but the air remaining thick and heavy as the two gasped for breath between kisses. 

The grip on the harbinger’s shirt tightened as Diluc pushed against him, the kiss breaking momentarily as the two moved back. Stumbling over his feet, Diluc swapped places, Tartaglia hitting the edge of the bed before being pushed down onto the surface. He stared up in awe at the red-head who currently had him pinned down; the bed was still too hard on his injuries, but this time around he wasn’t quite sure if he actually minded the pain if it was coming from someone as beautiful as the man he had with him now. They lay there for a moment, locking eyes and breathing heavily as if to process what they were really getting into. A smirk crept up on the ginger's face as he wrapped his leg around the others, hands pressing into his chest. 

“Not so fast there, pretty boy,” he said, using whatever upper hand he could get to flip them over, his hand now next to Diluc’s shoulder on the bed, “We ought to do this my way, don’t you think?” 

Before they knew it their lips met again, the springs of the old bed creaking as Diluc was pushed into it. Tartaglia pulled his own gloves off as his hands started to wander, unbuttoning Diluc’s shirt and gently caressing his chest as he went. He could have taken his own shirt off too, but he figured that Diluc wouldn’t hesitate to do that himself if he wanted to see him shirtless. Which, given how things were going… it seemed likely that he would.

Diluc swatted Tartaglia’s hands away as he finished up the job of removing his own shirt, pale, scarred skin flushed from the heat of the room. He didn’t take his gloves off but did reach up to undo Tartaglia’s shirt as expected of him. 

They only ever broke the kiss to breathe.

Once Tartaglia finally shimmied out of his shirt Diluc wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, deeper. Words were hardly spoken between the two as they responded only to their desires at that moment. The harbinger shifted himself to lessen the growing friction.

Ah, he thought, That’s going to need to be taken care of.

Without needing to say much though Diluc found his hands wandering on their own now, moving to the top of Tartaglia’s waistband and slipping a finger underneath. He could feel Childe smile at him through the kiss as he pulled away to speak,

“You sure this is what you want? I won’t do anything if it’s not.”  Diluc nodded, a yes slipping from his lips between heavy breaths. “Alright then,’ he chuckled, “firefly”. 

Tartaglia backed up from the bed, giving some room between him and Diluc as he pulled his pants off, the bulge in his pants now ever so apparent. Diluc’s eyes looked up and down, taking in the sight before him as he removed what was left of his own clothing. It was about now that he noticed how wet he had gotten through all of this, shifting uneasily on the bed as Childe inched closer to him. He placed his leg in between Diluc’s, moving on top of him to press his lips against once more. Tartaglia’s clothed dick rubbed against Diluc’s lower lips, eliciting a reaction from the other man — to which Tartaglia did again and again, grinding up against him as he moved his kisses from his lips, to his neck, to his chest. 

Eventually he did stop, his mouth reaching the top of Diluc’s underwear, peppering the area with more kisses before he looked up at him. His eyes were met with a quick, eager nod as he reached his fingers below the band and slipped the now-soaked underwear off, tossing them to the side. The harbinger proceeded to do the same, pulling his own underwear down to his knees, his dick twitching and eager and already slick with precum. He leaned into Diluc once more to look him in the eyes, not minding or caring that his dick was resting between the other’s legs. 

“I know we’re both obviously excited, but is this really what you want?” He asked. Perhaps it was odd to double check with someone who you were just beating up if something like this was okay, but Ajax couldn’t not make sure his partner was comfortable with anything he did, no matter how rough it’d get. 

“Yes, just,” Diluc said as he tried to calm his breaths during this short intermission, “if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you… went in the back.” 

Tartaglia smiled and nodded, pushing himself up to ready himself. But there was one small issue…

He couldn’t remember if they had any lube in this place. He’d brought people here for this before but he may have taken it home… and it was too far out of reach for him to grab if it was there. 

“Hey firefly?” he asked, being greeted with a frown as he used the dreaded nickname again, “Could you uh, lean over and check in the nightstand there, I think there’s some lube in the drawer.” 

Diluc sighed and pushed himself up and over, opening the drawer with a groan. Surely, and thankfully, there was a half-empty bottle of lube sitting solitary. He handed it to the other. 

“I see you surely get around.” “Maybe you just need to get more, ever thought of that?” 

He uncorked the bottle, sticking one finger into the slippery solution. Thank the archons for the fact that one of them was beneath him, making the room warm. Tartaglia looked at Diluc as he pressed the finger against his ass, stroking the entrance before pushing his finger in. He began to move the slicked finger in and out, one of Diluc’s hands moving to cover his mouth as he attempted to hide the noises he was making. Though such efforts were futile as the harbinger smiled, removing the finger temporarily before slicking up another and sticking them both in just as hard. Diluc’s hand shot down as he let out a loud gasp as Tartaglia opened and closed the fingers going in and out of him. It had been so long since he had done such things like this, and not even Celestia knew how he’d fare with what was to come.

This was not to say that Tartaglia was huge in that area — in fact he was only slightly above average, but even the most average of things can be enough to satisfy. Diluc felt at a loss as the fingers were removed from him. He looked up at the man responsible, trying not to submit and frown and beg for more. Keeping his composure was getting harder and harder. 

The tip of Tartaglia’s dick met his soft entrance, already slick with lube and other fluids leaking from the other’s vagina. There was a soft pop as the bottle of lube was uncorked once more, the now luke-warm substance falling between the two for good measure. Tartaglia rubbed it all over his cock before taking a deep breath, placing his hands on Diluc’s thighs, and slowly pushing inside. 

Now Tartaglia may have gotten around and had his fair share of encounters like this. One-night stands with random Snezhnayan men and women that led nowhere as neither of them wanted it to. But this… this was the best he had felt in a long time, taking things slow as he adjusted to the rhythm, the tightness of Diluc’s ass wrapped around him making him want to sink as far in as he could. He didn’t want to hurt him but the roughness sounded so good to him at that moment as he started to pick up the pace. 

“Faster, please,” Diluc said, breathy and almost ashamed to let such things escape his lips. Tartaglia only obliged as he moved Diluc’s legs up and sank his hands into his thighs, letting out his own pants as the pace and tension grew and grew. Diluc fumbled with his hands, attempting to take his gloves off and reaching down to touch and rub his clit. In other situations, Tartaglia would have been tempted to stop him, to be his only source of pleasure, but he was so caught up in the thick air and heat of the moment that he didn’t care anymore. If he was listening closely, he would have heard his name just barely escape the archon's lips as his balls smacked against his ass again and again. 

“Firefly I’m,” Ajax said between breaths, “I’m close, is it okay to—” 

“You're only free to do whatever if you stop it with that infernal nickname.” 

Tartaglia smiled and gasped, swears and Diluc’s name escaping as he went faster, faster, the only noises in the room that of their moment. Surely if someone had passed by they would have heard strange noises coming from the shack where the snow around it had completely melted. 

It was with one last thrust and a moan of Diluc’s name that the harbinger came, pulses of cum shooting inside the other man, both of them breathing as heavily as they could be. There were a few moments pause before Diluc came himself, his own cum leaking out and mixing with the other fluids like some sort of forbidden cocktail. 

So they lie there, Tartaglia still balls deep inside Diluc as he leaned over and kissed him deep again. 

“Now was that to your liking, Murata? ” he said with a smirk, before moving and touching his finger between  him and bringing it to his lips to taste what they had created. 

He wouldn’t say it, but it wasn’t that bad. He could get used to this kind of thing. 

There was no response from Diluc and another moment between them as they grasped what had just been done, Tartaglia finally pulling out and searching for any sort of clean towel-like cloth within the place. Luckily he found two, tossing one to Diluc so he could clean up the best he could. The sheets were likely stained and the door had begun to warp from the heat that built up during everything. Even Tartaglia’s skin was tinged with red as if he had been sunburnt. 

“So… what now? Will you take my offer?” Diluc shook his head, 

“My gnosis isn’t yours to have. But… if it’s to your liking, you can continue to have me for the night. It’s far too late for me to get going home now, and I can’t afford that dreadful Cavalry Captain figuring out I’ve been gone for so long.” There was a bit of laughter between the two.

“So that means we’re sharing the bed again, right? I mean I don’t mind snuggling up next to someone like you as long as you promise you won’t try to off me in the night.” Diluc shot Ajax a glare that meant to shut up and get over to the bed once he put his clothing back on, to which he just smiled back. After all that, they could surely use the rest, and curled up under the blankets, Tartaglia pressed up against Diluc. He stroked a finger down the other man's scarred back. 

“Say… are you good for another round though?” 

“Not in your dreams.”

[girlofprey7]

Why Apritello works/doesn’t work:

a short analysis and essay about April and Donatello’s overall dynamic and development in the 2012 show.

Apritello as a pairing is a pretty damn controversial topic in the TMNT 2012 fandom, and with good reason. Some fans may dislike or be against April because of her apparent rudeness or ungrateful nature towards everyone’s favourite brainy turtle, and Donatello may be thrown under the bus for his questionable and quote on quote ‘creepy’ behaviour towards April in the earlier seasons. Because of these observations, it has lead many fans to believe that relationship is unhealthy, toxic, and even going as far to call it emotionally abusive.

Today, we’re going to be looking at WHY fans may come to that conclusion, while also trying to look at the positive and promising sides of their relationship, in order to work out if their relationship works or not. We’ll be going through the moments where both sides have shown signs of toxicity, as well as signs of respect, trust, and love.

Also I just wanna say that this is my personal opinion, and though I am trying to fully consider all points from both sides of the argument, if you don’t agree with my overall thoughts, that’s perfectly fine. Just please keep your anti posts out of the Apritello tag where us fans can’t see them.

First we’ll be starting off With the Crusher himself, Donatello.

Let’s look at his examples of his toxic behaviour first:

He did follow her around New York in Target:April O’Neil. I may love Donnie, but I’m not going to deny that this decision was wrong, nor am I going to make excuses for him. He should have given April time to come to terms with herself, instead of following her and pushing her further over the edge. This was not a good thing to do, and while I wouldnt call it whole heartedly toxic, it was highly disrespectful of April’s space.

He tried to close up on her face when he was watching her with Metal head on the roof top. This is also highly disrespectful of April’s space, and could also be considered quote on quote ‘creepy’. There’s not much to say about this scene since it was pretty short, but all I can say is that he didn’t attempt to do it again after April called him out, though it still wasn’t respectful of him to do.

He got really jealous whenever April got remotely close to Casey, or when Casey got close to April. This is only in season 2 and maybe early 3 as far as I can see, but Donnie really didn’t do well whenever Casey was around April. He tried to pull them apart aggressively from hugging in Chinatown ghost story, and would constantly childishly fight and bicker with him for April’s attention. This is definitely an example of possessive nature, but I wouldn’t call it controlling nature as well, as he never outright insulted her or judged her for hanging out with Casey, he just bickered and fought with him.

Ok, so currently that’s all the So called toxic behaviour I can think of that was in the show, but maybe I’ll be able to find more examples that people use once I watch more of the series again.

Now, let’s move on to April’s purely Toxic behaviour in the relationship:

She stopped any chances of Donnie communicating his feelings or their relationship to him. The main example being in the invasion when she silenced his confession, while nervously saying that it just makes things hurt more. While her motivation behind this behaviour is still up for debate, I won’t deny that she should have tried to listen to what he had to say first, as well as try to communicate her own emotions better with him too. This is an example of miscommunication, and bad communication between a pair.

She would often get annoyed at him when he tried to help her or protect her, like in the Kraang conspiracy when he told he he’d protect her in the fight, and she responded with, ‘protect yourself,’ in a frustrated tone. She could have told Donnie that she didn’t need his help and that she could take care of herself politely, but she made a bad choice with her words and tone. This is an example of lashing out, without thinking of the partners feelings first. But this not completely count as emotional abuse.

She yelled at him, blaming him for losing her Crystal in Bats in the Belfry. This WAS partially caused by the fact the Crystal was controlling part of her emotions and actions, but it was still a hurtful thing to do to Donnie, who was trying to be patient with her throughout. This is an example of ungratefulness towards your partner, as well as lashing out and not considering their feelings first. Again, this is a bad thing to do either way, but I’ll have to look at her other instances in order to determine whether it’s truly emotional abuse.

(I don’t know whether her not actually outright telling either Casey or Donnie how she felt should be considered totally toxic behaviour or not, so I’m just gonna leave it as a half point for her lack of responsibility with the triangle.)

She doesn’t always appreciate him, or show her appreciation when he does something nice for her. This may be connected to number 2, in which when he would attempt to protect her or help her with something, she would sometimes respond in a stubborn and annoyed manner, not being fully appreciative of his help.

Ok, so again, this is all the so called toxic behaviour that fans usually seem to bring up while talking about The relationship, but this is also all the instances I remember her displaying in the series, but if I think of any more examples that people use I’ll add them.

(Also the claim that she may have been making mixed messages is connected to number one if you were wondering.)

Now before we move on, I just want to say something real quick. I love Apritello. Yeah it’s got it’s flaws, but I mostly blame the writers for that, and not the actual characters themselves. Hell, even with the problems I think it was pretty well written for an action show overall.

Also, I’m not trying to decipher which one of the pair had the most toxic behaviour, or who was the problem in their relationship, since both April AND Donnie have done things that I don’t agree with. I’m just trying to figure out whether the good on both sides, outweighs the bad on both sides.

So now, we’ll be looking at the pairs examples of respect/support/love/and trust.

Starting with Donnie:

When he comforted April when she was infected with the gas in Fungus Humungous, he never tried to take advantage of her fearful state, and instead just wanted to make sure she was Ok. This is an example of respect and support towards a partner, and not attempting to further your chances of being with them. Though Donnie still has his undeniable love for her (yes and at this point I’m pretty sure it passed crush territory), he is still able to treat her as a friend and comfort her without the motivation of getting with her.

When he followed April in mutagen man, though it was undeniably a bad thing to do, when April chewed him out for it and said without hesitation, ‘I never want to see you again,’ he felt guilty and remorse for it, and stopped doing it after that. He didn’t follow her again, knowing she needed space after the incident with her dad. This is what separates him from being a stalker. A true stalker would know what they’re doing is wrong, feel absolutely no remorse or guilt for it, and continue doing it even when he is told to stop. Donnie felt guilty and bad about it, even though he didn’t necessarily know what he was doing could be considered wrong, and stopped doing it. This is why he isn’t a stalker, and also shows his respect for April’s space and feelings.

When he gave April a music box in A foot too big, (yeah you knew I was gonna talk about this episode eventually) she acted uncomfortable with his forward ness, as well as the fact that he said nothing the whole time and the box was another obvious ploy to start something between them, showed by the picture of him inside, as well as the heart on the front. After living with big foot, he realised his actions were uncomfortable to her, once again felt guilty and remorse for it, and apologised to her at the end of the episode. He respected what she felt, and was willing to sacrifice his happiness for her. He stopped his behaviour after that and became more chilled and subtle with his crush. Sure he still bickers with Casey like the episode after, but I think that’s just their dynamic/relationship more than it is them fighting for April. My point is, he improved as a person because of HER.

He trusts April to make her own choices and shape her own path and goals in life. An abusive or toxic partner wouldn’t approve of your goals or chosen path, and would instead attempt to steer you away from them in order to change who you are. Donnie however supported April on becoming a kunoiche, and becoming a capable fighter like him and his brothers. He wasn’t at all threatened by her improved growth or skill, nor did he feel the need to put her down or make her weaker just to make himself feel more important. Hell, he even laughed with pure happiness when she took out Tigerclaw with that badass kick, showing that he loves what she’s become, and loves the path she’s made for herself.

He always allows HER to make the moves of affection, and never forcibly kisses her or hugs her without knowing she’s ok with it first. Again, this shows he respects her personal space as well as her wants in the relationship.

He knows when she’s gone too far, and though he does call her out on it, he still does it respectfully. Like the arc with the Aeon crystal and was acting out. He knew the Crystal was making her act that way, and wanted to help her overcome it instead of pretending that it wasn’t a problem. I have more to say on this particular point later, but I’ll wait till I find more prominent examples.

In the Gauntlet, when she broke down after her dad got captured for (I think) the second time, when she went to him for comfort, he comforted her and promised her that they’d get him back. Just like with the first example, he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her state to get with her or anything, he just wanted to be there for her, and make sure she was ok. Not as a romantic, but a friend.

He helped calm her down when she was mad at Shinigami after being beaten, telling her to not let her get to her, therefore calming her down. This is a sign of support of the others feelings and trying to make them feel better.

(This is more of a good thing on both sides as well as just something I find funny and endearing) they both bicker with one another in a banter sort of way. Remember the ‘bait doesn’t talk back’ and the ‘real kunoiche on our side?’ . He may be crushing on her, but that still doesn’t mean he’s not gonna blurt sassy facts at her and bicker with her. He still aknowledges that she has flaws, but as we’ve constantly seen, he still loves her flaws and all.

He apologised and took responsibility for his mistake with the transmitter at the end of eyes of the chimera, trying to make April feel better by even bringing her a hot beverage after the fiasco. This is a sign of looking out for the other and owning up to your mistake that may have hurt them.

Now let’s move onto April:

She apologised to Donnie personally for holding the grudge, and thanked him for sticking by her even when she was mad at him. She wasn’t thanking him for following her or anything like people may think, just thanking him for still being patient and kind with her. Also, while she was holding the grudge, she remembered what he had told her in Target, ‘some things are just beyond our control’. Which may have had a partial role in helping her come to her senses again.

She ALWAYS calls Donnie whenever she’s in trouble or in danger. I’ve seen this labelled off as codependency or her taking advantage of his feelings, but I see it much differently. In my opinion, this shows how much trust she has in him to save her, and help her whenever she needs it.

It was her memories of Donnie that helped her break the control of the Crystal. Donnie unconsciously motivated her be strong enough to defeat Za Naron and break her corruption. She broke through it, and became better, because of him.

She tried her best to get through to him TWICE in the Dream beavers episode. She was gentle and careful with him all the while (well apart from when she was slapping him to wake up, but that was when she was desperate). She was almost always seen by his side, and was close to panicking when he stopped breathing. And as soon as she found out he was Ok, she kissed him. Not for gratitude, not because she needed to make him feel better, but because she was happy he was ok.

When Donnie got injured in Monkey Brains, she told the guys off for teasing him, and was the only one to help nurse him back to health, being gentle and kind with him throughout.

She calls him out on his behaviour when she knows he’s doing something wrong. A lot of people see it as a bad thing when she tells him off for his poor decisions and behaviour, but I see it as a thing their relationship needs. A toxic relationship would most likely have both partnered not aknowledging the bad things that either one has done, and pretending it didn’t happen, or just be uncertain with telling them off. April doesn’t do this with Donnie. She aknowledges when he’s doing something bad, and call him out for it. In Target, she did t sugar coat it or stay silent about Donnie following her. She told him that he was doing something wrong, regardless of his intentions, and that he had to stop and respect that she needed to be alone right now. And like I said, he backed off and never did it again. And again, he improved, because of her.

She got mad at Casey for laughing at Donnie when he was stung badly on Dreggs planet, and was the one to help him back to the ship to be healed. When she knew he was ok, she kissed him again like in In Dreams, simply because she was happy he was Ok.

In Of rats and men, when Donnie told her that they had this covered, she responded with, ‘you always do,’ while smiling warmly, and with him smiling back. Romantic or not, this again shows the amount of respect and trust they have for each other. April instead of insisting she help or stubbornly barge back in, simply showed a sign of trust with him, knowing that had faith in him, and his brothers. This scene alone just shows the trust they have in their friendship, romantic or not, and that’s one of the things that makes them work in my opinion.

In the end of eyes of the Chimera, when Donnie apologised to April for using the transmitter on her, she wasn’t upset with him at at all. She’s said she was glad that Donnie used the transmitter on her because it allowed her to access her powers and learn to use them more. She tried to see Donnies mistake in a positive light, and appreciated him for his help nevertheless. This is an example of appreciation towards a partner, and aknowledging that their intentions are good and seeing them in a positive light instead of being disappointed with them.

For my final words, I just want to put in what the most common definition of an abusive/toxic relationship is.

In my definition, it is any relationship between people who don’t support eachother, where there’s constant conflict, and one often seeks to undermine the other, where there’s competition and disrespect, and most importantly, degrade and become worse as people just by being with one another.

And as far as I can see within the examples I’ve listed, both Donnie and April support each other throughout everything bad that happens to them, any conflicts that befall them they manage to get through, and have never purposely sought to undermine or hurt the other.

I want you to look at that last sentence again, and ask yourself: did April and Donnie grow as people or become better with overcoming their problems by being with one another? Because in my opinion, that’s how you really separate a toxic relationship from a good one.

So as for the question, are Donnie and April toxic or healthy?

Well, in my opinion, they DO work together, and their relationship is NOT abusive or toxic in any way shape or form. Both Donnie and April, though they had their flaws in the beginning, unconsciously and consciously helped eachother become better versions of themselves by being there for eachother throughout the series, as I have illustrated with the majority of my points.

And that my friends, is pretty damn FAR from abusive. In fact, that’s pretty much the complete OPPOSITE of abusive.

[kaylaxwrites]

Into You

Pairing: Jessica Jones x Reader Words: 2.5k Summary: After the police practically dismiss your concerns of stalker, you turn to Alias Investigations for help. Request:  Jessica Jones x f reader where reader hires her as a pi (for whatever reason) and the case takes awhile so reader develops feelings but doesn't want to act on them because it's in appropriate since Jessica is working for her. Then as soon as the case is over Jessica pulls out two glasses and some whisky and is like "I'm a pi obviously I noticed you're into me now let's drink together and see where this goes cuz I like you too" (anon) A/N: Sorry this took so long! It might not follow the request exactly (I forgot to make the case like take a while) but I hope you like it! 

Warnings: reader has a stalker, gets cornered by stalker and is also punched

Tears stung your eyes as you stepped out of the police station. You were convinced, you knew, you had a stalker. Someone had been following you for several weeks now, left crude “love letters” taped to your apartment door, and generally left you with an unsafe and uncomfortable feeling. You went to the police today for help—any help—and left feeling crushed and defeated. The officers inside didn’t take you seriously, brushed you off, dismissed your concerns and you were angry.

Afraid.

You started walking down the street back towards your apartment, brushing away stray tears. Being in the open—even in front of a police station—made you feel uneasy. You didn’t know what to do next and you were about to spiral into a panic attack. One step at a time, you tried to tell yourself, taking deep breaths as you walked. You would go home, and figure out what to do there. Right now you just needed to get home and calm down.

You looked to the sky as a means to keep your tears at bay when a sign in a fifth-floor window caught your eye and slowed you to a halt.

Alias Investigations.

A private investigator? Could they help you with your problem? Maybe they could help you get the evidence you needed for the police to take you seriously. Did you have the money for it, though? Fuck it, you thought. It would be cheaper than moving across town and changing your name. With a steading breath, you opened the door to the building and made your way inside.

You soon arrived at the fifth floor and anxiety knotted your stomach. This building looked sketchy—the suspiciously blood-like stains in the elevator was more than enough to give you that uneasy feeling—but you were already here. So might as well. Right?

You knocked hesitantly on the door, surprised when you heard what sounded like muttered curses from the other side. Did you come at a bad time? You almost left but then the door creaked open and you were met with the annoyed face of a pale, black-haired woman.

“Can I help you?” she asked curtly, opening the door only enough to show her shoulders and face, trying to appear as unwelcoming as possible.

“Uh…” The woman and her weird greeting left you somewhat speechless so you weakly pointed at the window where Alias Investigations was printed in bold letters. “Alias Investigations?” you said as if she wouldn’t know the name of her own business. You could kick yourself for your awkward stuttering.

“Shit. Hold on.” She closed the door in your face and you took a step back, startled. Through the opaque glass on the door, you could see the silhouette of the private eye quickly picking up the main room of her apartment, throwing trash and other stray items out of sight. You stopped yourself from smiling when the door was thrown back open and she welcomed you inside.

You sat tentatively in one of the chairs across from her desk as she sat heavily in the opposite seat, folding her arms on the top of her desk. She gestured for you to start talking and you did. “I think I have a stalker,” you started. But then you shook your head, restarting. “I know I have a stalker. I don’t know who he is, but I’ve caught glimpses of him a couple of times and he keeps leaving me these…letters on my door about once a week.” You dug into your bag and pulled out several of the letters you tried to bring as evidence, laying them on the table.

Jessica, you realized from her name tag on the desk, picked them up and scanned through them. “Have you been to the police?” she asked.

“I went there this morning. They practically dismissed me outright. I was walking home when I saw your sign.” You nodded towards the window behind her that advertised to the street.

She shuffled through the letters some more. “And do all of these…?”

Talk graphically about what your stalker would do once you were “together”?

“Yeah. The officer…” You cleared your throat, feeling tears stinging your eyes once again. “The officer said that I-I had probably led some guy on and that’s why he was leaving me love letters. He hasn’t threatened to kill me, so they aren’t—they aren’t going to help me.” Your voice was strained by the end of your sentence and you knew Jessica picked up on it.

“And you don’t know who it is?”

You shook your head. “Like I said, I’ve caught glimpses of him, but…”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall. Six foot, maybe? White. Not skinny, but not like super muscular either. He always has a hood or sunglasses on, so I’ve never really gotten a good look at his face. He hasn’t talked to me in person, either. Just leaves the letters.”

Jessica thought for a moment, looking over the letters once more. “I’ll help you,” she said eventually.

You nearly shot out of your seat. “Really? Oh my god, thank you. I don’t know what else I’d do.” You reached into your bag for your wallet. “How much will I owe you? I only have two hundred to give now, but I can find more to pay you later.”

“I’ll take a hundred for now. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

You pulled five twenties out of your wallet, half of your paycheck you cashed out earlier that day. You also gave her your phone number, address, and your schedule for the week. Jessica said she’d be in touch with you and you soon left afterwards, feeling lighter than you had in weeks now that the weight was beginning to lift off your shoulders.

You didn’t hear much from Jessica the next few days. She said she was going to watch you in your daily routine for a little while to see who she could find that was suspicious or she saw a lot in your vicinity. You never once saw her watching you, so you had to take her for her word—that either meant she was really good or you just gave a hundred bucks to someone who was going to ghost you. Thankfully, by the end of the week, you didn’t have to worry about being ghosted by a P.I.

Jessica found your stalker.

James Williams, she said his name was, but it didn’t ring a bell. You didn’t know him and you weren’t sure how he knew you. “You could’ve helped him at work or smiled at him on the street,” Jessica assured you. “These assholes will take any random act of kindness as a love declaration.”

“You could say that again,” you muttered. But you thanked her for her help and ended the phone call, agreeing to meet in about two hours after you got home from work. You pulled yourself from your hiding spot in the stock room of your workplace and finished up your shift.

By the end of the hour, you were starting your walk to Jessica’s office. You were less than two blocks down the road when an arm wrapped around your shoulders and backed you against the wall of an alleyway. Your head smarted against the brick and you blinked rapidly as you took in the face in front of yours.

You didn’t recognize it, but it must be…

James.

“What—what do you want?” you stuttered, your brain suddenly short-circuiting.

“You called…you called a P.I.?” he asked. He almost sounded…heartbroken. “I—I had a plan. I had a plan for us and you ruined it!”

“I don’t want to be a part of your plan. I don’t even know you!”

“I had everything figured out. We were gonna—”

“Get off of me, fucking creep!”

You instantly regretted your words as a look of anger flashed through his eyes. Maybe calling the psychopath a creep wasn’t the best way to go. Before you could brace yourself, he swung his fist and you were met with a flash of pain in your nose, a trail of blood following not long after. The force of the blow had you spiraling towards the ground and your felt your ankle twist as you fought to remain upright. Gravity won in the end and your palms scraped across concrete as you fell. Before your thoughts could even register, James’ hands were at your shoulders, lifting you upright, and pressing you against brick once more.

“Do not…call me that,” he said between heavy breaths. You flinched when he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face, brushing away blood with his thumb. Your mind flashed through every self-defense post on social media, but you couldn’t think clearly to remember specific moves. You were halfway to hyperventilating when James was suddenly yanked aside and thrown down the alleyway.

“You okay?” a voice asked. You looked to your left. Jessica.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed.

Blood was pouring from your nose still and you tried to stem the flow with the sleeve of your shirt. Movement down the alley caught your eye and you glanced over. James was staggering to his feet and started towards you. Jessica huffed and rolled her eyes, meeting the man halfway. In the blink of an eye, she lifted him and threw him into a nearby dumpster, latching the lid closed so he couldn’t escape.

“That’ll hold him until the police get here,” she said, brushing her hands off.

“Police?” you asked.

“Yeah, that little stunt will get him time for assault. And you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” She took a few steps towards you. “Let me see,” she said, gesturing towards your face. As the bleeding was now mostly stopped, you lifted your head so she could see the damage. “It’s not broken,” she said after a moment, “but you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in the morning.”

Great, you thought. But if it was the price to pay for getting rid of your stalker…

At that moment, a police cruiser pulled into the mouth of the alley.

You don’t remember much of the statement you gave to the police. The throbbing in your skull pretty much override it all. But thankfully, before long, the officers were taking James away in handcuffs and you were allowed to leave, the card of one of the officers pressed against your hand. Jessica stayed by your side through it all and you were thankful for her presence.

When you were allowed to leave and the officers had left, you tried to stand on your sprained ankle, but could barely make it a single step. The walk back to Jessica’s office was going to be one hell of a trip. Jessica took one pitying look at your pained step and bent as if she was going to pick you up. You quickly shuffled out of her reach. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“You can’t walk,” she answered simply.

“So what? You’re just going to try and carry me? Halfway across Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You got a better plan?”

You looked down at yourself. Your shirt was splattered with blood from your nose. Couldn’t exactly take an Uber looking like you did. “I guess not,” you sighed in defeat.

“So?”

“But you can’t carry me!” Jessica was tiny and you… “I’m too…”

“Heavy?” You gasped as your eyes widened in shock. Jessica was blunt, sure, but… “Shit, not like that. I didn’t—” She sighed. “Just… Look.” She knelt down in between two parked cars, placing a hand under each of the bumpers. With barely a grunt, she stood, lifting the ends of the cars on either side of her until the wheels were nearly waist high.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah.” She dropped the cars and they bounced to the ground. You were surprised the alarms didn’t go off or the wheels didn’t bust. “So are we good here?” You stuttered to find words. You wanted to just let her pick you up—she did just lift two cars, after all—but you were still worried. “So can we go or what?”

“I-I guess.” You moved awkwardly as Jessica lifted you into her arms. Your ankle throbbed as your weight was lifted off of it. You tried to situate yourself comfortably as Jessica carried you, but you didn’t know what to do with your arms. You settled on one across the back of her shoulders and the other curled into your chest, trying to minimize the points of contact with Jessica’s body.

But then you realized just how close Jessica’s face was to yours.

You took in her profile, watching how her hair bounced as she walked, how her pale skin practically changed colors under different streetlights. You realized then just how beautiful she was and maybe you were starting to have a thing for her. Great.

You blushed and turned away as her eyes turned to you. She huffed out a chuckle before returning her attention to the sidewalk.

Eventually, Jessica set you down on the couch in the living room of her office. She stepped over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, a bookshelf that held more liquor than books, and poured two large drinks. She crossed back to you, offering you one of the glasses. You took it gratefully as Jessica fell on the couch next to you. You sipped your drink slowly, carefully—but by the time you were only a quarter done with yours, Jessica had already refilled her own, having brought the half-full bottle across the room with her.

The two of you sat there quietly, drinking, unwinding, for several minutes until you felt the need to break the silence. “Jessica, I—,” you began, but she cut in, finishing your sentence for you.

“You’re into me.”

Your face flushed and you turned your gaze quickly to the dark amber liquid in your glass. You weren’t even really sure what it was—whiskey? Bourbon? Was there a difference?—but you were tempted to reach over and chug the whole bottle if this was the conversation Jessica wanted to have. “I-I was just going to say thank you,” you stammered, “for everything.”

“You sure that’s all you wanted to say?” She turned her whole body to face you, tucking one of her legs underneath her. You refused to meet her gaze. “I’m a PI. A good one. And you’re an open book. You didn’t think I noticed?”

Your face burned hotter than ever and you wished the couch would swallow you whole—were you really that obvious about your feelings? Jessica reached behind her for the liquor bottle and refilled her drink once more as well as topped yours off. You took several burning gulps to try and distract yourself from the situation. You would give anything to be anywhere but here. You were into Jessica, but she wasn’t into you—the following conversation would be the most embarrassing of your life.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I should go.” You stood to try to gather your coat and your bag, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Jessica’s iron grip on your arm stopped you dead in your tracks. “For what it’s worth,” she said, almost scoffing, as if what she was about to say wasn’t worth anything at all, “I’m into you, too.”

divider by writeyourmindaway

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 16: Rock

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3600

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

The sun had basically set. Bridget was now sound asleep in her car seat. She hadn’t made a noise since Riley had climbed into the back to feed her about two hours ago. He knew Riley herself had to be starving. They had been on the road for about four hours. Yet, Drake was reluctant to stop.

He knew that they had probably gotten away. Barely. It didn’t seem like anyone was following them. Their little jaunt through Tripoli should have lost anyone who might have been able to follow them out of Athens onto A8 and then onto A7. And after they doubled back and began heading northwest on EO111, they started passing through some very rural areas where no one would be able to follow them without being spotted. All signs pointed to them being safe for the moment.

Drake knew all of this, but the thought of stopping the car, of not just keeping going, still seemed so foolish. He knew this was dumb. It was getting dark. They were in the middle of nowhere. The car didn’t have an unlimited supply of gasoline. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t want to turn his family into sitting ducks.

So he just kept driving, moving forward. It was all there was left to do, really. Plus, it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t how bad things had gotten. How much he had failed everyone.

He didn’t have all the details, but the news stations had given him enough to know that Riley and Leo’s little meet up was how they’d been located. He had known that relying on Leo was a mistake. He’d fucking known it in his gut. But he’d agreed to the plan. Let Riley go out and take that risk with a man who had a weakness for gambling and beautiful women, and now it had all backfired. He should have told Olivia ‘no’ when she suggested it. Leo could never handle any real responsibilities. He’d run from them his whole life, and Drake had agreed to trust him with his family’s fragile safety and security. All of it now blown to fucking pieces.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Liam was going to be implicated in the whole mess. Based on the text Riley got from Hana, they were all getting rid of their burners, but the fact that Leo was known to have been in contact with them meant that people would assume that he was serving as a proxy for his brother. Liam would be under investigation for sure. It would give motherfucking Barthelemy more ammunition. It was a huge blow for Liam. And Drake didn’t even have a way to apologize anymore. It felt like pouring salt onto the wounds that were at least partially his fault. They had been so desperate for money and clothing, so they’d gambled. And now everyone he loved was going to pay for it. 

“Drake.” Riley’s voice carried over from the backseat. She hadn’t bothered to climb back into the front when she was done feeding Bridget and nestling her back into her car seat, instead just staying beside her, not saying anything. Until now, at least. “We should probably think about finding a hotel, shouldn’t we?”

Drake shook his head. “We’re a bit of a story here now. It’s too risky to show our faces when the news has been talking about us. Probably displaying our pictures, too.”

“Okay, well should we find a place to camp then?”

He let out a sigh at that. Free camping wasn’t exactly legal in Greece. If they got caught, they would have to hope that the police just sent them on their way without asking for any identification to fine them or anything. But Riley had a point. He knew they couldn’t just keep driving indefinitely, and if hotels were out for the time being, chancing a night in the tent somewhere was their only other choice. At least they weren’t on the beach. If Drake had to guess, more tourists would flock to the ocean for a summer holiday, so those areas were probably watched more carefully.

“Sure, Walker. Can you try to find us a park or some place that might have some tree cover?”

And so, not twenty minutes later, Drake took a huge breath as he brought the car to a stop in a secluded area near the base of Kompovouni mountain, tucked off a side road he hoped no one would be using in the middle of the night.

“She still out?” he asked as he turned off the engine, glancing into the backseat via the rear-view mirror.

Riley looked into the car seat and nodded. “The real trick will be getting her out without waking her up.”

“You can grab her, Walker. I’ll get the tent.” Drake saw her nod again before he opened the door and climbed out of the car, heading around to the back and opening the hatch. He dug past the duffel bags and crib, tugging out the tent, the sleeping bags and pads, and the flashlight he’d stashed away all those weeks ago. He could hardly have imagined feeling worse than he did that day, but here he was, now looking back in wonder at how easy things were then compared to now. They weren’t yet wanted criminals. They had a roof over their heads. There had been hope they would be able to go home in days to weeks.

He hauled the gear further off the road, into a grove of trees that would hopefully shield them from sight if anyone decided to drive this way. It was getting darker by the second, so he shifted the equipment under his right arm so he could use the flashlight with his left. It wouldn’t do them any good for him to trip or step on a snake and injure himself. A first aid kit was not something he had thought to purchase back when he first stocked up.

He heard Riley’s footsteps not far behind him, her voice murmuring something to Bridget that was too quiet for him to pick up. When he finally felt they were far enough from the road, he set down their gear, spinning around and watching Riley join him after a few moments.

Bridget was awake, unfortunately. She wasn’t screaming yet, but she was frowning as she looked around, and her lips were all scrunched up, a sure sign she was about ready to wail. 

“We gotta try and keep her quiet, Riley.”

“I know,” she hissed out, bouncing Bridget on her hip. “It’s okay, Peanut. Shhh, Mama’s here.”

Bridget started making her little crabby whiny noise, but wasn’t outright screaming, which Drake supposed was the best they could hope for given the circumstances. “Did you pack the stuffed corgi?”

Riley nodded, not taking her eyes off Bridget and keeping her voice quiet and soothing. “I’m pretty sure it’s in one of the duffels. If not, her lovie is in the diaper bag.”

“Alright, I’ll go grab more of our shit, then. Just try and keep her from crying.”

Drake let out a sigh when he was out of earshot of his family, then swallowed roughly and took a few deep breaths as he walked back to the car. He felt like the weight and reality of today was setting in more and more by the second. Now that he wasn’t distracted by driving and navigating and translating radio reports, he felt a massive lump forming in his throat, his eyes burning as a couple of stray tears leaked out. He knew he couldn’t go down this road, though. He couldn’t afford to lose it. Not now. Riley and Bridget needed him to keep his shit together. Today had been enough of a disaster as it was.

But he had failed everyone at this point and it was hard to stay calm. It honestly felt like he could barely breathe, and he was surprised he hadn’t thrown up yet. Maybe he was just too overwhelmed. It felt like his legs were going to collapse underneath him.

By the time he reached the car, he had to brace his arms on its roof, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t cry. This was bad enough; he couldn’t make it worse. But it all just felt like too much. So, he just focused on taking a couple of breaths, blinking his eyes repeatedly as he worked to clear the tears that kept collecting there. 

He knew he needed to get their bags and get back. He was taking way too long. Riley was going to worry and come looking for him if he stayed by the car much longer, and she shouldn’t see him like this. She was counting on him, and he’d let her down enough recently. No need to fall apart in front of her. But the more he tried to get his shit together, the closer he felt to collapsing to the ground. He was a fucking mess, useless and unstable.

By his best guess, he’d been leaning against the car, trying to regain any sense of composure, for about five minutes when he heard the crunch of her feet on the ground, getting closer and closer. He took a few more shaky breaths, trying to pull it together, but way too quickly, her hand was on his back, gently brushing between his shoulder blades.

“Drake?” she said, his name sounding far more like a question than a statement, but he didn’t know what to say. When she repeated his name, he just shook his head.

He felt her move around him, wedging herself between him and the car somehow. He tipped his head back, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take it if he saw the pity in her eyes. 

“Drake,” she repeated, this time more confidently and firmly, her hand sliding up around the back of his neck. 

He shook his head as he swallowed, trying to find his voice. “I… I just… I just need a minute, Riley.”

She didn't say anything, but she didn't move either, her hand stroking along his neck and playing with the ends of his hair. He needed her to let him get his shit together. He really did. But of course she could clearly sense how close he was to spiraling, so she was refusing to let him be. That was her MO. She could read him better than anyone, after all. What she didn't understand is that her support was going to make him lose it even more. It was bad enough that he failed Liam and his country, but now he had failed his wife and kid on top of that. He was useless. Pathetic. Hopeless. 

Eventually, he took one last shuddering breath before glancing down, taking in Riley, holding Bridget tight against her side. She must have fallen back asleep, as she was not reacting to being essentially trapped between them, something that usually triggered squirming and fussing. Instead, her head was tucked against Riley’s shoulder. Riley herself just kept running her fingers along his neck. Even in the relative darkness, he could make out her deep brown eyes, staring at him with far more compassion and tenderness than he deserved.

“I’m so sorry, Riley. This…” Drake trailed off, taking another breath before he continued, “I shouldn’t have put us in this position.”

"Drake, this isn't your fault."

"I should have known that Leo would get caught, run his goddamn mouth like-"

"We don’t know for sure that is what happened. But even if it was, we knew that was a risk when we agreed to have him be the go-between. We both knew we didn't have another choice."

He just shook his head. "I should have never put you in that position. And now we have nothing and-"

"We have each other," she interrupted, "And we have our daughter. That's more than we could say if we'd stayed." Drake swallowed, but Riley kept going. "Us being together isn't nothing. Keeping our family together isn't nothing, Drake."

"I know, Riley."

She opened her mouth, as if she was going to say more, but instead she just let out a sigh as she wound her free arm around him more tightly.

It all was suddenly too much to hold back. He tried to choke back a sob, but he felt the tears he'd been holding back for weeks start to spill over. He knew he should be keeping it together, if not in front of Riley, at least in front of Bridget. But he just couldn't, not after everything.

Riley just held him, not saying or doing anything besides keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't know how long they stood there, but he cried like he never remembered doing in his life. He cried for Liam and all he was facing alone in Cordonia. He cried for all that Bridget had been subjected to already in her life. He cried for Riley and the position their family was in, one that he didn't know how to fix. He cried for agreeing to name Bridget heir, for not letting Riley talk him out of it back during their honeymoon. He cried for all the horrible things that had been said about them as parents, and not just over the past few weeks. But most of all, he cried for everyone he loved and cared about that he had let down so spectacularly.

Eventually, the tears slowed, a wave embarrassment rapidly taking the place of despair. He took a half step back, tugging out of Riley's tight hold, dropping his eyes to the ground beneath his feet.

"Sorry," he muttered as he kicked at some pebbles on the ground.

"For what? You’re allowed to be upset about this, Drake."

He let out a sigh and shook his head, "Yeah, I know. But I shouldn't burden you with it. Or her."

"You aren't burdening me with anything."

"Don't give me that, Riley. You're dealing with enough-"

"What, and you aren't? Drake, we are both overwhelmed and barely hanging on, and that was before the shitshow of today."

Drake didn’t know how to respond to that. All he felt like he could do was shake his head again, but Riley wasn’t done, apparently.

“When I was a fucking mess, ready to take off without a goddamn thought or plan or strategy, you fucking held things together for all of us. And I will never stop being grateful for that. I never would have made it a week without you.”

“That’s not tru-” Drake interrupted, but Riley just kept on going, stepping closer to him again, sliding her hand against his cheek.

“But I don’t need you to hold things together round the clock for the next few months, Drake. First of all, that is a fucking impossible goal given the shit we’re gonna face. But more importantly, we’re partners in this. I don’t need you to shield me from that fact that you’re feeling a whole bunch of shit.”

He took a breath before he could speak. Somehow, he felt the threat of tears again, even after all he had already unleashed. “I promised you I would be your protector, though.”

“Drake…”

“No, Riley. I promised you that at our wedding, and now-”

“-you have always protected me. You do everything in your power to keep me safe. To keep us safe,” she amended, tilting her head towards Bridget. “But don’t you remember that I said that I would be your protector in my vows?”

Of course he remembered. That day, that memory was burned into his brain. But her assessment that he had done everything he could to keep them safe felt false. At so many points along the way he had let her down. Let both of them down. Agreeing to name Bridget heir. Not taking Liam up on the exit strategy from that whole mess. The whole Aurvernal ordeal. With all of that, he’d been an awful protector of his wife and kid.

But even as he felt those thoughts swirling in his head, he just didn’t have the energy to challenge her on this. Not now, not tonight. Not only was he exhausted from the hours of driving after a mad dash through Athens to get back to his family when Olivia had called with the worst news, but he just felt emotionally spent as well. It’s like he could feel anymore at this point, and he certainly wasn’t ready to question someone as stubborn as Riley. All he wanted to do was sleep, but that would be a ways off. The tent still had to be set up, after all. 

So he just let out a sigh and placed his hand over hers, still on his cheek, gently pulling it away as he threaded their fingers together. “Come on, Walker. Let’s just grab the rest of our stuff and set up for the night.”

They unloaded the rest of their bags, walking back to the selected campsite slowly. When they got there, Drake got to work, Riley helping as best she could without waking Bridget. He didn’t bother with the crib, knowing that Riley wasn’t going to risk waking Bridget again and chancing a crying fit by letting her out of her arms. He also suspected that Riley wasn’t going to want to be separated from Bridget after everything that went down today.

It was a slower process than he would have liked, but eventually they were done. Things were pitch dark by the time he had the tent up, the only light around coming as Riley held the flashlight for him. He supposed it was reassuring that no one had driven past.

As he moved their gear inside the tent, he wasn’t surprised when Riley started to unroll the sleeping bags as soon as he laid down the sleeping pads. What did surprise him was when she fully unzipped them and started to zip them together as one giant sleeping bag.

“Walker, there will be a gap at the bottom,” he said, crouching over one of the duffel bags and digging around to try and find some of their toiletries.

“Good thing it’s not too cold at night in the middle of August in Greece then.”

Drake twisted to look at her, so she gave him a little shrug as she sat there in the middle of the tent, Bridget still tucked against her as she futzed with the zippers. “I just… we should stick together.”

All he felt he could do was nod. He got what she was trying to tell him, the comfort she probably wanted for both of them. So, he didn’t fight her on it, just let her do her thing while he tracked down their toothbrushes and toothpaste, as well as her contact solution and glasses.

He stepped outside and dealt with his needs first, gently taking Bridget from her when she went to do the same. A few minutes later, she was crawling back into the tent and shimmying into the giant sleeping bag she created. She rolled over, reaching her arms out towards him, so he passed her Bridget, watching as she tucked their daughter in against her side, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She glanced up at him after a few moments, her eyebrows raised above the frames of her glasses.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“I think maybe I should keep watch-” Drake started, but Riley shook her head against the pillow.

“We’re both exhausted, Drake. We both need sleep so fucking badly. And let’s face it, if they find us here, it’s all over anyway.”

He couldn’t argue with a damn thing she said, so when she reached over and flipped open her crafted sleeping bag, he just slid in next to her, letting out a sigh of relief as she scooted over, settling in against him, with Bridget tucked between them.

Drake reached around to zip them in as Riley grabbed for the flashlight and flipped it off, dousing the tent in nearly complete darkness. He could just make out her eyes, staring at him as she threw an arm across his back. Things were quiet and still, the only sounds he could hear was their breathing. Bridget's little sleeping noises that almost sounded like snoring. Riley’s gentle and steady breaths. His own ragged sighs.

“We’re gonna get through this, Drake.” Riley’s statement was barely a whisper, but it felt so jarring. So loud.

“I hope so, Riley. But right-”

“No, I know we are going to get through this.”

He didn’t know how she could be so sure, have such conviction after everything had gone straight to hell. But she sounded confident, more like herself than she had in weeks. And maybe that was enough of a return to normal, or maybe his frazzled mind just wanted to cling to the thread of hope she was offering. Hell, maybe he was just too tired to care that she couldn’t actually know that as a fact. All he knew is that her words provided instant comfort, his eyes heavy as he reached over and slid a hand over her hip to her lower back, tugging her a bit closer in the process. If she said anything else after that, he had no idea, as for the first time since they’d left Cordonia, sleep came quickly and painlessly.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff  

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know  @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby​

[ddarker-dreams]

Hii, i hope you're doing well!! Just wanted to let you know I absolutely love your writing! You've probably seen me in your notifs and since i feel bad for not commenting and sharing enough, i decided to just tell you outright how much i appreciate you!

You're not only a talented writer, but you're intelligent, observant and have a good sense of people and their emotions and personalities. I don't condone yandere behaviour either, but my morbid curiosity and fascination for the fictional representation is definitely real. I envy how well you understand the mbti personalities, i have a shitty memory and, for the life of me, struggle intensely to remember anything. It's wonderful how well you implement that knowledge into your writing and characterisation.

Sadly i can't really use the links you put since I'm using the app, but i guess the tags help to some extent. My absolute favourite is Venti, but for some reason I've become very interested in Scaramouche (someone i know i wouldn't be able to stand irl, unlike Venti) and really liked the content you made for him!! He seems like a mix of Ciel and Alois from Black Butler lmao

Alsooo i have a question!! If you have the time and patience to answer (if you haven't already talked about it), what kind of yandere would an INFP (-t) be? I'm INFP and, while I'm definitely not prone to such behaviour nor do i ever see myself acting like that for any reason or anyone (probably since I'm kinda detached and prefer to rationalise and am always in tune with my emotions and intentions, but that could just be me, as i said, i don't understand mbti very well, including my own type), i do have a picture of what yandere behaviour i could show and act on. I wonder how similar/ different it would be to your own opinion on it and what are some infp characters/ yanderes you know of, if there are such in the first place?

As i said, you don't have to answer that, my primary objective was to let you know i appreciate your work!! Thank you so much!! Have a wonderful day and stay healthy 💛💛💛

when i read the first few sentences of this i was like 👀👀 who could this be? there are these 4-5 people that i consistently see engaging with anything i post. if you’re one of those people trust me i recognize you and appreciate you with my entire heart 💖💖💖

wow wow what glowing compliments i’m?? thank you very much!! it’s not everyday that intelligent is the word used to describe me so i’m melting . i always want to learn more about people, i’m grateful that writing is a hobby that pairs well with that. memorizing things is awful so i get what you mean. i both fear and admire people that have excellent memories, my brain is always too overloaded to maintain information for long. even my notes from when i’m trying to remember look all over the place ...

venti is such a joy AHH i loved seeing him in the event story again!! what an in-depth character. he’s got so much going on yet acts none the wiser, it’s always so fun to see. tbh i don’t think anyone would like scaramouche irl (i sure know i wouldn’t), it’s probably for the best hat man would be shunned.

fiction is the best place to explore ideas! let’s see, an INFP yandere. i was surprised to see that kaneki from tokyo ghoul is an INFP, but now that i think about it, that’s pretty fitting. i’ve written some yan kaneki in the past so i have a rough idea of how a yan INFP might be. 

the defining feature of a yan INFP would be guilt. they feel guilty for what they’re doing to their darling, and they instill guilt into their darling to gain a foothold (whether on purpose or not). INFPs are generally introspective and in tune with their surroundings and the people around them. they would know their darling very well, perhaps better than they realized at first. they’d be very in sync with their darling’s little habits and ways without even needing to try.

i couldn’t imagine most yan INFP characters coming right out and making their various demands known to their darling. no, it’d be a long and surprisingly methodical process, with the yan INFP instilling little seeds into their darling’s mind. making them feel like they’re the only one who truly understands them, that no one has been as good to them as darling has. none of these things are likely to be exaggerations, so it comes off as all the more genuine; thus begins the process of emotionally ensnaring their darling.

of course, this is just a super general overview, so the nitty gritty details would all come down to each individual character and situation. i still hope this somewhat answers your question though!!! and thank you again for your kindness ❤️

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 20//

Masterlist

tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Posting a little earlier because last week I posted a little later than I meant to 😅

XXX

"Eris is High Lord of the Autumn Court?" Mor asked carefully, her warm eyes widened in subtle horror.

In the weeks that followed the news of the civil unrest taking place in Autumn, all the courts of Prythian had been on a collective edge. As our spymaster indicated in his reports, Eris indeed sent letters to every court—asking for aid in the fight against his father, and almost every one had begrudgingly sent a small contingency of their armies; Kallias being the only one to outright refuse. After bearing witness firsthand to Beron's insolence at the summit, they all were hesitant to trust that Eris would be any better—especially Kallias, whose heavily pregnant mate had been targeted by the older male. They were surprised, however, to see the legion of Illyrians that Cassian sent; realizing later that we were retaliating directly against Beron for not only his assault against me at the summit, but for his attack on Velaris as well. They also knew of the tenuous alliance Rhys and I had with Eris for his help during the war, and one-by-one they offered their support for the male in a fortnight.

Azriel nodded in response to Mor, taking a subtle step closer as she loosed a shaky breath. After meeting with his brothers, Rhys had called for the rest of us to gather in the library in order to disclose the information they received earlier this morning—that Eris had beaten his father and was crowned as the new High Lord of Autumn, while his despicable father rotted in their prison, for now.

"What now?" I asked as Mor remained speechless, her eyes still darting from side to side as she processed the news.

The last decade of peace hadn't lessened the hatred she bore towards the Autumn male, and I understood how it must've felt to learn that the male who caused her unbearable pain—had left her for dead, was now elevated to a high position of power.

"Now that bastard keeps a leash on Keir, until we and the other courts can pull back our forces and recuperate before tackling our next issue." Rhysand answered, keeping a watchful eye on his cousin.

"How long will that take?" Amren asked from her seat next to Mor, subtly moving closer and offering the blonde her glass of wine.

"Two or three weeks, give or take." Cassian responded as Mor took that glass and gulped down the remainder of its contents.

"How exactly will he do that?" Elain asked timidly, she hadn't been very involved in the meetings where we developed our plan of action—the war with Hybern still too fresh in her memory for her to actively participate as she had back then. She was finally in a good place, nearly recovered mentally, and talks of going to war again only gave her painful reminders of what she had lost then.

I placed a hand over hers gently. "Rhys has been writing back and forth with Eris over the last two weeks. Once he started gaining an advantage over his father, Eris received a letter from Keir offering to create an alliance," I explained.

"You mean renew an alliance," Mor said bitterly as she stood and crossed over to the set of windows, hands on her hips.

I frowned, sharing a look with Rhysand. "But Eris is our ally in this coup. I have already instructed him to keep Keir sidetracked with false promises of a treaty while we work together with the other courts and replenish our armies," he reassured.

"You really think we can trust him?" Mor asked, turning back to face us. "He's been biding his time until he could win his father's throne, using us as leverage, how do we know he'll keep his word now that he has it?"

"He is ruthless, cousin, there's no doubt about that. He also knows that he would be at a severe disadvantage if he paired with Keir in the coup. His court just underwent a civil war, it is in shambles and he now has to navigate how to deal with his father's supporters and piece his court back together. Partnering with Keir would be disastrous and result in his court falling apart completely," Rhys explained calmly.

"If for some batshit crazy reason he does decide to side with Keir, we outnumber them now." Cassian added. "With the other courts on our side, they can't win."

Mor still looked unconvinced as she turned back to the window without another word. I saw Azriel watching her, a flicker of yearning in those hazel eyes, but he looked away as Elain spoke up again.

"Is there any news of Vassa…?" She asked quietly.

"She was recovered and returned to her home in the Mortal Lands, by Lucien." He answered her just as softly.

A pall of silence fell over us—Mor's rage continued to simmer as she stared out the window; while my sister and the shadowsinger exchanged a prolonged look before she finally looked down at her lap. Whether or not she acknowledged the fact that it was her mate that rescued the mortal queen, or whether or not she cared, I could only guess.

Rhys cleared his throat. "In the meantime, we keep waiting while Eris keeps Keir distracted. During that time, the other courts will be steadily sending their forces until those who fought in Autumn are recovered and can accompany the rest. If all goes according to plan, we have approximately two weeks until we're hosting the other courts and High Lords," he continued.

"Where are we going to host five High Lords, their entourages, and armies? We can't use the palace above the Court of Nightmares, Keir will know." I asked, bewildered.

"We'll host them here, in Velaris," Rhys answered with a rouge smirk.

"And their armies will camp out in the Northern Forests of the Illyrian Steppes," Cassian finished, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a crooked grin of his own. "We'll give them a little taste of what it's like in those mountains."

"What if Kallon gets reports of those gathered armies? He'll alert Keir," I challenged.

Rhys placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "They'll be stationed outside of Windhaven camp. Kallon is too busy rallying his rebels to bother checking in on his rival camp. We'll be setting up wards to shield them once they've become large enough; the other High Lords and I will take turns keeping them up."

I squeezed his hand back, leaning back against the cushion of my chair and running a free hand over my belly. Madja continued to assure Rhys and I that our son was growing at the expected rate and remained perfectly healthy. My recovery continued to improve, and the healer had alleviated some of the conditions for my confinement. I was now allowed out of bed for short walks around the estate; I could also paint and tend to some of my duties as High Lady, like writing letters and sorting through reports, but needed to maintain a light and easy schedule—nothing involving anything too strenuous. Since I was on the cusp of entering the last stage of pregnancy, only a few short months away from giving birth, she advised that I remain in the estate until my time came—when my period of nesting began, and Rhys would whisk me away to the Cabin in preparation for the birth of our son.

"Will there be fighting?" Nesta asked.

She stood beside Cassian; hands neatly folded in front of her as she turned a raised chin to the male. Though I couldn't see it, I knew the memories that flashed behind her fierce grey-blue eyes—of Cassian on the battlefield during the war; of the injuries he sustained.

"It's doubtful," Rhys replied for the commander. "We outnumber his Darkbringers and rogue Illyrians six-to-one. Once he and Kallon get word of the troops gathered in the Steppes, they'll come to meet us with their own. If they're smart, they'll realize sooner rather than later how ill-fated their cause has become and surrender."

Mor scoffed from her place at the window. "Like hell they will. You know that bastard won't go down without a fight."

"Then there will be a slaughter. Either way, they lose." Rhys said easily. "They'll be reminded of why previous coup attempts have been thwarted, and the Illyrians will be put in their place once again. As for Keir," he shared a meaningful look with his cousin as citrine and amethyst clashed. I pictured the paints I would use, emphasizing just the shape and fierceness of that shared look.

"So...we have nothing to worry about?" Elain asked hesitantly.

I took her hand again, "We're safe Elain. With our allies and this plan, the coup will fail. This confrontation is nothing like how it was with Hybern."

She nodded, her tense shoulders easing a bit. Amren crossed one leg over the other as a crooked grin lined her lips. "At least this time I won't be needing to sacrifice my life for you lot."

"We could always add you to the front lines. They don't know you don't have any powers; we could just use you to intimidate them to death," Cassian quipped.

"She's far too small for that," Azriel added.

Cassian roared in laughter as Amren glared at the spymaster. I half-heartedly laughed, noting the edge that lingered between my mate and his cousin; until Mor turned away and walked out of the library.

Is she okay? I asked through the bond.

As okay as she can be. She hates that Eris is High Lord, but I just informed her that I will be turning her wretched father over to her after this coup is over

Did that help?

Not as much as I would have hoped

Let me go talk to her. It's been a while since we've talked alone, maybe I can help her sort through her feelings.

Rhys only nodded in response before crossing over to stand in front of me and helped ease me to my feet. Despite my remarkable recovery, my growing belly still made my movements slower and slower. I was also beginning to notice that my balance was growing increasingly skewed but blamed it on the bed rest for now. The others hardly noticed as he escorted me to the door; their continued conversations and my departure a subtle indication that our meeting was over.

"How are you feeling?" Rhys asked once we were in the hallway, wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked.

"I'm fine. It's been nice to walk around again, even if I'm stuck indoors for now," I said.

A small frown came to his face and I quickly realized how my words sounded. The last time I had been confined inside an estate…

"It's not the same," I quickly amended. "I'm doing it for our little Bash," I said while rubbing my stomach for emphasis. "For both of our health. You're not locking me away and forbidding me from entering the city."

He took my hand in his free one, bringing it to his lips. "Never," he said. "Maybe in another couple of weeks Madga will deem it safe for us to resume our walks out along the Sidra. We'll get to enjoy the weather while it's still warm."

I smiled. "After this coup is over, and those responsible are taken care of, we'll get to enjoy it. We'll get to enjoy this," I said as I looked down at my middle.

Rhys's eyes softened as his gaze moved to my stomach, and I felt our son stretch in my belly. We stopped short of Mor's room and he pressed a kiss to my brow, his hands holding either side of my swollen abdomen. "Yes, we will."

I breathed in his scent and sighed lightly before pulling him in for a quick kiss. "You go take care of business. I'll talk to Mor and spend the day with her."

He nodded before taking a step back, "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"I'll be fine," I reminded him.

He smirked and kissed my belly goodbye before winnowing away. I took in another inhale before I stepped around the corner and approached Mor's door. Before I could knock, however, the door swung open with the blonde on the other side of it. She ushered me inside wordlessly and I followed suit, walking into her suite.

"You didn't need to come check on me," she said as she closed the door behind me.

"I figured you needed someone to talk to after hearing the news," I said as I worked to lower myself on the plush settee in the center of her room.

She sighed and plopped herself onto the seat beside me, helping me down and stared at her feet. "I knew it was bound to happen someday, especially after the deal Rhys made with him, but…" she trailed off.

"But it's different actually seeing it become a reality," I affirmed and touched her shoulder gently.

"I know, and you're completely entitled to your feelings. After everything that's happened, on top of this coup orchestrated by Keir," I shook my head and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry Mor."

She continued to stare at the ground until her dark-honeyed eyes finally met mine. "I'm well over five-hundred centuries old, and yet any knowledge of the two of them working together—even under a guise for our sake just…" she shook her head, truly unable to voice the rage boiling underneath her skin, her elegant fingers curling into fists.

I touched one of those fists, levelling my gaze with hers. "Mor, I promise you, if Eris so much as looks at us the wrong way, we'll take care of him. The last thing we do is trust him, and I know Rhys wouldn't hesitate to rip him to shreds if he tries anything like his father did." I promised.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward slightly, and she sighed. "I know the alliance is necessary. I'm just not happy about it," she lamented.

"Neither am I," I assured, and she dipped her head in approval before uncurling her hands and bringing one to touch my stomach gently.

"How is he?" she asked.

Ever since revealing to my sisters that I was expecting a boy, the news hadn't remained a secret for long. Elain had been so delighted and shared the news with Mor and Amren during dinner that same night; Cassian then boasting that he had known for some time, which launched into a debate with the entire inner circle. I then sheepishly promised Rhysand that I wouldn't reveal our son's name until after his birth.

"He's good, moving a lot right now," I answered and smiled at feeling a kick. "Feel that?"

Mor's widened grin was answer enough as she continued to stroke my belly, encouraging my son to kick more and laughed as he responded to her movements and words.

"How does it feel for you?" She asked.

I shrugged. "It's hard to describe, the more he grows the different it feels. Viviane once told me that once I reach the end stages, I'll start to feel feet, fists, and elbows in there."

Mor cringed. "Does it hurt at all?"

I shook my head. "I think he's still too small. His movements are noticeable but not painful."

She nodded and studied my belly for a silent minute, caressing it lightly. "I can't wait for all of this to be over so we can turn all the attention on you, little one. Auntie Mor already has so many presents for you," she cooed.

I blinked, "Presents?"

She grinned mischievously, "Wanna see?"

I nodded with a laugh, but as she got up and crossed over to her enormous closet, a knock came at her door. Raising a brow, she walked over and opened it; a sentry waiting outside of it before she allowed him in.

"Pardon me, milady, but Lucien Vanserra is here to see you," the sentry informed me, albeit a bit hesitant.

I balked at him. "Here on the grounds?" I asked to confirm.

Lucien was about the only male welcomed in and out of Velaris; due to his connection with Elain, and his desire to be closer from time-to-time after the war, he had his own apartment in the city. However, since constructing the estate, he only visited on a few occasions.

The sentry nodded, "Yes. He arrived moments ago, insisting on an audience with you. Lord Rhysand greeted him, but he still maintains in meeting with you alone."

I paused to think. Knowing my mate, he was leaving the decision to me. "Is he alright?" I asked cautiously. "He isn't hurt, is he?"

The sentry shook his head. "He seems well, but unyielding."

"Maybe it has something to do with his swine of a brother," Mor offered. "I'll go with you. If he's angry, the last thing we want is for him to lash out at you in your condition."

"Lucien wouldn't hurt me Mor. If anything, he's probably hurting too. I have a feeling something else has happened," I said before motioning her to help me stand.

I grunted a bit with effort as she helped me get to my feet, a little wearier than I had previously been. Mor frowned, "We can send for him after dinner, once you've gotten some food and rest."

"I'll meet him in the sitting room attached to my suite. I can rest there and talk with him, and I know you all won't be far," I insisted and linked my arm with hers.

"Tell Lucien I will meet him in my sitting room in five minutes," I said to the sentry, who bowed in response and left the room.

"Are you sure about this Feyre? If he upsets you and puts too much strain on you and the baby…" Mor began.

"It's all right Mor," I assured her as she escorted me out of her room. "I think it's Lucien's turn to vent to a friend about the new High Lord of Autumn."

Mor cringed, recalling the cruel revelation Eris had unleashed on his youngest brother at the summit months ago. Still, as she led me back to the sitting room adjoined to my suite, she waited with me for Lucien's arrival. Moments later, my disheveled friend strode in, his russet eye wide while the mechanical one whirring as he took us in. He didn't so much as look at Mor as he cautiously approached me.

"Did you know?" He asked me by way of greeting. "About Helion and my mother? About-" he began but cut himself off as he finally realized Mor was standing beside the chaise lounge I perched on.

I turned a look at her and she understood my request. "I'll be down the hall," she said before leaving us alone.

"Did you know about their affair? That Helion is my-" he cut himself off again, unable to say the words as he paced the room.

I only offered a small nod, watching him empathetically. "Yes," I said softly.

"When?" He asked, still pacing back and forth across the carpet. "When did you figure it out? Or who told you? Was it my father? I mean, was it-"

"I figured it out after I first met Helion; before the war with Hybern started and we all gathered for the first time at Thesan's palace. He told me the story of what happened to your mother, her sisters, and how he rescued her during the first war." I answered, interrupting his rambling questions.

He stopped pacing and faced me. "Did Rhysand know?"

I shook my head. "Not until I figured it out myself. I made the connection; Rhys didn't realize it until I did."

His arms grew slack at his sides. "So, it's not some well-known secret that all of Prythian knows about and just hid from me?"

"No Lucien, it-" I began but then he interrupted.

"So why didn't you tell me, Feyre?" He asked, both of his eyes wide and bewildered. "You've known all this time and you didn't think to tell me? I thought we were friends!"

I frowned as he snapped at me, my hormones surging and causing tears to well in my eyes. It must have been evident, because he sighed and took a mild step towards me before turning away and running both hands through his bright auburn hair with an exasperated sigh. I quickly put my emotions in check, not wanting my irrational mood swing to interrupt Lucien's moment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"No, Lucien, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Honestly, I didn't think it was my place, and after what happened at the summit, I thought it was the last thing you wanted to hear." I explained.

He sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the ground. "My father...I mean, Beron, told me. When he attacked the Mortal Lands and took Vassa. He...claimed I was 'no son of his' and said I was nothing more than a Day Court bastard. I was shocked, and then he started the attack. I tried to fight him off, to protect Vassa, but then…" his voice faded as his eye turned hazy, the other whirring out of focus as he recalled whatever details that occurred that day.

I slowly offered my hand, still seated, and it took a minute before he registered my movement and took it. I motioned for him to sit beside me and he did, his shoulders slumped over slightly as an invisible weight pressed on them.

"When Eris was crowned, my fa...Beron, imprisoned; my mother summoned me back to the palace. She broke down and explained everything, told me of her relationship with Helion and that he was my biological father. She never told him," he went on, voice barely above a whisper.

"She loved him, Feyre, and her husband kept her there. Imprisoned to serve as Lady of the Autumn Court, even while she carried another male's child," he pressed a palm onto his good eye, massaging the stress from it.

I placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. "How is she?"

He sighed. "Relieved. Eris is granting her a separation from Beron before he...finds a way to deal with him, but when she told me about Helion, she seemed...broken." He met my gaze again,

"You were almost her. All those years ago with Tamlin, when I didn't do anything to stop it. I almost let what happened to my mother happen to you," he said, a subtle horror laced in his voice.

"What happened to your mother wasn't your fault, Lucien." I said, moving my hand from his shoulder to his hand.

"I knew. A part of me knew she wasn't happy with my father," he cringed. "Beron. Yet I didn't try to take her away. I didn't do anything, and neither did Helion."

I sighed and moved a little closer to him. "Lucien, there was nothing you could have done. Beron had complete control over her. Even if you could, she probably wouldn't have left for fear of him and what he might do."

"But that's the point, I could have," he jumped back to his feet, pacing again. "I could have done something for her, for you, and I didn't. I couldn't protect her, or you, and I couldn't protect Vassa! I couldn't even protect your sister, my mate, from what Hybern did to her and Nesta. What kind of male am I that I can't protect the ones I care for, the ones I love?"

I frowned, "Lucien-"

"No, I...he took Vassa, Feyre. He managed to find that sorcerer that controls her and forced her into her firebird form. The way she screamed; it was...I couldn't bear it. Then learning what he did to my mother, and remembering what happened to you...to Elain, to even Jesminda, and how I allowed it all to happen. I...what…" he looked around frantically, his chest heaving a bit as he paced.

I did my best to rise as quickly and cautiously as I could before I approached him and threw my arms around him in an embrace. His arms were pinned at his sides as I held him, his body going rigid at first—until slowly he relaxed, his arms going limp before slowly wrapping his arms around me in return. Despite the complicated past with Tamlin, the one instance where he did have a say, he was my friend and had more than made up for it since. Beron had given him a life of turbulence; him and his brothers making Lucien's life hell until he found reprieve in the Spring Court. Then, once his closest friend had begun turning into a tyrant reminiscent of his father, those feelings of being trapped returned—unable to help me to the extent he wanted. After escaping that, after the war, he once again found solace with his human friends...until Beron's latest attack.

Lucien had felt so out of control in his own life, and every time little moments of freedom were offered—whether by finding a home in the Spring Court, then being welcomed to Velaris and the Mortal Realm, it seemed to crumble before him. Now with this latest truth revealed to him, it was no wonder that he was beginning to crumble next.

I wouldn't let that happen.

"Your mother is safe. I am safe. Elain is safe, and Vassa is safe," I said. "We are all safe now Lucien. Yes, we each endured some version of hell, but we survived. Just like you are doing now," I pulled back at arm's length to meet his gaze.

"You saved Vassa. As for me and Elain, who knows what would have happened if you hadn't done your part during the war; if you hadn't guided the Mortals, and Drakon and Miyram's army down the right path. As for your mother, you did what you could. Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do while she remained subservient under Beron, but now she is free of him. There is so much to look forward to Lucien," I took his hands again, squeezing them. "There will be good days and bad—don't let the hard days win."

Lucien blinked at me; his russet eye growing soft while the golden one whirred quietly. He continued to stare at me before he embraced me again, pulling me in a little too tightly and I cringed at the pressure on my stomach. He gasped and stepped back.

"Are you okay?" he asked

I nodded with a weary laugh, holding my stomach. "I'm fine, you just squished him a little."

He looked at my stomach, as if he just noticed it and helped me back to my seat carefully. "I almost forgot how far along you were. I haven't seen you since the summit."

"It's weird huh?" I motioned to my enlarged belly. "Sometimes I'm still a little surprised when I see myself in the mirror."

"Is he okay? I heard what you did...after what happened in Velaris," he asked with a frown.

"We're okay. We had a little scare, but my healer took care of us right away. I was on bedrest for a while, and technically still recovering, but I'm better now." I answered, resting my arms over my stomach.

He shook his head. "Rhysand must've lost his mind. I nearly did when Vassa was taken, and she isn't," he stopped himself with another shake of his head—as if trying to erase the memory of what happened to the mortal Queen.

I raised my brow at the tone in his voice, his worry for the fierce mortal woman. I paused as he loosed a long breath, finally cooled from his panic. "Do you want me to call Elain? I know she was worried about Vassa too, maybe you can assure her that she's alright?"

Lucien shook his head. "No, it's alright, I should get back to Vassa," he said, but paused when he met my questioning stare. "And Jurian; the mortal lands."

I laughed. "But…" he started. "Will you tell her I was here?"

"Yes. I'll let her know you're taking care of Vassa."

He dipped his head in a subtle nod and sighed again. "Thank you Feyre," he said softly.

"Anytime Lucien, just remember what I said okay?"

He offered a stiff smile before leaning down to give me a parting hug before escorting himself out. Rhys appeared in the doorway a second later.

"Well," he started. "That was intense."

I sighed, slumping back against the lounge and running my hands over my stomach. "He was upset. Beron told him about Helion and his mother."

Rhys released his own deep exhale and crossed over to the lounge, scooping me up easily and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, resting my head against his shoulder. He walked us into our adjoining bedroom, laying me across the bed carefully and spreading out beside me. I rubbed my stomach lightly, watching it before Rhys placed a hand at the apex of my belly.

"He'll recover. It'll take time, but he will come to terms with the news," he said quietly as he ran his hand over the expanse of my stomach.

"Do you think Helion knows?" I asked.

"He probably suspects after the comment Eris made at the summit," he responded, voice still low. "Though I'm not sure what he'll do about it."

"What would you have done, if it were us? If I had actually married Tamlin, and in my time spent here to fulfill the bargain, you and I fell in love regardless? If we had conceived our son and I was stuck in the Spring Court, forced to name him Tamlin's…" I flinched at just the mere thought of it, of how easily it could have been me.

Rhys took my chin gently, tilting my head back to meet his violet eyes, sparkling intensely. "I would have torn the world apart for you, Feyre," he reminded me.

I smiled half-heartedly before he pulled me closer. "We don't know exactly how hard Helion tried to get her back, perhaps now they'll get the end they deserved," he said.

"Maybe," I mused, playing with the collar of his black tunic. "Did Eris...say anything about what he plans to do with Beron?"

"He's keeping him imprisoned until further notice. Said he might turn him over to us once we have Keir and Kallon in our custody," he said as his fingertips traced my side lightly.

I shivered at his touch, a part of me resenting Madja for deeming any sexual activity still too strenuous during my recovery. I hummed in response, "He'd actually let us execute his father?"

Rhys shrugged. "Beron will die regardless, along with Keir and Kallon."

"Mmm, what a fitting end for the three of them." I murmured, my eyes beginning to feel heavy as my mate's warmth continued to envelop me.

He noticed the fatigue in my voice and pressed a kiss to my brow. "All this talk of war and its lasting effects is wearing you down my love," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, closing them as I laid my head on his shoulder. "It wouldn't be if I weren't so busy growing a powerful high fae," I muttered.

I felt his dark chuckle rattle in his chest. "Sleep Feyre," he whispered as a hand ran down my back gently.

Sebastian must've wanted the same, because despite his constant movements and kicks just a while earlier, he was now calm—perhaps slipping into his own nap. I felt myself fading, too tired to respond with a witty remark and only stirred slightly when I felt Rhys move from my side and press another kiss to my brow.

I dreamt of Sebastian running through a pile of bright red and orange leaves, laughing and giggling as they crunched under his feet, Lucien standing at a distance with a content smile on his face—Vassa at his side.

[kayte-overmoon]

"Slow Cherry" Chapter 4

(cross-posted on AO3)

Tags: Mild Depressive Episode, Drinking (everyone is of age; no alcohol abuse), drunk texting, accidental face reveal

Snippet: A soft laugh drifted over the line. “Are you still drunk, Dream?”

He hummed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re a mess, Dream.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Anytime, love.”

Read Chapter 1 Here

Read Chapter 2 Here

Read Chapter 3 Here

No sexual content in this chapter.

Dream spent the next few weeks losing himself in his schoolwork.

Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of George, heard his voice, saw his smile. It was wreaking havoc on his attention span. His feelings toward the older man were confusing to say the least. It was easier to hyperfixate on school than to try and sort out why he felt this way about a man he’d never even met face-to-face.

Knowing they were only a few short weeks away from living not only in the same country, but the same city made it very, very hard to think about anything else.

Luckily, he had a hardcore coding assignment coming up, so he locked himself in his bedroom with the lights off and drowned himself in Python.

Sapnap noticed something was off and made sure to text Dream whenever he got food (conveniently always with a little more than one person could eat alone). On the rare occasions Dream emerged from his cave, Sapnap looked at him with concern written in every corner of his face, but he didn’t ask what was wrong. He just pushed a bottle of water or a granola bar across the counter to him and told him he looked like shit.

Dream was sure he was right. It was winter, so he hadn’t properly been in the sun in months—for a Florida boy, that was too long. He’d skipped a few showers, and the only time he’d eaten was when Sapnap made sure he did. He shuffled into the bathroom to scrutinize himself under the fluorescents. He squinted in the bright light, so used to the darkness of his room. His hair was a mess, several days overdue for a wash and unbrushed for longer than Dream could remember. He also needed to shave, not liking the scratchy growth around his jaw. There were dark circles around his blood-shot eyes and his skin was paler than it had been in years. He scoffed at himself before stripping and jumping in the shower.

The hot water burned his skin, but it was a religious experience. He hadn’t realized how far he’d pushed himself and how deep he’d let himself fall until it was over. His last final was the next morning, so he was almost done. Thank God.

As it usually did when he had a free moment, his mind strayed to George.

They had still been snapping back and forth, which soothed some of the ache. But it felt like he was looking down the barrel of addiction: he knew that taking one more hit, one more drink, would land him far beyond his limit, pushing him past the fabled Point of No Return. He considered ghosting George, but just thinking about that made his stomach turn. Sex workers got enough shit as it was without their clients pushing boundaries, trying to make something real out of their arrangements, or dropping them outright without warning.

Dream was so fucking pathetic.

He emerged from his shower scrubbed raw, physically and emotionally. He didn’t feel great in his head still, but at least he didn’t stink. He brushed his teeth to cover all his hygienic basics, put on a clean pair of pajamas, and went to bed.

And just like that his semester was over. He did well on his final—not as well as he’d hoped, considering how much time he’d spent studying, but well enough to stay on track to graduation.

He emerged from his final to find a snap from George waiting for him on his phone.

The older man was sitting on his bed, throwing a peace sign to the camera with a huge, cheesy grin. There were boxes stacked around the bed, the only thing left in the room being his bed.

Good luck on your final! Getting ready to put my stuff in the shipping container. Only a few more days.

Despite himself, Dream smiled at the message.

Dream and Sapnap celebrated the end of the semester that night in the only way college kids knew how: by buying as much beer as they could afford and inviting over as many people as they could fit into their apartment. Someone connected their phone to the sound system in the living room, blasting hip hop music over the subwoofer. Dream knew they were going to get a noise complaint from their neighbors, but he was too excited—and drunk—to care.

He got a few drinks in him and danced when he was pulled from the couch. Faces blurred before him, but he knew almost everybody there, so he didn’t mind whenever someone pressed up against him. Someone else pressed another beer into his hands. He was sweating, the heat in the apartment still fighting the December cold even with a few dozen people packed into the cramped space. His jacket came off at some point, so he was only in his beer-stained t-shirt and jeans.

He could happily say he had nothing on his mind. He was just happy, done with school for the next month and surrounded by his favorite people in the world.

But not his favorite person in the world.

No, that person wasn’t here.

He stumbled to the bathroom at one point to piss, wobbling a little and struggling to aim. He washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked much different than he had the previous night: he was flushed from the alcohol and dancing, for one, but he also felt lighter. Maybe it was the beer talking, but he felt good. He always liked life better when he wasn’t in school. And that message from George made him so, so happy.

Only a few more days.

George.

Just thinking about him made Dream smile.

He pulled out his phone just to look at the photo, which he’d screenshotted. They’d agreed they could save anything they sent each other except for nudes, which they had to get permission to keep. But innocent little messages like that one were free game. Dream was thankful for that, since it let him get a fix whenever he needed it. He found himself pulling out his phone to look at pictures of his camboy whenever he had a free moment to twiddle his thumbs.

He wrote a message to George, not really paying attention to what he said. Mainly he just wanted George to think of him while Dream was thinking of George. He sent the message and pocketed his phone. The music became unmuffled as he opened the bathroom door and someone immediately grabbed him and pulled him back into the fray.

Dream had… many regrets come morning.

Before he even opened his eyes, he knew how much of a doozy this hangover was. His head was pounding with the beat of his heart, his mouth felt packed with sand, and his stomach was turning. He felt like he needed to puke, but he was too numb to get up. Besides, he had a feeling he’d only end up dry heaving.

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, debating going back to sleep. Something on the bed shifted next to him (much bigger than Patches), alerting him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.

After some coaxing, he squinted his eyes open and blinked against the scarce light peeking around the curtains—it wasn’t much light, but it was enough to make him want to die. He turned to see someone’s back facing him in the bed, a dude. Dream sent up a silent prayer of thanks that both the dude and Dream himself were fully clothed. He levered himself onto an elbow to see who was next to him. It was Skeppy, of all people, and he wasn't alone. Puffy was there too, curled up against Skeppy’s chest at the edge of the bed. Dream had no clue how neither of them had fallen off yet, so tightly wound together on the ledge. But they were there, snoozing happily.

Someone was snoring, but it wasn’t either of them. Dream sat up further and poked his head around to find Bad sprawled on the floor beside the bed. It seemed he’d wanted to get in with Skeppy and Puffy, but there hadn’t been enough room with Dream there as well. Skeppy’s hand was dangling off the side of the bed where Bad was; they must have fallen asleep holding hands. Despite his head and his stomach trying to remove themselves from his body, Dream smiled. They were all so sweet together.

He extracted himself from the bed slowly, not wanting to disturb them, and grabbed his phone charger from the power strip at his desk. He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself carefully. His phone was dead in his pocket, so he plugged it in at the bathroom counter as he set about cleaning himself up. He contemplated trying to throw up but decided against it. It might only make him even more sick. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes, but he didn’t have the energy for it yet.

A soft ding told him his phone was back on. He dried off his hands and picked it up. He had a couple of missed notifications. Karl left one saying he was taking Sapnap back to his place because someone had already taken Sapnap’s room. There was one from his next-door neighbor asking him to turn the music down or they would call the cops. Dream assumed that was a bluff, considering he didn’t remember the cops showing up at any point.

The last notification caught his eye.

It was a Snapchat message from George, received around 3 a.m.

Dream, call me when you get this. I don’t think you meant to send that. I need to talk to you.

Dream’s heart sunk.

What had he sent George? Had he drunk texted him? What had he said?

Oh God, he hadn't told him anything... incriminating, right? Had he said anything about wanting to be more than a sugar daddy, a friend with benefits, a casual observer?

There wasn’t anything saved in their chats above George’s most recent messages. The last message before that was Dream’s response to George’s “good luck with finals” message.

Wait. No it wasn’t.

The time stamp was wrong.

Dream had sent George a picture around 2:30 last night, when he was several drinks deep. He remembered going to the bathroom and texting George, but he couldn’t remember what he’d said no matter how hard he’d tried. He thought it had been a typed message in chat, not a picture.

Maybe he’d sent a dick pic? He hoped not. He had been too drunk to get it up at that point. If that’s what it was, it had to be horribly unflattering. And if not a dick pic, what had he taken a picture of?

His blood ran cold.

He was hitting the “call” button before he could overthink it.

George answered a few rings later. “Dream?”

“What did I send?” His voice was rough. He was trying to keep quiet so he didn’t bother his guests, and his mouth was dry even after brushing his teeth. He sounded like shit.

George sounded uncomfortable when he spoke. “Dream, I’m sorry. I don’t think you meant to—“

“What did I send, George?”

He knew the answer in the silence before George spoke. His stomach dropped when he said it anyway. “You—you sent me a picture of your face.”

Dream hung his head. Perfect. Of course. He’d had grand plans to pick George up from the airport and reveal his face then, or he’d at least make it sexy over their video calls or something. He wanted to make it a spectacle. Instead he’d drunk texted him a selfie.

“It wasn’t bad,” George tried to reassure him. “I couldn’t see it too clearly anyway. It was in the mirror, and you were very drunk. You were a little blurry.”

“What was I doing?”

“You were, like, leaning on the counter. You were smiling. You had a, uh…”

Dream frowned harder. “I had a what?”

“You had—have—a hickey on your neck.”

“What?” Dream stood up straight and pulled the collar of his shirt. Sure enough, there was a dark red mark on his neck, barely hidden by his shirt. “Huh. How the hell did that get there?”

George snorted. “Sounds like you had a fun night.” There was something bitter in his tone.

Dream scrambled for a response that wouldn't put him in the metaphorical dog house. “I don’t—I didn’t sleep with anyone. I would know. It just—my friends are super touchy. One of them probably did it while we were dancing.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dream,” George said softly. “I’m a big boy. I know I’m not the only person in your life.”

“I do have to explain myself, though.” Dream ran his hand through his hair. “I care what you think about me. I don’t want you to think I sleep around. I don’t. Not really. Not anymore, at least. And I wanted to surprise you when you saw my face. I wanted it to be a thing.”

“Dream, calm down.” There was something calming about the British man’s voice, especially when he used that tone, like he was soothing a spooked animal. Which, for all intents and purposes, Dream was. “It’s okay. I’m not upset. I was just worried about you. I know it’s a thing for you, people seeing your face.”

“Oh.” Dream’s heart was thundering in his chest. It was making his head throb harder, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment. “Thank you. That’s—you’re really considerate. And did you—I mean, did…”

“You’re very handsome, Dream.”

Dream was dumbfounded. That wasn’t what he was going to ask, but he’s glad George said it. He wasn’t really concerned about that particular aspect of this whole ordeal, but it was nice to know. “Oh. Thanks. That’s… you too. I mean, I think you’re—fuck.”

George’s laugh echoed across the line, settling Dream’s frazzled nerves. “I know, honey. You’ve told me before. But let's continue this conversation when you’re not so hungover, yeah?”

Dream hummed in agreement. “You can tell?”

“You were sloshed last night. I could tell just by looking at you. Partied hard, hmm?”

Dream snorted. “Just a little. I don't even want to see the state of my living room right now. And there’s, like, two-thirds of a thruple in my bed right now.”

“Oh?” Amusement and interest tinged the older man’s voice.

“No, not like that,” Dream laughed. “They passed out in there. Their third is on the floor. They’re good friends of mine. No clue when we all fell asleep though.”

“Sounds like you need to get started making coffee for everyone, then. Be a good host.”

“Probably. I thought about ordering pizza. I have no clue how many people stayed over though.”

“Celebrating the end of term, then?”

A yawn worked its way out of Dream. “Yeah,” he said. “We all finished up yesterday so we just bought a bunch of beer and invited folks over.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We’ll invite you next time,” Dream said, his tongue loose from his hangover. Oh well. “I think you’d like my friends. They’re all… absolutely insane. But they’re the coolest, nicest people you’ll ever meet.”

A soft laugh drifted over the line. “Are you still drunk, Dream?”

He hummed. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re a mess, Dream.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Anytime, love.”

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter