#it is a perfectly serviceable book but man it just… doesn’t do anything?

[verysaxyberry]

Fourth Wing is the definition of mid, even within the romantasy genre

[plussizefantasia]

Trust Issues

Bucky x BlackCat!reader

Chapter 2/6 of the BlackCat!reader story that I had a request for!

<Prev / Next>

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, Bucky and Reader being kinda mean to each other.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The first words Barnes has uttered in nearly two hours. “There's only one fucking bed.” It didn’t occur to you to ask the front desk woman if there would be two beds, after all, you and Bucky were supposed to be playing a couple this weekend and couples didn’t need two beds. “Well buck up, Buckaroo, looks like we're sharing for the weekend."

“I’m not sharing a bed with you, you kick in your sleep and snore like a buzzsaw.”

“You’re a filthy liar Barnes, I do not snore.”

“No comment on the kicking?” He raises an eyebrow at you. You just roll your eyes and push further into the room. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the ground. So you can either be a chivalrous manbaby and curl up in that tiny-ass armchair or be a grown-ass man and split the bed with me. Your choice.”

Bucky grumbles under his breath, in a language that you don’t speak but hearing it admittedly sends a shiver running down your spine. You don’t really have time to stay and talk him out of his funk. The two of you are only here for the three nights and the last night was the gala so any and all recon needs to be done before then. 

Of course, the team of low-ranking agents who just want to do their fucking part to save the world or some bs like that have already put together a file of information for you. You’ve been burned before though and like to take care of yourself more often than not.

So you inwardly thank Tony Stark for the nice digs and head to the bathroom to get changed into your suit. 

You want to scope out the event space tonight as well as the governor's office the only problem was that the two buildings were practically on opposite sides of the city and you’ll have to take pretty much the whole night in order to get what you need. 

That means despite the fact that you are ridiculously tired from being in the car all day you’ll have to dawn your fur-lined catsuit right away and book it to the State Capital building before the last of the over-caffeinated halfway to burnt-out political interns leave for the night and your usual slip-in-behind-someone-who-isn’t-paying-attention entrance will fall off the table.

You pretend that you don’t see Bucky’s eyes bulge when you walk out of the bathroom in your full get-up, but you feel flattered nevertheless. There’s something to be said about the way donning your suit makes you feel, when you have the mask on and the suit zipped all the way up you feel invincible, powerful, badass, and let’s not kid anyone, sexy as hell.

The way Bucky can’t keep his eyes off you as you move about the room gathering the things you’ll need for your night of recon makes you think that he’s on the same page as you about that last one. But that’s all it is, you remind yourself. You’ve got good assets and when they’re tightly wrapped in a nice little bow they look alright, Barnes doesn’t like you he’s a man… he likes tits and ass. They all do. 

“I’m heading downtown, need to scope out entrances and exits and see if there’s anything in the governor's office that could help us bring him down.”

“I’ll come with.” Bucky moves to grab the bulletproof leather jacket that Steve had gotten him for Christmas this past year.

“Thanks but no thanks Barnes, I’m perfectly capable of doing recon on my own. Besides, you’re not exactly what I would call… stealthy.”

“I’m stealthy as fuck kitty.”

“Don’t call me kitty, and whatever you need to tell yourself, old man. I'll be back. Treat yourself to room service or something, I heard brooding makes you hungry.”

“I don’t brood.”

“And I don’t snore. See, we can both lie.”

Your night is uneventful. The only thing catching your eye is how suspiciously squeaky clean the governor's computer is. You don’t find much that can help you in your mission. The ballroom is a bust too although you do manage to come up with several escape routes should things go sideways the night of the gala. You end up rolling back into the hotel room at around three-thirty in the morning. Not expecting Bucky to still be awake you try your best to make as little noise as possible so that you don’t wake him.

It ends up not being necessary as he is already awake, lounging in the armchair nursing a glass of whisky, and staring at the door you've just come through.

“Don’t tell me you waited up for me? That’s so sweet Barnes.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to tell Fury that his favorite pet got in some trouble.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Barnes, I am not Fury’s pet any more than you're Steve’s.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He scoffs and takes another sip of his drink.

“Well, you’re off the hook I guess I’m back safe and sound so you can finally go about getting some much-needed beauty sleep.”

“You really can’t take anything seriously, can you? I’ve been waiting here for hours because you left without letting me in on your little plan.” Bucky stands up and places his glass on the side table next to him. You have no idea where the hell this anger he has is coming from but you’ll be damned if you let him talk to you like this. “We’re supposed to be doing this mission together and the first moments you’re left to your own devices you run off and risk yourself unnecessarily.” He's getting heated and it's rubbing off on you.

“What the hell is your problem James?  I didn’t ask you to wait for me! You’ve been a bit of an ass all day and I’m really fucking tired of it. I’m here to do my fucking job, are you?” Hindsight is a bitch though and you realize after you say the words to him that poking the bear is probably not your best option at the moment, nevertheless, you’re a glutton for punishment so you dig in even more. “I mean first you get all moody in the car because of some shit you brought up in the first place, then you stay up waiting for me like you’re my dad or some shit making sure I get home safe. I know that you don’t like me, I get it and if I’m completely honest I don’t really like you either. No matter what you think or want though, we have a mission to complete and I’ll be damned if I let some metal-armed brute fuck up my perfect completion record.” You don’t really remember taking breaths but obviously, you have or you’d be passed out after that long ass speech. 

It doesn’t get you the reaction you want though, instead, Bucky just clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and lets out some long-suffering sigh like you’re the bane of his existence or some shit. You let him throw his grown-man tantrum and don’t move to stop him from huffing and puffing around the room until he goes to lie down on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you ask, every syllable dripping with exasperation.

“Sleeping, what does it look like?”

“Yeah, I can see that your trying to sleep like a caveman on the cold hard ground what I don’t understand is why, given the big ass bed right here.” You carelessly lift one hand and gesture towards the California King bed with admittedly really comfy-looking sheets spread across it. 

“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you Kitty, I thought I had told you that.” He practically snarls.

“I thought you were kidding. What? Afraid you’ll get cooties or something?” 

“I’m not sharing a bed with you Y/N. Drop it.”

“Fine. You know what? Fucking be like that.” You grab a pillow off the bed and throw it down at him. Before grabbing one for yourself and taking up position on the floor a few feet away from him.

“What are you doing?” 

“Funny, I thought I just asked you that.” You reply laying down on the ground with your back towards him.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor Y/N it’ll mess up your back.” `“Well then I guess you have a choice to make. Either you get over yourself and we both get to share the nice bed, I’ll even put up a pillow wall to protect your dignity if you’re that worried about it.  Or we both sleep on the floor and I wake up tomorrow morning as grumpy as you because my back hurts.” You let the silence reign for a few seconds after you're done, still facing away from him and waiting for him to make the decision.

“God you’re so annoying you know that?” Bucky groans out as he moves to sit up and make his way towards the bed.

“I’ve been told it’s one of my best qualities.” You stick your tongue out at him and follow him to the bed. You follow through with your promise of a pillow wall placing three pillows length-wise between the two of you. Afterward, you turn around and turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. 

You wait for a few minutes thoughts racing endlessly in your mind. “Bucky?” You call out.

“What?” he mumbles back.

“Will you tell me a bedtime story?” You ask.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?

“Go the fuck to sleep.” You do.

_________________________________________________

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed, but an intact pillow wall so deem the night a success. Rolling over to check the bedside clock you see that it’s about seven and groan at the fact that Bucky’s absence apparently woke you up an hour before you had planned.

Bucky’s absence doesn’t last long, however, as minutes later he comes strolling into the room. He’s wearing a simple grey tee shirt and some black sweatpants but the entire front of his shirt is soaked making the grey a darker shade than it was originally. Similarly, his hair is dripping wet and you honestly can’t tell if he’s taken a shower yet or if he's just soaked with sweat. What confuses you more is that you don’t know which you’d prefer.

“Morning Sarge.” You call out from your place in bed. Bucky jumps a little like he forgot that you’d be in the room. 

“Morning.” He mumbled before making a swift turn and essentially hiding away in the ensuite bathroom. When you hear the shower turn on you know he's still in a mood from last night. You swear to whatever god there might be that this man is going to be the death of you. 

“I’m calling room service for breakfast do you want anything?” You shout at the bathroom door.

“Eggs and toast.” He calls back. You roll your eyes at his basic order but relent anyway and pick up the phone to call for the food. 

His shower finishes right about the same time that the food arrives. When he walks out of the bathroom in just a towel wrapped around his waist and a smaller one in his hand ruffling his hair to dry it you about choke on the food you hadn’t even started eating yet.

“Your foods over there.” You point to the little sitting area on the opposite side of the room from you. You're sitting crisscross across the ottoman at the foot of the bed. A plate of stuffed French toast with a side of sliced peaches perched on your lap.

“I figure that we should probably talk about the plan for the rest of the weekend, to avoid any more… angst between us.” You speak between bites of your breakfast.

“I thought we already had a plan but apparently that doesn’t mean much to you does it.” He turns his body to face you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m not starting the morning off like this, James. You can either talk to me like an adult or you can sulk in the corner it’s your choice.” 

“I don’t sulk.”

“For a guy who doesn’t sulk or brood you sure spend a lot of time doing both.”

“I just- I don’t know why you always have to be putting yourself at risk.” You aren’t prepared for the tone shift of the conversation.

“I’m an adult Bucky, I can make those kinds of choices for myself.”

“I know you can, I just don’t see why you feel the need to.”

“What do you mean?” You can physically feel yourself start to get defensive. 

“I mean that for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always gone the extra mile, covered every base that needs to be covered and even some that don’t. You push yourself to the point of exhaustion and you don’t seem to care. You do the job of ten people when you don’t need to and it makes me tired just watching you.”

“I-”

“I wasn’t finished. Take last night for example. You went out and re-did recon that our team already did for us because you didn’t trust that they had done enough and what did you find? Nothing. Nothing that you didn’t already know from reading the mission file.”

“When did this become a fucking therapy session? I don’t recall giving you my insurance information Dr. Barnes and I’m not sure I can pay your hourly rate.” You try to deflect. He's right, you didn’t find anything new and you’d been a little pissed at yourself because of it, but you don’t need that shoved back into your face.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Push away your real feelings with jokes, Peter and Tony do the same thing and it drives me up the wall.” He stares at you.

“I don’t know what you want from me Bucky. I don’t know who you want me to be, you call me a kiss-ass when I try too hard, but you’ve been pretty clear on the fact that you don’t think I can be redeemed. You seem to care about me and yet give me shit about anything and everything that I do. I don’t know what to think or feel around you and it throws me off.”

“I do care about you.” 

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. You and Bucky sit in silence for what could’ve been seconds minutes or hours. Neither one of you is willing to be the one who breaks the spell that has settled over the room. Both of you are saved by the bell when Bucky’s phone rings on the desk in front of him.

“It’s Steve, I’ll be right back.” He gets up and moves to take the call out in the hallway. You still don’t say anything. But you do flop onto your stomach across the bed the moment the door closes behind him. 

You grab the nearest pillow to your outstretched hand and bring it to your face, screaming into it and letting out as many muffled curse words as you can before you run out of air. When you’re done throwing your mini tantrum you stand up, run a hand through your hair, and take in the deepest breath you’ve ever taken in. 

It seems that Bucky’s call with Steve is going to go longer than you thought so you might as well get ready for the day. You put on the flowing wide-leg pants and halter tank that you packed, it gives just the right amount of classy that goes along with your cover in case you needed to interact with anyone, while still being easy to move in and pretty damn comfortable to boot.

You return to your perch at the foot of the bed, this time with the mission files in your hands. Despite how many times you’ve poured over them you still want to make sure that you’re ready for the gala tomorrow night. The best use of your time right now is trying to figure out the best way to get close to the Governor at the party.

Since his computer had been a bust the best way to get him was going to be a verbal confession to some of his backroom dealings. Maybe with more time, you’d be able to pull together a bit more of a sting operation and pull out all the stops trying to catch him but you were on a time crunch. The gala is tomorrow and then after that the governor starts his reelection campaign.

Bucky walks back into the room and throws his phone on the bed next to you, “Steve said the analysts back home got word that there’s a new player to be aware of tomorrow. The Governor's son is gonna be there, he's been flouncing across Europe for the better part of the last five years and we’re not exactly sure why he’s back but we know it’s important. Think you can handle it?”

“Did you actually just use the word ‘flounce’ in a sentence.”

“Can you handle it or not.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Barnes, I got this.”

“I don’t doubt it, Kitty, in the meantime though maybe we should do some asking around to see what we can get on the kid.”

“Honestly, James I’m a little hurt that you think I’m that far behind you. Besides, I know exactly where to look to get the answers I’ll need.”

“And where is that exactly?” Bucky looks at you and raises an eyebrow. 

“His Instagram.” Snapchat, Twitter, and any and all other social media you can get your hands on. You know rich kids better than any other group of people in the world, they’re incredibly naive most of the time and some of the easiest targets because they’re sharing their entire lives with the world. If there's something to know about this guy, you’ll find it on his socials. 

You and Bucky spend the rest of the day and well into the night, doing your research. At some point, you’d been given access to the full guest list which allowed you to add some names to your internet stalking session. By two in the morning, you can confidently say that you know this guy and several of the other guests who would be attending better than they knew themselves. 

“Alright doll, it’s time for sleep.” Bucky grabs your laptop and closes the lid before taking it off your lap completely and plugging it in for you.

“What? I was just getting in the groove! I found another rabbit hole.”

“I don't know what that means but I know that it’s late and we have to be on our best game tomorrow so sleep it is.”

“You can sleep, but I need to keep working,” Bucky calls your name.

“This is the type of stuff I’m talking about, working yourself to death. Trust in the work you did today, trust that you’ve got everything you need. I do.”

You will never admit to the way that your heart thumps when you realize just how much faith Bucky has in you. 

“I’ve made that mistake before, trusting myself and trusting others, it never goes well for me.”

“Well then, work yourself to death and be sloppy and tired tomorrow if you want, but do it over there with just a desk lamp because I’m going to bed.”

“Fine. I will.” Stubbornly, you pick up the notebooks and files that surround you and move them all to the too-small desk in the corner of the room. You flick the lamp light on and groan at the dimness of the bulb. Bucky’s words bounce around your skull, you wouldn’t be sloppy. You were never sloppy. Sloppy meant getting hurt or worse. You couldn’t be sloppy.

Fuck. You couldn’t be sloppy, especially with Bucky’s life on the line too. 

You growl low in your throat as you flick the lamp off and begin getting ready for bed, pretending not to hear the triumphant snort that comes from the lump on the bed.

“Scoot over, you fucking starfish, leave some room for me.” You shove at Bucky’s back, nothing happens of course but he takes pity on you and scooches over anyway. “Do I need to construct another pillow wall Your Highness or do you think you’ll be okay for one more night?”

“I think I’ll survive. But know that if you kick me in the middle of the night I reserve the right to shove your ass onto the floor.” 

“Noted.”

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ seungcheol edition

member: seungcheol x reader genre: fluff, bullet points word count: 876 summary: seungcheol's boyfriend things warnings: none!! author's note: this was so close to not being posted in time...I just worked two 10 hour shifts in a row and i am so tired...anyway, i hope you all enjoy this small fluff piece <3 happy birthday seungcheol !!!

Okay so Seungcheol is what I like to call “The Boyfriend Material” and I have a feeling all you couprangs will agree with my genius 

Cheol is the booktok boyfriend, jeans made 100% out of boyfriend material 

Quality Time 

Seungcheol loves when you get chaotic. He’s used to dealing with twelve idiots (loving) every day, and adding another one to the list is no biggie! He loves to spend time with you, especially when you go out with your friends. 

If you go to a club or even just to hang out at the park with your closest friends, Cheol will be perfectly content sitting quietly next to you, his arm over your shoulder, or his head resting on yours

He likes to see you happy, and if that means tagging along to all the events you go to, then so be it! 

He would definitely want you to hang out with his best friends too, and you have quickly learned in your relationship, that even though Cheol is usually calm and collected, he becomes the most…energetic person when he is with his friends 

If he is gaming with Wonwoo, or some other friends, he would love for you to just sit with him! Reading a book, drawing, or just dining something relaxing next to him as he tries to absolutely destroy his friends in the online world 

Though, dates are definitely Seungcheol’s best version of Quality Time - mans knows how to treat you !!!

Cute dates like picnics or stargazing, where the two of you are in public, but are still away from public eye, are his forte 

Words of Affirmation

SEUNGCHEOL IS THE ABSOLUTE KING OF PETNAMES 

Anything he can come up with, he will call you it 

This can range from something cute like “sweetie” or “darling” to the other end of the spectrum that makes your heart race a bit more than you would like, with him calling you “baby/babygirl/babyboy” or “prince/princess” 

He knows that you love him, and you know that he loves you, so knowing that his major way of showing affection to you is talking oh so proudly about you when you’re not around, is totally acceptable in your relationship 

He loves bragging about you and telling fin stories to your (and his) friends about funny moments between you from dates and just casually hanging out

He never fails to compliment you when you do something you’re proud of, or if you look particularly cuddle-able one day

“Sweetie, you look absolutely adorable in that sweater! Is it new?” 

AAAA choi seungcheol boyfriend material 

Physical Touch

Who is one of those members that is constantly koala hugging his dongsaengs? That’s right, it’s Seungcheol, and that DEFINITELY does not stop him from constantly wanting your attention

This could be through regular morning cuddles when you both wake up a bit too early for your liking, watching movies together, playing games or even when seeing each other for the first time in a couple hours 

Seungcheol would love to just attack you in hugs when you get home from school or work

He would also be the king of small pda: holding hands when you’re walking together, putting his hand on your back when you’re going up and down stairs or going up a hill, putting his arm around your shoulder when you’re sitting next to each other in the park

Seungcheol just loves being around you and cuddling you please just let the poor, attention starved man hug you 10,000 times a day

Acts of Service 

My favorite thing about Seungcheol is his Boyfriend Material Acts of Service™

He LOVES sharing hoodies and shirts: whether it is you giving him a hoodie or him giving you one, he doesn’t care as long as someone is wearing the other person’s clothes 

Helps with laundry because everything has to be perfectly clean, smelling nice and soft, otherwise it’s not worth being worn by you !!!

He loves helping you !!! Like if you have a big project or exam for school or work, he’ll be right next to you helping you out! 

If you need flashcards to study for an exam, he’s right there asking you questions! 

If you need a second opinion on this presentation, he’s telling you what websites to use for themes…

He loves you, and he wants to prove that by helping you with the little things <3 

Gift Giving 

You know how Ken’s job is just Beach? Well Cheol’s job is just Wallet 

Seungcheol loves surprising you with things!!! Whether it be your favorite snack for movie nights or a random coffee when he gets home in the mornings 

Or even !!! buying little trinkets for around your home that remind you both of each other 

He’ll also surprise you with a cute outfit one in a while, or a piece of jewelry you have been eyeing lately 

Mans earns plenty of money and he just wants to spend it all on you <3 

You have student loans? Cheol is begging you to let him help you, even if you want to be independent with things like that 

People say money doesn’t buy happiness but Seungcheol’s gifts reminds you of him…so I guess that counts as buying happiness

[richeeduvie]

Saw a vid of a mom asking her husband if he would babysit their daughter (as a prank tehe bc this one influencer made a vid ab how she has to bribe her husband to “babysit” their child and it was v upsetting bc she was just laughing it off :(() anyways the dad was like:

“??? what ru trying to say ¿¿¿ of course I’ll spend quality time with our daughter while ur out, don’t call it babysitting I’m not sitting on no baby 🤬”

He was so angry at the implication he wouldn’t want to take care of his baby for one night, it just gave ROMAN!! He would bite Baby’s head off if she tried to mess w him like this, and then he would bite her leg for trying to leave the house without her life companions. Why can’t he come with you to the spa? It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t want any services they provide, he is perfectly content to sit on a chair in complete silence and just stare at your face while u get pampered. That IS his preferred self care routine. And the baby? The misty air and soothing aura has her in a deep slumber, her chunky cheeks smooshed into her papas chest she’s securely wrapped against. She’s a perfect little thing, Roman is,,, a scrappy little thing BUT STILL! Baby mommy claims to love him anyway, so why does she want to go alone???

All of this just for Baby to not even have an actual evening away planned 😭 poor woman. She just upset her impish man, and saddened her angel who heard her papas wails of distress “Mama u want to go away 😞?” Stupid Roman when will he learn he can’t go on his tirades anymore, there’s a toddler who roams these halls! Baby pinches him and walks away pissed w her baby, he’s always ruining her fun. He comes to bed an hour later, she makes him grovel but puts him out of his misery because he did in fact book them a weekend getaway to the Hamptons yay! All 3 Roy’s are coming tho bc he’s still her ball and chain.

This took me so long to type and it’s supposed to be a request 😭 my apologies, feel free to change anything and everything you’d like, I gotta go take a test I’ve had all day to complete and pushed to the last minute.

I love when you people write drabbles. I get to be the reader. I get to consume!! And it's always great. I love this!

Babysitter

Roman Roy x Reader blurb - DogandBone!AU

He is her father. Not her fucking babysitter.

------

Roman watches your daughter just toddle around. She's perfect. And this is perfect. He's such a father.

He became a father when you had her, yeah. But here - just looking at her, something soft and swallowed in his eyes, it's all the more prominent.

She plays with blocks. Roman watches intently. It makes you warm and you think he's under the sun like this, he's getting red in the face for it. He can't handle her being cute, which at this point, you think that just means your little girl being a little toddler.

"Top blue. No red. Ba ba blue."

It almost breaks away the giddiness of a prank.

Roman's with your baby all the time. You are with your baby all the time. You're with Roman all the time. Safe to say, you think he'll call you an idiot whore for the idea that he's babysitting. That or it'll be meanie. Mean wife.

You smile.

"Roman, I was planning on going out tonight."

"...It's five. I have to get ready? You didn't want to plan on going out tonight yesterday? Look at her, she's not mentally prepared for being outside. Also, fuck the outside. It was smelling like sewage when we came in, but I think it was that guy who looked like his name was Eddie."

"I was just thinking by myself. I didn't make an appointment but I think they can fit me in for a semi-retreat."

Roman looks to the babbling toddler with her blocks. She's very focused on building it high. Then he turns to you.

"Are you sick of me? Fuck you. What did I even do?"

"Nothing. I just felt impulsive for a spa night."

"I didn't even do anything - like actually...nothing? And now you want to go get your feet rubbed by someone else? Whore. Whore Mommy."

"Ba!"

You roll your eyes. You know Roman has to remember that he gets too whiny and puppy-eyed whenever you mention a foot rub you've had from a spa day. You've taken your feet just for him.

"It'll be quick. Maybe a facial. You can babysit her for a bit?"

"I can literally give you a facial. If you make me, I can-"

Roman's shift with his hands, his attempt to convince, humor, and humiliate.

"...What did you just...what the fuck?"

His eyes get sorta squinty. He's riled. You like Roman riled - you can always get him small and defenseless when he goes too far in a defense. But here, in how you try not to laugh, you'll have to know when to settle.

Maybe now with the vein popping in his forehead.

"Daddy go swear. No swear, Daddy. Blocks like when ears are clean."

Her block tower is almost as tall as her. But she's come up to Roman, shaking her head at his bent knee. She's making sure her Daddy hears her.

You swallow when Roman's not bending his anger to his humor. He just squeezes your daughter's chubby little hand.

You don't think the word babysit has sat well with him at all.

"Did you just tell me to fu...did you kinda just tell me to babysit her?"

Yes, you do. It was funnier in the video. But the husband in the video wasn't Roman.

You should know better, you love him too much that you should know better.

"Why Daddy look crazy?"

Roman pinches his nose bridge and swallow again.

"You just piled a cock-load. A massive cock-load of hurt on me. Wow. Okay." He stands. He's gotten so seriously so quickly. "You're mean and you've been snorting my dead dad's blood clot medication or maybe you've had a brain aneurysm because is she not my kid?"

Your daughter, her sweet head looking up to her Daddy, looks just as confused as you.

"I have not left this place and I really didn't want to because she's my kid. It's not babysitting - I'm not a nanny. We agreed on no nannies? I'm a nanny?"

"Roman-"

"Is this your way of telling me I've been secretly cucked and she's not my baby?"

"...M' not baby?"

You and Roman both turn at the softest voice. It's sweet and genuine and so toddler-like. She is too cute and she is just a toddler. A perfect child who bites her fingers.

Then Roman looks sick - and even though you're the dumb one here, it serves him right for making your sweet girl ask the question in the first place.

"No. Honey, you're my baby. I'm not a babysitter. Do I look like I crush babies?"

Roman's voice tightens in a whine. Possessive and defensive. All of him in the small of his throat.

"Mommy just doesn't like us." Roman looks down, feigns a moment of thinking with his the line of his mouth pushing to one side. "Well, what are we gonna do? We just have to let her go away and do a spa day without us. It's just us now. Forever. Sucks for Daddy mostly cause I've always planned suicide for this route but-"

"Roman."

"Mommy?"

"Oh, sweetheart-"

Her tiny, perfect voice breaks. She's more confused than ever and your heart twists.

"Mommy. No go, I don't-I don't-" She looks to Roman. "...You go away? Why?"

She's very soft and shy in her voice, like she always is. Still too kind for a toddler as she gets teary-eye.

You look to Roman, it's easy to show disappointment along your face.

He looks like he's about to vomit watching his daughter.

You bend down.

"No, sweetheart. Mommy's not going anywhere. Nowhere, okay? I was just joking. Daddy was just joking."

"I don't- I don't know."

"It's okay. Now you do. Mommy's here forever."

She sniffles and unlike her father, she doesn't feign thinking - she thinks really hard. She nods and rubs her cheek against your chest.

"Sorry for crying. But okay." She wraps her arms around you as much as she can. "Daddy, I don't know why you tell that."

Now your little girl is back to a silly voice in questioning.

"Yeah, Daddy. Why did you say all of that? To a little baby girl?"

"...I didn't - Daddy didn't mean..."

Roman's voice fades and breaks.

Well, you've gotten him small this way. You sigh and stand up, taking your daughter with you. You don't think it'll bode well if you try to leave her by skin.

"Jesu-!"

"You love a good nipple pinch."

Roman rubs his nipple with a scrunched face.

"It's my sorry. I'm sorry, Rome - it was a joke. I don't even have any plans. I just wanted to see how much babysitting would fuck with you. And it fucked with you."

And not pinching the other nipple is his punishment.

You hear a little mm on your shoulder. You kiss your daughter's cheek.

"Sorry, baby."

"She's a smart baby, she understands now. No suicide talk, at least.

"...Sorry." Roman just looks to his shirt. You think it's because he can't look to you. "That was like...mean. She's my baby."

"I know. That's why it's a joke. I'm gonna be in the room. Come with your own sorry."

You're almost asleep with your baby in your arms when Roman comes. You don't know he's been swallowing the sickness down while staring into the threads of the couch. Cause he's just the worst fucking Daddy who can't take a joke. That's him. He's a cute, smart sort of guy that everyone should want with the one person he wants being a super hot Mommy-lady. His best friend. But he's also fucking stupid. He should die, maybe?

Roman scratches a digging sort of scratch at the image of his daughter in her almost tears, confused and reaching for her mommy.

He needs a kiss. He needs a kiss right now or he'll die. It feels like it. He can't breathe, stupidly.

Roman comes into the room and monkey cuddles you from behind. He manages to play with her hair. Her asleep, mouth slightly parted like her father when you watch him sleep.

"We'll go to the Hamptons and we can give facials there. Make them creamy. But it's all of us that are going. And you can't leave me. Like. Actually. Not out of my sight. You won't be able to perceive anything but me and our daughter and that means no stupid ideas.

"Roman."

"She's asleep. Also...sorry for being the worst Daddy. I really did mean for my quip to end up putting our baby in tears."

You sigh.

You know he's suffered enough. He's real in his insecurity.

You kiss his forearm and you hear a sharp breath from behind, it moves against your spine.

"You're the best Daddy. It was nothing. She'll make you play floaties with her forever in the pool."

"...Fuck yeah. She will do that. Hopefully, if, you know, I didn't slap trauma on her face at my attempt at humor against a toddler-"

"Roman."

It's not his name that shuts him up, it's just bite to his forearm. It's all the love in your teeth.

"Yeah?"

"We love you."

"I was hoping on that for my will to not throw myself over the timber Brooklyn bridge..."

You feel his cheek press into your back.

"I love you guys too. Tell her I said that if I fall asleep before she wakes up."

You smile against Roman's bitemark. You'll try your best. It's the least you can do after your mess of a joke. Your love in making more small and needy for you after everything never outranks the need for him to know that he is loved.

Roman nuzzles before there's a lick.

"Can do."

[bunnyabricot]

In the middle of the night 🌾🌑🌊

✧ pairing : Yeong Shin x reader

✧ warning(s) : smut ; “one night stand”, piv, pet name (angel), unprotected sex, etc etc, kind of au (takes place after the story), slight ooc bc I can’t write, spoiler about the character, mention of alcohol and loved ones dying, sliiight suicidal thoughts

✧ summary : He has a stressful life and you propose your help to make him relieve some stress.

✧ words : 6.1k

✧ a/n : the fact that I go from Max Verstappen to a character from an underground kdrama is so me. It’s called diversity dw😻😻😻(+ I’m a whore for this man.)

***

It was night. The people was long asleep except for the drunkards and those overthinking their regrets. Yeon Shin was one of them. Since the beginning of his life it only felt like regrets. Regret of not being able to provide to his sick family, the regret of leaving them to give them a better life and finally the regret of them dying while he wasn’t there. He felt like that no matter what he’s doing, it’s never the right answer and his loved ones are always the ones suffering the consequences.

The only reason that he isn’t in the first category is because he at least has the decency and enough intellect to know that drowning his problems with alcohol isn’t gonna solve anything. And even if his fuzzy mind shutting up for once without blaming him sounds nice, he doesn’t have the heart to do it. He prefers to go to the graves of the people of the former village and remember them as he should.

He often asks himself what would have happened if he stayed in the village. Would he have been able to save them ? Would he be dead like all of them ? He sometimes secretly wished he would have stayed for this exact reason but he would never say that to anyone. Or so he thought.

After the literally inhuman slaughter, he kept his job of a chakho, which means a tiger hunter. He didn’t have anything best to do anyway now that he lost his motivation of coming back to his family with ressources. He had no one to go back to. No village, no family, no loved ones, no home. No one. He was all alone and it was sometimes oppressing. Waking up alone, eating alone 3 times a day, ashamed to admit it, only twice or once from times to times since he doesn’t have anyone to remind him, and eating in silence with his self-conscious self wasn’t the best company. And finally ending the day and going to sleep all alone not really eagerly knowing that tomorrow will be the same.

To put to an end his loneliness, he admits he has already called the service of a prostitute, having a good pay from being a chakho, he thought half convinced “Why not give it a try ? What’s best to do ?”. But he felt so uncomfortable, it was so unnatural that he shut her down before they could even do something serious. If this is how it is, he would rather stay alone. He got used to it now.

Has he really ? Once again, it’s himself against the world in the middle of the night. He is near a lake, tall reeds and weeping willows near him as the silver moon shines brightly in the dark blue sky and reflects perfectly in his puppy black eyes.

You were just out for your night walk as usual, taking the same comforting and soothing paths surrounded by nature when you saw a figure near the lake where you usually stop to rest. You furrowed your brows trying to decipher whether it’s a familiar frame or not. You shivered from the cold night but also from the fear of a stranger being alone with you with nobody to call if you were in need of help. Or was it excitement ? You never really talked to anyone after all. Your job of a physician consisted of bandaging strangers, gathering medicinal herbs and checking on them to see whether they are doing better or not. But who checked on you ? You sadly didn’t have any friends. You didn’t have the time to, being overly booked with patients these times. You heard that people are being extra careful now after a deadly and chaotic virus appeared a few villages from where you are. They would rather check in regularly than catch it it appears.

No matter what, you weren’t working at the moment. You needed those alone walks at the end of the day to calm down and remain sane. The days were difficult for everyone and some rich customers think it’s okay to talk to you like you’re a dog because of their superior class. You hated how the place you are born and simply luck decide your place for the rest of your life, how some people are being pampered without earning it while you drown with work just to be able to live like a decent human being and have the right to eat.

Even at this moment, your caring nature of a physician comes back no matter what and the fear transform into worry for the person facing you back. They haven’t moved since a long time. You take your courage and walk slowly toward the stranger. After you get closer to the shadow, you realise that it is a man. He is sitting down, face toward the grandiosity of the horizon. He remains calm despite your noises which only make your anxiety grows. Was he conscious ? Every person in their right mind would be alarmed from unidentified sounds from behind them. But him, no.

You finally decided one last solution as you were standing just near him. You clear up your throat to get his attention.

It finally paid off as he turns his head to your direction. He seems quite intrigued by your presence but you couldn’t read accurately what he was thinking.

He looks mesmerising. From his sharp features and deep eyes to his slightly furrowed eyebrows. His hair was in a bun but a few strands were falling out of his hairstyle and you could only guess the length of his hair when he wasn’t tying them up and how charming he could look. Despite his cold gaze on you, you felt like you were melting.

He quickly regain control of himself and asks harshly “What do you want ?”. You were taken aback by his tone and stuttered an answer. “I-I was just passing by and saw you there a-and you weren’t moving so I just wanted to check up on you to see if you were doing alright” You gulp as you said this as quick as possible, unconfident under his emotionless eyes.

He frowns. “Why would you check up on a stranger ?” You stayed silent, not knowing what to respond. He doesn’t seem to understand that you acted simply by charity. “What a stupid idea, this could have ended badly if it was someone dangerous.” he scoffs and looks away. Now it was your turn to frown. Why was he caring ? Is it unbelievable to see an unmoving shadow far away and wish to verify its still alive ? You decide to respond to his unhidden attack by teasing him. “Oh. Are you not someone dangerous then ?” You half jokingly say, needing subconsciously to be reassured about his intentions. You peek his interest as he turns his head to look back at you. He tilts his head and grins almost imperceptibly. “I could be.” He simply says which didn’t suppress your worries and instead did the opposite. You chuckle unsurely and looked around. There wasn’t anything but trees, reeds and water. Not even one fisherman in your sight. After all what were you expecting at this late hour..? In any case, if he really turned out to be a menace you were screwed.

As you were looking around unaware of your almost frenetical state, his tired eyes stay on you the whole time, piercing into your soul and you could feel him reading you like an open book. “I’m not, do not panic.” He sternly responds. You shift, embarrassed by your manners. “sorry” You look at the ground and quietly mutter while smiling from your awkwardness.

You suddenly realise that you still don’t know why he is here all alone. You look up swiftly and energetically ask “You didn’t answer my question ! Are you alright ? My life could have been in danger but seeing someone all alone near a lake in the middle on the night is quite uncommon you may admit.” “all alone..” he mumbles under his breath and you don’t think you have clearly caught what he said. Did this handsome, strong man said he was alone ? Impossible. You thought he would at least have a wife waiting for him at home if not with children already. “Did you just say you were alone ?” You ask with a confidence coming from nowhere. You wonder how you can be so bold with someone whose name is still unknown. “You check up on a stranger at night, you ask impolite questions, you really have a death wish don’t you?” He spits in response to your lack of delicacy. Your burst of energy shuts down as fast as it came when he pronounced those words. “I- no that’s not what I meant..” you try to give him an apologetic look but you are only met with an irritated expression.

You breath and, still unsure of your actions, sit down next to him. You want to take your time this time. Everyone is gone and the only that could stop you is the golden sunrise reminding you of your duty. He looks at you with scrunched eyebrows and a confused and almost dismayed look on his face after you come closer to him right after he almost barked at you. “How can someone have such little sense or survival ?" he is wondering. “I am alone too. Otherwise why would I stroll in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a tiny bag.” You say in attempt to reassure him but actually saying it out loud made you realise the situation you were in and how pitiful you are. Your eyebrows went up as sadness hits.

“I’m Yeong Shin.” He breaks the mourn silence of your revelation. You turn your head to his, alongside him now that you are sat. “Nice to meet you Yeong Shin. My name is Y/n.” you respond to him smiling but eyes glassy from the tears that formed in your eyes. “After all I guess you are not alright. Do you to talk about it ?”. He scoffs outraged “Why would I spill my life to a stranger ?”. You guessed by his tough appearance and his mysterious demeanour that it wouldn’t be so easy. Still he was nice enough to give his name so you know you can have a nice conversation with him if you try enough. “What could go wrong ? We will probably never cross paths ever again, it’s late and dark so you don’t have to care about the curious ears or eyes, and sometimes, all you need is a nice deep conversation about your life and how you feel. Doctor advice.” You say positive of your words.

He looks at you to examine whether you were tricking him or not. But when all he could see was kindness and a caring soul he dared to open his heart.

He sighs and leans back on his hands. You did many therapy sessions as a physician. Mainly narcissistic wealthy people who were creating problems for themselves to feel like their life isn’t perfect. Anyways, you always made your clients lay down. Normally on a couch or a bed but you didn’t have any here obviously and the ground would be to hard or itchy. You dust off your dress and pat your lap. “Lay down.” You almost command. He looks at you like an alien. “..No way. I’m fine.” He says very confused by your odd request. “Look, when you talk about your life you have to lay down, it helps to make you feel relaxed and calm.” “Where do you even get this from ? It’s nonsense.” He doubtfully asks. You scoff “From me ? I’m a physician.” You state exasperated by his protests. Oh so you when you said “doctor advice�� it was actually your own advice, he realised.

Normally, he would never ever even think about doing it. But something about you is so soothing and comforting. It could be your kindness and how you care about his well being whereas you don’t know him, just because your heart is telling you to. Maybe your soft hair and how they are put in an hairstyle that fits you and makes you more beautiful than you already are if this is even possible. Perhaps your kind features and pretty eyes who could make anyone trust you with one look and are making him weak in the knees, thankfully he is sitting down. Or was it your soft hands that are waiting patiently in your lap for him to come ?

He glances at you and he feels so little for an unknown reason. He gulps down and asks suspicious “What do you have in you bag ?”. You immediately open it to show him medicinal herbs and wild berries that you always gather when you make your way here. He looks at your bag and then at you as you give him a smile of reassurance. He is now forced to admit that you are indeed a kind hearted human who has no ill intentions. A part of him wished you weren’t, because now you are the first pure person that he has ever met who is nothing but generosity.

You are shining so brightly it hurts him. And it hurts him even more to admit that he is attracted to your person. Him, a dark lurking shadow, whose nothing but sins, sorrow and remorses. It pains him that he even have the right to look at an angel like you. He wonders if he’s going to die tomorrow. If so, he might as well enjoy his last moment. So, he carefully lays down while looking at you, now confusing reality and dreams, scared that you might vanish at any moment.

His head rests on your lap as you look at him, inhaling deeply. You brush your fingers in his hair, wanting to make him feel safe as you were feeling him very tense. “Is this okay ?” You ask, not sure if he felt comfortable with you combing his scalp. “Y-Yes..” he answers you in a soft voice, all cockiness from before long gone. “Should I untie your hair ?” You really want to see his hair, he’s probably even more charming with his long dark hair framing his face. You fantasise in your head almost giggling and kicking your feet but containing yourself for your own sake. “Do as you please.” He calmly replies. You reach for his bun and he tilts his head upward to facilitate you the access. You free his straight but fluffy hair. It makes you want to play with it even more. You comb it with your fingers as delicately as possible and he finally closes his eyes.

“So, what’s going on in your oh so mysterious life ?” You finally decide to ask. He scoffs. “It’s to long..” He says trying to avoid the sad talk, trying to focus on your delicate fingers massaging him. “We have all night..”. “I don’t know where to start, it’s to messy.” He finds another excuse. “I don’t mind, take your time.” You answer him proudly, having heard all of the said excuses before and knowing how to counter them. He sighs, defeated. “Are you sure ?”. “I am.”.

“Well I come from a poor family, from a poor village who is also composed of diseased people. They put them here because they cannot cure them and they’re a burden for the society..” he scoffs, disgusted. You can guess the nobles have said that. You think how it’s possible to just reject them as if they are insignificant. Ignoring them won’t solve the problem.. “I wanted to help my family financially. Since I am good at aiming, a group of tigers hunters called chakhos wanted to hire me despite my class. I left my family..and when I came back..” He marks a pause, eyes still closed, his words are stuck in his tight throat when he revives the scene in his mind. You knit your eyebrows expecting the worst.

“They were.. all gone. All of them disappeared. Their affairs were still there and I can only imagine the worst. I promised I would come back with money. And I did, but…” He sighs despaired. “I had no one, no family left. Yes I got paid but at what cost…” You looked in the horizon trying to process what you just heard. “But.. You don’t know where they went ?” You asks unsurely, scared of crossing a boundary. “I don’t know. It haunts me everyday. I have so many questions you know. What happened ? Why did they go ? Or more like why did they die..?” He reveals. You stay silent. “… I recently found their sepultures, they were cremated a few kilometres from all the houses and some incense was burning when I found the cemetery. I wonder, how did an entire village died in such a short amount of time..” He speaks. Once again, you stay silent. Unable to say anything. Your bottom lip was shaking from emotion and you wonder how is he so strong.

He sighs longly, thinking but soothed by your combing. “And here I am now. To answer your question, I am very alone indeed. I see no one. I sometimes hunt tigers for the chakhos when I need money, but it makes me mad to risk my life like this often. My journeys are all the same and it-“ He stops mid sentence as he feels something light dropping on his chest. And he realises, the fingers once brushing his scalp softly are now trembling. He swiftly looks at you and you are admiring intensely the swampy landscape in an attempt to avoid the tears in your eyes from spilling. That’s what fell, a tear, your tear. He quickly gets up from your lap, no longer feeling worried about himself when he sees you so helpless. Devastated, your bottom lip trembling, your cheeks wet from the tears that have already fallen, and you, trying to suppress your sad noises to not take his attention.

He panics, no longer feeling remorseful or soothed “W-What’s wrong ??” He asks while observing you. You didn’t seem hurt. Was his life too sad and tragic for a soft heart like you ? “Yeong Shin.. I’m sorry..” You say muttering between soba. “Why ?” He says, confused as ever. “You don’t deserve this..” You voice quiets out at the end of your sentence, becoming a whisper. Almost as if what you said was for you. To realise how someone like him can hide sadness and withdrawn because of their past.

You didn’t want to pity him. He didn’t needed your pity, that’s not why he opened up to you. You were supposed to listen, give him advice. But here you are, crying like a toddler because of something not even happening to you. To say that you are criticising the nobles for that.. How ironic.

You tried to calm yourself as he looks at you helpless and unsure of what to do. “M’sorry..” you repeat, embarrassed of needing him to comfort you, when after his confession, it should be the opposite. He couldn’t let you with a sad expression adorning your face because of him. He is uncertain of his action but no matter what, he surpasses his nonchalant character and his lack of confidence about physical attention for you. He tentatively reaches towards your vulnerable state and passes an experimental arm around you to rest his long and scarred hand on the back of your head while the other one is on your back, patting it slowly. You almost choke in your own tears from surprise. You forget to breath, afraid that if you move even a bit he might stop. “It’s okay..” He tries his best to comfort you despite having a hard time with being affectionate. You feel so safe in his strong arms.

Your breathing slows, your tears dry as he keeps holding you close during the whole time. Even if you are calmer than before, your mind keeps fusing, maybe even more than before. You can feel his hot breath and his messy but soft hair tickling your neck and you can’t help but gulp. He is so close and you feel yourself blushing at this thought, becoming extremely hot.

He unfortunately lets go of you and you are regretful of it not lasting longer. You could stay in his embrace the whole night if he asked you to. He looks at your redden but remorseful face and he thinks you look even sadder than before. “Was his hug creepy or not comforting enough..?” He asks himself, sheepishly self doubting.

You look at him with heart eyes, a thousand thoughts racing in your brain. In a burst of confidence, you put your hand on his cheek slowly to avoid scaring him. You tilt your head, put on your best doe eyes and offer in an innocent tone “I want to help you.”. He believes this is when he dies. Your adorable face and your tender gesture towards him make his mouth slightly agape. This is now his turn to blush. He manages in some way to mutter “How ?”. From his cute reaction and the way his cheek is burning under your touch, you guess the reaction to your gesture is positive. You prayed you didn’t misinterpret any signs.

Despite his tough aspect, he still cares about others. He showed it by comforting you whereas you weren’t even the one that needed to be comforted in the first place. He saw you crying, he didn’t think twice and tried to console you as a human being with a heart despite what he would like to make others believe.

And his look, god his look. The white moon reflects in his black eyes, making a mesmerising contrast of black and white. His emotionless, tough expression reflects his hard life and screams "don’t approach me" but he has such perfect features who would attract anyone that you can’t help but stare. From his high and elegant cheekbones, to his plump lips that you can’t help but stare. He is a fallen angel who slipped from the grasp of the sky, this is the only answer.

His hot look and his character are both amazing. It’s something important. If someone is attractive but vicious, you automatically lose any attraction, obviously. Yeong Shin seems incredible. Then what’s stopping you from having him now ? You wanted to help him, yes. Well you had an idea in the back of your mind waiting patiently for a confirmation.

“How can I help you ?” You repeat his question. Your hand that rested on his cheek traces agonising softly its way to his jaw, to his neck, brushing the tip on your fingers on his marked collarbones, to finally make your way on his shoulder. You brushed your thumb on his shoulder before approaching dangerously his ear. “You have such a stressful life, let me help you relax, mh ?” You whisper seductively in his ear before placing a sweet kiss right under it. His lids are low, he turns his head to look at you, a lustful look adorning his heated face. “Here ?” He asks while raising his brows, pleasantly stunned by your audacity. “It’s nighttime so nobody will hear us..” You respond immediately with a boldness you didn’t know you had. He couldn’t resist your face. Adoring eyes looking up at him, your lips slightly open with an innocent smile contrasting with your dirty ideas.

But before anything, he asks a question that can’t help but runs in his mind. “Is this because I told you I got some money ? Are you expecting to be payed..?” You are taken aback by the accusation, feeling quite offended but honestly can you blame him for asking ? Despite knowing him for not even an hour, you expected him to know you and your principles better. It was a foolish thinking of course, you understand his concern. “And here I thought we passed through the cold act already.. Look Yeong Shin, I don’t care about money, I care about you. And I want you. So bad.” You reply to him while looking into his eyes, needy. When he could see nothing but honestly and impatience, he could not believe you wanted him.

He looked down at your lips expectantly and you made the first move, crashing your lips into his. His rough lips move impatiently in sync with yours in a passionate kiss as your grab the back of his neck and his shoulder for support. As for him, he grabs your waist protectively. The kiss was heated, you both wanted each other so bad and it was obvious. He wasn’t letting you go, holding your waist tightly as he keeps his lips pressed against yours. He pulls you closer to him by your hips, your bodies now pressed close. Your hand goes up from his neck to his hair. You tug slightly on his black strands of hair and he frowns as he moans lowly into the kiss as a reaction, seeming turned on by it.

The kiss has a feeling of urgency into it, it was intense but you didn’t mind, at all. You moan into the hot kiss as you breathed out some air from your nose. Your sweet sound makes a reaction out of Yeong Shin. In fact, his cock is now painfully poking his trousers, aching from its restrain. He grips your clothes with both of his hands, attempting to control himself. The tip of his cock keeps brushing the tissue of his bottoms, teasing him furthermore, leading him to a painful yet sweet torture.

He stops the kiss a moment to catch his breath. His eyebrows furrow in neediness, and you bite your lips, aroused at the sight. He stares at you a few seconds, admiring your flushed face, before rushing towards your mouth like you are his oxygen.

You don’t even have the time to react to his action as he cuts you by slipping his tongue past your moisturised lips. You gasp slightly but quickly get ahold of yourself. You tug on his dark hair as he sneaks his long hand under your dress hungrily, kneading your plush thigh. You soft skin shivers from the cold night and thrilled at the same time by his commitment. You decide to do the same, trailing your unoccupied hand under his shirt. Tracing his chest muscles, feeling his abs under your fingertips. You touch every part that you could reach, wanting to remember every crease, every centimetres of his scarred skin.

You reach the hem of his shirt and tug it, hinting your intention as eagerness rises inside you. He immediately understand as he undoes the knot of his top as you remove it. You admire his broad chest as he urges you onto him, grabbing your back swiftly, pulling you closer. He kisses your neck, leaving wet kisses onto it like a starved man. He tugs slowly at the bow closing your dress, asking for approval. You nodded in response and it was the only affirmation he needed as he started to undress you. He opens your blouse and reveals your chest to your surroundings; the moon, the stars, the nature, and above all, the man before your very eyes. You nipples erected from the cold breeze stroking your exposed breasts, making you shiver. He touches ever so carefully your hips, now exposed skin, as if you could break at any moment. The contrast between his warm hands and the cold wind makes you weak.

You look up at him, biting your lips. He cannot resist you longer anymore. He opens the last tie of your dress, granting him a better access to where you needed him the most. Now depraved of any clothes, you felt immensely shy underneath him. The only thing preserving your intimacy from this stranger is now a tiny piece of clothing, your panties.

When he sees the wetness coating the fabric of your only remaining underwear he curses under his breath “Fuck..”. He thinks he is dreaming the sight before him. The pretty woman you are, displayed all for him, laying on the fresh grass, with nothing but your brief, plush and wet lips from your kiss, sweet eyes looking up at him expectantly. He swears an angel couldn’t be more beautiful.

He wants to take his time with you, you deserve it. But right now, after all the frustration building upon him, he can’t resist you any longer. He needs you, and from the look of your eyes, as much as you need him. Eyes don’t lie.

After long minutes of suffering, he finally discards his trousers, soon followed by his underwear. His cock now springs free and his angry red tip touches his lower stomach. You gulp at the sight. His cock is so pretty and you want him to ruin you. Ruin you for anyone else. He carefully removes your underwear and his eyes darkens at the view of you glistening cunt. And believe me, once he have seen you entirely naked under him, he intended to indeed ruin you.

You open your legs more, once feeling embarrassed from your state but now replaced by a sense of proudness when you saw this man losing his sense at the sight of your naked body. He lowers his torso to kiss you passionately. Your chests colliding, his dick brushing to your core agonisingly. You moan at the friction and he stops the kiss to finally give you what you both want. His tip slides along your pussy and he asks you with a deep voice “Do you want it angel ?”. Your hole clenches at the soft nickname and he grunts as he sees it. “Yes please..” you answer softly under your breath. What a good girl you were for him he thought.

He plunges softly into your entrance, trying his best not to be too harsh on you, a sweet angel. Your cunt flutters around him and you let out a high moan as you finally have him inside you.

After a few moment you start to unintentionally move your hips to have some friction of any sort. He understands your need and grabs your waist as he rocks back and forth. His hips hitting yours repeatedly, making a slapping sound. His thick cock is hitting your sweet spot perfectly and you’ve never felt this good. You grab his roots, trying to relieve some excitement. He hissed at the pain and chuckles deeply as he kisses your cleavage, ramming into you even harder. You let out pathetic sounds, feeling so powerless. You tits bounce to his harsh pace and he can’t help but stare at them.

You take a moment to appreciate the man before you, rearranging your guts like his life depends on it. His deep brown eyes not leaving yours, brown stands framing his worn out face, pearls of sweat forming on his forehead, mouth slightly open to breath out some air and escape low groans, and most of all, his expression. He looks at you as if you were a prized painting, examining your every reaction to a switch of angle, swallowing each erotic noises that escapes your soft lips. He looks out for you so carefully, his gaze so sweet like honey you might mistake him for a puppy.

He thrusts into you continuously, his head tilting backward, grunting as your soft cunt swallows him so tightly. He is too much for you. You’re too close. Your moans are getting louder and louder. His penis hitting the back of your womb so amazingly makes you see stars. Or is it just the starry night ? No matter what you know you won’t last longer. And so he is. “You’re taking me so well angel. Last just a little longer for me.” He asks almost as a request. You obediently do your best to please him, biting your lips to delay your building up release. As you try to refrain for coming, your cunt tightens around him, precum oozing out of his cock, easing his ruts inside you. You are making ur so hard to last, looking so pretty and attractive for anyone.

He furrows his eyebrows as he feels him coming close to the edge. “Where do you want it sweet girl ?” He asks quickly. “Inside !” You answers hurriedly, almost screaming. He is surprised by your answer but cannot bring himself to ask for confirmation as he feels himself coming inside you, stopping momentarily his pace. The feeling of his warm cum filling you all breaks you knot, and soon you also release pleading out.

His attention is all on you when you are coming. He admires you with low lids, the way your mouth opens and your face contorts in pleasure as you ride out your orgasm. He feels glad he could make you feel this way. Such a pretty girl, waisted because of him.

You try to regain composure as best as you can, calming your breathing as best as you can. Calming your pulsing organ, as you breath shakily. You swiftly gain back consciousness as you feel a kiss on your forehead. “Are you alright ?” He questions. You look at the man in front of you. Yeong Shin. Did you make him satisfied ? You hope so.

He pulls out of you and his cock is glistening with both of your arousal. “We made a mess” He states amused. You whine at the emptiness and he notices it. “M’sorry angel” he coos at your pitiful whining. You feel yourself blushing at your spontaneous yet embarrassing act.

He brushes your messy hair back, untangling some strands “You didn’t answer, are you feeling okay ?”. His concern touches you deeply. “I’m feeling amazing thank you Yeong Shin. Are you feeling relieved of some stress is the question though. It was the initial plan after all.” You says gently. He looks at you with fond eyes and blushes at the mention of his name leaving your lips so tenderly. “I am, thank you… For everything.” He answers.

You start to dress back slowly, delaying the time me where you’ll have to say your farewells. Despite it being a one time thing, you still felt empty at the thought of leaving him. He copied you in your actions, half-heartedly putting his clothes back on, mind absent in his though.

When you both look presentable again, you stand up. “Well..” You start awkwardly. He follows you again and gets up quickly. He stays silent. You avoid his gaze, if you will never face him again, you’d rather not remember his face, and that means stop staring at him. At his beautiful, mesmerising face. You can’t do it. You peek at him one last time. You find yourself both staring at each other dumbfounded. You divert your eyes almost immediately. “I’m glad I could have helped.” You say looking at your feet, waiting for something without really knowing why. “It was nice..” he started “..not just having sex, but.. Meeting you. You’re an amazing person Y/n.. I really mean it..” he breathes out the last part, desolated. You smile softly at his declaration. Already nostalgic at the memory of this magical night you’ll never forget. Still, you feel silly being fond of a stranger this quick. A stranger you had sex with, but a stranger nevertheless. This is a one time thing. All you wanted was to help, why did you feel so attached to him in the end..?

You turn around and he thinks this is it. Are you going to leave him like everyone else does ? The others sadly can’t help it, they’re all gone. But you, you are very much healthy and standing before him. He can’t let you go. He inhales a deep huff of air before asking more loudly than he intended “Stay with me, I don’t want you to leave..”. How greedy for him to ask for more, you just helped him out of pity and now he wishes further attention ? You hear him say this and your eyes shot open, turning around to look at him, hopeful. You take a step forward, approaching closer and he looks at you, seeking impatiently a response. You smile fondly at him and put a hand to his cheek. “I don’t want to leave you.” You whisper to him intimately. He lets out a huff of air he didn’t know he’d been holding and for the first time in a while, smiles sincerely, happy to have his feeling reciprocated.

Could this be the start of something good for him ? If it is with a person like you, he really wishes it is..

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

likes, reposts and comments are appreciated!!

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Man From Y.I.L.I.N.G.

Chapter 10: "Places, Places"

This is where I really begin deviating from the movie, for anyone who's keeping track of that sort of thing 😉

--//--

YILING WEI AIRSPACE – NORTHBOUND

Nie Mingjue squints against the setting sun cutting in through the cockpit dome of the black-painted Shenyang J-6 he’d been ferried into with barely any time to process the plethora of information he’d just been given.

“What do you want us to do?” he’d asked back at the Jiangs’ office in Yiling, well aware that he would do whatever it was if it meant he could escape with Huaisang afterwards.

Wei Wuxian had smiled that soulless smile that’s somehow even worse than Jin Guangyao’s most threatening and said, cold as a winter mountain wind, “I want you two to swat a couple of very pesky little mosquitoes for me.”

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

BURIAL MOUNDS — INTERROGATIONS — LEVEL 7

Nie Mingjue studies Wei Wuxian’s business partner (Wei Wuxian had called her ‘Qing-jiejie in the office, but Nie Mingjue obviously has no desire to do the same) where she’s sitting across from him in a futile attempt to gauge her thoughts on…well, anything really, but her expression is as cool and inscrutable as it’s been all day. It’s irritating to be on the receiving end of her dark, knowing haughtiness when without it her face could otherwise seem kind, but he’s also willing to admit that he’s, perhaps, a little biased considering he still doesn’t understand who she is besides someone Wei Wuxian trusts — far from a ringing endorsement in his books.

They’ve been measuring each other up for roughly five minutes in total silence, nothing but the sound of dripping water somewhere to break the electrical humming of the caged, bare light bulb above their heads, when she finally speaks. “You understand that Wen Ruohan must be stopped. How do you want to do it, Chifeng-Zun?”

The word that springs to mind first is ‘violently’, but he’s pretty sure that’s not really the answer she’s looking for. When he doesn’t reply immediately, trying to figure out what it is she’s actually asking, she glances at the door over his shoulder and clucks her tongue in something that could reasonably be impatience. Judging by how quickly they’d whisked him and Jin Guangyao down a hidden tunnel and up into the heart of the Burial Mounds (which is apparently inside Yiling Mountain) their newest employers are on some sort of time crunch. Nie Mingjue can’t help but feel that that’s hardly his problem, and he has no qualms about being a little less than cooperative under the current circumstances. Not enough to put Nie Huaisang in danger, of course, but just enough to make sure they appreciate his cooperation properly when he decides to give it.

She fixes him with a glare again and prods him for an answer. “What are you going to do? Fly straight to Nightless City, guns blazing? Or are you going to surprise us all and make some attempt at subtlety?”

Nie Mingjue clears his throat and tries to decide if he’s impressed or irritated by the dismissal in her tone, the open judgment.

“I’m not sure subtlety will work in my position,” he says, leaning more towards irritation, he thinks. “Considering what Wen Ruohan has made of me and how long I’ve been his best pet project there isn’t a soul in Qishan who wouldn’t betray me on sight.”

Nie Mingjue does his level best not to think about the first years he’d spent in Wen Ruohan’s service; the number of times he’d attempted escape is perfectly equal to the number of times he’d been dragged kicking and screaming down to the old palace-turned-’hospital’ for a fresh dose of whatever cocktail they pump into him that turns everything hazy and agonizing for indeterminate amounts of time. (The number of times he was tortured is, thankfully, much higher than the number of times Nie Mingjue has had to see his brother tortured as well for his insubordinations.)

If she clocks his irritation with her holier-than-thou attitude she doesn’t let on. “As you say,” she acquiesces with an elegant nod that somehow gets under his skin a little more. “Sneak into the complex then go guns blazing, then?”

“It’s very Wen,” he snorts without humor.

“It’s very Nie.”

Her eyes are clear and guileless as she says it, and something about her demeanor stops Nie Mingjue’s irritation in its tracks, his shock a railroad tie strewn across the line.

“What?”

“You aren’t Wen, Chifeng-Zun, no matter what…my uncle-“ Nie Mingjue’s ears are suddenly ringing but he forces himself to listen “—has done to you. You and your brother may be the last, but you’re still every inch a Nie. It’s past time for my uncle to be reminded of that.”

Nie Mingjue swallows hard around whatever emotion is trying to choke him. If it isn’t anger he doesn’t have the time to feel it now, so he forces whatever it is down to be considered…later. Sometime. Definitely.

“How did you end up here? If Wen Ruohan’s your uncle, what happened to make you want to do this?” he asks to distract himself, uncaring if it’s not exactly the politest thing to ask, or the nicest way to ask it. If he doesn’t die in Qishan (which he’s willing to acknowledge is a pretty big ‘if’), the likelihood that he’ll ever see her again after his mission is over is slim to none, so what’s the point in niceties?

She takes so long to answer that he’s nearly certain that she isn’t going to.

“Wei Wuxian saved our lives,” she finally says, her voice almost too soft for him to hear. She continues, a little louder, “You’ve seen what Uncle does to those under his power, and that even his own sons aren’t exempt, though at least they tend to be his last victims. I worked hard to earn his favor and keep A-Ning safe — I know you understand that desire, Chifeng-zun, to sacrifice anything necessary to protect a little brother that the world seems set on hurting. We were surviving, but…”

Nie Mingjue waits with what would likely seem to be uncharacteristic patience for her to continue. He frowns in confusion when the next glance she shoots him looks..guilty.

“I was there when you were brought in. I was Uncle’s favorite protégé at the time. Within a month of our arrival he had made me his head doctor.”

Nie Mingjue’s vision turns hazy around the edges, blood-red that pulses along with his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

‘Doctor’ means something entirely different in Nightless City than it does beyond those walls. ‘Doctors’ in Qishan don’t heal, they ensure that their victims survive whatever punishment Wen Ruohan decides they must be subjected to, whether they want to survive the ordeal or not.

Nie Mingjue has spent a large portion of his life at the mercy of Wen Ruohan’s ‘doctors’, and he’d barely escaped their clutches with his mind intact.

“Did you —” Nie Mingjue chokes on every possible word he could say that wouldn’t even begin to encompass what was done in the torture chambers known only as the ‘Fire Palace’.

“No. I left before he could order me to break you.”

Nie Mingjue laces his shaking hands together in his lap and grips tightly enough that his knuckles turn bone-white, fingertips aching from the bruises he’s pressing into the backs of his palms.

“But you did- to the others—” he says when he can string the words together in the correct order, and without shouting them.

“No. Never. Uncle was struggling with his health at the time, he asked me to treat him and help him hide it. It was..my reward for keeping my head down. He wouldn’t hurt A-Ning, and I was untouchable so long as I behaved. I’ve only ever wanted to heal, it’s my family’s legacy. I did what I could to help, but I had to work carefully and in secret.

“Wei Wuxian got us out, me and A-Ning and my family. He keeps us safe, and he really is doing what’s right. It doesn’t seem like it now, but he’s fixing what he can, and he has plans for the future that no one else would even dream of, things that will harness evil to do good. That’s why I’m here, Chifeng-Zun.”

Nie Mingjue isn’t sure how to really…process all of this. It sounds like she truly believes it, that Wei Wuxian is a man worth following for whatever noble cause he thinks he can achieve with creating a monopoly on all nuclear technology in the world, but Nie Mingjue can’t really say he sees it. It sounds good, of course it does, but he’s heard plenty of pretty words in his lifetime; he’ll need evidence, but before he can go demanding the Yiling Laozu prove himself, he has to finish this mission while their goals are, for the moment, aligned. And while yes, he isn’t sure about the big picture, there’s no doubt in his mind that Wen Ruohan needs to die for a better future for everyone, not just himself and Nie Huaisang.

“So if we go in ‘guns blazing’ as you say, what will you do? If you refuse to hurt anyone, what use are you to me?”

She shoots him a glare and he swears he sees the silver flash of something wickedly sharp between her fingers as she folds her arms tightly across her chest and crosses one knee over the other, her entire posture radiating a sort of deadly calm.

“You and I know Nightless City better than anyone besides Uncle. I still have top level clearance on all the security systems as Uncle thinks I’m being kept a prisoner here — I’ll be the last person he’d think to guard against. I can get you inside and try to keep as many doors between you and the guards locked tight; it’ll be up to you to find Wen Ruohan and finish the job.”

There’s really nothing else for him to say besides, “Fine.”

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

QISHAN WEN AIRSPACE

Not long after they had nothing left to say to each other, Wei Wuxian had come to fetch him and Wen Qing from what Nie Mingjue can only assume was meant to be an interrogation room, and in the few minutes it had taken the rusted old cargo lift to take them up to the airplane hangar near the peak of the mountain that houses Wei Wuxian’s Burial Mounds, his newest employer had outlined to him his flight path as well as the way to sneak past the Wen agents monitoring the Nightless City airspace.

Nie Mingjue had squeezed himself into a cockpit he barely fits in, Wen Qing had climbed into an identical plane beside him (with much less difficulty), and though their helmets contain a short-range radio frequency to talk to each other if need be, they’ve spent the entire flight to Qishan in silence.

When the sun is nearly gone behind the horizon, nothing but a sullen red glow off the bottom of the lowest clouds, Wen Qing waggles her wings to signal the start of their descent and Nie Mingjue breathes slowly.

In.

Out.

In.

Nightless City looms far beneath them through the dusk, already glittering with the thousands of lights that give it its moniker. It’s teeming with activity, shadows of transport vehicles moving through the sprawling city-complex and enormous, shapeless forms only visible from here when they obscure or reveal another glimmer of light through the gloom.

Flying roughly a hundred vertical feet apart stacked one on top of the other to better avoid detection from the agents monitoring the Wen airspace, Nie Mingjue and Wen Qing circle a wide berth around the city, high enough that no one seems to spot their black-painted crafts darting amongst the wisping clouds that always ring the crags of the long-dormant volcano that guards the northeast flank of the old palace complex.

Nie Mingjue squints through the dark of full night as they round the back of the mountain, searching through the sudden darkness for the hangar Wei Wuxian had described in his briefing — a nigh-impossible task without the glitter of the Wens’ base to guide them.

“Chifeng-zun,” Wen Qing’s voice crackles in his ear for the first time since they took to the sky, startling him out of his ruminations.

“What?”

“The entrance to the hangar is marked by a pair of red lanterns, near the top third of the mountain. Do you see it?”

Nie Mingjue scans for them as quickly as he can — they’re heading straight for the sheerest cliff at an alarming speed to be hurtling at a solid wall of rock, so if he doesn’t find it in the next five seconds or so he won’t have anything to worry about at all anymore.

“Spotted,” he reports as Wen Qing pulls up to fly at his side with a scream of her engines and in sync they aim straight for the minute pinpricks of red in the expanse of deep black — pinpricks that, within moments, become over-sized cherry-red lamps hanging from the cliff face hundreds of feet apart. And then suddenly he’s rocketing past a solid line of more of lamps marking the path of the hangar’s landing strip, dotted along the walls that are far closer than he’d expected as he flicks the switch to engage the air brakes and drop the tailhook in the hopes of avoiding smashing into the back of the hangar, wherever that is.

“Arresting wires ahead,” Wen Qing says tightly in the scant seconds before their wheels meet polished stone with an earsplitting screech and their planes jerk to a simultaneous halt hard enough to rattle Nie Mingjue’s bones, the tailhook thankfully doing its job and catching on the cables stretched horizontally across the hangar exactly for that purpose.

He kills the engines through muscle-memory alone and forces his shaking hands to disengage the dome of the cockpit first before he tugs his helmet off over his head, Wen Qing doing the same from what he can see by the sullen red glow of the lamps lining the wall. If she feels as shaken as he does after that landing she makes no sign of it, rather climbing surprisingly gracefully from her plane and dusting herself off a few times and tugging on the thick canvas of her flight suit to resettle it, quite as if she pulls stunts like that every day. Nie Mingjue unpeels himself from the seat and attempts not to kick anything important on his way out, and when his feet are on solid ground again he sucks in a deep breath that only shakes a little while he’s still hidden behind the belly of his plane.

Wen Qing’s thick-soled boots (she’d traded out her stilettos for something more sensible before they’d left Yiling) thunk quickly as she crosses the space to one of the side walls and, after a few long moments of some muttering he can’t quite make out, lifts a lever with a metallic clunk that heralds a flood of bright light through the hangar, the same sickly yellow glow as the miner lights in the Burial Mounds.

“I would welcome you back to Nightless City, but something tells me that wouldn’t be well received,” Wen Qing says as she crosses to a row of lockers further down the same wall and opens the first with a clang to reveal that it’s full of racked guns. “Instead I’ll welcome you to the armory. Take your pick.”

Nie Mingjue shakes off the last of his nerves and strides over to join her, glad to be back in much more familiar territory. He’s well-versed in the sorts of weaponry Wen Ruohan is willing and able to provide, after all, and he arms himself as he would any other mercenary assignment nearly on muscle memory, slinging a pair of automatic rifles over his shoulders and supplementing them with as many pistols as he can reasonably fit on his person.

As Nie Mingjue slots a Type 64 into a holster on his left thigh, Wen Qing raises one sculpted eyebrow to say, almost idly, “You know, when I said ‘guns blazing’ I didn’t mean quite so..literally.”

“Shouldn’t have suggested it then,” he shrugs.

“Hm, I suppose not. Well — I’ll be parting ways with you just beyond the hangar doors.” Nie Mingjue nods and shoves another identical pistol into the holster pressed into the small of his back. “Give me a two-minute count before you head out, and if you hear any alarms just keep going. Uncle should be busy in the Fire Palace if things have gone according to plan. I’ll do everything I can to keep your path clear.”

Nie Mingjue nods again and holsters a fifth and final pistol under his arm, followed by a quick check to make sure he can still reach each one unhindered by the others. He straps two slim blades to the insides of his forearms beneath his sleeves just to be on the safe side and checks the spring latches to unsheathe them, testing the balance of the blades when they slide silently into his palms.

Wen Qing returns the nod he gives her to indicate he’s ready once the knives are once again safely tucked away, but when she turns to go he reaches out to stop her with a hand on her forearm. “What will you do if they catch you? You say you won’t hurt anyone, but you know they won’t hesitate to kill you; you’re a traitor.”

Wen Qing turns her head just enough to meet his gaze over her shoulder, and he nearly withdraws his hand at the steel in her wide, dark eyes.

“I have my ways,” she says with a cryptic little smile that holds no real mirth, a dark joke he isn’t in on, and then she’s gone, slipping her slender wrist from under his hand to stride across the hangar to the door that opens into the warren of tunnels channeling through the mountain and straight to the palace on the other side.

Nie Mingjue counts the seconds that tick by and lets it calm him, his heart rate and breathing slowing, steadying into something nearly meditative.

One, two, three, four — inhale.

Hold.

Exhale — nine, ten, eleven, twelve.

Again.

At the two minute mark by his reckoning, Nie Mingjue steps forward to follow Wen Qing’s path out the door and into the empty maze beyond.

The door clangs shut behind him with a strange feeling of finality, and the ensuing silence carries the crushing weight of the mountain with it. Nie Mingjue strides forward with purpose, his head held high as the walls of his old prison close in on him once again.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

JINLINTAI – MAIN FLOOR

“You were aware of the consequences of disobeying me,” Jin Guangshan sneers. It crawls under Jin Guangyao’s skin and settles there, oily slick. 

It is, in a word, revolting.

“I didn’t disobey you,” he argues, knowing that it’s pointless. The words are a little muddied by the blood in his mouth and the ginger way he’s trying not to worsen the teeth his goonish cousin has already knocked loose with just a few solid backhands — two strikes on the left and one on the right, a molar and an incisor aching and wiggling a little too much for comfort.

Quick as a flash, his father’s boredom disappears into a fit of violent rage, and Jin Guangyao is simply glad that there’s still one last piece of furniture still standing upright for his father to send toppling end over end. The heavy oak table crashes against the wall mere inches from where Jin Guangyao is kneeling and by now it’s purely instinct that keeps him still, refusing to flinch.

(Without any furniture left for Jin Guangshan to abuse it will be Jin Guangyao’s turn next when anger gets the better of him, though his father typically takes pains not to touch him directly with his own hands unless there are no other options.)

“I expressly forbade you from failure!! What is that if not disobedience, and yet now you lie to me directly! You’re nothing but a shameless, pathetic wretch, and yet I’m the fool for having expected anything more than the most damning ruin of everything I’ve worked so hard for!” 

“I didn’t fail, father!” Jin Guangyao protests through his bruised lips and the bile climbing up the back of his throat. “I had no choice but to let them capture me, I needed them to trust that I would cooperate!”

Jin Guangshan’s face turns an intriguing shade of maroon as he roars, “There isn’t a lunatic alive mad enough to trust you!!”

The echo of his shouting reverberates off the stone walls around them, making it sound strangely tinny and far away even as it deafens.

Jin Guangyao forces himself not to flinch away from the densely-packed folder Jin Guangshan flings with every ounce of his strength straight at his face next, but unfortunately his aim is nothing if not accurate. He breathes through the searing indignity of it and the instantaneous bruised ache blooming across the bridge of his nose as the folder slaps onto the ground at his knees, the contents spilling out with a rustle like crows’ wings.

“Father please–”

“Guangshan, enough.”

Jin Guangyao exhales slowly again and ducks down into a deep kowtow without daring to look up at the only person in Lanling capable of criticizing Jin Guangshan without immediate repercussions. Madam Jin’s voice is as sharp as the beloved set of knives she keeps on her person at all times, and as her heels click across the gold-inlaid floor Jin Guangyao could swear he already feels the sharpest of her blades slicing into any and every soft piece of him, exacting the price of his perceived failure in pounds of flesh and drops of blood.

“There’s no sense wasting your breath to scold this ingrate,” Madam Jin continues when she draws level with Jin Guangshan and comes to a stop. Jin Guangyao forces his hands to stay pressed flat on the floor despite the mere inch or two she leaves between the points of her stilettos and the tender vulnerability of the backs of his palms.

“But he–”

“Don’t argue with me!” Madam Jin snaps. “I told you the moment you bought his miserable life that you’d be better off spending that money on yet more whores to stick your sorry prick in rather than the son of one! If you insist on continuing to make a mockery of me and this family then you may as well continue on in the way you always have rather than find a new way to menace this household. Now look where he’s gotten you!!”

“I can decipher the notes,” Jin Guangyao takes his life in his hands to say, an embarrassing plea that he knows he has no choice but to make. “I can tell you precisely how to get into both the Jiangs’ compound and the Yiling Laozu’s Burial Mounds, I’ve been inside them both more than long enough to draw the routes from memory. I’ll return everything they stole from you and deliver more — every scrap of Wei Wuxian’s work can be yours if you let me live. There isn’t enough in that folder alone to get everything you want, but there’s enough for me to fill in the rest!”

“Useless!” Madam Jin spits and steps on his hand as he’d thought she might, though thankfully with the ball of her foot rather than the heel. It’s only crushing pain as she grinds his palm into the floor with a savage twist of her ankle, she doesn’t even break the skin (or a bone), and he’s had far worse from her before. “You’ve done nothing but disgrace the Jin name with this disaster of an assignment, how dare you attempt to pull yourself out of your own grave now!!”

“Calm yourself, furen. Zixun.”

“Uncle.”

Jin Guangyao’s newly-loosened teeth ache from the pressure of his clenched jaw.

“Get this filth out of my sight. A day or two downstairs will be enough to fix this latest disaster, I believe, so long as the Jiangs are stupid enough to truly believe he can be trusted.”

“Yes Uncle.”

Jin Guangyao allows himself to be hauled too roughly to his feet, bruises already aching in his upper arms from his cousin’s grip. No matter – he’ll live for at least two more days. Those two days are likely intended to be days of neglect and the emotional torture of being left underground to rot rather than being run through the usual battery of physical abuses, which will leave his mind free to work without the distractions of pain management or maintaining a suitable mask to show his tormentors.

He shoves away the primal, twisted relief of their ‘mercy’ in favor of forcing himself to begin planning his next step, and the one after that, and after that — he must plan for as many possibilities as he can. Nothing in this life is guaranteed, and it’s been proven time and again that there’s not a soul he can truly trust to help him.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

LANLING — RIVERSIDE MUDBANK

“Here, give him this. Maybe it’ll buy you some time.”

Jiang Wanyin holds out a thick sheaf of papers, shoved haphazardly into a nondescript folder and a little waterlogged, as if soaked in the daring escape Jin Guangyao has (ostensibly) made from the Burial Mounds and the clutches of the Jiangs to return home. He flicks the folder open just long enough to scan the contents and find that it contains not only a detailed blueprint in miniature of the entire facility belonging to the Jiang siblings — including the warren of underground tunnels that dip beneath Yiling and head all the way west to the Burial Mounds and beyond, where they twist northward and disappear into the old mines, though they are at least unlabeled — but also a decent amount of Wei Wuxian’s notes on nuclear technology appended onto a stack of the most important research notes Lan Wangji had stolen from right under Jin Guangshan’s nose last year.

“And you’re truly prepared for my father to have this information?”

Jiang Wanyin is visibly grinding his teeth as he jerks his chin towards the file. “I don’t want it in Guangshan’s groping hands any more than you do, but my brother’s the boss on this one. Wuxian’s notes are all in code, he swears no one can crack it so it won’t matter who sees them. They just need to buy the story long enough for you to get to work.”

Jin Guangyao glances at the notes again and finds that yes, at least at a glance they seem like incoherent gibberish. He decides it’s likely best not to mention that Wei Wuxian has instructed to have his encoded notes handed over to one of the best thieves in the world. Jin Guangyao has yet to find a lock, or a code, or a safe he couldn’t crack; Wei Wuxian is either that foolish, or else trusts far too easily.

Either one suits Jin Guangyao’s purposes just as well.

“Alright. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”

“Fine. We’ve got someone in there keeping an eye on things for us, you’ll find out who it is if you end up needing help.”

Jin Guangyao hunts Jiang Wanyin’s flint-hard gaze for any sign that this agent of theirs has been instructed to help him or to monitor him, but they’re running out of time before their ruse is discovered and under the perpetually irritated mask he wears Jiang Wanyin is surprisingly difficult to read  without sufficient practice — he doesn’t have the time to suss out the truth.

Before Jin Guangyao can come to a conclusion one way or the other, they part ways without another word. Jin Guangyao ‘stumbles’ up to the glittering towers of Jinlintai from the muddy, shadowy banks of the river and a newly wrecked Jiang Shipping speedboat, and Jiang Wanyin slips back into his disguise as a humble fisherman slowly paddling his way downriver — back towards Yiling and his Sandu hidden behind a bend in some reeds — in the evening gloom.

“Well, look who’s finally graced us with his presence. You never learn your lesson, do you?” Jin Zixun sneers within moments of Jin Guangyao staggering within range of the floodlights illuminating the immediate area around the faintly-humming fence. “Stupid fucking bastard.”

“On the contrary, Zixun, I’ve learned this and many other lessons perfectly well,” he replies — and lets his cousin punch him straight in the nose.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

JINLINTAI – BASEMENT LEVEL 3

Jin Guangyao stumbles into the room Jin Zixun shoves him into, his cousin clearly anxious to stop touching him at the earliest opportunity. Well, the feeling is mutual, and Jin Guangyao makes a little point out of dusting himself off with a noticeable grimace of distaste and putting his wrinkled jacket to rights (though in the interest of making a convincingly difficult escape from the Jiangs, there’s far worse wrong with his suit than a few errant wrinkles).

“Stay here,” Jin Zixun barks.

“What an asinine instruction; it’s clear I have no choice.”

Jin Zixun just sneers at him — it’s his default, to be fair — and slams the door shut extra hard on his way out. Quite frankly the number of deadbolts and chains he sets before the echo of it has even died out  is both comical and insulting, especially considering the room that was made to function as an impromptu cell for him is just that – impromptu. Unbeknownst to his family (except for Mo Xuanyu), he’s broken out of it more times than he’d bother trying to count at the present moment. In order to hold him for any significant length of time it would have had to have been designed to do so in its original construction, but considering how old Jinlintai is, and the fact that it was never designed as a prison, the room is far from impenetrable.

Still, he’s tired and there’s nothing pressing that he needs to do at the moment now that he’s set his first few pieces in motion, so he lays down on the pathetic little pallet bed in the corner and settles in to think.

Wei Wuxian’s instructions had been simple, trusting him (and, he presumes, Nie Mingjue) to accomplish their tasks in whatever way they think is best. Or, perhaps, letting them take the revenge they want to take, rather than attempting to dictate how it should be done. A small mercy that, considering the nature of how he’d decided to claim their allegiances for himself.

At that, his thoughts turn inescapably to thinking about what sort of condition Mo Xuanyu is in now; he hopes that Jin Zixuan is taking the responsibility to watch over him seriously. He may trust Jiang Yanli and her brothers as much as he wants, but he must understand that Jin Guangyao is more than a little reluctant to do so as well. And that’s not even taking into account Mo Xuanyu’s personal fears regarding anyone in direct power over him and his family, which Jin Guangyao feels are perfectly justified considering his childhood in his aunt’s house, only to then receive so much worse in Jinlintai after he was promised a better life if he joined the organization. If nothing else, he can at least be reasonably assured that his little brother isn’t spending the night in a cell or one of Jin Guangyao’s less-than-comfortable hideouts in Lanling, which is more than he’s been able to say in years.

It’s…incredible, to be lying in a cell in Jinlintai knowing his own life is hanging on by a thread but fearing very little knowing his siblings are somewhere Jin Guangshan can’t easily reach them. No matter his opinions on Wei Wuxian as a person, there is no denying that he’s turned Yiling into something of a haven for those running from cruel men stronger and more powerful than them. Few dare to infiltrate the Yiling Laozu’s domain, and those who do don’t do so lightly, or without forethought. He doesn’t trust Wei Wuxian very far, but at least far enough to take his family away from here.

That’s not nothing.

Perhaps it would be best to get this done quickly. Perhaps he can give Wei Wuxian that much courtesy, at least.

Jin Guangyao grinds his teeth and turns to lie on his side, his back to the rest of the room as if he can pretend so easily that he’s somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He drifts off into a light doze, undisturbed but waiting, waiting, and with the ease of years of never truly resting his eyes pop open in the darkest hour of the night before dawn begins to blue the horizon, in a darkness so deep and black it feels like a physical presence weighing him down. It doesn’t matter; Jin Guangyao knows all of Jinlintai like the back of his hand, and his father’s attempts to discombobulate him by shoving him somewhere far underground where he can’t see, can’t be heard even if he screams, barely register as unpleasant anymore. He stands and strips out of everything unnecessary — shoes, socks, belt, jacket, shirt, anything that could make noise or brush against something he isn’t intending. It’s not as good as his ‘sneaksuit’ as Jin Zixuan had dubbed it, but he can fix that as easily as getting into one of his hiding spots to change into something more appropriate for stalking through the maze of Jinlintai.

Dressed only in his trousers and his undershirt, Jin Guangyao feels his way along the back wall of the room and stretches up onto his toes as far as he can to reach the grate covering the ventilation duct near the ceiling. The first time he’d broken free of this room he’d had to fashion a tool to take the cover off, but his father’s security is as lax as ever it would seem — two screws he’d hand-twisted into place opposite each other to keep the cover on the last time he’d been held in here are apparently convincing enough to escape Jin Guangshan’s notice. Jin Guangyao rolls his eyes as he removes the screws easily and the grate falls straight into his hands without a sound.

Hauling himself up into the vent takes barely any effort at all, as does finding the junction that leads to a hallway a few turns away from his cell, though once there he doesn’t immediately free himself.

Here, at least, there are emergency lights glowing: long, sallow greenish-white rods that paint everything with a sickly pale glow, the few shadows in the corners of the ceiling stark black in contrast. Jin Guangyao hides and waits, ears strained for the sounds of the night patrol making their irregular rounds. They won’t check his cell, he knows, as Jin Guangshan had stipulated that Jin Guangyao spend at least a day on his own — if not two — in an attempt to break him, but that won’t mean anything if they catch him walking free.

Eventually he hears them, two sets of boots walking not quite in sync and he sidles closer to the grate, silent and watchful as the guards round the corner, one of them fighting a losing battle against a wide yawn.

“Wait here for a second.”

“Where are you going?” the first guard asks behind his hand, mouth still wide open.

“I want to go check on Jin er-gongzi.”

Jin Guangyao feels the blood drain from his face. This is against protocol, against the orders Jin Guangyao knows his father has given. Why does she care enough to go against Jin Guangshan in his own domain?

“Eh?? What’s the point?”

“He’s a world-renowned thief, you’re not worried at all that he’s going to find some way to escape?”

It is, at least, a very fair and pertinent question, Jin Guangyao has to give her that. Of course he’s less inclined to be charitable considering there’s about to be a city-wide manhunt for him and he’s hiding half-naked in a ventilation shaft with a single, very obvious entry-point and only so many places he could have gone.

There’s nothing much he can do now, though, as the guard in question is already making her way back around the corner and he has no hope of beating her back to the cell, let alone dressing again and getting back on the pallet to prove his innocence. Jin Guangyao forces himself to breathe deeply and silently as he waits, stuck in place until the guards leave, one way or another. He can hear the clanking of the deadbolts on his door echoing down the concrete hallways, and the slight creak of old hinges. He holds his breath, expecting a shout or some other indication that she’s found the room empty except for his discarded clothes.

The door clangs shut again, each lock carefully thrown back into place. The guard’s steps are even and calm again as she returns, and Jin Guangyao wonders if he’s hallucinating when she reports, “He’s asleep. Let’s go.”

“Whatever,” her companion yawns again and falls into step at her side with a little shuffle of his boots. Jin Guangyao holds his breath as they pass beneath him…and just catches the thumbs-up the second guard holds behind her back before the pair turns the corner. It would seem he’s spotted his mysterious ally, no trouble necessary. (He chooses to feel nothing about the fact that apparently she really has been placed here to help him, not to ensure his good behavior.)

He waits long enough to be certain that they’re gone before he gets to work removing the grate, slowly and methodically finding every screw to loosen until he can apply enough pressure to pop the thing off with an echoing clang!. This grate, at least, he puts back in place to hide his escape for as long as possible before he hurries to the nearest stairwell.

Skulking through Jinlintai by little more than the light of the moon (once he’s above-ground again) is instinctual at this point, bare feet whisper-quiet on the tile as he darts from shadow to shadow. For all that he’d come to it later in life rather than being raised in the sprawling complex, he’s had all the reasons in the world to want to learn its every secret, and that knowledge serves him well now. Getting to his nearest hiding spot while dodging the teams of guards making their rounds is simple work, and though there’s evidence of Mo Xuanyu having made use of the space recently his brother had at least been thoughtful enough to replenish any supplies he’d taken, and to leave Jin Guangyao’s spare clothes and weapons untouched.

Once properly clothed and armed, Jin Guangyao pauses for a little mental flick through his many ideas for just such an occasion as this. Never had he dreamt he’d actually get the chance to clear his path of his monstrous family so thoroughly and without consequences, but he hasn’t gotten as far as he has by not planning even for impossibilities.

Poison feels appropriate, he thinks. Wei Wuxian hadn’t instructed him to make it painless, after all. And isn’t Nie Mingjue always calling him ‘Little Viper’? He has no idea how true that can be.

Jin Guangyao leaves his hiding spot again after the next patrol passes and he strides with purpose through the halls of Jinlintai, heading for his own room with its well-hidden lab tucked behind a false wall built of solid steel and concrete. No one will come looking for him in his basement cell again for at least 24 hours — more than enough time for what he has in mind.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

YILING CITY — 莲花 VILLA

“Everyone’s made it to Lanling and Qishan. We just have to wait it out now,” Wei Wuxian reports to Wen Ning and Jiang Yanli in the latter’s kitchen, his voice pitched low under the burbling of several pots on the stove and the cheerful (if slightly subdued) chatter out in the main room. 

“I can’t help but feel that a-Xuan and Yu-didi deserve to know what’s going on,” Jiang Yanli sighs.

Wei Wuxian shares a one-eyebrow-raised glance with Wen Ning, but his traitorous best friend simply smiles gently at him in his usual way. For good measure he mouths ‘Yu-didi??’ but Wen Ning’s answer doesn’t change except to add a shrug, so Wei Wuxian shrugs it off as well. They’ve got bigger things to worry about and the Lans will be here any minute to join them for dinner. Best to get all talk of murder out of the way before they arrive, considering how distasteful they find it, even when they acknowledge its necessity.

“I’ll leave that decision to you, jiejie, I’m sure you’d be more sensitive about it than I would. I’ve got to focus on making sure everything’s in place to snap up the spoils when they’re dropped at our door.”

“How long do you think they’ll need?” Wen Ning asks and steps up to the stove to take over stirring duty with ease when Jiang Yanli steps away to check on something in the icebox.

“Those two? No more than 48 hours I’d say,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. In truth they’ll probably need less than that, but Wei Wuxian considers himself a pretty generous man. If it were him (he wishes it was him), he’d be savoring the opportunity to torment his tormentors; to kill slowly, to make them afraid and remember in horrifying detail every hurt they’ve caused, every innocent life they’ve taken. Wen Ruohan, in particular, he’d like to grind into a paste beneath the heel of his boot, but Lan Zhan had put his foot down on that one, and Wei Wuxian is nothing if not a dutiful husband.

(Wen Ruohan has sons though, with hands just as bloody as their father’s, and should Nie Mingjue not think to get rid of them first in the feverish bloodlust of pursuing his chief torturer, then Wei Wuxian will simply have to take on the unsavory work of cleanup duty, that’s all there is to it.)

Jiang Yanli sighs softly as she returns and gently takes the wooden spoon back from Wen Ning. “They’ve both been through so much, they’ve more than earned the right to carry out their revenge however they see fit. I imagine it’ll be quite the mess to clean up when they’ve finished.”

“Probably,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. He doesn’t particularly care about messes, if he’s being honest. “Or it’ll be a damn good warning that we won’t see others abused and stand idly by.”

“Maybe,” Jiang Yanli hums. “Ning-didi, could you call the boys in here please? Dinner’s ready.”

“Mm!”

Wen Ning steps out of the kitchen and Wei Wuxian meets his sister’s eyes, perfectly well versed in all her elder-sisterly manipulating ways. Whatever she wants to say next is meant only for him, so he’d better listen. 

“When this is finished, promise me you’ll slow down, A-Xian.”

Wei Wuxian drops his eyes to the comfort foods simmering away on the stove, to the massive pot of rice on the back burner that always seems full whenever it needs to be. He watches his sister’s delicate, caring hands tending to each dish with expert precision, always taking care of others with more gentle, mothering love than any of them had been shown in their childhoods, and his throat suddenly feels tight.

‘When this is finished’ she’d said. But Wei Wuxian doesn’t know that it ever will be. The entire world is clamoring for weapons, for defenses from everyone else’s weapons, for the strongest guns and the biggest armies, and they’re all careening towards nuclear disaster faster than he can try to stop it. When Wen Ruohan and Jin Guangshan are dead very little will truly change, not in the grand scheme of things. There will always be more work to be done, and no one he really trusts to do it except him and those closest to him, but even he knows they can’t go on like this forever. Jiang Yanli is about to start a family. Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s grandmother is nearly too old to care for their youngest cousin, and sending sweet little A-Yuan away from his family to be raised is untenable; it’s far from impossible that Wen Qing will insist on raising the boy herself with Jiang Cheng and how could he ever refuse them that chance?

The world is barreling ahead without them and the work is multiplying faster than he can take care of it… Wei Wuxian is so tired, and so is everyone he loves.

“A-Xian. Promise me.”

Wei Wuxian musters up a smile for his sister and leans down to kiss the top of her head.

“Alright, jiejie,” he caves. He always does, for her. “When this is over I’ll take it easy for a while. Between you and Lan Zhan I don’t think I’ll have much of a choice.”

Jiang Yanli’s laugh is gentle, the high, sweet burble of a tiny stream. “Are you accusing us of conspiring?” she teases with a sparkle of mischief in her eye and Wei Wuxian laughs, a real one like so few people can bring out in him anymore.

“Aiyah, aren’t we all conspiring, all the time?” he counters. He glances over his shoulder at the sound of a few greetings being called out from the living room and he turns like a flower to the sun just in time for Lan Zhan to stride into the kitchen, full of purpose. Wei Wuxian’s happy greeting dies on his lips at the sight of him, and though he still receives his customary hello kiss it’s tinged with whatever unsavory news Lan Zhan has for him.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Wen Qing lost Chifeng-Zun,” Lan Zhan says, terse. “He’s alive, but we do not know for how much longer.”

“Is she home?”

“She called on the long-range from the plane, she is not being pursued. She did all she could, but the Wens were waiting for them.”

Wei Wuxian grits his teeth and resists the urge to storm straight back to the Burial Mounds, to lock it down tight and start a manhunt for whatever rat has found their way into his ranks this time.

“Where are Xichen-ge and Lan-laoshi?”

“Shufu is monitoring the channels for any further messages...xiongzhang left for Lanling.”

Wei Wuxian raises his eyebrows at that, but, well…he supposes that if he had the choice, yeah, he’d probably want to save at least someone he cares for from a trap, even if it’s a suicide mission. (In fact, he already has, and his extended family stands as the living, breathing proof of that.)

“Is A-Cheng aware?” Jiang Yanli asks. “If the same thing has happened in Lanling-“

“No news yet from Jinlintai,” Lan Zhan reports. “We must wait for xiongzhang’s report.”

They sit with that for only a moment in silence before Jiang Yanli rallies, as she always does, and smiles softly.

“Alright, so we wait. Come on, sit down. The time will pass faster while we eat something. Boys!” she steps past them to call, no hint of her worry in her voice, though it’s in the tense set of her shoulders. “Come on, let’s eat. You two especially are far too thin, sit, sit down.”

Mo Xuanyu and Nie Huaisang both still carry a hint of their distrust like a shield, their eyes darting around, clearly waiting for a trick of some kind as they step into the kitchen, a united front presented by two deeply traumatized young men in yet another hostage situation. Wei Wuxian offers them both his most charming grin and hurries to help Jiang Yanli set the table and project an aura of normalcy that he’d wager has been missing from their lives for entirely too long, if either of them ever even had it to begin with.

“Ning-didi, come sit,” Jiang Yanli calls when Wen Ning hovers alone in the doorway, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. Wei Wuxian can see it in his eyes — he knows something’s wrong and he won’t be able to settle until he knows what it is; he’s always been sensitive like that.

“Actually,” he starts nonchalantly, before Wen Ning is forced to come up with some excuse to avoid having to eat on a nervous stomach, “Lan Zhan just told me a little birdy’s flying south for the winter as fast as her wings can carry her, and I think she’ll need to eat when she gets here. Maybe a little mouse..or a rat. Don’t you think, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian ignores the confused stares from each of his guests in favor of focusing only on Wen Ning, his wide, dark eyes seeming to take up his whole face as he begins puzzling through the little ‘riddle’. Since the day they met, mere months before the outbreak of war, Wen Ning has always understood him in a way that even Wei Wuxian can’t entirely explain, and time has only improved their ability to know each other down to their cores.

After a stretch of contemplative silence, Wen Ning blinks and resolve hardens his gaze. He says nothing, simply nodding once shortly and turning to leave, the front door closing softly behind him.

Wei Wuxian starts eating with pleasure, as happy as ever to get the chance to sample his sister’s cooking while she’s in town.

“Here, try this,” Jiang Yanli breaks the anxious silence to say, soft and gentle as a feather as she places the choicest pieces of spiced and roasted vegetables in the boys’ bowls, Mo Xuanyu first and then Nie Huaisang. “I’m sure you must be hungry after all of this, it’s a lot of change for you all at once, poor things.”

Wei Wuxian meets Lan Zhan’s fondly exasperated gaze and gives him his most winsome smile until his husband relents with a little huff and starts eating as well. At the unspoken signal they all begin to eat and forget, at least for a few hours, anything that’s happening beyond the bubble of peace Jiang Yanli has created just for them.

[hekate1308]

Prompt: Do you even know what this means

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel

It doesn’t matter what Sam says – and he even seems to have learned his lesson in that regard, since he thankfully hasn’t complained about Dean’s life choices for months now, although that might have to do with his new girlfriend Sarah – Dean loves his little antique book shop, and he has never regretted that he bought it on a whim back when he was eighteen and Mr. Bythell wanted to retire.

Yes, some clients can be a handful, and he has several opinions about Amazon that he knows to keep to himself lest they get back to them and he gets buried under the power of Jeff Bezos, but still. There are a lot of wonderful moments when he finds a rare book or can help someone who has been desperately seeking for a title or just needs a break from the stress of every day life. It might be frustrating that he can’t afford a full-time employee, but Charlie and Gilda are always happy to help out, and students like Kevin are happy to take any summer job that presents itself.

And so, he has no plans of changing things. He lives his life, he sells and buys books, there are game nights with Charlie and Gilda and Andrea and Benny and Crowley, when he can get his friend to admit he is actually having fun during those, and everything’s fine.

And then things change, although not in the way he would have assumed if he had expected them to.

Because today the door bell rings out and a new customer comes in. Now, that’s nothing new in and out of itself, but the guy is – to be perfectly frank – hot.

And he says that as someone who has had his fun, if you know what he means.

Still.

“Hey” he greets him, strolling towards him. “Can I help?”

He blinks at him, looking ever so slightly confused and rumpled and oh God, Dean is in trouble. “I just moved here” he then informs him abruptly. “I’m Castiel Novak.”

“Like the angel?” he asks, only learning later he’s the only one who’s ever reacted that way.

Castiel blinks at him again and Dean holds out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

Two months later

“You should try and do more with the internet.”

Apart from the fact that Cas just pronounced the word as if he has never heard of wi-fi, Dean can’t help but shake his head. “We all know how that would end.”

“I don’t mean just an online-shop. I was thinking about a book subscription service – they are all the range, these days. Maybe something like a mystery box, the sort of thing people unbox on YouTube. People would subscribe and you could choose the books.”

So Cas, who lives in a house where the electricity barely works, just asked him to – “Do you even know what this means?” he asks because he can’t help it – is he really supposed to believe that someone who dresses like Columbo has any idea what the internet is?

“I do sell my honey online” Cas says, sounding almost disappointed, and he’s quick to do damage control.

“Sorry, man. It’s not a bad idea – not a bad idea at all – just – do you think there’d even be a market for it?”

“I don’t see why not” Cas shrugs. “You still sell books, don’t you, even though everyone seems to think they are going out of style, as they say” oh God he’s actually doing quoty fingers and it looks much much cuter than it has any right to “so why should it not work when you develop your own way of doing so in the Internet?”

It might just work, Dean reflects. And really, what has he got to lose? Yes, his bookshop, but he’s always on the brink of doing that anyway…

“Alright” he decides, “Any ideas?”

Cas looks at him and they are back at the staring one another thing, great.

Yet he can’t bring himself to mind too much.

Three years later

“Cas are you smuggling books about bees into the boxes again?”

“They are really interesting! Remember, we got several emails about them just last month…”

He can’t help but admit that, so he kisses his husband instead of saying anything. “Fine” he announces, drawing back, “but next month I get to pick the theme.”

“It’s going to be old-timers” Cas grumbles.

“Are you really going to tell me that I only have one topic of interest?”

Cas looks so guilty that Dean just has to kiss him again. “Hey, look, as long as the customers don’t mind, and they don’t seem to…”

This time when they separate, Cas is smiling at him and Dean – with the roof leaking again, a customer having tried to steal several books yesterday, and Crowley and his mother once more at odds – has never felt more blessed in his life.

[claire-starsword]

Shining Force All HQ Quotes - JP & ENG

[translated some of these on the guide book notes anyway so why not gather them all. I avoided it because Lowe’s sexual harassment bums me out but it came up on the guide anyway so whatever at this point. I promise other characters get better stuff.

Since I did not play the JP version quotes are taken from this handy list. English screenshots are from an old playthrough of mine so Max has a different name.

Also, several active team quotes were reused (with occasional tweaks) in the GBA version and translated accurately there. I didn’t have the patience to screenshots them all but used them as reference in my own translations. That’s enough rambling so let’s go]

Luke

Active:

"Nothing to fear while I'm here! Take me to battle always!"

Rest:

"Everyone's talking about how awesome the last battle was, c'mon, take me on the next one! It won't be fun to go back home without anything to brag about."

Ken

Active:

"Getting to fight as a real knight is like a dream come true. I'll do my best!"

Rest:

"I'm sorry, Max, but traveling through all these countries is a lot of fun."

Tao

Active:

"I'll fight to my very end... I want to be of service to you!"

Rest:

"...Hmm, hmm... Mythical magic? ... I don't get it... Where could it be? ...I don't understand... but I want to."

Hans

Active: the english version is perfectly accurate, save for cutting the ellipsis

Rest:

"Max, seems like you were really fierce in the last battle… You’re brave... While I’m so, so afraid. I wonder how the others feel."

Lowe

Active:

"I'm the support so that everyone can fight with no worries... But let me fight too sometimes!"

Rest:

"Ah, I'm bored, so bored. I feel like messing with the girls now. Whoa, what! That's a scary face, man... I got it, I'll behave."

[much better]

Gong

Active: the english version is accurate.

Rest:

"Humpf, huff, huff! Hiyah! What are you staring at so intently? I'm training so that my attacks get stronger."

Gort

Active:

"This great Gort isn't about to lose to any youngsters yet!"

Rest:

"Max! Want some sashimi? I and the other guys who were free caught some fish and cut them up with this sword. Oops, was that not okay?"

Mae

Active:

"I inherited my father's strength! I won't forgive you if you look down at me for being a woman!"

Rest: the english version is accurate save for cutting a "One two! One, two!" at the beginning

Khris

Active:

"Tell me when you get hurt, okay? Even a small wound can make you unable to fight if you don't care for it."

Rest:

“B-Blaaaze! ...Aww, it really doesn’t work... Max... I think it’s impossible for a priest to use Blaze...”

Anri

Active: english version is mostly accurate but missing the end part.

"Max, thank you for your efforts. I'll do my best too, so take care of yourself as well."

Rest:

"Max! Listen here, Lowe just touched my butt! If he does it again I'll blast him with a Blaze spell."

Arthur

Active: english version is accurate

Rest:

"Once this journey is over, there’s something I want to do. I’m thinking of searching for the legendary golden Holy Grail..."

Balbaroy

Active:

"I'll fight until these wings break. With our pride as rulers of the sky..."

Rest:

"*crack* *crack* Oh, my neck is tense. I've been flying all year so this area around the neck gets stiff. It gets harder to move the wings too."

Amon

Active: english version is perfectly accurate

Rest:

"*flapflapflap* *flapflapflap* I just can't stand still on the ground! *flapflapflap* *flapflapflap*"

Diane

Active: english version is accurate although cutting a generic "I'll strike them all down!" at the end

Rest:

"*click* *click* *nyooooom* Ah, this? I'm restringing my bow. Should be okay now. *nyoooom*"

Zylo

Active:

"We werewolves were born to fight. Of course I wish to be at the battlefield..."

Rest:

"*swish* *swish* *swish* *swish* My claws are my weapons. Of course it is crucial to take care of them. Good, they look in excellent shape."

Pelle

Active:

"Don't get it wrong. I'm a real knight. I don't just go whenever the money is."

Rest:

"*clop clop* *stab!* Whoa! That was close... I might end up hurting you if you come to talk while I'm training."

Yogurt his japanese line is the same either in the active team or not:

"...I don't get it..."

Active:

Rest:

Kokichi

Active:

"Yahoo! I'm fired up to fight! I'll make quick work of those Runefaust guys!"

Rest:

"Hey there, Max! Behold the wonders of modern life! Walking is now a thing of the past."

Vankar

Active:

"Putting me in battle means you have great eyes! As expected of a leader!"

Rest:

“(hic) Drinks, more drinks! Keep bringing on the drinks! Oh, if it ain’t Max! Say, my glass’ been empty for a while now, fill it up for me, won’t ya?”

Domingo

Active:

"Ahem. Did yu know? There's thwee times more ocean than land in this wold."

Rest:

“Ahem. Did yu know? No one here believs it but, the wold isn’t flat.”

Guntz

Active: the GBA version fits perfectly

"Hssss hsssssss... My steam engine's fired up and raring to go!"

Rest:

"*Hsssss hssssss* Everything's fine. I'm doing some maintenance right now. Ah, this is the best."

Earnest

Active: The english version is accurate save for dropping the drama ellipsis (the jp version is more like “My wish... is to fight at the front lines!”).

Rest:

"It's also good to take a break from fighting once in a while. Since I've been fighting all my life..."

Lyle

Active: english version is accurate save for cutting out the Assault Cannon's name

Rest:

"...Huh? An, an enemy attack? ...Was it a dream? This is really embarrassing. Since I had nothing to do I ended up dozing off I guess."

Bleu

Active:

"I'll fight! With my pride as a sacred dragon!"

Rest: english version is mostly accurate but i ended up retranslating anyway

"*swoosh* *swoosh* *swoosh* Do I still lack experience? I'm not great at using my tail."

Musashi

Active:

"Any specters that appear shall be cut by my sword. Gahaha!"

[Check the notes on his bio for the specters/mononoke thing. Also, like most samurai characters in media, Musashi uses some outdated language. Unfortunately I don't know enough old english to try to adapt that.]

Rest:

"... ...I'm awake... Perhaps you do not know. This is a form of meditation, Zazen. It is part of my training."

Alef

Active:

"Let's do our best together to defeat Darksol."

Rest:

"What is the deal with that priest, Lowe? He's been loitering around for a while. It's quite unpleasant, could you do something about it?"

Torasu

Active: the english version is accurate, if a bit clumsy

"Please try to not be hurt badly. If your allies are hurt, leave them to me."

Rest:

"Max, you're wide open! *thump* Aah, you didn't feel it at all? Ohh, were I powerful like a monk, maybe I'd stand out more."

Adam

Active: the GBA version fits perfectly.

"I was born to serve you... I will follow wherever you lead."

Rest:

“Darksol… I cannot forgive him. Even Chaos was used by him… I won’t ever forgive him…”

Hanzou

Active: the GBA version fits perfectly.

"...A ninja is a man of few words. We are content to show our strength in battle..."

Rest:

"Everyone is very active. Well, it's fine by me. I am of the shadows. A bright place like this does not suit me. But should you desire, I'll lend you my power."

[semper-legens]

67. The Drowned City, by K. J. Maitland

Owned: No, library Page count: 437 My summary: One year to the day from the Gunpowder Plot. A huge wave has rolled down the Bristol Channel, nearly destroying the city and claiming many lives. Down in the cells of Newgate, a prisoner nicknamed Gallows thinks it’s only a matter of time before he loses his hands. But when he is hauled from the cells and given a second chance, he is charged with one goal. Find the Catholic spies that are said to plague Bristol. Or it will not just be his hands that he loses... My rating: 2.5/5 My commentary:

You know, for all I talked about wanting a break from the endless slew of Victorian historical fiction, I really didn't connect with this one. Which is a shame, because this should have been right up my alley! It's about Jacobean England, during the early reign of King James I - a period of English history, and a king, that I am actually quite interested in. And yet. Just found this book kind of boring, I'm afraid. Oh, it's perfectly serviceable, and I'm sure there's folks out there that would like it. It's just that those people aren't me.

As I was reading this, I kept comparing it (unfavourably, I shall admit) to the Thomas Hawkins series. What drew me there was Thomas' rogueish charms - he's a character, and a strong one! He's charismatic, he's playful, he's rakishly charming. The same cannot be said for Daniel Pursglove, our hero here. Daniel is something of a wet blanket, as a point of fact. I was intensely frustrated with him throughout the novel for the fact that he doesn't really do anything. His investigations into the identity of the suspected Catholic leader, and later his murder investigations, are somewhat half-hearted, and he's not particularly proactive. He intervenes at one stage to protest to the lynching of a group of suspected Catholics, is rebuffed, and then just...gives up? When Myles gets almost killed, Daniel's not even the one to heroically leap in and rescue him! He just stands there, then goes to find them! He's just so...dull.

And overall, the narrative of the book just isn't that interesting. Any suspense or interest is curtailed by the fact that the plot is increasingly obvious. I don't think there was a single thing that surprised me throughout the narrative - and not in a fun, oh-my-God-I-worked-it-out kind of way, more a why-is-this-man-so-fucking-dense kind of way. With few fleshed-out suspects, of course the occasional reference to serving maid Rachael acting shiftily means she's the real culprit. Of course the men wanting a street urchin to serve in their masque over their own apprentice means they're going to sacrifice him. It's just so predictable. Adding to that is the fact that most of the characters speak entirely in exposition, and none of them really have a reason to be infodumping to this random stranger with the flimsiest of cover stories who just sort of wanders into their presence, and maybe buys them a drink. It just wasn't believable, and wasn't interesting. Sorry, book.

Next up, more murder, but this time in real life.

[teaandsconeswrites]

Sick ZhongChi / TartaLi Headcanons

I received this as an ask on Twitter, so I thought I’d share here too! Headcanons for each of them when sick and when looking after the other:

Carer Zhongli:

He knows ALL the remedies. Soups, herbs, optimal room temperature for sleeping - you name it, he knows it. However, he's quite particular and has the whole thing optimised to a strict schedule. Childe isn't sure what's stricter - the Fatui's military regime or Zhongli's "Operation Sick Childe". He spends the day preparing all the various remedies to give to Childe.

However, he's not a robot, and if a snotty-nosed Childe drags him back into bed and curls up next to him, grumbling that he hasn't seen him all day after being locked in the kitchen, he's happy to oblige. No topic is off limits when Childe is sick, and Zhongli talks about whatever Childe asks of him, until a telltale snore tells him that Childe is resting soundly.

Sick Zhongli:

How does adeptus biology work? Can he get sick? Can human diseases be transferred to adepti?

Ok ok assuming he gets a normal human cold. On the one hand, he probably has a contract with the WFP regarding his work commitments for any of the projects he takes a consulting role on. If that's the case, making sure he upholds his contractual obligations is probably first priority, even when sick. Any urgent projects are coming to bed with him. He might be retired, but his contracts are still important to him, and it would take something really bad to knock him out bad enough to not get them done.

However, this man also has a flair for the dramatic, and I think he does those big grandpa sneezes. Maybe they shake the earth a little bit each time. 🤭 I can also see him being particular in the way he's treated, giving Childe instructions like "if you use plant A instead of plant B, it's better for the recovery of energy" or "you should boil the soup at X degrees, not Y degrees, because Y degrees degrades the nutritional quality of the vegetables". It drives Childe a bit crazy, but Zhongli means well, and is grateful for the things Childe does for him. When Childe finally brings him that bowl of perfectly prepared soup, he takes a sip, smiles, and says, "Thank you, Ajax."

Carer Childe:

He's used to taking care of sick people, he did it all the time for his siblings. However, he was NOT prepared for a sick Zhongli and his endless instructions. It's frustrating, but he's good at following orders, so he adheres to Zhongli's never ending string of requests. It's worth it when Zhongli finally smiles, after a morning spent destroying an entire box of tissues, and thanks him for all he's done.

He's someone who really cares for his family (and by extension, Zhongli) from the bottom of his heart. Anything to make Zhongli feel better, he can stretch the bank's budget to cover it. He brings Zhongli things he finds on his shopping trips that he thinks might brighten his day - trinkets, books, silly ornaments. Other acts of service he can do too - cleaning the house, doing the laundry, restocking the groceries - he does it without complaint so everything is in order for Zhongli when he's feeling better.

He knows Zhongli appreciates it.

Sick Childe:

Childe has done everything pretty much solo for a long time, so his initial instinct is to hide it and battle on through. He's not particularly shameful about it, he just doesn't think to ask for help. When he realises he's not fit to work, he goes home, makes himself some soup and tucks himself into bed with a stack of tissues. Being stuck inside is boring, but he's not got a death wish, so he brings a book on fighting or fishing techniques, or perhaps some kind of small scale wood carving, and settles in to recover until he's fit to fight again.

When Zhongli comes home and starts fussing over him, he's not entirely sure what to do with it. It's nice, but unfamiliar. He hasn't been treated like this since... well, he hasn't been treated like this in a long time.

He starts off pretty independent, but as he gets used to the attention, he gets a little more clingy. Zhongli is so busy preparing this and that remedy that Childe hasn't had a chance to talk to him properly all day and he misses his voice. So when Zhongli threatens to disappear again after placing his latest stash of herbs on the bedside table, Childe grabs Zhongli's sleeve and pulls him into bed. It's not long before he finds himself curling up by Zhongli's side, a residual flicker of something more innocent stirring inside of him, listening to the comforting lull of Zhongli's voice. As Zhongli speaks, the low vibrations humming through him, he relaxes, and before long, he's so, so, sleepy...

[scarlvtbitch]

Gold Rush

Sebastian Stan x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Summary: Reader is Sebastian’s best friend, but she’s in love with him. Unrequited love with lots of angst.

Previous chapter

July 19, 2019

Today was the day I would fly with Sebastian and Anthony to the annual famous San Diego Comic Con. It would be my first time there. I was very excited, even though these feelings would be there the entire time I was with him, just a bomb waiting to explode. But I made a vow to myself to enjoy this weekend as much as I could. I would also spend time with Anthony which was always, well, an experience.

I met Sebastian at JFK to fly to San Diego. Anthony would meet us there, actually apparently he will be the one to pick us up. Everything was a breeze. We got checked in just fine. We got inside the aircraft, and I got pretty excited when I saw our seats were located in First Class. This weekend would be filled with lots of firsts. Lots except the one I actually want.

The flight from New York to California was perfectly smooth. No bad turbulence or anything. Seb and I talked once in a while but I was sleeping for most of the time and he was reading his book, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. It was a relief to finally land at our destination. I was already feeling tired and just wanted to snuggle in my own bed and let it drown me until the next morning. We didn't check in any luggage, just our carry ons, so we didn't have to wait for our bags. We quickly went out and waited for Anthony's car.

"Is he close?" I peeked over and looked at Seb's phone.

"Yeah. Says he's near."

"How near?"

"I don't know. Have you always been this impatient?"

"Yes. I'm hungry and tired. I want room service and a big bed now." I honestly didn't care that I sounded like a spoiled child.

"Okay your highness, if you want all that you're going to have to wait. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll try." I rolled my eyes as I was trying not to let my grumpiness show through. I knew I was failing miserably.

"There he is." He pointed at the black car that was approaching us. I quickly recognized Anthony's big grin. Somehow all my grumpiness faded away. The Anthony Mackie effect, ladies and gents. He was dressed in a polo and jeans. He also had a navy blue baseball cap on along with sunglasses.

"Hey man!" He greeted Sebastian in a hug. Then he made his way to me. "What's with all the pouting, Grumpy?" Before I could reply, Seb beat me to it.

"She needs food in her stomach or she'll die on us any minute now."

"He's right. And he can't survive without me so you'd be committing double homicide if you don't get me McDonald's right this instant." Anthony threw his head back, laughing.

"Really missed having you around, Y/N. Sexy Seabass here doesn't make me laugh like you do."

I shook my head laughing as we drove to the nearest fast food place.

After eating, we arrived at the hotel we were staying in this weekend. It was only five minutes away from SDCC and apparently it was where most celebrities stayed while attending the con. A crazy thought entered my mind while in the car. How would the whole room situation come into play? Hopefully we would each have our own rooms. We had to. I don't know what's going to happen if I had to sleep in the same room with Sebastian freaking Stan.

We were in the front desk. Luggage in hand, I was was besides Sebastian, providing any help I could give him with this.

"Good evening, how can I help you sir?"

"Hi I have a reservation for two rooms."

I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The truth is I was only besides him until I heard a confirmation of how our sleeping arrangement would be like. That wasn't a conversation I would be exactly be comfortable having. How do you tell your best friend "Hey are we going to have our own rooms? I kind of can't be sleeping in the same place you are, because I'm completely and deeply in love with you. No pressure though." I walked to the nearest coffee bar in the lobby. Even though I had eaten, my stomach was growling once again. However, it was the next words that came out of the receptionists mouth that made me swivel around.

"Uh, I'm sorry, sir. It seems like there was a mistake in your reservation. They only booked one room for you."

"Can we add the other room now?"

"No, I'm sorry. Our hotel is already at capacity due to the Con happening this weekend."

"Yeah I figured. That's fine." I quickly rushed back to Seb's side.

"Please tell me the room has two beds?" I asked, I didn't even bother to hide the desperation and worry in my voice. The receptionist looked down at her computer. My heart thumped wildly against my chest. I could feel Sebastian's gaze on me. I quickly glanced at him out of curiosity. For some reason, I found his stare to be strange. I couldn't put my finger on it but I felt like he looked...offended?

"I'm sorry, miss. It says here it only has one king sized bed." Fucking fantastic.

"It's fine, I'll take the couch." Sebastian quickly said as he took his credit card out of his wallet.

"I'm sorry sir but there's not a couch in your suite."

"I'll sleep on the floor then." He faked a smile, clearly annoyed at how impossible this was starting to get.

I couldn't breathe. Why the fuck was this happening to me? I could do this. It was only one night.

As we rode the elevator to our floor, the tension between us was growing at a stupidly fast rate. Why did I sense Sebastian was frustrated at me? I was the one who had every right to be angry. We finally made it into the room. It was nice. We even had a view of the city of San Diego. But the view was not what this was about right now.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No." He grumbled. He looked extra grumpy. Something was definitely up.

"You're lying. Why are you mad?"

"I said I'm not mad, Y/N."

"You're clearly upset about something and-"

"I'm not mad, I'm just a little hurt! Happy?"

"Why are you hurt? Sebastian, don't shut me out." Was I really being this much of a hypocrite right now? Like if I wasn't lying to him constantly by hiding my true feelings for him. He took a deep breath, and pinched his nose at the same time he sighed.

"I'm just a little hurt that you clearly don't want to sleep in a room with me, let alone sleep in the same bed as you. We're best friends, why don't you trust me?" He was- Oh. Oh. He thought that I was scared he would try something on me. If he only knew how badly I wanted him to gather me up into his arms and kiss every inch of my skin until his lungs gave out.

"Seb, it's not like that. I trust you with my life, you have to know that. There hasn't been a time in our friendship where I have felt uncomfortable around you. I know we're just friends." A lump formed in my throat, I swallowed it down and made it join the rest of my feelings in the depths of my stomach. "I'm just on my period and don't want you to see me all gross." Ok, technically not a lie. I was on my period. I was just so stressed out about my feelings for him that I forgot all the cramps I had suffered from last night. But truthfully I couldn't bring myself to care if he saw me like that. Only one thing mattered to me.

"Y/N, I've seen you on your period thousands of time." He stepped closer, making me forget how to breathe.

"But not like this. I don't want you to be on the same bed as me when I'm cursing at God for giving me a uterus." He laughed, and my heart soared when those dimples came to life.

"Doll, listen to me. You're my best friend," Friend, yup, and nothing more. "and I won't ever judge you. You'll always be amazing to me even if you curse at God. You have nothing to be embarrassed about." His words were an arrow that went straight through my heart. "But I do have one request though."

"Mm?"

"When you get cramps, try not to kill me in my sleep because I don't have a uterus?" I laughed, a real, non fake laugh. He was the only person to ever make me laugh like that and I wish I could tell him that.

"Ok. Can't make any promises, though."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." He winked down at me before heading into the bathroom, to most likely take a shower.

Once he was out of sight, I threw myself down on the single king sized bed and exhaled loudly. It was going to be a long weekend. I even had a headache at this point, if it was a symptom from my period or just because of all the stress caused by me, I didn't know. It was excruciating. I decided to close my eyes, hoping it would help the pain in my head somehow. I don't know how much time had passed since I closed my eyes but next thing I knew, I was being awakened by the sound of a zipper. When I opened my eyes to discover the source of the sound, I had expected everything, anything but this.

I was currently looking at a very shirtless and a very wet Sebastian. He was only wearing a white towel around his hips. I could see everything from the waist up. And I mean everything. From his perfectly sculpted abs, to the V of his hips. And the worst thing was that he was naked under the towel. There was only one layer shielding me from his- Enough, Y/N. Look away, now. He's probably on to you. You're probably drooling right now like a stupid fool. But I couldn't look away. I was throbbing and surely wet. The only thing that convinced me that I wasn't dripping on the sheets was the fact that I wore a pad.

"Everything ok, doll?" His voice brought me back to reality and pulled me away from the obscene fantasies going on in my head. Then I realized my mouth was open, which I immediately closed after hearing him mutter my nickname.

"Yeah. Just tired. I'm going to go shower and then go to sleep." Before I gave him a chance to talk, I grabbed the things from my duffel bag and ran to the bathroom. I didn't even bother asking if he was done.

After taking a very cold shower, I finally made my way out of the bathroom. I let out a sigh of relief as I saw that he had had the decency to cover up his gorgeous body. He was wearing a black t shirt and black sweats. It was better than before, but I couldn't stop looking at his arms. That shirt really did hug his biceps in a delicious way.

"You feeling better now?" He was currently setting up his phone charger.

"Much." After he put his phone to charge, he walked over to where the hotel phone was and picked it up. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling the hotel so we can get more pillows and blankets."

"Why?"

"So I can sleep on the floor comfortably." I couldn't do that to him. I had to put my own selfish reasons aside.

"Seb, no. Come on, you're sleeping here." I patted the spot on the bed next to me.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You won't."

"But-"

"Please? I don't want to feel lonely." He hesitated for a second before nodding. I anxiously waited for him to get settled in.

"Are you really going to sleep? It's 7:41 p.m."

"Technically, it isn't. I'm still on New York time. It's 10:41 p.m. for me. I would like my beauty sleep thank you very much."

"You're impossible." He rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Goodnight, Stan." I faced my body to the window, giving my back to him.

The next morning came and I awoke first, probably because I was the one to go to sleep first. Surprisingly, what awoke me wasn't the sun shining through the sheer curtains. Nor was it the sound of my phone vibrating. It was the smell of Sebastian's ridiculous cologne, which I was sure that was what heaven smelled like when you walked in. Why could I smell it so close though? Then I felt a weight against my back. Like if someone was hugging me from behind. I looked down. Strong arms around my front.  Fucking shit fuck.

I turned my neck just enough to catch a glimpse of the scene behind me. Sebastian had gotten closer to me in his sleep, or I had gotten closer to him. Probably the latter. The point was that our bodies were basically melting into one. He was so close. He was holding me, spooning me like if he was my boyfriend. It was probably just reflex right? He probably was used to doing this with his past girlfriends so it was only logical he would do it with the person sleeping next to him. How I wished I could stay like this forever, in his arms until our last breath. But reality was a bitch and he would wake up any time soon and pull away. This would never happen again. So I took one last look at his sleeping form, his adorable sleeping face, and just basked him in. I carefully untangled myself from his embrace, the whole time frightened he would wake up. But he was a deep sleeper, good. I went into the bathroom and silently cried until I heard him calling for me.

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo 2

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

First Chapter

Warnings: 18+ Oral M receiving, daddy kink, someone walks in

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Two

The light streaming in through the window woke you up. You curled up in the soft silk sheets, listening to Hannibal’s hums coming from the bathroom. Deciding there wasn’t much more to do than doze, you did just that, taking your time to enjoy your Monday morning. His bed was much softer than the hand me down one you kept at home. You really could lay here forever.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped that you opened your eyes. He was all ready dressed and groomed to the nines. The navy sweater and grey trousers seemed as homey as the man allowed himself to be.

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted.

“Good morning, darling.” Hannibal cupped your face gently, smiling when you leaned into his touch. “It’s marvelous to see you so relaxed, it’s not a sight I get to see often. You’re divine.”

“Devine,” you scoffed in disbelief, “I haven’t had a glimpse of it yet, but I’m sure I look nothing less than a wreck.”

Hannibal’s thumb stroked your jaw, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “When it’s my fault you look so utterly debauched, I can’t lie and say my pride doesn’t play a factor.”

“There it is,” you couldn’t help rolling your eyes as you dropped a kiss to his hand, “Always taking pride in everything you do. However, much to your dismay, I’m going to have to destroy your masterpiece. A shower does sound perfect right now.”

“Of course, I took the liberty of running a bath for you.”

“Sweet man,” you smiled fondly at him.

Bringing you closer he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. As always, he left you wanting more. This time though, you didn’t chase after him. The night of fun was done. All that was left was the goodbye to wrap up the event completely. Some part of you wanted to push that time back.

You hummed lightly, “You enjoy making it hard to not miss you.”

“All the sweeter when we reunite.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He tapped your cheek playfully, “Take your bath. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

Getting out of bed, you stretched. Hannibal’s fingertips ghosted along your spine. “From the looks of it, you’d be happier to help.”

“Simply admiring… You truly are a thing of beauty.” he squeezed your hip before taking his hands away, “I’ll leave some of my things for you to wear on the bed.”

Walking into the bathroom, you were taken by the soft scent of nearly familiar perfumes you’d wear, his cologne lingered ever so slightly. A perfect mix of the two. Looking in the mirror, you surveyed the wreckage. Runny mascara, smudged over lipstick, and rather large hickies scattered across your body did make you look like the definition of debauched. The neck didn’t have as much damage, but covering the few there would still be a pain. So much for keeping things hidden from others. Grabbing the pack of makeup wipes on the counter, you started cleaning up knowing you’d find it to be too much of a chore after the bath.

It was welcoming when you finally got into the still warm bath. Hot water made you relax further as your body let go of the last bit of tension it held. The products seemed to match the ones you usually used, if not make yours seem like cheap dupes. Your lip quirked at that realization, the gentleman seemed to have had ulterior motives after all.

You took your time washing up, deciding time to relax was sparse so you may as well take advantage of the small time frame you did have. A soft knock at the door pulled you back to the present. “Afraid I drowned?” You asked teasingly as the door opened.

Hannibal offered a quiet chuckle as he walked over and perched on the side of the tub, “Asleep more like.”

You didn’t bother hiding yourself. He’d probably be able to draw you from memory by now if you were being honest. “I do have a question.”

“What is it, darling?”

You gestured to the soaps, “Did you have any plans in particular for our night?”

“Not exactly. The night ended perfectly- you wouldn’t mind me saying-” Hannibal tapped your chin affectionately when you smiled, “but there wasn’t anything other than pure intentions when I purchased them. The scent reminded me of you and I thought if you drank too much or there was a storm, those kinds of things, it would be good to have something for you to use. Sending you out into possible dangers was never something left to chance. You’d be safer with me.”

“Ever the good host,” you said, taking his word for it, “Thank you for thinking of me, Hannibal.”

“Always.” Hannibal rolled up his sleeves, moving to sit behind you. “Lean back for me.”

You turned to look at him questioningly, “What are you doing?”

“I find it very important to take care of my partners just as much after. You didn’t give me much of a chance last night. While I’m here, I may as well make myself useful.”

Allowing him to turn you forward again before he grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. You sighed heavily as he massaged the shampoo in, his fingers working magic. “You took care of me,” you argued, “Asked me what I wanted and gave it to me. I didn’t want anything else.”

“It’s just as much for me as it is for you,” he stated, running some water through your hair, “I like to make sure nothing was too much or that you’re not telling me if it was.”

“I’m as good as I’ve been in a long time. Really. If I hadn’t wanted something to happen I would have stopped you. Though, if I had known things would have ended like this I would have stopped by when we had more time. Testing before winter break would have been all that much easier.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t be of service earlier,” he mused. “A difficult time that must have been for my sweet girl. Poor thing.”

The urge to sink into the water was strong as you felt the smallest bit of pride at the endearment paired with an equally small bout of jealousy that you shared it with his other partners. It was snuffed out quickly. Perhaps you’d entertain this for a while, but it wouldn’t last. He liked a life that was above and usually too stiff compared to your own. The pair of you weren’t meant to work long term and that was fine. A simple passing thing between friends was the most this would be.

-

Things went back to business as usual after that night. There weren't any intense feelings or need for Hannibal. There wouldn’t be any time to entertain the idea even if they had popped up. Not with this insane work piled on top of you and the final test you needed to study up on. The most you had seen him was in passing or when he’d drop off a meal every so often. Though you wouldn’t lie and say your mind hadn’t found itself wandering every so often.

There was nothing you could do about that, so instead you took shifts, grading work then studying. Rinse and repeating the cycle as long as you could handle it. Your head was pounding before you knew it, but all of this needed to be done. A little bit longer, you reminded yourself as you took a couple headache pills.

The buzzing of your phone vibrating on the desk startled you. “Hi, dad,” you sighed, stuck with this particular pain.

“Hey, pretty girl, how have you been?”

Pretty girl, you scoffed inwardly. You had to give him credit- at least he was pretending to be interested this time. That was rare. “Nothing much. Work. School. The usual. It’s been heavy lately.”

“Yeah, of course, things get like that. So listen, your mom and I are running real low late-“

“I already told you I wasn’t any good for money. I’m barely making ends meet as it is… I already sent you the last $600 I could,” you rested your head in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what the fuck do we send you to that school for,” he shouted, “It’s a waste of time. You’re not gonna make anything of yourself. All you do is waste fucking time. Everything we do for you and you just take it all for granted. What type of selfish bitch of a kid doesn’t try to help out her parents?”

“Yeah, dad, I take everything for granted. Putting myself through school should have been a breeze. Juggling school and two jobs? Simple fucking shit right? You should know, right? Wait… you couldn’t even raise your kid could you?” You snapped the stress getting to you. “Why the hell do you always do this to me?”

No response. He hung up. The truth of the matter seemingly too much for him. No. That was too much credit. He knew you wouldn’t send him anything. Try again some other time. Sighing you set the phone down. Your throat felt like it was closing and your head was pounding. A couple tears fell, soon followed by a quiet sob. You didn’t want anyone to see, but the stress was getting to you. Try as you might, you weren’t made of stone.

You hadn’t noticed when Hannibal had walked in for a usual evening check up. “Darling girl,” his accented voice was laced with worry as he walked toward you, “What’s wrong?” Hannibal crouched near your chair as he wiped away your tears.

“Everything went to my head. It’s nothing. I’m okay,” you swallowed thickly, as you attempted to stop the crying and sniffling, not meeting his eye just yet.

Hannibal grabbed your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing more?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, giving him a slight smile, “Just school and a headache. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.”

He looked you over, not believing you but unwilling in prodding you further. “It seems a break is in order.”

“I can’t, Hannibal,” You gestured to the papers and books around the desk, “The sooner I’m done with all this the better. I just want to go home.”

Hannibal started to pick up your things, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time. “We’ll go to my office, you’ll eat, I’ll grade the work and ask you questions. Follow me.” Before you can get a word in, he turned heel, leaving you to quickly scramble behind him.

The office had the same comforting feel his home did. Though you weren’t sure many besides you felt comfort in his presence. Hannibal Lecter was by all means an intimidating man, even when you did feel like you were close to him. Closer now, you corrected thinking about the fading bruises under your shirt and the sweater he had let you borrow that you had yet to return. Still there was something about his presence that invoked a feeling of calm in you, even with that spike of something questionable. He seemed to always have all the answers and knew exactly what to do with any situation.

“Here,” Hannibal placed a Tupperware and drink on your side of the desk, “You really shouldn’t be spreading yourself so thin, love. It isn’t good for such a delicate thing.”

“I’m hardly delicate.” You grabbed the food giving him a grateful smile. “I’ve got it all handled. It’s just finals and everything stacked up. The future. I stumbled a bit, is all.”

Hannibal sat on his side and started shuffling through your papers. “Nonetheless, I wish you didn’t strain yourself so much.”

“Not all our days can be a nice weekend together,” you pecked at the salad, as much as you wanted to grab some papers off the stack you knew he would never allow it, “Life is still as frustrating as ever.”

“What did they say?” Hannibal asked, nipping the problem at the bud. If you wouldn’t start the conversation he would.

You sighed, “Something along the lines of ‘waste of time’ and ‘selfish bitch’ really wasn't the worst thing he's ever said. I was just already at my endpoint. I’m pretty sure if I dropped my pen I would have had a similar reaction.”

“Being at your end doesn’t justify mistreatment.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I don’t have it in me to argue anymore. Deaf ears and all that. What’s the point?”

“The point is making it known that you won’t tolerate that behavior.”

“I’m just tired and disappointed. A part of me is considering just going into the world on my own. The only family that really cares has passed on, what’s the point of hoping my parents would ever consider changing.” You coughed lightly, clearing your throat. This was too much of a therapy session for your taste. “I’ve already made it up in my head that I’m going to wait a year before getting back in school. You know, save any penny I can. These past four years even with aid and scholarship money has been hell. I’m going to be 24 and there’s still just so much to do.”

“I can’t say I envy you,” Hannibal shook his head, “The uncertainty in those years is unmatched.”

“It’s hard to imagine you uncertain of anything. You seem to always know exactly what to do.”

Hannibal scoffed lightly, “Only because time has granted me certain wisdoms. When I was younger I was lucky enough to appeal to someone with my artistic talent and stories of my past. Though I’d like to think it was the former that earned me my scholarship. I may not have had the exact struggles you did, but we’ve all been through situations we needed to push past. It comes in time. Once you get there, you’ll go through life with grace.”

“Well, I don’t have any reservations about using my past. Would you be my mentor?” You joked, for the most part.

“A five year forward request,” he mused, “Are you certain you’d enjoy me that much as a mentor?”

“Someone is gonna have to teach me the ropes,” you shrugged, “We’re more than comfortable with each other and I already know how pleasurable time with you can be, why not learn a couple of things from your infinite wisdom?”

His lip quirked, “Glad to know your thoughts are nothing less than wholesome.”

“Only the purest.”

You ate your dinner as he asked questions. It was a bit unfair, probably, you knew he had helped form the test. Then again, you knew your boss and it was more than likely all of Hannibal’s work. So this little run was sure to be a preview of what to expect. Still, the questions he asked were far from simple, despite how much you studied. Sometimes a raised brow would tell you, you needed to think again. Other times you’d get a soft praise thrown your way that would immediately make you think of when he was against you.

“A few more for me, darling girl. You’re doing so well.”

Your face heated up as you remembered the exact moment he said something nearly identical.

Hannibal looked at you over a paper, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re looking a bit distracted, are you alright?”

“You know what you did, jerk.”

“Do I?” He laughed.

You shook your head, “You’re unbelievable.”

Hannibal continued grading, rattling off questions off the top of his head. You mind however, wandered. Answering his questions absentmindedly, more preoccupied with memories than the matter at hand. The way his hands felt. His breath against your chest as he chased his high. The gentleness the morning after as he helped you into his clothes, giving you a last kiss before breakfast. A lingering regret at not getting to thank him back properly. He would be the perfect distraction now that you thought of it.

“I won’t help you if you prefer to daydream.”

“I wouldn’t be daydreaming if you didn’t decide to help me in the first place.”

“Touché.”

“Think I’m all done studying. I’m tired of it,” you sighed, stretching, “I want to do something else.”

Hannibal looked at you, brow raised. “What’s that sweet girl?”

You shook off some nerves. As much as the two of you had already done, he was still an intimidating man. His eyes followed as you stood and walked around the desk. Hannibal brought your hand up to his lips. You trailed it along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that just started coming in, buying yourself some time to steady yourself. A raised brow questioned what you’d do next, but otherwise he leaned into your touch.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. For how good you are to me.”

“I don’t expect anything in return,” he assured.

“Yeah, I know,” you sunk to your knees in front of him, tracing your fingertips up and down his thigh slowly, looking up at him, “but I want to take care of you too.”

He toyed with a strand of your hair, looking almost bored as he leaned back in his chair. “That isn’t necessary, little one, I enjoyed watching you.” Still there was a glint of something in his eye that told you he was interested, merely teasing with the show he just wanted something more from you.

You bit your lip, pondering at what he had deemed missing. The title. A thing that had slipped past your lips embarrassingly but one he had used with stupor throughout the night. Hands settling on his knees, you pushed them apart so you could settle there more comfortably. A pout, “Please, daddy, I’ve wanted to since we met.”

“Always an eager plaything,” he sighed checking the clock on the wall, “I suppose daddy can make some time for his girl.”

That was enough for you to start undoing his belt. Despite the bored act, his half hard cock betrayed him and told you exactly how much he had been interested. You palmed him through his boxers, he didn’t give you the pleasure of hearing anything from him, but that’s alright you didn’t mind earning it. Once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you pulled him out of the boxers. Leaning back on your knees you took it in, unsure if you could fit the length of it in completely.

Hannibal took in your hesitation. Using a finger he tilted your head up to look at him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t okay with it now. A change of mind is more than alright.”

“No. It’s not that I want to,” you licked your lips, as if to prove how okay you were you wrapped your hand around him, thumb tracing a prominent vein, “I was just wondering if it would fit all the way in.”

He let out an amused huff, shaking his head, “I’m sure you’ll try your best, ridiculous girl.”

Leaning in you pressed a kiss to the head. Just a little more time to work up the courage. You kissed along the shaft, mapping out every vein. Your tongue traced its way back up, catching a taste of precome that had beaded on the head. An encouraging hand threaded itself in your hair, never pushing for more than you were willing to give.

A knock at the door, interrupts the scene.

“A moment,” Hannibal calls out to the person. “Get under the desk,” he said as he started to hide away any evidence that he was with anyone. Your appearance wasn’t completely ruined, not to his taste at least, but the messed up lipstick and slightly ruined hair wouldn’t take much mental work for someone to come to the correct conclusion.

Taking his instruction you got under the desk as he fixed his own appearance, suit jacket over his arm to hide himself. Walking over to the door, “Mr. Henderson,” he greeted, pleasantly, “Please, come in.”

“Hannibal, sorry about stopping by so late,” you heard the door close as the two walked over.

“Nonsense. If anything, the company is welcomed.” Hannibal took his seat, pulling his chair in close, to make sure you were hidden away.

“I was actually going to see if I could convince you to stay.”

Mischief sparked as you grew bored with their droning conversation. Thankfully he had decided to get rid of his belt fully. It didn’t take much to free him again. He spread his legs, attempting to give you the most space possible under the cramped desk. You pumped him in your hand, getting him back to how you had him. The other hand tugged softly at his balls. You wouldn’t be able to put him in your mouth properly with this angle. Instead you satisfied yourself with sucking on the sides of his cock.

“The students adore you,” the other man countered whatever Hannibal had said, “Honestly your classes are killing Jacob’s with every exam.”

“I take great pride in my students. They are an extension of myself. How well they do is a direct reflection of my skill as a teacher,” he sighed, “I have a couple of people in mind that could fill my roll, I’ll ask people to see who’s interested.”

“Still Jacob’s is slacking too much, I may take away his student aid privileges. I see her around here more often than I ever see him.”

You gave a particularly hard suck to a seemingly sensitive spot as his hips had stuttered ever so slightly. No evidence of any misconduct came from his voice as he said, “Oh her? She is a very good girl. Motivated. Never complains about a thing.”

You felt Hannibal throb against your mouth. Taking a break you leaned your head on Hannibal’s thigh, as fun as it would to mess with him more, you knew he took great pride in his social image. Besides, you had wanted Hannibal’s full attention anyway. His hand came down to your hair, subtly showing that he was still paying attention to you to the best of his abilities.

They talked a while longer, before Henderson finally left. Hannibal had pulled out a stack of papers, motioning like he was going to work on grading, and politely asked him to lock the door as he left. When it was clear he pushed his chair away from the desk. You made your way out smiling at him.

“Someone seems very happy with themselves.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“But did you ask permission?” Hannibal asked as worked himself lazily.

You faltered slightly under his gaze, “Well...no.”

“And do you think you deserve any type of reward for that stunt?”

“...I hope so.”

“I’ll forgive it,” he decided, “only because you’re so eager and we never set ground rules. But now it’s on my terms.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently, not wanting to receive one of Hannibal's punishments just yet.

Hannibal used your hair to pull you closer. You stumbled on your knees catching yourself on his thighs. “Since you were so unsure if you could fit in daddy earlier, after that little stunt, I’m sure you’re feeling better now. Aren’t you?”

The hand in your hair pushed you down. You closed your mouth around the tip. Hannibal groaned quietly, letting you work your way down. Bobbing your head you took more of him deeper every time, but those last two inches were proving difficult. Gripping your hair, he pulled you off of him.

His breath was coming in quick pants, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you need help, darling?”

“I can’t fit it daddy.” It came out in a breathless whine.

“Yes, you can. Be a good little mouth and let me do the work.”

Again he pushed you onto his cock. This time he took control. His hand kept you in place as he thrusted his hips up. Without the hesitation you had, he fit himself in quickly. Grinding into your mouth he let you choke around it for a while before pulling you up for air.

“See?” He choked out as he used you again, “Fucking perfect mouth… Daddy’s good girl… taking care of me like she asked.”

His grunted praises and moans were enough to excuse the tear prickling your eyes. Over and over he used your mouth to it’s extent. Seeming to enjoy it most when you did choke on him. Hannibal stopped before he came. Pulling you up off the floor and onto his lap. Wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

“You’re too good for me.” He kissed your cheek.

“You haven’t finished.” You caught your breath as you curled into his chest. His cologne comforted you. The increasingly familiar scent carved a special place in you.

“I’ll finish later,” he promised, dropping another kiss onto your head, “At the moment, I want to make sure you’re alright. I got carried away.”

“I’m not porcelain, Hannibal,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “I like it when you’re in charge… It gives me a chance to not think of anything.”

“Even so these situations require a lot of trust from your partner.”

You shrugged, as you decided to be honest, “At the moment you seem to be the only person I trust. Besides, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“I can’t see you ever doing that.”

That night Hannibal had taken you home. You received the same treatment you had received the first night you stayed at his house. Mostly you thought it was an apology of some sort for treating you roughly in his office. By some good grace both of you had classes later in the day, allowing you to enjoy the softer side of Hannibal in the morning again.

A new sweater of his joined the one that resides on your futon. You hadn’t thought twice about packing them away when you emptied your apartment out.

-

Life in New York was eventful to say the least. Different but fun. It had been six months since you had graduated. Your friend from high school shared an even shabbier apartment together. You made a couple friends. Picked up jobs at a bar and a bookstore.

“You’re not any fun,” Alex complained as she adjusted her makeup, “You never want to go out with me.”

“I’m tired,” you complained. “Anyway, why would I want to go to a bar when I work at one?”

“To wreak hell on someone that’s stuck in your usual gig.”

“Have fun with the guys.”

She attempted to pull you off the couch a couple more times to no avail. In truth you were happy to have a moment of peace. All honesty she was the driving force in you actually living your life and not just working the entire time. You really did love her for all of that and the experiences you had. However there were times for breaks to be had from everything. And tonight was one of them.

You showered, got dressed in a sweater and shorts, heated up some leftovers. Throwing on a bad 80’s horror flick, you spent your night in splendor. A break was rare and you were gonna use your relaxation time to its extent. Sleep overtook you sometime in the night, only to be woken up by the annoying shrill sound of your phone.

“Al, baby, I love you so damn much, but if you’re gonna bitch at me about not going out tonight. I just might be tempted to murder you,” you muttered sleepily, “I could get away with it.”

“Sweet girl, is that any way to speak to your friends?” A voice you hadn’t heard in a while asked, disappointment clear in his tone.

“Hannibal,” you said lamely, slightly ashamed that that was the first thing he heard from you in months. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. It’s… It’s been a while.”

“It has been,” he agreed, “In fact, I called to ask if you would like to come to a dinner party.”

You looked at the clock, noting just how late it had been. “You called at two in the morning to ask me to a dinner party?”

“I’ve been busy and you didn’t leave an address for an invitation. It was… spur of the moment.”

“I missed you too,” you sighed, deciding to be the one to voice it, “Yeah, I’d love to go over.”

“Are you planning on staying with me?”

You sighed dramatically, “Suppose I can give a lonely old man some company. What, you couldn’t find anyone as entertaining as me in Baltimore?”

“I’ve got specific tastes.”

“Is that right?”

Alex walked in, the last part of the conversation hitting her ears and the alcohol in her system making her louder. “Is that the daddy? Does he know he’s ruined men for you? Ugh, can you get him over here to loosen you up? I’d appreciate it that so much.”

“I never said ruined, I just sa-“ you realized Hannibal was still on the phone, “Just please, go take a shower, I’ll make you anything you want to eat if you promise to stay quiet.”

Surprisingly she complied, only saying egg sandwich with cheese and bacon in response.

“Ruined?”

“Couldn’t let that skate by?”

“You’re the one talking about me.”

You coughed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve got specific taste too. Just something happened with someone and I don’t know, I couldn’t get into it that same way. Like with you. They needed me to tell them exactly how… It was just awkward. It wasn’t satisfying. They were nice though.”

“You compare my experience to their experience inexperience,” he deduced. “You enjoy knowing I’ve got everything under control.”

You tried to shake away the blush. “So it seems we’re stuck in similar positions.”

“We are.”

“Hannibal,” you heard someone call out, “When were you thinking of joining us? We didn’t bother you so much you had to leave us that long.”

He asked him for a moment.

“Seems like someone wants your attention,” you commented.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. Just friends having fun right? It would be hypocritical considering I just told you of my night with someone else. As long as it’s nothing serious with whoever that was, we’re fine.”

“They’re nothing. Someone’s too loud nephew. In fact I think he’s rather rude. You know I can’t stand people like that.”

“You’ll survive. Get home safe.”

“I’ll send you the directions in a moment. Have a goodnight little one.”

“‘Night daddy,” the long unused term of endearment fell from your lips easily.

“‘Night daddy,” Alex sighed dreamily from the bathroom door, “God, is the dick really that good? How could it be?”

You hung up the phone. “Can you please not do that next time? He’s really particular about things.”

She raised her hands up in defense. “Whoa, there. He can handle a little joke at his expense when he’s already been down your throat. Now where’s my sandwich?”

“I’m serious Al.” You sighed when you got up from the couch to get to work on your promise. “He makes me feel like I need to be all proper.”

“You’re fine, doll. A dime if I’ve ever seen one. I’m not gonna ruin this for you, if he randomly decided to call you this late,” she took a seat on the counter, taking the water you handed her gratefully, “Do you want that to be a long term thing?”

“Nah,” you threw the bread into the toaster, “I couldn’t live his life. Sure, I like him and I do think he’s fun to hang around. But it just feels like something that will simmer down eventually. We’ll probably meet up a couple more times and it’ll be done. It’s not like we do anything more than end up in bed and sweet talk.”

“I’m telling you, we’d be set if you asked him to be your sugar daddy. Please ask him to take care of you and be his call girl.”

“How about you?” You asked, changing the topic, “Any pretty girls?”

“This one chick at work,” she shook her head, “Fucking goddess of a woman, LN, I’m telling you. I got it bad. She’s got me waiting for her with her coffee orders in the morning like some kind of obedient little puppy.”

“You know her coffee order.”

“Exactly!”

“How’s the commitment issues?”

“I’m gonna have to fucking work through them. Unlike someone, I think I wanna try out the long term thing.”

“Hey!” You cracked the eggs into the oil, “I’m just not up for it right now.”

“Work him out of your system. We’re supposed to be having fun this year.”

You sighed, “I’m trying.”

“I’m telling you we find you a decent lay. You won’t need to be fucking around with that guy.” Your phone chimed. Alex grabbed it off the counter. “The devil works fast doesn’t he? Address and day of the party. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Says he’ll buy you a cute little number.”

“No, tell him I got it.”

“Thank you, daddy. I’ll make it worth your wild. Wink. Send.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I still think he’s ugly,” she shrugged, tossing your phone over, “May as well get a cute dress out of sleeping with him.”

“He’s not ugly. I’ve seen the people you’ve brought home,” You scoffed, handing over the plate.

“Reggie is a fun time! Fuck I miss Reggie.”

“Work chick,” you reminded her.

“Right right.” She argued before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Fine, we’ve both had our questionable older partner moments. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not.”

“Still never called her mommy and that’s a win in my books.”

“I should have never told you that,” you laughed, “I fucking hate you man.”

She pinched your cheek affectionately, “You had your chance to get rid of me. The return policy ran out. You’re stuck. Congratulations.”

“How long until you expire?”

Alex pretended to count it through. “We’re looking at at least 50 years more, if we’re lucky.”

You hummed, “Are you accounting for possible sickness or accidents?”

“I’m immortal for 50 years in between. No arguments at this time please.”

Next Chapter

Tag list: @charc0al-grey

[nctsworld]

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous   ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.  

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.  

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.    

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.  

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.  

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.  

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.  

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”  

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.  

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.  

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.  

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.  

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.      

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.  

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.  

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.  

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”  

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.  

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.  

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.  

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.  

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.  

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.        

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.  

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.  

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.  

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”  

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

for the night is long, and I am weary // d.m.

Summary: A long day runs into a longer night. It’s okay though. He’s got you by his side through it all.

A/N: A short, sweet, soft Draco fic. Healer!Draco at that as well. I hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of fluff, it’s very soft, draco is tired.

Word count: 1.3k

Their home is silent as he slides the key into the lock, turning until it clicks. The very sound is music to his ears as he pushes the door open and sighs happily. The comforting, fragrant scent of sandalwood and pomegranate washes over him; your favourite candle that is burnt first thing in the morning and immediately relit upon you arriving home from work. After so long, the fragrance became one with their home – becoming their home. Now, Draco cannot smell either scent without thinking of you.

Weariness clings to his clothes, to his skin, to his bones. It makes him sluggish as he closes the door behind him, waiting for that tell-tale click of the lock before shrugging off his jacket and toeing off his shoes.

If he was smart, he would head to the bedroom, crawl under the covers and not resurface for years to come. His exhaustion grows heavier with every step, but despite having clocked off from the hospital, he still has hours of studying left to complete.

He wanders through the home; taking note of your absence before checking the clock. It would be hours until you would be home; spending your time hounding ministry officials for a centre dedicated to magical history. Draco thinks of you fondly as drops his bag onto the table, wincing at the thud it makes on the wooden surface.

The kettle all but screams to the blonde haired man. Draco gives in fairly easily, filling it up and placing it on the stove to heat before reaching for one of the many mugs you have bought in your time together.

As he leans against the kitchen counter, Draco crosses his arms and focuses his gaze to the floor. It had been a long day, and an even longer night was waiting for him. He had chosen this path; the dream of becoming a Healer too intoxicating for him to simply give up on it. His parents hadn’t wanted it, but it was first time that Draco had stuck to his guns about something other than you.

The training was intense, that much could be said. He had a newfound respect for the magical medical service he was now working for; seeing their devotion to the work made the long hours and painful cases worth it. He had found the job he wanted to dedicate his life to, but even he had to admit, he was struggling with the workload.

By the time he finishes at the hospital, he has over three hours of studying left to do when he gets home. He spends his lunch (when he gets his lunch) with a textbook in his lap or quizzing one of the senior Healers about procedures, potions and spells. Draco wanted to be the best he could be, and he was going to achieve that.

But sometimes, he simply wanted to crawl into bed and sleep off the cases he had covered.

His tea is poured; the teabag steeping as he takes a seat at the small kitchen table. With a worn out sigh, Draco drags the first textbook in front of him.

Draco doesn’t hear the click of the lock; he doesn’t hear your tired sigh, nor does he hear your soft footsteps padding through the flat. He remains focused on the textbook in front of him, reading and rereading the spells he would need in a trauma situation.

“Darling,” You call from the door of the kitchen, finding Draco once again hunched over a medical textbook. He hadn’t taken a day off since starting his training

“You scared me,” He whispers, a strained smile crossing his face.

“How long have you been studying?” You ask, frowning at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes.

Draco frowns; his eyebrows furrowing as he glances at the clock. “Since I got home,” He murmurs, sounding far away, “A few hours at least.”

“And have you slept at all?”

Draco shakes his head. He hadn’t even finished drinking his tea; the liquid now stone cold in his mug. He makes a mental note to get rid of the drink; there was no greater crime on this earth than that of cold tea. “Haven’t had the time,” He offers in explanation, gesturing to the numerous textbooks in front of him.

All of a sudden, he’s close to tears, burying his face in your stomach. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscles. You haven’t felt him relax in weeks; the countdown to his exams surprising the both of you by arriving so quickly.

Draco shudders in your arms; inhaling the familiar smell of your floral perfume. He had watched you dab it on your pulse points this morning, it was a wonder that the scent had remained strong all day.

He was so tired; so tired that he didn’t think he could sleep it off. He’s passed the point of over-exhaustion.

“Get up,” You command gently, tapping Draco’s shoulder. “You’re done for the night. You have tomorrow off right?”

Draco nods; still confused over what you’re asking him to do. Reaching over the man, you close the textbooks sprawled across the kitchen table. “You’re taking the night off. You can spend all of tomorrow studying if you want to, but you’re having tonight off.”

“I can’t,” Draco protests weakly, “I have to learn these spells.”

“Darling,” You hum softly, running a hand through the growing locks of the love of your life. Draco pushes his head further into your hand, humming happily at the feel of your fingers running over his scalp. “You need to sleep,” You murmur quietly.

Draco sighs; his shoulders drooping as he accepts your words. Silently, he nods, letting you pull him from kitchen table and lead him to your shared bedroom.

Warm light fills the room as you flick the switch. The room screams comfort; the bed large enough for the both of you with a thick quilt covering it. You lead him to the bed, nudging him slightly to take a seat on the edge. Draco feels close to tears when the mattress sinks comfortably under his body; the soft blankets inviting him to slip under their covers and dream the hours away.

Draco glances up at you, finding you already watching him with a fond look on your face. Draco responds by smiling at you. He wouldn’t be getting through these months without you by his side. You had accepted the hecticness of the Healer training programme, understanding perfectly how important it was for Draco. He doesn’t think he could love you anymore as you brush a hand against his cheek, running your fingers through the growing stubble there, and Draco is reminded that there isn’t a limit on his love for you – it’s utterly endless.

“Arms,” You whisper to which Draco responds by lifting his arms as much as he can. He hadn’t realised how dog-tired he was; didn’t think much of anything as he sat at the table with his books.

Working together, you get Draco dressed for bed. He thanks you with a slow, tired kiss, unable to manage much more. You smile, kissing his cheek lightly as he lies back against the pillows.

You turn to leave, wanting to turn the light off before you leave. At the last moment, Draco reaches out, grabbing your hand. “Stay with me,” He pleads, not wanting to be separated from your just yet. Your schedules being so busy that time like this was rare; he wanted to hold you, to reacquaint himself with his love for you.

There’s no argument to be had. You change for bed quickly, enjoying the feel of Draco’s eyes on you. It isn’t long before you’re shuffling into bed next to the man, eager to feel him pressed against you – getting the sleep he so desperately needs. You’re drawn to the man just as he is drawn to you, your bodies entwining together in a natural rhythm. Draco’s heart beats strongly against your cheek; his breathing getting slower and slower as his hand strokes up and down your arm.

“Thank you,” are his last words before he succumbs to the sleep that has hung over him since he arrived home.

****

Harry Potter taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @big-galaxy-chaos @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @awritingtree @haphazardhufflepuff @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow @storyisnotover @himooonlight @missmulti @amourtentiaa @pandaxnienke

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​ @belladaises​

[possiblyimbiassed]

The lying liars who lie

Years and years late to the party, I’ve finally gotten my hands on all the DVDs of BBC Sherlock, and I thought it would be fun to watch the extra material carefully, one piece after another, and also listen to at least some of the show makers’ commentary of the episodes. But at this point, after S4 where DVDs seemed to be a constant lying device in general, I tend to look at them with a bit more suspicious eyes...

I still love the show of course, but now that I’ve taken this deep dive into all the special features, I find them a truly hard thing to try to wrap my head around. Even this long after the fact, I’m amazed by the amount of shameless, self-congratulatory BS in the DVDs, where the people involved can’t have enough of complimenting each other and their show, while they skillfully avoid to discuss anything actually meaningful about the plot line. ;) For example, Moffat claims in the S2 DVD that “In fact, you’ll never see a more obsessively authentic version of Sherlock Holmes than this one”. But if we follow their light-hearted commentary, which basically takes the show at face value, I’d call that not just hyperbole, but an outright lie. If you want to see the ‘authentic’ stories from ACD’s work in this show, you’ll definitely need to go much deeper into the subtext and meta levels - neither of which are mentioned on these DVDs of course. Here’s my own (rather subjective) ‘review’ of the whole thing, trying to pinpoint why I view most of the commentary of the show from its own makers as an advanced art of deception. 

(My musings under the cut)

Series 1 - a wealth of extra material

First of all - as many of you probably knew already - the whole of the Unaired Pilot is added to the DVD of S1. In the extra material about the making of the series, they (Sue Vertue, Mofftiss and others) talk about what things they changed between the Pilot and ASiP, claiming that many changes were necessary improvements once they knew that they had a whole series and a lot more time at their disposal. 

Which I can perfectly understand and agree with in general. But I think what’s missing in their discussions is more interesting than what’s actually there (”Mind the gap” ;) ). Things that I would expect from the show makers when they go to the trouble of comparing the pilot version with the aired product. There’s not a word, for example, about the fact that they added both Mycroft and Moriarty to the story in ASiP - two characters who later turn out to play major roles and appear in almost every other episode until the end of TFP. Or about the choice that one of the screenwriters would play Mycroft. 

Neither do they discuss why they chose to relocate the place where Sherlock was challenged by the cabbie from 221B to Roland Kerr’s School of Further Education. Instead they focus on the details, like for example the new design of the interior of 221B.

Not to mention the fact that almost every scene in the Pilot is mirrored in ASiP (as pointed out long ago by @kateis-cakeis X), but at Angelo’s in the Pilot Sherlock follows the events with the cabbie while looking in an actual mirror. I even noticed that in the Pilot the cabbie is offering Sherlock dark-coloured bottles with the pills in them, while in ASiP those bottles are transparent, as if the cabbie is offering Sherlock to play Black or White in the chess game that he is simulating. What’s with all these mirrors, though? Not a word on the DVD... ;)

Now, even though these rather remarkable choices are neglected together with a great bunch of minor ones, I still think that the most interesting fact about all this is that they actually included the whole pilot version within this DVD, which is sold by the franchise. Why even do this, when it raises far more questions than it answers? The only logical reason I can come up with is that they’re laying out a track of little hints that anyone with a deep enough interest in the show to actually buy the DVDs can try to follow. And it seems to me that lying by omission is one of the first steps in the long line of cryptic and misleading author comments on this show. But at the same time, they clearly want the fans to have access to it all, even the abandoned version.

Moving on to Series 2, time for bigger lies 

In the extra material of this DVD Benedict himself describes how his character "faces one of his deadliest enemies in the shape of Love, and it comes in the form of Irene Adler, who is this extraordinary dominatrix [insert here a bunch of superlatives regarding Adler]...”. And then we see how Adler whips Sherlock with a riding crop (without any kind of consent, I have to add) while he’s lying on the floor, and we have Lara Pulver telling us how it was to have a go at Benedict on set. So Holmes whips dead bodies and Adler whips living; seems like a match made in hell! :))

Gatiss claims, grinning with his whole face, that “they’re clearly, absolutely made for each other”. OK, so I think we can see Sherlock being intellectually impressed by Adler, and even trying to protect her from Mycroft, and we can see John acting jealously. We can also see her being dressed and styled as a perfect, female mirror of Sherlock. But I’m still at a loss what all this has to do with love on Sherlock’s part? Especially since he’s not even responding in any fashion to her various attempts at seducing him. 

And there’s more: Paul McGuigan, the director of ASiB, claims that the scene where Sherlock has a conversation with Adler inside his Mind Palace about the crime case with the car that backfires "is a part of a kind of love story, if you like...” No, I don’t. Maybe it’s just me, but if their aim really was to convey to their audience a love story between Sherlock and The Woman, I think they failed miserably. All I see is a guy ’mansplaining’ to a clever woman how to use her brain, while she’s trying to flirt with him by expressing her admiration (to no avail, though) and make deductions at the same time. Nothing new under the sun, really. John did the same thing repeatedly in ASiP (without making own deductions) and got far more attention from Sherlock, but I’ve never heard any of the show makers call that ”a love story”. But by ’lie-splaining’ the scene with Irene to the audience, they try to manipulate us all to see it as such...

In all the direct commentary of this episode, where Steven, Mark, Sue, Benedict and Lara are present, I get the impression that every time they even touch on the relationship between Sherlock and John, they hurry to add the term “friendship” or “man love” or similar words in case they forgot them at first, avoiding even the tiniest possibility that there could be anything more going on between them. They even explain that when Irene calls them “a couple” she does not mean anything romantic. This whole approach feels almost paranoic in the midst of all the laid-back jokes and light-hearted talk about the filming. It’s as if a sort of restrictive, heteronormative filter or blanket is being constantly applied, to teach the audience the ‘no homo’ lesson of it all. And the more I listen to this, the more tiresome it becomes.

In the commentary Moffat does reveal an interesting detail, though: that the ‘Flight of the Dead’ in ASiB was inspired by a cut out scene in the Bond movie On Her Majesty's Secret Service. To me this is just one more reason to question the ‘authentic’ quality of this scene, as opposed to possibly taking place in Sherlock’s Mind Palace. But I digress... 

Listening to the commentary in general, it’s like it’s aimed to distract the attention from what’s going on at the screen rather than highlight it and try to explain their intentions. They do mention that Irene didn’t actually ‘beat’ Sherlock in the end of ASiB, but there’s no explanation of this obvious deviation from canon, where Adler does indeed fool Holmes, taking advantage of his prejudices.

The rest of the extra material of S2 is mostly about technical stuff, special effects and such, and also about filming techniques and Benedict’s delivery of fast deductions. But the part I really do love is the one where Andrew Scott talks about how much he enjoyed playing the scene where Moriarty dances before breaking into the Crown Jewels. That’s one of my favorite scenes of he whole show. :) Also, the takeaway message from this DVD is Moffat’s words at the end: 

“These are still the formative years of Sherlock Holmes, and the most important thing about this series is not that it’s updated; it’s the fact that those two men are still young and they’re still at the beginning of what they don’t yet know is gonna be a lifelong partnership”. 

And then comes Series 3... 

...and its extra material, with the most blatant attempts at deception so far, I believe. At this point Sherlock is called a “psychopath” by both the show’s characters, John’s blog, Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as if it were true, which is a big deviation from ACD canon. That simply doesn’t happen there; while Holmes is sometimes described as eccentric, no one in the books is ever claiming that Sherlock Holmes has some kind of mental illness leaning towards cruelty and egotism - not even his enemies say this about him. In the show, however, they begin in ASiP with making him torture a dying man for information (something that is not included in the Pilot). And in S3, where they avoid discussing the reason why they turned Mary Morstan into a ruthless assassin, this major shift is glossed over by the fact that in the same episode (HLV) they also turn Sherlock into a murderer, who cold-bloodedly blows the brains out of a blackmailer for threatening to make said assassin’s crimes public. 

But without ever getting into the “why” of it all, the cast and crew seem overly happy and smiling describing these rather morbid choices as something positive; “fantastic”, "fresh and new” and "amazing” are their choice of words. Benedict claims that Mary, who has literally shot and almost killed Sherlock in HLV, is now "a new best friend of Sherlock’s”. Amanda claims that Mary “is protecting John” when she shoots Sherlock in the chest. Now they’re both psychopaths, and poor little John is forced to stomach them both because he’s addicted to danger. In Amanda’s words, Mary also “kind of gets in between the two of them, but she wants them to be together as well”.  Which is a load of BS considering that Mary tries to kill the protagonist of the story.

Lars Mikkelsen thinks it’s “such a good script” because “you’re mislead as an audience”. But he never gets the chance to expand on what the misleading actually contains, because then Mofftiss cut in to express how much they love playing with “what ifs”. As if this whole mega-budget project of a show were just a big experimental playground without any actual story to tell. 

Benedict repeats his line from HLV that Magnussen “preys on people who are different” and Moffat also says he “exploits people who are different”. Which is really confusing, considering what we can see Magnussen actually do in the show. Lady Smallwood and John Garvie are two well-established, powerful governmental politicians whom Magnussen blackmails by finding their respective pressure points. In Garvie’s case his pressure point seems to be alcohol problems in his past, but according to media he’s later arrested on charges of corruption. Lady Smallwood is blackmailed on the basis of her husband having sent compromising letters to a minor many years ago, in spite of later claiming that he thought she was older and stopped when he found out the truth. And then Magnussen is blackmailing an assassin who recently threatened to execute him but shot Sherlock Holmes instead, in order to try to get at Sherlock’s brother Mycroft, another powerful governmental figure. 

But what does media seeking out dirt on certain people in power and their families have to do with “people who are different”? Despicable as the method may be, isn’t this unfortunately how political power play usually works in our society? Or are TPTB somehow a repressed minority group now? Unless this whole “people who are different” accusation is actually about something entirely different, something that none of the show makers even cares to mention... ;)

In these DVDs, none of the involved persons is ever discussing the change of roles with regards to canon, though, or the (lack of) logics in this turn of events, or even a hint about the narrative motivation behind them. It’s all about the great Drama, the extraordinary visual effects and the aim to endlessly “surprise the audience”. Which is fine by me to a certain extent, but when this is all that’s being said, it feels extremely superficial, as if the audience is merely seen as a bunch of consumers that have to be triggered more and more by horror, special effects and cliff hangers to be able to appreciate the show. (“Warm paste” indeed, like Gatiss has later criticized some viewers of wanting...) While the "why”; the idea behind this surrealistic adaptation, made by self-proclaimed fanboys of ACD, is not even touched upon. Around this, the silence is total and therefore totally confusing.

Maybe I shouldn’t even go into Series 4...

...but why not, since I’ve already started? :) 

First of all, there’s a lot of extra material on this DVD and I particularly love the parts about the music and composing and Arwel Wyn Jones’ work with the design and build-up of John’s and Mary’s flat and the interior of 221B. Those bits are truly enjoyable. What I could live without, though, is the leading commentary that kind of instructs us, the audience, how we should interpret the show. 

Benedict is on it again on this DVD, telling us that in TST they picked up where they left off in S3 and “It’s a very happy unit of three people that then become four.” Why does he feel the need to make this statement, considering how S3 ended? Actually, if there’s anything I totally fail to see in S4, it’s happiness. The banter between the three  of them may seem entertaining for a while, but who could have a relaxed, warm relationship with someone who tried and almost succeeded to kill you less than a year ago? Without any sign of remorse? Now there’s a dark tone of discomfort and mean jokes that feels forced and not even a bit happy to me. 

But Martin tells us how excited John and Mary are about starting a family and Amanda mentions how much they’re looking forward to the baby. Again and again it’s repeated, as though trying to rub it in: “they’re in a good place, they’re a loving, married couple”. Yeah, right - a child that (judging by TSoT) wasn’t at all planned and now with an assassin for a mother... Twice we see the new parents complain that their daughter has the mark of Satan on her forehead and debate which horror movie she’s from. The clichéd hypocrisy of it all is sickening, and I’m willing to bet that it’s really meant to be. ;) 

But Gatiss chimes in, deciding for us all that the christening of Rosie is “a funny scene” and “they’re enjoying each other, enjoying being on adventures as a three”.

An interesting detail is that Gatiss also tells us that the working name of this episode was “The Adventure of the Melting power Ranger”. So this little blue guy was that important? :) And - even more interesting - is when he says: “Cake is now the code for violent death”. So how should we interpret Sherlock, John and Molly going out to have cake in TLD then, on Sherlock’s (supposed) birthday? 

These might be jokes, though, but when they tell us that Sue cries every time she sees Mary’s death I strongly believe they must be joking. How could anyone feel truly moved by this overly sentimental long monologue where far more efforts are put into reacting to Mary’s speech than saving her life? And John’s mooing like a cow, is that also moving? :)

One thing Martin says about TLD that actually disgusts me is regarding the morgue scene where John assaults Sherlock and Sherlock lets it happen: “From there, really, their relationship can only sort of rebuild, that’s the absolute worst it can get”. As if outright physical abuse would be something that makes you want to rebuild a relationship? Wow - just wow... How far can they go with this crap?

Anyway, when we finally arrive at the absurdity of TFP and Sherlock’s ‘secret sister’, everything is of course discussed as if she actually does exist on the given premises, and everything she does is ‘real’, no matter how impossible it would be in real life. The abandonment of any attempt to have the story line make logical sense is skillfully covered up by more distraction with fascinating technicalities of the film making process. This is where Gatiss makes his now almost classic statement that after Sherlock and John jump out of the window at 221B when a grenade explodes there, it’s just “Boop! And they’re fine.” 

Of course there’s no serious attempt at explaining this logically. Except perhaps Gatiss claiming that they both landed on Speedy’s awning - whatever good that would do to them, since the awning is leaning downwards, but never mind... But we never even saw that happen, did we? A great deal of time is then dedicated to show all the precautions to have Martin and Ben jumping safely at low level onto a madras supported by empty cardboard boxes.

Sian Brooke did say something interesting about Sherrinford, however, that got me thinking. She said that Eurus “wants revenge for the years and years that she has been held captive” there, isolated, and that in TFP the Holmes children are now “lab rats” and “it’s an experiment”. On a meta level, I think we can indeed see this episode - and maybe the whole show - as a kind of experiment, but maybe we, the audience, are also lab rats? Since Sherrinford is slightly shaped like a film camera (not commented in the extra material, of course), it leads my thought to all the adaptations through the years and years where Holmes and Watson have not been allowed to be together. A whole century when Sherlock Holmes has been held captive, restricted by the very same sort of heteronormative filter that all this extra material imposes; it’s like Sherrinford, isn’t it? Which gives all the more meaning to Moriarty’s arrival to the island, accompanied by Freddy Mercury’s “I want to break free”...

I think I’ll let the final words in this little exposé come from Mark Gatiss in The Writers’ Chat (my bolding):

“Moriarty is a fascinating thing in that in our sea of ongoing lies, one thing we’ve genuinely been completely consistent about is telling people he’s dead. But no-one believes it! And it’s a rather brilliant thing.”  Again - self-congratulatory statements. But instead of providing some actual evidence of the death of this character, who has kept popping up in almost every episode since his supposed demise, they think that the more a confirmed liar repeats something, the truer it gets? And the more we’re supposed to believe them? Well, all we can do is wait and see. :)

Tagging some people who might be interested: 

@raggedyblue​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @sarahthecoat​ @gosherlocked​ @lukessense​ @sagestreet​ @thepersianslipper​

My earlier meta on a similar topic (X)

[pokesplendor]

carmela’s team from my pokemon shield playthrough! not as happy with this bunch... info beneath the cut!

Graves - Inteleon - she/he - lesbian White - cis woman - age 30

Graves came from a very unconventional background prior to entering into the League circuit. Having raised since she was young by Interpol for undercover operations, she was there and experienced things a child shouldn’t for the sake of ‘justice.’ Who’s justice is really to question in this situation, as she never had a say. It’s only once she reached legal age did she take a ‘vacation’ and decide to try the league. That’s where she re-encountered Ella, who she had met on the job in the Champion’s guard. She uses her combat skills she gained from her rigorous upbringing, which you’d think would cause her to dominate the field, but that isn’t the case. She’s actually fairly bad at it. 

She has a bit of a problem interacting with others. She was trained in how to act natural, friendly, and unassuming, but she doesn’t know how to not act. What’s Graves’ personality? Well, she’s a crybaby whenever she’s alone. Little things upset her, her anxiety ramps up her paranoia, and she keeps it all saved beneath the surface until she’s alone and then she cries. Other than crying in her off time, she’s a voracious reader, and particularly likes poetry.

If Graves could ever be honest with herself, she’d admit she’s fallen for Ella quite hard. That bright ball of sunshine brought a smile to her face in a way she hadn’t experienced before. But she wasn’t able to voice her feelings, and Ella is now sadly taken. She’s also a poor leader, along with a poor battler, and she doesn’t garner much respect from her team. She’s often spoken over by Crusher.

Crusher - Sirfetch’d - she/her - lesbian White - cis woman - age 34

Crusher likes to think she’s a gallant, chivalrous knight that leaves women quaking with soaked undies are her arrival and her deep, rusty voice sends shivers up their spine when she announces herself, and she’d like to think that everyone wants her around, but she’s wrong. She butted her way into Graves’ team, seeing its lack of, well, many things, leadership, power, attractiveness… They obviously would benefit from her accompaniment. She didn’t care what they had to say, she was going to be on their team and they were going to worship her for what she brings to the table. She’d like to think she’s wanted, but honestly, not very much so.

As if it wasn’t evidence enough, Crusher is extremely up her own ass, overconfident, and unfortunately, with enough power to back up her words. She’s a demon on the field, knocking enemies out with a single sweep sometimes. She works out on the regular, and doesn’t wear armor to show off her many (sexy) battle scars. Otherwise, she’s into collecting antique tea sets and little glass kittens to display back home. Her house is full of them.

Crusher likes to think (man she likes to think a lot of things) that everyone on the team is slightly in love with her, when she is tolerated at best. Goliath likes her, but Goliath likes everyone. He spots for her when they’re working out together, and she respects him for his strength. She’s especially hard on Thrasher and Maverick for not pulling their weight until they evolved, citing them as a weakness.

Goliath - Grimmsnarl - he/they - gay Japanese - nonbinary - age 21

Goliath hails from the Glimmwood Tangle, from quite a large and loving family, but he got it in his head that he had to see the world beyond the forest clearing, he wanted to see where all the people braving its endless maze to reach the gym were about, he wanted to know! A regular yearning princess wishing to see what’s beyond her tower she’s been trapped in. And this is the family business Matilda had to leave her swamp for, bringing his ass home. She got there a little too late, however, already picked up by Graves’ group and registered into gym fights. He couldn’t leave! He made a promise to help! And look at his cool new friends.

When not spent daydreaming about adventures he could be having, he likes to keep in shape. His family home requires constant upkeep, lest the magical wood overgrows anything manmade within a few days. He likes to read, despite struggling with it due to his dyslexia, and he hopes to write his own book one day about what he’s experienced, he wants to have an adventure worth filling a book with. He’s a very positive lad, a happy one, who tries to share the happiness with those around him.

Goliath is still young, but he’s pretty sure about who he is as a person, he knows where he stands on morals, and her own identity as well. He’s chivalrous and kind, always trying to get the team to work together and get along. It has varying results. Grievous loves to mother him, and he likes to think he’s pals with Graves. Despite being younger, he tries to protect Thrasher and Maverick.

Blitz - Centiscorch - she/her - queer White - cis woman - age 33

Blitz, like Graves, was raised by Interpol for infiltration and undercover work. Unlike Graves, however, while the Inteleon was sanded down to being a weak, anxiety-ridden mess, it only strengthened Blitz’ nerves of steel, causing her to become cold and calculating. She only joined the League circuit because she had a mandated vacation following losing her leg from the knee down, and she didn’t want to get rusty on her skills. Not to mention she saw Graves attempting to lead and failing at it and thought she’d stick around to demean her for her lack of anything worthy of use for Interpol’s workings.

She doesn’t have many hobbies, she likes working out, staying fit, and occasionally cooking some ultra healthy superfood, but it’s not like cooking is her passion. She doesn’t understand why people think you need to have a life outside of your work, she’s perfectly happy to just always be on the job and do as it demands. She smokes, but only the occasional cigarette so as to not negatively affect her health. She’s a woman of few loves, few words, and she thinks that’s just fine.

Blitz scoffs when the team tries to have any sort of ‘get to know each other’ exercise. It’s never in good faith, and just ends in disaster so she tries to avoid it. Grevious tries to mother her on occasion, for whatever reason, she never had a mother and she doesn’t want one, so she doesn’t understand why her face gets flushed and hands get sweaty when the dragon’s around.

Maverick - Corviknight - she/her - lesbian White - trans woman - age 32

Maverick is a failed knight from olden times; she was sealed in a tomb in the slumbering weld with her previous king as a way to protect him in the next life, only to be revived by Graves and Ella exploring the area. Being awoken in modern times, she had a lot to learn and get used to, part of it being her king is no more. The body is gone, and the tomb ransacked. She failed, and this weighs heavy on her shoulders through the journey. She agreed to follow Graves, sensing a nobility to her, Ella already having Thomasin by her side while Graves had no one. She is skilled in battle, if not unsure of herself due to her failings during both in the past, and while she was asleep.

She holds herself to high standards, almost impossible for her to meet, but no one else. She does not expect others to keep up her strict training regime, it is for her alone to shoulder the burden of being known as a failure. Despite that statement, Crusher constantly challenges her, and they’re often sparring with one another. In her off time, she enjoys weaving and is learning the modern trades of ‘sewing’ and ‘crochet.’ She enjoys making clothes for herself and others.

Her strict lifestyle doesn’t give her many moments to herself or to consider her feelings for others. She dedicates herself to a cause and thinks of little else. However she enjoys Grevious’ company. She does notice the occasional stares from others, such as Thomasin from Ella’s team, and she wonders what it could mean. Does she resent her for not joining Ella? It seemed only fair at the time.

Grevious - Dragapult - she/her - bi Vietnamese - trans woman - age 45

The ghost of a test pilot that went down during a new dirigible’s trial run over Galar. Her body was never found, believed to be incinerated by the blast, and her spirit has hung on to the area as she never got a proper burial. Graves, hearing her plight, followed her to her remains, giving her the burial she deserved. Freed from her prison, she was free to pass on, but she denied doing so, she had to repay Graves for her service. And so, she was conscripted to the gym challenge, one she had seen many travelers pass by speaking of such a thing and she was always curious just what exactly it was. She had heard things of course, but nothing is better than first hand experience.

Grievous is a very noble person, but not too stuffy either. She loves a good joke, she loves puns, and she loves giving people a good fright with her ghostly status. It’s all in good fun, she’d never do anything malicious or something that would genuinely harm others! She loves to fly, she had always loved to fly, and dying didn’t exactly rob her of that love. Now she can do it without a plane! She spent so long as spirit, she kind of forgot what having hobbies is like, and she’s trying new things!

She’s a very motherly person, and, being the oldest of the group, feels very maternal towards all the young little ones around her. She’s particularly concerned for Graves and Blitz upon hearing around their upbringing. That’s no way to treat a child! She does her best to tend to the others of the group. Though she would be lying if she didn’t say that Crusher pushed her buttons more than once.

Thrasher - Obstagoon - they/them - lesbian Black - transmasc nonbinary - age 24

Thrasher comes from a foster home full of wayward kids who grew up on the downward spiral of life, and they themselves weren’t an exception. Originally from Spikemuth, they never knew their parents and their foster home travels were rough. No one seemed to want to keep them, and at one point they got sick of it and ran away from home. They ran and ran and never looked back, and found a job working in the professor’s lab in Postwick. They didn’t ask them where they were from, nor tried to contact anyone else, so it was good for them. They met Graves early into their gym circuit and decided to join her to perform some field work for the professor.

They’re quite down on themselves, never feeling like they’ll accomplish anything of worth. They couldn’t be a good child, they’re not a good battler, it took them a while to come into their own, and Crusher needling them constantly didn’t help. In their spare time, they play guitar and sing covers of existing songs. They don’t have a knack for writing, just another thing they fail at. It’s been a tough life, and they stumble along the way constantly trying to get to a better tomorrow.

Thrasher is a shy sort when it comes to their feelings, they haven’t been engendered into showing their vulnerable side to others. And Graves’ group isn’t exactly what you’d call family. But it’s a nice change of pace and they almost feel… wanted. And Grevious is a nice addition to their life. To have such a motherly person doting on them is, well, a dream come true.