#on the bright side I have in fact mapped out how I can get to where I need to be

[fear-is-truth]

━╋ hear me out… nam-gyu x reader who’s on the same level of viciousness as him

warnings — s2 spoilers ‧ murder ‧ name-calling ‧ very suggestive ‧ english is not my first language jackie’s note — um.. hope you’ll like this lol

NAM-GYU started coming to your bed after the brawl. not by invitation—he didn’t ask permission for things, and you certainly wouldn’t have given it. he just took, slinking into the narrow cot behind you like it was his right, like he belonged there. and maybe, after that night, he did.

it should’ve pissed you off more than it did.

maybe you were just exhausted, too wired from the bloodshed, the screams still ringing in your ears. maybe it was the way he’d watched you that night, eyes gleaming through the chaos, lips curling when you drove a fork into someone’s neck and kept pushing until the light drained from their eyes. or maybe it was the way nam-gyu smiled at you when he found you curled in a corner after, panting, streaked with blood, knuckles split and aching.

the memory spluttered with bright clarity with like a match lit in the dark—his fingers on your face after the fight, swiping blood from your cheek, bringing it to his lips. his tongue dragged slow over his knuckles, savoring the taste like he was branding himself with you.

“goddamn. you’re one stone cold bitch.”

“i can say the say thing about you.”

and that was that.

…

you felt him before you saw him, the mattress dipping under his weight, a hand sliding around your waist. his palm was warm, calloused. he squeezed, just once. a reminder. a warning. fingers pressing into the bruises, souvenirs of the fight. feeling you. mapping you.

you grabbed his wrist, nails digging in, but he just chuckled quietly. “relax. i’d have killed you already if i wanted to.”

the bastard had a point.

so you let go, and his fingers resumed their exploration, dragging over your ribs, your stomach, lingering at your hipbone as if he was making a home of your body.

“how many do you think are left?”

he murmured into the crook of your shoulder. you didn’t flinch when his hand slid up your side, fingers curling under the hem of your shirt.

“…i’d say… about forty.”

his teeth scraped the curve of your neck, playful, testing.

“good, more money for us.”

a quiet inhale. his chest, warm against your back, the slow press of his hips just enough to make you aware of the fact that he was hard. as if the pervert wasn’t getting off on something as simple as proximity. you reached back, fingers threading into his hair, yanking his head to the side, exposing the column of his throat. your teeth grazed his jaw.

“you need a minute?”

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, then—almost begrudgingly—let his tongue flick against the shell of your ear, hot and slick. you didn’t flinch.

“shut up.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[blu-bat]

Nothing like listing out your expenses vs how much you get paid and seeing how that sure isn't close to adding up to a livable anything.

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 | 𝓩𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘰 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘡𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘴: Oral Sex, Established Realationship, Fluff, Breeding Kink, Vaginal Sex, Crempie, Praise, My love.

Artist: X / Twitter | @xiandao1213

“Yvonne.. Tell me how much longer my shift is.” She chuckles slightly at my child like whine.

“You’re like this because Dr. Zayne has been in surgery all day.” She retorts. If she didn't have a mask on I could see her big grin. Her eyes shut slightly when she smiles like that.

“Okay you don’t have to call me out like that.” I snort.

She’s right though. I get moody when Zayne is busy, it gets so boring sometimes transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. For the past few weeks I’ve been working at Akso Hospital. The decrease in wanderer activity caused me to look for a part-time job. Zayne offered to help me with my expenses but I refused, so as a solution he was able to find me a job here. Of course I was mortified and refused again, but when no other job was calling I ended up taking him up on the offer. For three days out of the week I’m transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. Who knew this was an actual thing that people get paid to do. It’s not a hard job, however it gets so boring having to wait for an assignment. On the bright side, wearing scrubs is so comfy.

“Dr. Zayne should be getting out soon from his surgery in 15 minutes, if all went well. You can transport his patient to the ICU once closing is done.” Yvonne winks at me, still keeping that same big grin. I can’t help my face turning bright red, she lets out a big laugh causing the nurses station to grow silent. We both can’t help but giggle at the awkward stares from our peers.

“Operating room five?” I say staring at the OR board, “I’m getting kinda good at reading medical lingo.”

‘‘Mhmm.” Yvonne mutters, as she hands me the patient pickup report. “Don’t get lost again.” She says as I’m heading away. Once again she calls me out, I can’t help but to get flustered all over again. There is a hard fact about me working here, I get lost all the time.

It’s been longer than 15 minutes, I made it everywhere but OR five. How did I even manage to make it to the morgue? This is going to be my second write up for patient tardiness. Another one and I’m kissing this job goodbye. I punch the elevator button rapidly so it can open. My stomach is in knots, the overwhelming anxiety is causing me to sweat. I’m a hunter for crying out loud. I can read a map, but I can’t understand the hospital layout. Ridiculous. Consumed by my thoughts, I rush into the elevator as soon as it opens. A loud HUMPH is heard as I collide into a body.

Oh shit. I know this cologne.

“Lost again are we?” His sarcastic tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t bring myself to look up at him. I know he has that stupid smirk on his face.

Zayne chuckles. As I try to back away to create some space between us, he takes his hand and holds my waist all while resting his chin on my head.

“I got lost trying to find OR five.” I mutter in his chest. Having Zayne so close to me and feeling his hand on my waist makes my already knotted stomach do back flips.

“Hmmm. Ms. Hunter, it seems as If I need to show you the hospital again.” He starts swaying us softly side to side, as if we were dancing. The elevator doors close and we start to ascend.

“Did the surgery go well?” I whisper trying not to ruin our moment.

“As expected, the patient will make full recovery.” He lifts his head up, still looking down into his chest. I take my arms and wrap them around him. If I could, I would freeze us in this movement forever. All of my worries, all of my doubts fade when I’m with him like this. His calmness soothes me in ways I can’t explain. I am truly in love with him.

He places his free hand under my chin, cupping it softly causing me to lift my head and meet his gaze. Before I can even react, he leans in and kisses me. His soft lips collide into mine. Slow and sweet, I kiss him back. But the knot that was in my stomach turns into a fire, a hunger for his touch and skin. As the anxiety leaves my body, my hands find their way to his hair, I tug on it slightly causing a small whimper escape his lips. I stand on my tippy toes and make our kiss more passionate, sliding my tongue in his mouth. His hands move from their previous positions and without hesitation he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands hold my ass for support. There is no struggle from Zayne, he lifts me up and pushes my back against the wall with ease. We break away from our kiss and gasp for air, looking into his eyes again I see his hunger and wanting. The feeling in my pants makes me bite on my lip, his lips curiver in response. A small smirk appears on his face as he catches his breath.

“Naughty girl.” He pants.

“Teach me a lesson.” I smirk

The elevator doors open, and my heart stops working. We quickly let go of each other creating some sort of distance. Zayne shuffles his hair and clears his throat, however there is no hiding the bulge in his scrub pants. Oh how I know he wishes he had his lab coat on. I quickly adjusted my scrub top and hair. Looking at the floor number and realizing we are at the main lobby, Zayne gives a friendly nod at the elderly couple who just walked in, and quickly exits out of the elevator.

“My office after your shift, we need to discuss our conversation further.” He says as before the doors close.

Zayne the man that you are.

The couple gives me a sassy smile and my face grows red. The awkward tension in the room almost makes me throw up. The next stop, I quickly exit the elevator. Now to find the nurses station.

After receiving my second write up, I glance at the clock and see it’s time for me to leave. Midnight. Remembering Zayne’s words I make my way to his office. Knowing that route like the back of my hand, my thoughts take me to the moment in the elevator. The way his eyes looked, like he was going to lose control. His hands on my ass gripping me tightly, the way my cunt was burning for him. He was so confident, so ready to devour me. Surgeons high. I’ve heard of the nurses talking about it before, it’s when after performing a risky surgery the doctor feels a sense of adrenaline and a boost to their ego causes the blood to flow. The thought of cool, calm, collected Zayne disappeared to the man in the elevator.

When I arrive at his office door, I hesitate before knocking. What are you feeling now, Zayne? Pushing my anxiety aside, I place two knocks before I hear his voice telling me to enter. He is sitting at his desk, still wearing his dark navy blue scrubs, the lab coat is hanging perfectly on the coat rack. In the dim office the moonlight illuminates his soft face. He's on the computer typing away.

“Lock it.” He demands, not taking his eyes off the screen. The directness causes me to react instantly. Oh so it’s going to be like that … fine. Let's play Dr. Zayne.

I make my way to his desk and perfectly sit on the corner, crossing my legs like a perfect school girl. He is still typing, not looking away from the screen.

“Finishing the report ?” I glance over.

He closes the computer quickly and rotates his chair to face me, leaning back as he stares me down. His eyes scan my body, there is a hint of lust but they mostly scream admiration.

“Have I ever told you how great you look in scrubs?” he smirks. My dark violet scrubs look almost black with this lighting. I chuckle at his comment.

“They are rather nice but I do miss my hunter uniform.” We both smile.

He scoots his chair in front of me.

“I like you more without clothes.” His low raspy whisper catches me off guard, he takes his hands and parts my legs open. The unexpected move catches me off guard and I jump at his touch. His eyes look at me again, asking for permission. Do your worst. I nodded at his permission.

“Lay down.” He demands as his hands proceeds to take off my scrub pants and panties. I kick my shoes off quickly.

“Close your eyes and don’t make a sound, my love.” His tongue takes no time in finding my clit, rubbing sweet circles around it. Unable to control my movements, my legs close in on his face, I quickly cover my mouth with my hands and thankfully so because his tongue is doing wonders. With each flick and rub, my body trembles sending shockwaves. He goes faster with each squirm. Putting my legs over his shoulders, he grips onto my thighs making me unable to leave. I feel myself coming close to climax.

“Z-Z-Zayne I-I-I’m g-gonna cum.” I moan as quietly as possible. His tongue movements become faster. I bite the inside of my cheeks, in a few seconds my back arches at the feeling of release. Moaning quietly but wanting to scream is torture. He slows down and my muscles relax. I’m gasping for breath, flustered and hot. He gets up from his seat, locking eyes with me once more. His ears are red and he licks his lips.

“You taste sweet.” We chuckle

“I want you please.” I beg him. His eyes darken again and no second is wasted. He lowers his scrub pants a bit, taking my legs over his shoulders; he teases me with his cock. Rubbing the tip up and down my throbbing cunt. Zayne please my eyes beg him.

With no warning he shoves his dick deep into my pussy hitting my cervix, giving me no time to adjust to his big dick. I don’t contain my moan and he quickly covers my mouth.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He whispers almost enough so I don’t hear him. I can’t help but to smile at the sound of him cursing. He notices my smile and starters thrusting faster and harder, the desk moves slightly. “Turn around.” he demands. Obeying his order, I lower my legs and 180 spin onto my stomach, all while Zayne is still inside me. With my feet planted onto the ground for support, he grabs onto my waist and starts to pound me.

Low moans from the both of us fill the room. His thrusting is fast and deep, causing my legs to shake with each clap. A few tears fall from my eyes, I want to scream, to moan his name loudly but I restrain myself. I know he’s trying hard as well, sometimes a small grunt escapes but he followers it with a thrust. He thrust so hard that it causes the things on his desk to fall over, the neat and tidy office soon turns into a mess with papers and pens on the ground. A loud bang is heard when a metal cup falls and hits the floor.

A knock on the door causes my heart to drop. Zayne doesn't stop.

“Dr. Zayne, are you alright in there?” A muffled voice is heard from the other side.

“Yes (grunt) Dr. Greyson I (huff) just dropped a few things.” I’m biting my lip so hard it bleeds a little bit. Zayne pulls me closer, putting his hand over my mouth. I moan a little at the feeling of his cock shifting.

“I finished the report sir, shall I come in and bring it to you.” The door handle shakes a bit but with no success of opening it stops.

Zayne leans in and whispers in my ear “Let me cum inside you.” I shake my head yes, closing my eyes.

“Slide it under the door, I’m changing.” With no questions the folder slides in perfectly.

“You’re a good girl.” He purrs resting his head on mine. With that Zayn’s hot cum fills my insides. My legs shake at my release as well. We both pant heavily like feral dogs trying to catch a breath. His dick twitches inside of me, making sure I take all of his fill. Fuck. Zayne hugs me tightly from behind. I feel his chest rise up and down quickly. He places a kiss on the back of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I say trying to hold myself up, but my legs are so shaky that I turn into mush in his arms. He holds my weight making sure I don’t fall on the floor. Gently he takes me to his office chair and sits me on it slowly. Small drops of sweat trickle down from his face, he is still gorgeous though. A gorgeous, hot and sweaty mess. My mess.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” His eyes show concern and remorse as he wipes the tears from my eyes cupping my cheek in the process.

“No, absolutely not.” I hold his hand with mine, smiling softly. “I need to start making my way over here after your surgeries if this is what your high makes you do.”

He laughs, his sweet velvet laugh is music to my ears. It’s so rare to hear. Once again I freeze this moment into my brain. The rarity of hearing his laugh, his green eyes glowing in the moonlight, his hand on my cheek. I make sure to lock it so it can never leave my memories.

“My high?” he questions, still slightly chickling in the process.

“You know .. the high that every surgeon gets after succeeding a risky operation.” I tease.

“My love, I never thought I would say this but I miss you fighting wanderers. The hospital lingo is catching up to you.” He smiles.

“Expect the layout apparently.” I huff.

He shakes his head slightly before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Let's go home.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the soaring arrow

fused with the foe, chapter two

a/n: we getting somewhere in this one... progress... and by progress, i of course mean that we are one chapter closer to when they finally get to be happy and in love.

summary: “…do you still wanna learn?”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, weapons, big scary dire bear, a bit of a cliffhanger of an ending to this chapter (the drama is here, it has arrived, in the majestic for of [spoiler])

word count: 4706

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Rising yet again from the plush stool, your feet carried you the short distance back around to the opposing seat. Your elbow came to rest against the edge of the small games table as you glanced down at the chequered board and your chin swiftly found your propped-up palm as a bored breath seeped from your lungs. 

As you moved one of the ivory pieces, the thoughts you’d been trying to keep at bay for weeks slipped through ever so slightly. The king hadn’t talked to you since the wedding, in fact, whenever you’d been in the same room with each other, his gaze never found you. 

You might as well have been invisible.

The arm beneath your face slowly melted down till it layed flat against the table and you let your head follow along. Slumped over, your cheek pressed against your forearm. 

Raising your gaze from your up-close perspective of the chess pieces, it fell upon the man leaning 

against the wall by the exit. Dark locks only half tied up, a crossbow was strapped to his broad back as his stormy gaze stayed low and locked on the small dagger he absentmindedly twirled and flipped in his fingers.

Letting out another sigh, you didn’t bother straightening out before you asked, “so, is this just how it’s gonna be?”

Halting his fiddling, Barnes’ eyes met yours, “pardon me, your majesty?”

“You just lurking wherever I am, is that how it’s gonna be for the rest of my life?” you lifted yourself only slightly so that both of your palms pressed into your soft cheeks to prop it up. 

“No, I’m just here till you get settled, then I’ll go back to my usual business,” the advisor stated. 

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, your majesty,” he sheathed the short blade at his side, “why? If it’s because you don’t care for my presence then please just say so, I won’t be offended if you’d rather have a different warden looking out for you.”

“No,” you sat up properly, “it’s not that, not at all, I just–… could I maybe go for a walk?” the question hesitantly left your lips. 

“Sure, you can,” he nodded slightly, “where do you wanna go? I could show you the Valarian Ward in town, there are lots of museums there you might like–”

“No,” you cut his offer off, “I meant if I could go for a walk on my own.”

“Oh… well, I’m not entirely sure that’s the best idea…” he uttered carefully. 

“I am your queen, aren’t I? So, can’t I just command you to let me go by myself?” you tried, blinking up at him like a little puppy, “please, Barnes.”

A low sigh then flowed from his lips as his stare raked across the floor. A moment passed before he opened his mouth again, slowly saying as his gaze stayed averted, “your majesty, I am gonna leave for a moment, I suddenly remembered that I forgot something in my chambers this morning. Please excuse me as I momentarily won’t be here watch where you go,” his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “you got that?” 

“Yes,” a bright smile stretched across your features, “I understand what you’re saying,” as you instantly shot up to your feet, “thank you, Barnes.” 

Though half regretting his choice already, he still offered you a half-hearted smile, “you’re welcome, your majesty.”

Bending down, you plucked a long-stemmed daisy and added it to the bouquet of wildflowers your left fist was tightly enclosed around. As you lifted yourself back up, your vision washed over the blossoming meadow you stood on, located on the hill directly north of the castle. From here only parts of the seaside community were perceivable, as from this angle the mountainous fortress blocked off the vast majority of Borün city, only the edges closest to the main road, like the city stables and the water mill, caught your gaze. But the farmlands that curved over the rolling hills west of the town had no obstructions in their path. The vision of golden fields as well as wide pens that housed both fuzzy brown cows and round little sheep, that blissfully soaked in the mild afternoon sun, couldn’t help but bring a smile to your lips. 

Peeking over your shoulder, the warnings of the king’s right-hand man faintly echoed in your mind as you glanced at the thick forest. Temptation had swayed your feet to carry you dangerously close to the edge. The Noll woods didn’t seem that dangerous from this angle, perhaps it was safe enough on the perimeter and it was just the dangers deep within it that they were so terrified of. So, the next thing you knew, your leisurely stride had crossed the meadow and the dark wilderness had swallowed you whole. 

Extending an arm as your feet slowly walked over the crunchy leaves and the pillowy moss clusters, you felt the cool leaves brush against your open palm, almost as if you were greeting each and every one of them as you passed. The chirping birds high up in the dense treetops sang a pleasant melody that caused a bright smile to bloom on your lips. 

You weren’t sure how long you ventured forth, deeper and deeper into the twisted forest, but eventually, a small and speckled bush caught your eye, ripe with the vibrant berries you recognised from the layered cake that you had been served for tea just a few days prior. The fabric of the long burgundy cloak you wore billowed behind you as you rushed to pluck the small fruits. A soft hum vibrated at your lips as you tasted their tart sweetness, popping them in your mouth one by one. 

Though just as your head was up in the clouds, over the moon about this little slice of paradise you had discovered, a low growl emanated from the tall shrubs just behind the berry bush. Your fingers froze in an instant and the fruits in your berry-stained palm rolled to the ground. Slowly, you raised your gaze as a giant snout pushed through the dense plants and the creature’s rotten breath fanned across your cheeks, causing your stomach to churn. 

Holding your breath, petrified with fear, you willed your feet to shuffle back at a terrifyingly slow pace. Your entire body trembled like a leaf on the wind as your eyes stayed glued on the dark animal slowly creeping into the clearing. 

A bear, though at least three times the size of any normal one, came stomping into the light. Its footsteps were heavy enough to make the forest floor quake. Long and gnarly teeth curled up over its drooping lip as viscus slobber, and what looked like blood, dripped from its gums, staining the blades of grass below with every hefty step. Nowhere on its scarred skull were something that resembled eyes, so as it sniffed loudly, your hair nearly rustling in the gust, the blind monster detected precisely where you stood.

A snarl rumbled out from its toothy maw as it clawed closer to you like a predator playing with its food just before it pounced. Eclipsing the dabbled sunlight that streamed in through the tree canopy, the massive creature blocked off any chance you had of escape. The petrifying roar it then let out caused your hands to instinctively shoot up in front of your face. 

Falling back, you collided with the thick tree trunk right behind you. Adrenaline pumped so furiously throughout your body that the tree almost felt like a pillow, as your body was so filled with terror that it didn’t let you notice any of the pain. 

Through your shielding fingers, you caught sight of a swift movement, though it wasn’t the ravaging bear before you. From out of nowhere a broad figure suddenly appeared, slipping in between you and the creature. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the king hold a shield up high, groaning from the strain as he blocked the monster’s mighty attack. Drawing a stout axe at his belt, he sliced it low, catching one of the bear’s legs and causing it to reel back enough for him to bash the shield against its snout, sending it back a few paces. The arching blows he then landed on the gnawing beast were a brutal blur to your eyes as he didn’t yield till the monster was slain and its blood stained the mossy forest floor. 

Slowly turning to face you, crimson dabbled his features and tainted his beard as he stared you down and roared, “what the hell were you thinking?” his broad chest still heaved from the battle as he took a step closer to you, “you’re not in Obelón anymore, you can’t just wander off!”

“I–… I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your eyes felt heavy as you stumbled to distance yourself from the tree trunk, “I didn’t–”

“You didn’t what?” inching closer, he sheathed his weapons, “think you’d bump into a dire bear? What if it had been something worse, huh? What then? Do you have any idea of what kind of dangers lurk in these shadows?”

Black spots dappled your vision as you just managed a faintly utter, “I’m s-sorr–,” before you collapsed. 

As the king caught you in his arms, your cloak unfurled to reveal the silks of your gown ripped and peeking out from the shreds was a grave wound on your waist. 

When you finally woke up, you weren’t in the forest any longer, but warm under the covers in your own bed.

You weren’t sure what you noticed first, the familiar surroundings or the sharp sting that throbbed at your side. Wincing silently, you pulled down the blankets and saw the clean cloths that bandaged the injury. As you carefully ran a fingertip over the dressing, a figure at the foot of the bed caught your hazy gaze. 

Slumped over on a small stool with his head resting against his folded-up arms, there sat the king, completely out cold. 

A clay pitcher of water stood on the adjacent bedside table beside a few empty cups that had a deep green tint to the glass. Carefully, as to not rouse the slumbering monarch, you reached for the jug in order to quench the thirst that scratched at your throat. As your fingertips brushed against the handle and moved it just a tad, an aching wave suddenly washed over you as the attempt stretched and disturbed your injured waist enough for you to recoil back, accidentally tugging at the decanter in the process and retroactively knocking over one of the nearby glasses.

As soon as it smashed to the stone floor, the king bolted up like he’d been struck by lightning. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you rushed as you clutched your throbbing side and leaned back against the pillows, “I just wanted something to drink.”

Still groggy, he sucked in a breath as he squinted over at you in the bed, “don’t move,” his voice was deep from sleep, “I’ll get it,” and he reached over to fill up the glass that didn’t fall to its doom, “here,” handing it to you, his eyes stayed on you as you took a sip, “how are you feeling?”

Lowing the drink to your lap, you watched the water ripple gently in the glass as you uttered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking I’d run into any monsters, I just wanted to see the forest. I’ve never been in a real forest before, so I just–… I’m sorry…”

A low sigh flowed from the king’s lips before he asked, “how are you feeling, dove? Does it hurt badly? Because I can fetch you some herbs if it does.” 

“It’s not pleasant, but I’ll manage,” as you always did. Your pain tolerance was through the roof when it had to be, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you please stop apologising?” your tense gaze finally flickered up to meet his, “I understand you wandering out on your own, I even understand you wanting to explore the forest, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring a weapon with you. I know you don’t know too much about this kingdom, but you must have a basic understanding of just how dangerous it is, especially The Noll Woods. So why didn’t you bring anything to protect yourself with?”

“What?” you blinked, “I don’t own a weapon.” 

Eyes widening, his brows shot up, “you don’t?” 

“No…” you shifted lightly under his gaze, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “dove, do you not know how to fight?” 

“Why would I know how to fight?” 

“Why would you–…” he echoed faintly before lowing his gaze to the blankets spread out on the canopy bed, “gods, I knew that Obelón’s high walls helped protect its people from many creatures, but I know even that doesn’t stop the citizens from knowing the basics at least. Why didn’t you ever?” he found your eyes once more, “you’re of royal birth. Why haven’t you been in lessons since you were a child?” 

Shifting your grasp around the glass, you uttered, “…my father wouldn’t let me…” your brows were still deeply knitted as you said, “I thought it was improper for fine ladies to have such skills.” 

“It’s not,” he shook his head, “trust me. Some of the best fighters I’ve ever known were fine ladies such as yourself.” 

“Really?” you couldn’t help but inch forward a bit. 

“Yeah, my mom for one taught me a lot of what I know, as well as–…” an unreadable expression briefly washed over his features as his sentence suddenly crumbled, “well, others…” 

“I always wanted to learn,” you thought back, “used to spy on my brothers when they were training, even tried to convince Callum to teach me in secret, but none of it ever worked out… my dad always found out and then he’d–…” your gaze stayed locked on the outline of your legs beneath the covers as you felt a shiver run down your spine, “I, uhm… I learned to stop doing that. Going against his rules.” 

After he helped you place the glass back beside the pitcher, the king’s deep timbre filled the chamber once more, “…do you still wanna learn?”

The gentle wind kissed your cheeks as you squinted your eyes at the circular target close to the ivy-covered outer wall of the front courtyard. Though the training area stood nestled between the warden’s barracks and the royal stables, the king’s right-hand man had ensured that there wouldn’t be as many people crowding the common area as there usually were, a gesture you’d become thankful for as the act of learning an entirely new skill was intimidating enough without having the added commotion of experts in the field directly next to you, granting you the perspective of just how green you were. 

Over countless days, bedridden in your chambers, the wound to your side had scabbed over and healed nearly completely. Though the wait was significant, it hadn’t felt that dreary, since at the first dawn you woke, the king’s presence had been exchanged for a tall stack of meticulously selected books. The majority of them were factual records about Eflorr, the land, the history, everything that had been out of your fingertips in the library of your birthplace. But occasionally in between the tomes of the kingdom were books of completely different genres. There was a wide and worn book of fables that had whimsical illustrations on each page, a pocket-sized novel counting the mystery of a fictional rogue, as well as a collection of flowery poems. 

Letting the nocked arrow fly, it didn’t pierce itself into the bullseye your eyes were boring a hole into, but instead joined the cluster lodged in the ground. 

“I am never gonna get this,” you muttered, nearly tossing the training bow from you. 

“Oh, don’t lose hope yet, your majesty,” you twisted your neck to see Barnes standing by the small, open-style stables adjacent to where you stood, petting the cheek of the black horse that stuck its head over the fence, “you’ve only been going for a few days.” 

Drawing another arrow from the quiver not yet strapped to your back, but simply resting on the small stool scooted close, you attempted once more, and though it didn’t hit the target, the arrowhead did wedge itself in between two of the stones on the wall behind it. 

“Not bad,” your body jumped at the unexpected voice, “you’re getting closer.”

Spinning around, you saw the king, arms crossed and leaning against the building directly behind you, “your majesty!” your eyes grew to the size of saucers, “h-hello.”

“You need to relax your bow arm more,” he pushed himself off of the wall and walked up to you. 

“What?” you blinked, still slightly stunned and scrambling to catch up to the fact that he was even there. 

“Here,” he stepped up behind you and a sharp breath of air filled your lungs as his touch found the limb clutching the bow, “you need to relax this arm,” his presence ghosted against your spine as his touch adjusted your appendage to the proper angle, “and lower it just a bit,” plucking up an arrow, he too nocked it for you and let his fingers linger over yours as you drew the string back tight, “use the corner of your lips as an anchor,” as the feathery fletching tickled your cheek, you could have sworn that you felt his curled knuckle shyly brush against your features as well, “and since you’re not very brawny, try and keep a bit of tension right here, it’ll help,” his hand slid down to your waist, the other palm briefly joining on the other side before he let go of you. You could feel the gentle gust of his breath on the shell of your ear as his low voice instructed you, “give it a try.”

The arrow then soared through the air and lodged itself into the outermost ring of the target, “oh my gods,” you squealed, your body victoriously wiggling at the sight, “I did it!”

“Atta girl,” he smiled at the result, and you turned your head to gaze back at him, the fact that he hadn’t shifted back yet caused a shiver to crawl up your spine, “see? I knew you could do it,” his eyes finally flickered down to yours, though when the close proximity dawned on him, only a second passed before his feet began to move, “anyways,” clearing his throat, his vision now seemed to wander over anything but you, “uhm… good job,” he offered your upper arm a small pat, “keep it up,” then turned to the high warden still off to the side, “Buck, I need you to take a look at something for me, up in the war room.”

Giving the horse one last scratch, Barnes answered his friend, “sure thing.”

“You know the king well, correct?” you asked the soldier as he walked with you down to breakfast. At this point, you’d gotten fairly used to Barnes acting as your shadow.

“You could say that,” the corners of his lips curled up in a soft smile, “my mom was a servant here at the castle, so I essentially grew up alongside him. Then as soon as I was old enough, I joined the wardens, partly just to stay at his side. So yes, I do know him well,” he nodded slowly, “I know him very well.”

Rounding the corner, you walked down a long hallway with windows facing out toward the sea all along the right wall. Motes of dust hung suspended in the morning sunbeams that spilt into the hall, perfectly still, like flakes of gold leaf trapped in resin.

Glancing over at him once more as you stepped through one of the golden rays, you slowly opened your mouth once more, “can I ask something?”

“You can ask me anything you’d like,” he met your eye. 

“Does–…” you hesitated a moment before averting your gaze to gather up the courage to utter, “does the king have someone else?”

Gently cocking his head, Barnes echoed, “someone else?”

“Does he have someone else?” you repeated, sensing heat creep up in your cheeks.

“Oh, uh,” he breathed as you reached the end of the hallway and he stretched out his arm to push open the door you’d arrived at, “no, not that I know of.”

As he opened the door to the smaller of the dining rooms for you to enter, you noticed that you’d been unconsciously gnawing at the inner part of your bottom lip till it nearly bled and you forced yourself to stop, “alright…”

When you crossed over the threshold, Barnes stayed put on the other side, though offered you a small nod before the heavy doors fell shut behind you. 

Turning to face the long table centred in the chamber, your eyes suddenly grew wide as an unexpected figure sat on the far end. 

“Good morning,” the king glanced up at you as he popped the piece of strawberry lodged on the tip of his fork into his mouth. 

“Your majesty! I–, I–…” you blinked a second, finding it impossible to get your feet to move the last few paces over to your set place, “I thought you took your breakfast up in your personal chambers.”

“Felt like a change in scenery today,” he plucked up a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea and brought it to his lips, though paused before taking a sip, “is that alright?”

“Of course, it is,” a shudder ran through you as you shook yourself out of your stupor and sat down at the table. 

A generous spread of options layed arced around your empty plate. From seasonal fruits, cut up and arranged on an oblong platter, to hearty bread, sliced and toasted, propped up for it to stay crisp, the selection never ceased to make your belly rumble in want. 

When your plate was filled up and you slowly began to pick away at it, the king’s voice suddenly echoed from the other end of the table. 

“Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Busy?” you lifted your gaze and sent it down past the short floral centrepiece to look at him, “no, your majesty, not in particular. Why do you ask?”

His elbow was propped against the edge of the table and his hand gently rested against his beard as he continued to stare at you, “I was wondering if you’d care to promenade with me.”

“I know it doesn’t look like much from this angle,” the king pointed to the dark cave entrance on the cliff that the castle stood upon, “but that emergency exit has saved countless monarchs.”

“So, the tunnel leads up to the basement?” you glanced down to the part of the coastline still a ways further down the pebbly beach.

“Yep, opens up into the wine cellar, it’s actually one of the racks that’s concealed as the door down.”

Glancing up at him as you slowly walked beside one another, an amused smile curled up on your lip, “clever.”

“Yeah, my mom thought so, she was the one who implemented it.”

The corners of your lips then dropped back down, and you waited a second before asking softly, “when did she pass?”

“A while ago now…” his vision briefly flickered down to look at the waves foam at the shore, “anyways, I’d recommend taking a guide with you if you’re gonna go exploring in the cave because it can be easy to get lost if you didn’t grow up with it as your playground.” 

“I’ll remember that,” a faint chuckle bubbled out of you.

The pebbles crunched beneath your slow stride as you made your way down the beach, closer and closer to where the fort loomed and the docks beyond flourished into the bustling city. 

After he’d bent down to pick up a smooth, dark rock, the royal then spoke in a slightly apprehensive tone, “hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

Noticing that his stride had halted, you stopped as well, “yes, your majesty?”

His gaze stayed on the small rock in his palm as he turned it a few times, “I know I haven’t exactly been the warmest towards you, I haven’t given you any solid reason to trust or even like me,” his ocean eyes then lifted to meet yours, “but we are supposed to rule together, be a team. So, I propose that we call a truce. Let’s start over and try and be friends,” his broad hand then extended. 

Clasping your fingers around his palm, you shook on it, “truce,” and a small smile bloomed as you then returned to your walk.

Your eyes didn’t stray long from him, staring at him inquisitively till he, on a glance, noticed.

“What?”

“It’s just,” you squinted over at the man walking beside you, the water gentle and calm behind him, “I don’t even really know you…”

“Well,” he breathed, as if that setback was easy enough to remedy, “what would you like to know?”

“I don’t know…” as you continued to stare at him, your fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the opalescent stone attached to the chain hanging from your neck, “tell me everything.”

“Everything?” his eyebrows raised a second before he exhaled lowly, “alright… uhm,” he then lowered his gaze as he scrambled his brain, “my favourite colour is blue. I can’t stand pears,” he began to list off, “I know I don’t look it now, but I was a very scrawny kid, sick all the time. I’m excellent at skipping rocks, actually learned how to just down there from an old family friend. What else… uh, I don’t have a lot of free time, but the little I do, I tend to either read, history in particular, as well as draw or paint, whenever I have the chance.”

“Paint?” you chuckled as that was one of the last things you thought he’d say. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “not many, but a few of my pieces are strung up around the castle.”

“I will have to keep my eye out for those, your majesty,” you smiled. 

“Oh, and please, no more of that,” he pleaded, “you shouldn’t call me your majesty any longer, we’re friends now,” he momentarily turned to toss the rock into the rippling sea, and a small ring bloomed on the surface as it delved in, “you are my wife,” the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he faced you once more, “you should call me by my name.”

“Alright, Steve,” the name felt oddly intimate on your tongue, “I’ll try my best to do better.”

As he smiled down at you, a shadow suddenly soared across the sky above both of your heads. Lifting your eyes to the clouds above, they swiftly went wide in fear as you saw the creature that flew straight towards the village. 

“Oh gods, is that a–”

“Dragon,” Steve uttered before you could. 

The winged behemoth of a beast had scales like the darkest tree bark, but in the sunlight it soared through, they shined regally like an oil spill. 

Grabbing you by the hand as warning bells rang out over the seaside community, Steve dragged you with him and he addressed the two wardens that had lingered a few paces back while you both were out, “take her inside, through the cave, stay low, away from any windows.”

“Yes, my liege,” they swiftly replied and moved to defend you, but as the king’s grasp left yours, you reached out to halt him.

“Wait!” your fingers rushed to snag your lucky charm off, “here,” and you layed the fine necklace into his open palm before finding his eyes one last time and uttering, “please don’t die.”

Closing his fist around the jewel, he offered you a grave nod before the wardens led you into the cave and the king rushed down the banks and up the algae-slick steps that led up to the harbour. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[runninriot]

You're So New (never had this taste in my mouth)

written for @steddiesongfics

inspiration: 'New' by NoDoubt | rated: E | wc: 4.982 | tags: sexual content, pre steddie, love confessions, friends to lovers | read on ao3

Eddie is caught in a free fall. That, at least, is what it feels like.

Down it goes, fast but somehow too slow at the same time. Down, down, no end in sight. Feels like he should’ve crashed minutes ago, but still, he keeps drifting, floating, falling. Swiftly swaying like a feather in the wind, violently twirling like he’s caught in a hurricane.

Lost in contrasts – no sense for where is up and where is down, caught somewhere in the middle of a blissful nightmare. His insides churning, heartbeat out of rhythm – he feels cold and hot and it’s all too much.

But then why can he hear himself begging for more?

There’s a gentle beast eating away at his insides while angels sing a song of damnation, underlining this heavenly torture that makes him giddy; giggles and cries fighting for freedom in his throat.

This is fucking crazy, Eddie is going fucking crazy.

It shouldn’t mess him up the way it does; he’s had sex before, this isn’t new. He knows the way deft fingers map out his skin, searching for the spots that make him wince and whine and wiggle. He knows the feeling of cool air and hot breath mingling on his spit covered nipples, sending sparks of pleasure into his nerve endings. He knows what it’s like to have need coiling in his gut, desire expanding into desperation that makes his body feel too small for all the sensations it houses.

And yet, everything about this is new. New and different and so much better than anything he’s ever felt before because it is their first time together like this. The first time he has Steve’s fingers digging into his sides so deep, his nails might break skin if he keeps going. Might leave bruises if Eddie wishes for it hard enough.

It’s not the first time they’re both shirtless but it’s the first time they’re shirtless on Steve’s bed. And while they’ve been kissing for some time now, it still feels new to open his mouth to let Steve’s tongue inside, summoning Eddie’s inner demons who oh-so-willingly accept this dirty dance request, blindly following his moves.

Maybe it’s the fact that, after all this time starving, Eddie’s suddenly served up the perfect dish to satiate his hunger, despite him being the one presented on the silver platter, waiting to be devoured.

Undecided if he’s hunter or prey, Eddie is helplessly chasing himself, trying to catch a breath while he’s grasping for hold, fumbling, flailing. Tumbling down a rabbit hole, where it’s warm and bright and the world is alight with invisible sunbeams setting him ablaze from the inside out.

Maybe he’s dying. Maybe this is what being reborn feels like.

And maybe he’s said that out loud because Steve chuckles, the smile on his lips leaving a ghostly imprint on the side of Eddie’s neck where they linger, placing barely-there-kisses on this soft shell of his body that does fuck all to keep his soul from oozing through the cracks he didn’t even know were there.

   “Steve, I-“

There are words trapped somewhere in the back of his mind but they’re written in a foreign language Eddie doesn’t know how to read, let alone speak, so he breathes instead, lets out this pitiful noise, this fragile little half-whimper, half-moan that doesn’t sound like him at all. Or maybe it does now because-

Because the old Eddie Munson is dead. Long live Eddie Munson – the new one, the reborn one, the one who gets to touch Steve in ways he never thought possible.

The one whose hands don’t burn in shame but rather tingle in excitement when they trace the curve of Steve’s perfect ass. Whose fingers don’t need to ask for permission to grab and play.

The Eddie, who is allowed to let himself go, to shut off his mind and let his body develop one of its own under Steve's guidance. Losing himself in the lovely, teasing way Steve moves on top of him – feline and snakelike, somehow both at the same time – curling around him, face buried deep in the crook of his neck, nosing at his skin, licking his way down the long line of it just to make Eddie squirm. Leaving dampness behind that causes him to break out in goosebumps with each exhale that tickles his skin.

   “Steve, baby-”

    Baby.

How easy they’ve been sharing this name. As if they had never called each other anything else.

   “Can you-“

Breathless, he waits for the other man's eyes to find his, hands coming up to cup Steve’s face on either side. He isn't sure what he wants to say, not sure what he's about to do, only that he needed a break, needed Steve to stop the trail of his mouth for just a moment, or else he was going to break, combust, fly too far away to find his way back down.

   “Everything okay?” Steve asks, voice ridden with concern that reflects in his eyes, too. Suddenly looking so soft  despite how hard he still is where their bodies absently grind and move, seemingly unwilling to stop what they've started.

   “Y-yeah, sorry just-“

Head empty, brain malfunctioning, heart racing so fast it must be unhealthy, Eddie struggles to find the right words to say – what is he even sorry for?

It's not his fault that he’s so fucking high on adrenaline right now, that the can barely keep himself from vibrating out of his skin. He feels itchy, wants to shed all of these outworn layers that cover his flesh and bones, wants Steve to slice him open and rearrange his insides to make space for all the new, divine things he makes him feel.

Throw out all the old and banish the dark, paint him with light and decorate him with roses – bright-pink and with heart shaped petals. Something soft to contradict the surge raging where he feels too much at once, for too little room.

   “I just... needed a moment,” he offers, smiling shyly at the beautiful man in his lap.

His beating muscle can't keep up pumping blood through his veins, down to where it’s demanded. Where Steve’s straining against him. Where they are mirror versions of each other, unable to hide what their bodies are longing for. Heat and arousal pooling in his lower half when he welcomes Steve's downward grind as he leans in for another kiss, a slower one, almost chaste compared to the ones before.

The taste of shared cigarettes and soda is still clinging to both of their tongues, and Eddie wonders if he'll ever be able to smoke or have a coke again without getting a hard-on, because that flavour will forever remind him of Steve now.

   “Sorry, am I going too fast?” Steve asks and before he even finishes the question, Eddie’s already vehemently shaking his head.

   “Want you,” -so much it scares me.

Eddie keeps the second half to himself, would rather choke on the words than say them out loud because he doesn’t know if this is too much to admit. If they’re at the point yet, where they can just drop truths of the heart so easily. They’ve barley even-

No. They haven’t made any real confessions at all. Not the wordy kinds, at least. Didn’t have time for that kind of conversation because it all happened so unexpected and fast. Words haven’t really been much of an option since then so they let their bodies do all the talking.

    “Want you too, Eddie. God, I want you.”

With his lips back on Eddie’s, Steve doesn’t give him the chance to say more, and maybe that’s good. Maybe they don’t need to speak right now.

If Eddie is really lucky, and this is not just a glitch in the matrix, they’ll have time to talk later. After. When Eddie’s brain is back online and his thoughts stop revolving solely around the pulse in his cock, still trapped inside his boxers and jeans, yearning to break free.

-----

continue reading here

[steviewashere]

Pumpkin Pie

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Recreational Drug Use (Marijuana), Alcohol, Inebriated Steve Harrington Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Sad Steve Harrington, Insecure Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Kisses, Cuddling, Sharing Food, The Intimacy in Sharing Pie From the Same Tin on The Same Fork, Sappy Ending For @steddie-spooktober Day 24 Prompt: Pumpkin (My probably only fic for spooktober because it got away from me)

🎃—————🥧 Eddie wakes up to a cold bed next to him and a bladder that’s screaming.

It’s not unusual for Steve to get out of bed in the middle of the night. Sometimes from a nightmare. Maybe because he needs a glass of water. Occasionally for the bathroom. But for his side to stay cold? That’s what’s unusual.

He pulls up his pajama pants, washes his hands, and makes it out of their ensuite bathroom. Well, it used to be just Steve’s ensuite and bedroom, but it’s theirs now that his parents have completely moved out of Hawkins. Leaving their too big house in a trust fund—the only thing that’s in the trust fund, it seems. Steve agreed that he’d pay the bills, so long as his parents didn’t fully sell it; surprisingly, they gave in.

The downstairs is completely dark. No life in the living room. No flushing toilet from the downstairs bathroom. Nothing. It’s almost as if Steve isn’t even home. Though, the back porch light is on. And in the light layer of autumn fog, glowing from the pool lights, is Steve laid back in one of the pool loungers.

Heaving open the heavy sliding glass door, Eddie chances stepping outside. The cold bites him—teeth marks, flesh missing. His t-shirt and fleece pants aren’t going to fend off the chill. And Steve’s outfit won’t do any better either. Considering the fact that he’s in nothing but some ratty sweatpants. How can he sit out here, Eddie briefly wonders. A waft of something skunky and earthy flares his nostrils alive. He shuffles over so that he’s in the adjacent pool lounger, sitting on the edge, arms wrapped tight around himself. Looking on at Steve’s profile, who is completely zoned out, bringing the joint to his lips mechanically. There are goosebumps on Steve’s shoulders, his cheeks bright red, the area under his nostrils a little shiny. He’ll get sick out here.

“Steve?” Eddie softly calls. Though, it startles Steve anyway. Hazel eyes meet his: bloodshot, glistening, his pupils expanded to their full extent from how dark it is. There’s dark circles under his eyes, heavy eye bags. His skin is pasty underneath the flush. Already looks sick. “What’re you doin’ out here, sweetheart? It’s warmer inside.”

A sniff. Shrugged shoulders. Steve looks back out towards the pool, but his eyes aren’t bouncing over the water—from where Eddie follows them, they appear to be mapping out the horizon line, a blue expanse coated with fog. “My parents called”—he takes a deep pull from the joint and the cigarette paper crackles into use, breathing it into his lungs, puffing it lightly from his nostrils—“they aren’t coming,” Steve croaks, the rest of that smoke billowing from between his chapped lips.

“They called at midnight?”

Steve gives a heavy nod. Another drag. Billowing smoke. “Motherfuckers are in London right now, livin’ it large with all their stupid business friends. Mom’s tryin’ to keep Dad from chasing tail.” He blinks slowly and lets out a longwinded sigh. “It’s whatever. Tried to keep in touch with my family, made them a bunch of nice food, and this is what I get. Fuckin’ whatever.” Steve’s smiling by the end of that sentence, this humorless, lifeless thing. He goes back to the joint again on autopilot, lips wrapping around the end, taking in another big hit, letting it settle, and blowing it out with his next sigh.

Eddie looks around Steve, the crumbles of burnt joint on the lounger, what looks like a near empty glass bottle resting near one of the legs, another smoked roll but it’s just the filter at this point. He purses his lips and furrows his eyebrows. Looks at that bottle again—Smirnoff. He takes a deep breath, oh boy. “Don’t you want to go inside, sweetheart? We can talk about all this in bed, y’know. It’s warmer,” he tries again.

“Nah,” Steve drawls. “I’m warm already”—another fucking hit—“’t’s fine.”

“How much have you had to smoke, Steve?”

He shrugs again. Nonchalant like none of this is worrisome. Whatever that phone call was must’ve shaken him up pretty bad. Especially for him to come out here and party like it’s 1983? Yeah, must’ve been pretty fucked.

A cloud of smoke. “Dunno,” Steve says, “put some money in your…your lunchbox. Gutted some of my cigs. Bada-bing, bada-boom, right?” He puts the roach out on the arm of his chair, leaving a shallow crater in its wake. Steve points loosely towards the leg of his chair. “Hand me the…the uh…the drink?”

“No, Steve,” Eddie responds firmly, “I’m not gonna give that to you. We should go back to bed. Talk about that phone call in the morning.”

Steve scoffs and hefts himself up enough to come off the back of the chair, just barely reaching over into Eddie’s space. His eyes are glossier than they were before, heavy lids, Eddie can smell the alcohol on his breath when he speaks. “What’s there to talk about? They don’ fuckin’ love me. ‘M not enough for them to stay and now they’re startin’ over without me.” He collapses back. A wet breath from between his lips. “It’s whatever,” Steve spits. Swallows and sniffles and—

The first tear rolls down his right cheek.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

“Nothin’ to talk ‘bout.” He wipes aggressively at his cheeks with the hilt of his palms. Mutters, so quiet Eddie almost doesn’t hear him, “Don’ fuckin’ love me.”

Eddie’s silent for a few minutes. Sour in his stomach from Steve’s soft sniffles, the tears he won’t admit are there. He looks out at the forest, the dark expanse of sky. Lets out a calm, solid breath. “Are you hungry?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Sorta.”

“You want some of that pumpkin pie I made?” Steve nods to that. “Okay,” Eddie whispers. “M’gonna get you some water, too, alright? Enough of the weed and alcohol for tonight.”

“But”—

“No, Stevie, baby,” he shoots down as gently as he can. “It’s not gonna help.”

Before Steve can protest again, Eddie swipes up the bottle of vodka and retreats back into the kitchen. He pulls the tin of pumpkin pie from the fridge, grabs a fork, a bottle of water, and heads back outside. Along the way, though, he snatches a hoodie of Steve’s and some socks for the both of them.

The water and pie are set in Steve’s lap, fork laying gently across its top. He scrunches up the hoodie and pulls it over Steve’s head for him, guiding his arms through, letting it fall loosely over his stomach. And he treats the socks with the same reverence, a pair for each of them. Finally, he digs a bite from the center of the pie tin—a hideous scrape of fork prongs in the center of what he made—and brings it to Steve’s lips, who takes the scoop gingerly.

Steve hums with his eyes closed. “You’re a good baker,” he mumbles with a full mouth, “best…best boyfriend in the world.”

He snorts. “Mmm…that’s funny, I was gonna say that you’re the best boyfriend in the world. My favorite person, too.”

“Really?” Steve looks to him with his eyes as wide as they’ll possibly go, pupils still dilated, still glossy, but surprised. “Am I really?”

Eddie combs his fingers through the front of Steve’s hair, swooping it back off his forehead. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “sweetheart, you are more than best to me. You’re everything, Steve.” He offers another bite to Steve, watches as it disappears behind his lips.

There’s a small, pleased smile on Steve’s face. The corner of his eyes crinkled lightly, sparkling. He looks down at the pie tin, a crease worming between his eyebrows. Gently concerned, “Are you eatin’, too? ’T’s your food.”

“Two for you, one for me. I’m not that hungry.”

Steve hums. Still watching Eddie, as he finally takes a bite for himself. And then watching with more intent as he gets another bit of pie. There’s a smudge of pie on the corner of his mouth. Eddie wipes it away reverently with the tip of his thumb. He receives a kiss to it for his efforts, which he chuckles at.

“I love you,” Eddie breathes—easy as pie. “Love you so much, it’s almost ridiculous.”

There are tears in Steve’s eyes again. When he’s inebriated, his emotions are practically free flowing. They always are. It’s a shame he only allows himself to be this vulnerable when he’s like this, but it’s all the same real. Wetly, “Love you, too. You know that? Don’…don’t forget that. That I…I love you, Eds. So much. Love you so much.” His next breath comes out as a little, weak sob. A hiccup, this gentle burble.

He pets his hand through Steve’s hair again, gently swiping it down the side of his head, and cupping his cheek. His face is warm and his eyes are shiny and he’s still so beautiful—so wonderfully Steve—even when he’s like this. “Shh,” Eddie whispers, “I know, baby. I know. And I’ll remember, promise. Because I’m gonna love you for forever, Stevie. Just you and me.”

Another soft cry—delicate. “Kiss?” Steve asks quietly, “can we kiss?”

Instead of answering verbally, Eddie deposits the fork into the well of missing pumpkin pie. He cups Steve’s face with both his hands and gently invites himself in. Steve isn’t very coordinated, his lips too pursed, and his whole face scrunching in Eddie’s palms, but he makes do. It’s a saccharine kiss all the same—no tongue, just their lips, more smear than anything. But when Eddie pulls back a few inches, Steve is still positively dazed. As if it’s the first time they ever kissed, in which Steve looked the exact same: in love, entirely surprised his tactic worked, and still completely pleased with the results.

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s lips, mingling in the same breath, “no matter what, I’m gonna keep loving you.”

Steve rests in Eddie’s palms, going lax into his left hand. His face is squished, he’s flushed and warm. There’s a goofy, lopsided, syrupy smile on his face. “You…you taste like pumpkin, Eds.”

“Yeah?” he laughs out through a breath. “You do, too. You’re my slice of pumpkin pie, Stevie”—he pets his thumbs over Steve’s temples, down at the corners of his eyes—“slice of heaven right here in my hands.”

“Mm,” Steve hums. He moves forward in his chair, coming up off the backing again. This time, though, he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and squeezes. Snuggling in as close as he possibly can with Eddie still holding onto his face. There aren’t anymore tears, on his cheeks or waiting in his eyes—the best thing Eddie could’ve hoped for. With the way he moved, Steve’s cheeks are pushed flush to his eyes. His lips are pouty. Eddie can't help it, he plops a kiss to Steve's forehead, right between his eyebrows. Steve's voice is distorted and mumbling when he speaks, “You make me happy, Eds. Make me so, so happy. Love you. Don’ forget, m’kay? Always…always love you.”

For a few minutes more, they’ll be sappy like this. Slow and soft in each other’s space, sharing bites of pie off the same fork, exchanging the same words. They’ll hold close, forgetting about that stupid phone call. And eventually, they’ll head back to bed. Fluttering against each other under the blanket, Steve nestled against Eddie’s chest, drooling onto the same pillow.

In the morning, Steve will wake up, hungover. But Eddie will be right there, a glass of water and some painkillers in his hands. The same words again, “I love you.”

🎃—————🥧

[xo-cod]

omg more soft Simon pls😭💗 maybe sth with a highly sensitive reader sfw or nsfw whatever works for u... luv ur blog💖

thank you sm lovie :") this is sfw! sorry i got to this so late 😩🤍

dangerous love

"don't make me say it. i can't say the words"

rolling your eyes, you sit on the lap of your beloved lieutenant. the usual firm and stoic ghost has been left at the door, here he's become so affectionate and clingy, the way you adored it. here, he's simon. his calloused hands are wandering, trying to memorise every part on your skin. even though every nook and cranny is burned into his memory, mapped out exactly where and how to caress your body to get you into a whimpering mess.

"i think that's a lie, i think you can say those words simon riley" accentuating his name elicits a small groan from his lips, how he adores it when you take charge and command him. it brings a side of him he doesn't usually feel safe to show others. but you're so different. so warm and comforting, it just naturally comes out, spilling everywhere before he can even comprehend

you're so close to him, your fingers running though his blonde soft hair scratching gently on his scalp. and he relishes in it, his eyes closing out of habit. he can't help but rock underneath you, hoping you'd forget and immerse yourself in pleasure only he can provide you

but tonight, you were on a mission. and certainly not one to settle for any less so you move back but he grumbles a little, his hold on your waist tightening so that you're back close to him. he can't help but breathe in your sweet smell, practically trembling underneath you. like you're simultaneously not enough but yet overriding his senses.

"iloveyou" he mumbles in your neck, breath tickling your chest. it makes you giggle softly, gently pushing him back. your hands lace with his bigger ones, shaking your head as you gaze down at your half sleepy man

"try again, sir" you whisper, your arms around his neck. his eyes darken with lust at the word, instantly thinking about how many ways he could have you. but you don't relent. he knows what you want and maybe it's the fact that he's so tired that all his walls are down or the fact that he's so in love with you, he can't help but give you what you want

simon leans his forehead against your own, the sweetest of smiles pulling on his lips. his hands come to hold yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles around your knuckles. he breathes you in a little, not used to being so open and vulnerable about his feelings like this. not used to having someone care for him so deeply, not thinking that he could've ever received such a thing in this painful life.

"i love you, with everything in me. i never thought i could feel this way, that it was even bloody possible..." he breaks off, gently chuckling at the predicament he was in. how for years he swore of love, swore off from ever pursuing a relationship in this life. he didn't grow up with adoring parents that showed him what love meant, he couldn't possibly drag someone else deep down in the depths of his pain and misery of his past. the same thing he was running from.

how nobody could hold a candle to him but you managed to light a whole fire deep in his soul. the embers burning more bright and intense than he could've ever imagined. you truly tilted his world on its axis but he didn't care. for once in his life, he was reckless. and he loved it, for it landed him you.

"but there you were, you little minx. and i've fallen for you y/n l/n, more than you think. more than i even bloody know" his voice is soft as he nears the end of his confession, kissing the tip of your nose. there's really nothing more he could think of, he was a man of few words so action was always his number one thing. no words could do it justice. but he'd show you, again and again. so that even if you had a sliver of doubt all of was expelled, he'd make sure of that

"i love you too si..." you whisper, tenderly holding his stubbled face between your palms. your thumbs rub soft circles on the apples of his cheeks, giving into him. you couldn't help it, he was so addicting. your arms go behind his neck, pulling him towards you desperately. and he did the same, his arms tightening around your waist as if you'd disappear right before him. like he couldn't handle the fact that there could possibly be any sort of distance between you both, he pulls you with his strong arms close to his front.

as you got lost in the feeling of him, a surety had rose, lodged deep in his throat. his hands hold you as if you'll slip through his fingers, deepening the kiss as though your lips were the sweetest of drugs. that it'll be you always, for as long as you will let him. for as long as you'll have him

[hannahssimblr]

Ivy is waiting on the steps when I pull into the driveway. Her face lights up when she sees my car, and raises her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hey!” I say, as she launches herself into my legs, “have you gotten taller?”

“I don’t know. Nobody has measured me.”

“I think you have.”

She grins. “Maybe. You’re really tanned.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, look,” and she holds her arm against mine, which is now a deep, golden brown. 

“Yeah, I suppose I didn’t notice.”

“Was it fun?”

“The beach?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, mostly! How about you?”

“My summer?” she says. “I already told you on the phone about five times.”

“I was hoping you’d regale me again so I wouldn’t have to talk about myself.”

She does an eye roll, which is remarkably teenaged. It’s like the first glimpse of the adolescent she’ll eventually become. “Boring, so boring. I hope you never get to hog the beach house all summer again.”

“I highly doubt I will.”

“Mom and dad got you a present, by the way.”

I blink. “What, really?”

“Yeah, something. I can’t tell what it is. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Sounds vaguely ominous, but okay. I follow her as she tears up the steps and from the hallway to the extension, where bright, harsh light spills across the parquet. The house is tidy and smells like bleach, the way it always does after the cleaner has been. By the island, my parents stand side by side, arms crossed, faces stern, as the dishwasher rumbles. 

Maybe it is ominous. 

“Hello,” I say guardedly. 

“Welcome back,” my mother says, in a tone that suggests I am, in fact, not very welcome at all, though she’s always had issues with sincerity. 

I look from her, to my father, then back. “Thank you.”

Ivy, already bored with this conversation, dashes out and begins thumping on the piano in the other room. 

“I, um, I locked up the beach house and made sure everything was switched off.” I volunteer. “So it should be good for next summer.”

“Good,” says Dad, and my eyes flit to a rectangular white box on the counter. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

“Oh.” I approach it and turn it over in my hands. “It’s one of those phone things.”

The laugh that escapes my mother sounds halfway to a scoff. “I thought you young people knew all about those.”

“Yeah, I know about them. I’ve seen them.” I’ve tapped at the screens in the phone shops and laughed to myself at the idea that a person would ever really need something so excessively high-tech in their pocket, when we all have computers that work perfectly fine. “Is this the new one?”

“Yes,” she says, and I slide the lid off the box.

“Thank you.”

“It was your father’s idea, not mine.”

Dad shifts from one foot to the other, like the suggestion he might be generous by nature makes him uncomfortable. He mutters, “Lorcan, at work, has one. Says they’re excellent. Though he has the three.”

I tip the slim, white phone into my palm, and it lays there, cool metal on my skin. It’s like something from the future. “This is the four.”

“Yes.”

“Um,” I hit the sole button beneath the screen, and nothing happens. “It’s just funny, like, because I don’t really know what I’d use it for.”

“For a myriad of things.” Mom’s voice is barbed. “Look at the booklet. You can go on the internet, look at live maps, contact people abroad with no need to pay all of those roaming charges.”

“Yeah, all good things, I suppose.”

We lapse into silence as Ivy launches into double handed scales on the grand piano, and I stare at this piece of unnecessary tech, the black mirror screen fogging from the heat of my palm. 

“I’m just saying my old phone was fine, too. It had everything I needed.” 

To this, mom tuts and rolls her eyes. “Is it really so difficult for you to be grateful, for once? It’s a generous gift.”

“Yeah, it’s really generous. I appreciate it. I’m just surprised, is all, because it’s not like I’ve ever been a tech person, or whatever, but I’m sure I’ll realise it’s useful once I… use it.”

“There’s the attitude,” dad says, and I turn to him with a blink. 

“Excuse me?”

“See, Colette, this is the way he always is when you do him a kindness. It was this way with the car, too. Non-appreciative, shrugging it off. Then there was letting him use the beach house all summer, and what thanks do we get for that?”

“Seriously?” I cut in. “Thank you. Thank you for the house. Jesus, you didn’t even give me a chance to-”

Dad swipes something else off the counter, a sheet of paper with text and numbers on it, all looking so dull and so official that my eyes glaze over, even skimming it. “What’s that?”

“A bill.” He snips. “€1700 for a two-month gas bill! Are you kidding me?”

Heat rises to my face as Ivy starts pounding out rising arpeggios in a chromatic sequence in the next room. “Um.”

“Did you have the hot water on twenty-four seven? How is this even possible? I’ve never seen a bill like this in my life, Jude.”

“Dad, c’mon,” I abandon my new phone on a stool and take the bill from him, as though I can prove he has made some obvious mistake, but no, it’s clear as day, in a bold text for idiots like me to understand. €1700. “You know I can’t figure this bill stuff out. How was I supposed to know it’d cost that much? I have no reference for this kind of thing.”

“Anybody else would know. Every other child on the planet knows that gas costs money, and even if, by some stretch of the imagination, you did not, then I told you explicitly to turn the gas off at the boiler when you weren’t using it.”

I open my mouth and close it again. “I-” A scoff. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to turn it on again, did I?”

“Apparently not!”

“Jude, that’s ridiculous.” Mom says in a more even, but no less scathing, tone. “Use your common sense.”

“Well… It’s not like it’s a big deal, is it? You can just pay for that.”

“That’s not the point!” Dad cries. “It’s your careless attitude towards money. I sent you another thousand over the summer, and what did you do with it? I know you didn’t spend it on groceries.”

“I just spent it, I don’t know.”

“Those are new shoes.” Mom points out, and really, she doesn’t have to rat me out like that. We’ve never been friends, but we’ve at least had a common enemy. I can see a new line forming, and for the first time in my memory, they are united against me.

“I got sick on my other ones.”

“Why were you sick?”

I hesitate. 

“Jude. Do you have a substance abuse problem?”

“What? Why have you jumped to that conclusion? That’s-”

“Because you’re spending all of this money, and now you’ve been sick on your shoes. How do you think-”

“Oh. Me being sick on my shoes automatically means I’m an addict? You realise what a massive leap in logic that is, Mom?”

“I don’t know what else to think. You think we never noticed all of those late nights you had during school? What would-”

“Oh, my God, Ivy!” I yell, “Please stop playing the piano, for like, five minutes!”

“I’m practising!” she chirps back, and bangs out some increasingly complicated Bach study from the book I bought her last Christmas. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Christ, mom, have you sat with her during her piano practise even once this summer? Gotten her to go through those exercises? They sound worse than they did in June.”

“Now you’re avoiding the subject,” she snaps. “How much are you drinking per week? Are you using drugs?” 

I toss my hands in frustration. “I don’t fucking do drugs!”

“Language!” both my parents yell, and I roll my eyes. 

“This is besides the point, anyway. The fact is that you only gave me €500 to spend for the entire summer at first, Dad. How was that supposed to last me, anyway? It feels like you set me up to fail.”

“I set you up with a modest budget to learn about how to handle your finances whilst living on your own.”

“Well, then, you set up a test without telling me it was a test. That’s hardly fair.”

“It was very obvious.”

“Who was it obvious to?”

“It would be obvious to anybody who knew how to think.” He says, prodding a finger against the side of his head. “Think critically. Employ a bit of sense. That’s who. But look at you. Incapable of even that. I should have suspected.”

“Why are you so dramatic all the time? Huh? It doesn’t have to be this way. I didn’t do so badly this summer. I did all the things you asked in that email. The place is clean, sheets changed, towels washed and dried and put away. I broke a single plate, and that was it.”

“That was your basic responsibility.”

“Nothing is good enough for you, is it?”

Mom’s mouth flattens. “You’re twisting things, Jude.”

“Look, this is about the bill. I get it. I’m sorry. If it’s such an enormous deal to you, then fine. I’ll pay it. When I sell my car, I’ll use some of the money on this. Does that seem fair?”

“We already expected as much.”

“Then, fine. It’s all sorted. I’ll do that. Lesson learned.”

They just look at me, faces unreadable, but their body language makes me itchy, like they’re hiding some infinitely worse piece of information. 

“What?”

Beginning // Prev // Next

I've gotta thank the wonderful @sirianasims for pitching some ideas for this particular section of the story! I've had such a good time running with them

[muninnhuginn]

Liu Xiao Overview and Speculation

Thought I'd pull together what we actually know of Liu Xiao thus far and throw in a few of my own speculations for good measure. For someone with so little screentime, there's actually a decent amount to dig into.

This post will contain spoilers up to episode three of yingdu as this is what has aired at the time I'm writing this. I'm going to try and reference episodes and rough timestamps best I can throughout this in case anyone wants to check through themselves.

(Note: made slight edits due to translation issues. See @protect-namine's reblog for more context)

Family

So, our first direct reference to Liu Xiao in the series proper is in season two episode one (~14m), where Liu Jing says that Liu Min doesn't have "half the talent of his younger brother". It's also known that Liu Xiao is currently "away" (later clarified as him studying abroad) and people are anticipating his return.

Essentially, Liu Min is the unfavourite, seen as constantly causing trouble and needing bailing out (with copious amounts of money), whilst Liu Xiao is the golden child. (Interestingly, Qian Jin being so used to solving Liu Min's problems in order to protect the reputation of the company for Liu Jing is likely exactly why Li Tianchen and Liu Min initially came into contact)

Now, Liu Jing may see Liu Xiao as the talented heir to the company, especially as Liu Min was widely seen as a nepo hire (s1e9 ~4m), but Liu Xiao's own opinion on his family seems to lean more towards surface level appeasement, whilst he himself is more distant to them. He refers to his own father as Boss Liu and says that he's not close with him (yingdu ep 2). When interacting with his mother (s2e12), he largely nods along, but it's clear he has his own plans to be getting on with that take priority. And that largely maps to his background machinations in season two overall.

Liu Min

Just going to tangent a second to mention my personal pet theory that Liu Min is likely adopted. Liu Xiao could also be, to be fair, but I think there's more evidence down the Liu Min end for me to be more confident of in this stage.

There's the elephant in the room that these are two sons of differing age who would have been born under the one-child policy. And sure, there have always been exceptions to the policy (and those who are rich are more likely to just pay the relevant fine), but my point is that it's a *choice* to have different age siblings (compare-contrast the Lis who are explicitly twins and the relationship between Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi who are not biologically related but have a siblingesque dynamic).

The final bit of circumstantial evidence is Liu Min's hair. As you see in the photo above (s2e12 ~18m), Liu Min has had blond hair from a very young age, which significantly decreases the likelihood of him dyeing it. This photo also shows his mum's hair colour is naturally black (as opposed to the brown dye she has in her dressed-up present day aesthetic), which means both parents are black hair to Liu Min's blond. (Side note, but the framing of this photo is so striking in how it directs the eyes to see Liu Min as the clear black sheep of the family.)

If it gets confirmed that Liu Min is adopted and Liu Xiao *isn't* though, then it does cast a different light on Liu Min being seen as the worthless sibling. The fact that in this photo of his childhood he's smiling bright yet his later appearances have him so wrapped in self-delusion that he'll order hits on online strangers and cling to any chance of 'friendship'. The way that when he was younger Liu Jing would show him off to business associates but by the time of yingdu he was persona non grata. Liu Min gets more pitiful the more we know of him.

Emma/Quede Games client

So, let's dial it back to season one. I know I'm far from the first person to think this way, but I'll try to explain how I came to the conclusion that the client in Emma (s1e1) was either Liu Xiao or intentionally influenced by him.

(I'm saying 'influenced by' as an option rather than straight up him for a few reasons, but one of them is... translation choices. See below (s1e9 ~18m):

One translation names Emma as the client in her own case (I'm not *totally* sure she'd be alive to order her own dive, but okay - I'm not going into Emma ep timelines rn) and the other just says she was a player in said case rather than explicitly the client. The other reason I'm saying 'influenced by' as an option rather than straight up Liu Xiao is because he was out of the country during the entirety of season one, only returning in the final episode of season two. So whilst it's possible he could have recruited Qiao Ling directly (phones aren't limited by country, after all) I'm just going to keep it as "part of Liu Xiao's plan".)

Anyway, s1e1, we first find out that there's a client who wants to obtain the financial data for Quede Games before it's released to the public. This eventually leads to financial discrepancies coming to light. Zhu Ye, the CFO, was embezzling money, and ends up under investigation. As we later find out, he was funneling money both to himself and Liu Min. (And once Liu Min finds out his source of extra income is cut off, he goes after Emma as the one responsible)

It's laid out in the episode itself that only the CFO has this data. But who would know enough about the data in the first place to know what it would reveal? Surely it would have to be inside information from someone with reason to bring the company into disrepute. Quede Games is implied to be very efficient at massaging over scandals (Liu Jing makes reference to this in s2e1, as does Liu Min in s2e9) so it would take something big for them to properly break into the news.

Now, the client *could* be Emma, as she did have the knowledge of the discrepancies, but not only does the timeline not match (aka, she would already be dead unless I'm missing something) but it also doesn't align with what we know of her outlook. Emma started as someone trying to make it big in the city, but by the time of her episode, she was close to her breaking point. What she wanted was her parents, not to lose her job.

So, it's probably not Emma. It's not Zhu Ye, because why would he tell on himself? Not Liu Jing, because he seems to think Zhu Ye being investigated is an attack on him. I guess I can't technically rule out Liu Jing's wife, but as we don't even get her name, that seems a long shot. So, who's left with connection to Quede Games? Liu Xiao.

Liu Xiao had Li Tianchen obtain Liu Min's phone from under the noses of both Qian Jin and Liu Jing (s2e12 ~21m). Our only real hint as to what is on that phone comes much earlier in season two, during the discussion between Qian Jin and Liu Jing (s2e4 ~1m). "I'm not interested in your family secrets," says Qian Jin, implying that's exactly what's on the missing phone. Qian Jin is privy to all sorts of dirty secrets in his role as company fixer, so it's curious that this seems more personal than business. Either way though, the phone is proof that Liu Xiao is working against his father, even if he plays nice to his parents' faces.

And, of course, Liu Jing mentions in that exact same conversation: "First, Zhu Ye being investigated, now Liu Min. Someone must be messing with me!" Like, yes, wonder who that could be.

Liu Xiao's actions involve secretively working against his parents. I'd say attacking the company by exposing financial fraud would fit the bill perfectly.

Motives and personality

His PV is called 'manipulator' and... yeah, hard to argue against that. His official art features him playing puppeteer to Li Tianchen even. What I *would* like to argue though is what *type* of manipulator he is.

Liu Xiao plays the long game. He's not just "mask on, get benefit, escape". He sewed seeds in Li Tianchen *years* prior and only reaped them in the current day. In a similar way, he speaks cordially to his parents. They both speak of him as though they're proud of him and that he's "much better than their other son". And yet, he's been working against them for some time. He's intelligent and charismatic enough to pull it off.

Liu Xiao's relationship with Li Tianchen is the most telling though, in how he uses his friendship as a leash. On first meeting Li Tianchen (s2e4 ~0m), he validates Li Tianchen hiding away with Li Tianxi when the abuse kicks off. But he follows it up with his speech about animals, clearly framing Liu Lan as a scared animal, whilst implying that Li Tianchen was also a scared animal, but one who could change to become a hunter if he stopped hiding.

Liu Xiao then continues this framing throughout their childhood flashbacks and into the present day timeline (s2e9 ~13m | s2e12 ~21m). The idea is that Li Tianchen can become a hunter but it's *conditional*. Li Tianchen could be friends with Liu Xiao but he has to *act*. Liu Xiao will only deign to be friends with someone who "has guts". I have no idea how much of this was intentional vs subconscious manipulation, but either way, Liu Xiao isolated Li Tianchen's guilt over not acting in order to make him act the way *he* wanted.

Anyway, he also seems to have a strong belief in a higher order (and I'm starting to think said higher order is *himself*), what with his whole "make the timelines into one single river". Liu Xiao's stated aim is to "turn uncertainties into certainties". The world as it is runs in parallel lines, influenced by many factors (personality, other people, etc). Like a game of poker or russian roulette, really.

Given his hunter-prey speech, it seems clear that he believes himself to be a "hunter". That he's doing this not because he has some great need, but because he wants to control events. Win this grand game he's set up for himself. Which is curious because in yingdu ep 2, he says, "you use your unfair advantages to stay in control."

Regardless of what you believe about Liu Xiao's powers, it's hard not to think that this applies somewhat to himself. But it'd be interesting if he saw himself attacking Quede Games and taking down the gambling ring as him "evening the odds" for others. Imo, I'm not sure the idea fits with his personality (as, yk, *hunter-prey* speech), but it could certainly be spun that way.

And any good manipulator needs some good press.

[seasonalmoss]

Amanda the adventurer post TV show Headcanons

here are some of me and my twins @thequasarwinds headcanons for Wooly and Amanda after they escape the TV show in our AUs. anyone is free to use these with credit!

(This isn’t really a HC just a thing in our AUs) Wooly and Amanda have altered appearances from their original bodies, Wooly is the most notable as he basically just looks like a Sheep furry, but Amanda has some slight changes too

Upon first ever leaving the TV show they have a short period of intense confusion, delirium and slight amnesia before everything starts to go back to them

they’re memories of before the TV show is incredibly vague and they both feel a level of disconnect from them. Almost as if they’re experiencing someone else’s memories.

^^ Because of this Amanda chooses to go by Amanda instead of Rebecca as she feels almost completely disconnected to the girl she once was. But she still would have bouts of completely hating the name Amanda due to its negative associations but feeling so disconnected from Rebecca it causes her to struggle a lot with depressive like symptoms and identity issues (though she canonically already has symptoms like that so I guess the preexisting symptoms grows worse)

^^ Wooly is similar except he has less memories of who he was so he doesn’t have any name to feel “disconnected” from. The name “Wooly” is simply what he’s use with and what he’s more comfortable with due to this fact.

^^ more AU specific)) Wooly barely has any memories before the show, actually, mostly just feelings. Due to this the show is sort of all he knows, especially regarding his identity

Wooly struggles a lot with personalization, he struggles with what he exactly likes, what his hobbies are and has a very poor sense of self.

Amanda (and most likely Wooly too but we just don’t have enough information on who he is and where he is in canon to say much yet) has pretty bad scaring due to her rotting. Most of it is around her hands feet and mouth area, leaving her walking with a limp and in need of assistance for long periods that she’s moving.

^^ because of this she at times has some kind of cane/ crutch for the long periods of walking/ running. It’s probably very personalized for her, with it being decorated in different kinds of stickers and painted in exiting colors.

Amanda has a slight level of aching and a form of chronic pain in her feet and hands, especially in the areas that were more rotted away

they both have a sensitivity to noises, bright lights, and tactile sensations due to how simplistic everything was in the TV show, the detail in the real world can make them overwhelmed and nauseous easily.

^^ Wooly gets a lot more overstimulated then Amanda however, due to the fact he was the most accepting of being in a TV show and his habit of being completely dissociated while in it causes him to be not use to a lot of sensory stimulation (though other factors could’ve caused this too), so he often can’t handle a lot of simple activities like going to a slightly busy restaurant.

Wooly struggles a lot with complex roadmaps and city maps as a whole and has a hard time remembering it all. He especially is not use to this level of complexity since his role of the side kick didn’t really allow him to build up those skills. He gets overwhelmed by the number of streets and is quick to get delirious by it, especially if he’s alone without Amanda or anyone to guide him. He’s use to there at the very least being a viewer who can help him out.

(This is also more of an AU thing and not a HC but people are free to use it as well, it’s useful for visual story telling and thematic purposes) Wooly has small little horns that is tied to his age as well as his emotions. Since he’s a child so therefore a lamb it’s only short little nubs that will grow gradually as he ages. But it’s also tied to his emotional well being and development as a independent person (he struggles with being his own person) if he goes through something particularly traumatic again they will grow but at the same time if he goes through something especially healing to him or happy they will also grow. (Amanda is kind of jealous of these horns since she finds them cool but she tries to convince herself its not and usually tries to keep it to herself. It’s hard for her though since Wooly is honestly stoked to have horns and keeps “rubbing it in” )

Amanda and Wooly are still trying to live a normal life, so they do (at least try to) go to school. But among a lot of other things they feel disconnected from their peers

Amanda especially feel’s disconnected and almost gets afraid to go to school, she’s afraid she’s going to hurt them, as the only time she really interacted with kids her age or kids any younger was in the TV show when she was forced to lure them away. She also feels simultaneously older yet younger then all of her class mates. She’s also an emotional unregulated child, so she’s afraid she’s going to have outbursts and hurt them.

Wooly on the other hand tries as hard as he can to integrate into normal society but it hasn’t been easy for him. (Besides the obvious of him literally being a sheep) It’s hard for him to connect with a lot of his classmates due to a multitude of factors, but he still desperately tries as hard as he can to act like he’s just a completely normal kid. He almost wants to forget all about the TV show in favor of something more normal.

Wooly is a teachers pet and is completely terrified of breaking a lot of the rules. He’s also the kind of person to remind the teacher about tonight’s homework, but not to be annoying he genuinely believes in the usefulness of homework and “educational prowess” it’s also a rule and he’s afraid of any of his teachers getting fired if he doesn’t.

Amanda is the most mischievous yet also the most generally educated compared to the rest of her classmates. Her teachers often don’t know what to do with her, so they often opt for her to try and teach the kids around her table when they have an assignment she already knows. Amanda likes feeling like “the smartest” but she also absolutely hates having to teach her class mates as it makes her fears even worse. She complies however since she is at heart just a helpful sweet little girl.

Wooly and Amanda don’t like eating meat and has a hard time eating it if they have to. The association with the Meatman and what the meats were is too much for them. Wooly acts more openly squeamish and nauseous while Amanda acts more scared and repulsive.

there’s probably a whole lot more Headcanons that I missed but that’s what I remember! I’ll probably update this as time goes! Hope you all liked them! I… uh- wasn’t expecting a lot of them to be so sad? I’m sorry about that ^^,

[niniane17]

I know it's 2024 and nobody cares anymore (I hope), but I finally watched Adam Driver's latest interview about Star Wars that he made about two months ago and I felt like commenting on it, because why not?

Quite frankly, I don't know why anyone is so surprised. What he said, essentially, is something we already knew: that there was no Great Plan on the sequel trilogy and that Kylo Ren was originally conceived as an unsympathetic, irredeemable character that got popular against the production's intentions.

Mind you, I'm not happy about any of this. But surprised? Nah. In fact, my only consolation is that I sensed bullshit all the way back in 2018, when I looked at Kylo Ren's haunted face and thought "this is gonna be another Loki: rooting for him will only end in heartbreak". Then the Rise of Skywalker happened, and it was so bad that basically turned me into a Kylo -and yes, even Reylo- fan overnight. As I said many times, the shortest way to make me love a character is to treat them unfairly. It doesn't matter to me if they are "good" or "bad": fiction isn't reality and it doesn't follow the same rules. In fiction, the most important thing is to be consistent: among other things, you have to make sure you follow up to all the things you've planted beforehand (unless, of course, there's a theme about incompleteness or something).

I was angry on his behalf for a good while, I can only imagine feeling like this for years. I said before that I got the feeling Ford had basically improvised the whole scene with Adam Driver, but now I'm wondering if maybe he was also the one who pushed for Kylo's redemption too. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised. Somebody had to point out that people watch Star Wars for the Skywalker family, hoping they get a happy ending.

How the fuck could the whole production be shocked that redemption -especially redemption for a Skywalker- was Star Wars' big theme? Especially AFTER they decided to make a sequel trilogy NOBODY had asked for? I guess this is what happens when a franchise gets lost in too much lore and details, or huge space fights.

Anyway, I'm sorry for Driver because it's clear they wasted his talent, but on the bright side, it put him on the map and now we can enjoy him in more projects.

[linked-through-the-centuries]

To help explain personality/chaos levels/Vibes for each of the Links, here’s how I imagine all of them would drive if cars existed (loosely ranked from best to worst, it’s not a hard set scale):

Twilight: Literally perfect, has never hit the curb before in his life, always uses his turn signal, never speeds, has never been pulled over. Driving with him feels SAFE and he makes sure everyone is comfortable and ready to go BEFORE he starts the car. He will tell everyone off for being too loud and tell them he needs to focus on the road, and he also checks the traffic maps before he goes anywhere so he knows the best route to take because he gets anxious sitting in heavy traffic. Most likely to have a minivan to drive ‘the kids’ around in, and also a pickup truck for work

Calamity: Perfect driver, both hands on the wheel always. The car ride is dead silent because he’s mute and also refuses to put on music, plus he’s not that talkative anyway, so it’s up to whoever’s in the car to talk if they want to. Would probably drive a small black SUV

Past: The kind of person who you cannot read whether or not they’re a good driver just based on vibes, but are surprisingly good. Sometimes stops are a bit rough and maybe they’ve hit the curb once or twice, but has never been given a ticket. Would have an older car that they’ve taken good care of, like an early 2000s Toyota Corolla

Mask: He’s a good driver, he’s just so stressed he has a death grip on the wheel and if people don’t let him over on the highway or he can’t merge over on surface streets he will burst into frustrated tears. Has to have the music turned up loud enough so that Hylia can also hear it, but without it he’ll be too much of a nervous wreck to drive. Would drive an SUV, he couldn’t handle anything bigger (he’d get too stressed out)

Sky: His kindness and music taste makes up for the fact that in a fifteen minute drive, you gripped the handle and feared for your life once. He asks if people are buckled up before he starts the car because one time he braked so hard Mask’s face bounced off the dash and he still feels bad about it. Would drive a smaller car and it’s definitely bright red

Minish: Inexperienced, and sometimes forgets to put on his turn signal. Has ran a red light once or twice. He’s 15 so he wouldn’t have his own car, he’d probably use Twilight’s or Wars��s

Warriors: He has never been in a crash that was his fault, which no one believes because getting in the car with this man feels like tempting the reaper. The kinda guy to hit a pot hole that leaves the car making a brand new sound and just go “OOPSIES!!!” but he cries himself to sleep over it. He either screams along to his playlists or he tells you the hottest gossip you’ve ever heard. Usually has an iced coffee in one hand and waves it around when he talks. Would have a Ford Escape, but like a 2013 Ford Escape specifically. He also checks the traffic maps before he leaves because he likes to he efficient and will leave very early for whatever event he’s going to

Tune: He’s never been the direct cause of a crash and that’s what’s important. He calls his car “ol’ girl” in the most respectful loving manner, and treats the car better than anything else in his life. That being said, he is a truly awful driver and would have a little old sports car

Hyrule: Struggles to stay in the lanes because he gets distracted by landmarks. Past has had to grab the wheel and steady it on more than one occasion. HAS hit another vehicle because he stopped too late. He’s also run several red lights because he thought he could make it

Tears: Better at off road driving than on road driving. You need to take a car up the side of a mountain? Tears is your guy. Otherwise don’t get behind the wheel with them, EVER.

[snugglylime]

Isla Sorna AU Snippet

Based on this post

Miraculously, no one dies.

Not so miraculously, they don’t shipwreck on a Costa Rican beach. The vegetation and humidity here are similar enough to that of Isla Nublar that for a moment Ben wonders if they somehow managed to make one big circle and end up right back where they started. 

But the beach is hopelessly vacant of docks and stretches on for miles, lined on one side by a smattering of jagged rocks and on the other by a bright green spill of jungle. Beyond the jungle is a fold of mountains bulging against the sky, a stark contrast to the lone peak of Mt. Sibo on Isla Nublar. 

Which means this can’t be Isla Nublar. 

As he scrambles up the sand and away from the harsh surf, he tries to remember the maps he’d studied before the trip. Jurassic World, Isla Nublar, a lone island off the coast of Costa Rica. There’s nothing between Isla Nublar and Costa Rica to the North or East and going too far West would strand them in the Pacific. They must’ve gotten turned around and gone South, in the exact opposite direction of Costa Rica. 

“Kenji!” Ben shouts half mad, half wild.

It’s unfair of him to pin the blame on Kenji rather than whoever put Kenji in charge, but he’s the one who lost the compass and got them turned around. So much for yacht experience. 

Kenji’s head pokes up from where he’s sprawled on the sand looking like a dead starfish. “Look man, I know this isn’t great-”

“Isn’t great?” Ben laughs mirthlessly. “Isn’t great? We’re going to die because of you!”

“Ben,” Sammy rushes forward on her hands and knees and grabs his shoulder. “It’s not his fault. It was an accident.”

“He was careless,” Ben insists. “And now we’re shipwrecked on an island we definitely won’t survive on.”

Everyone goes silent. Even Sammy, who usually braves things with a smile, turns ashen. It’s an unspoken fact that Ben is the survivalist of the group, and if he sees the situation as hopeless, then it must be so. 

“We can’t just give up,” Darius says. “If we can just get our bearings-”

“You don’t get it,” Ben groans in exasperation. “There were supplies on Isla Nublar. Food, shelter, weapons. We survived because InGen tamed the island. Here we have nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Sammy says. “A few cans washed up-”

“That’s not enough!” Ben snaps. 

“Ben,” suddenly Yaz is at his side. “Cut it out. I’d rather not spend my last few hours alive listening to you babble about how screwed we are.”

That shuts him up. He hadn’t expected anyone to agree outright with his pessimism. He’s used to their exhausting optimism and refusal to believe that things won’t turn out all right in the end. But when he turns to look at her, all he sees is the slight tremble of her lips. 

Oh. 

He glances around. Everyone is waterlogged, downcast, and exhausted. They certainly don’t need him to tell them what’s already glaringly obvious. 

They’re going to die. 

[infin-8-morphosis]

So the past few days I've been working on the world map again and I. Welll I've run into a problem. A big problem

See. Theres a big crater.

(Map rotated so it doesnt take up 4 screens lmao)

And ummm. errr. I never really considered something important. How big the thing hitting it is.

That box you might be able to see is 'another planet'. In order to fit the size of the crater it has to be. fucking. huge. Like possibly ten times the size huge. However the fact things squash i assume the crater wouldn't be perfectly round so it would maybe be wierd and flat.

However either way this is so. So much. How is gravity affected? Tectonically a lot of time is implied to have passed so what would even happen then.

However i like the idea of enormous deep crater because as sloppily modelled in the second pic, i had an idea. Marianas trench is what, 10 km deep? Imagine the depth of this thing being even 1% of the planets diameter (its a bit smaller than earth) and therefore. Imagine the insane pressure.

And therefore what is at the bottom.

I need to show this to some reddit nerds for them to tell me 100 reasons this wouldn't work and is completely ridiculous

Anyway that's cool and all. but it gets cooler. or maybe hotter. Since the crater is coincidentally on the bright side of this tidally locked system (Its a moon so it still has day and night but largely only one side gets most of the sunlight) and the way the seasons on it work is that it has an elliptical orbit that gets further and closer to the sun every 'year'.... What if the difference in sunlight and heat... melts the giant ice spot every year. causing a seasonal tide system where its real high in summer and low in winter. oh yeah. think about it. seaside towns at water level in summer and high on cliffs in winter.... seasonal islands and paths... ooouuurgghhh....

Though it wouldn't actually work I'm pretty sure. Because the pressure would make it stay ice anyway. BUT. Its reasonable sounding enough right? You'd believe it and think I understand science if I put this in my worldbuilding right. You also think plausible seasonal ice spot tide is more important than full realism. Yes you do.

Anyway probably the bigger problem is that I've envisioned the like, lowland of the crater being a flat, wet jungle that has a delta on one point of it. And ummm. Errr. I dont think the edge of the crater is flat. Not at this scale at all.

I was having trouble visualising this from an individual perspective though. What would it look like to actually be on the crater? How would the curvature work? So of course I used the finest tech to envision this.

Spore galactic adventures.

(Hey can we talk about how before its time GA was and how cool and good it still looks it still looks good and its so cool)

Honestly not sure what to do with any of this. I'm at least going to have to rethink the edge a lot.... And I already drew it too...

Seems the jungle is going to have to be way steeper and maybe have no delta. (Giant waterfall also cool) Not sure how the drop would work. Like would the atmosphere be denser. Or would it even out. or something. Lots to think about and learn be dunked on by nerds for being wrong about (fun).

[spectacle-street]

The Long Dark RP Ideas

I've been toying around with a backstory for my current survival character. I decided to make her a Forest Talker. It seemed like an intriguing and fitting plot hook and a good explanation for her presence on Great Bear.

Edith Ablecott, or Edi for short, grew up on Great Bear Island. Though she left for college on the mainland, Great Bear remained close to her heart, and Edi decided to return home after she graduated. Worried about mass industrialization and the ecology of Great Bear, she joined the Forest Talkers and found comrades in arms in the fight against environmental disaster. When the Auroras began, for some reason, Edi's group of Forest Talkers fought and splintered. Many of the Forest Talkers decided to find Perserverance Mills, or find a way off of the island. Somehow, Edith ended up alone in the woods, with only the clothes on her back, and some food. From there, it's been a fight to survive, but survive she has. Along the way, she's become ever more acquainted with the beauty and the rough edges of Great Bear. Having never been to Perserverance Mills, Edith has no idea how to get there (giving me a good roleplay reason for the fact that this map is not yet available in game). Instead, she seems to have settled in quite well along the coast and has even made contact with another person, a man by the name of Sutherland. Sutherland is willing to trade supplies with her, though trust is in short supply at the moment and he won't step foot on the island. It gets a little lonely, from time to time, but Edith has found a strange sort of peace in the solitude of her new life. The more she explores, the more she unravels the story of Great Bear, and the more she understands about her fellow islanders, the ecology, and the truths you can only uncover when it's just you and the wilderness.

Currently on day 40 or 50 something, I can't remember. Edith's hometown is Milton, so she makes a trip back there every once in a while. Her family home is the Paradise Meadows farm and when she's in the area, she stays there. It's quite well stocked as a result. I can feel Edith itching to check on it, but the presence of the Sutherland on the coast is keeping her from going inland at the moment. Recently had a harrowing trip to Bleak Inlet. Even on Pilgrim, that region can be really challenging. The one thing Edith (and myself) hate the most is having to scale cliffs and there's a lot of that going to and from Bleak Inlet. Nothing is more annoying and more exhausting than climbing up the sides of sheer drops, trying to carry everything in one trip that you absolutely need. It's what deters her from going back to Milton more often too. On the bright side, now Edith has the woodworking tools. Those will definitely be carried from region to region. I also recently discovered the wonder and beauty of Travois. I wasn't sure if I would like them, but after killing a bear, it was phenomenally useful for hauling meat back to Qonset. Seems like a big pain in the ass for inter-region travel though, not sure how to work out the logistics of that yet. I wish it was easier to use because I really wanna haul some stuff back to Milton.

[chaoticxbeast]

Allies in Shadows

"Well?" Cynthia stared at the large intimidating man, seated across from her. On the screen behind her were the chilling images of the chaos and trauma inflicted upon New York last summer, when superfly had mutated into a monstorious yet intelligent creature.

Saki watched the chaos on the screen as New York was trampled by the figure, and he wondered how that had even happened, and how those four mutants had even managed to survive. They were clearly not bright, and clearly juvenile by the way they documented their activities and research on tiktok.

"These....turtles. They´re ..children."

"They are teenagers. Brothers. The rat is their father."

"They are clearly idiotic."

"Not the purple one. He is actually quite bright. I could use that brain of his. They are also not alone. They have humans on their side, and other mutants. Their group is growing, there is usually always someone coming to their aid. Their rat mutant father singlehandedly fought fifteen of my people to break the four turtles out of my lab."

"You might not understand the instinct of a father. Nothing is stronger. However, I can´t help thinking they got lucky to even manage to survive." Saki sighed deeply, thinking about how tiresome it was going to deal with these.."teens"

"They have very tough shells, and they can fight. They were quite difficult to deal with. They seemed to have trained since they were very young, and they are quite skilled, but they will most likely be of no challenge for your clan."

"I see. So If I help you, you will offer me what?"

"You may have your fair share of mutagen to create your own army. I will fund and support your clan here New York. I want subject 003 sd my assistent for my own plans, and you can have the others if you like. I need to research how to create more mutagen, as for now...We have the milking machine. We must find the mutant group, isolate each one, retrieve them, and be as stealthy about it as we can, and drain them for mutagen. I know for a fact that all the mutants are residing in the sewers, and we know the area and how to get there."

"Stealth is the speciality of my clan. I can capture the mutants. To distract the turtles, we should first capture subject 001, and then as they are looking for him, we begin to capture the other group of mutants. The ones that Baxter created. That will create chaos within their group..The next subject should be the leader. As far as I understand, they will struggle without him as a strategic thinker.

When it comes to Baxters mutants, they should be easy to mold into companions of my clan. I will make plans for that. As for the turtles, we can also infiltrate their group in their school environment. In fact..I am already on the case." Shredder said, cooly.

"Good," Cynthia replied, her tone cool and measured. "I’ll analyze their media presence, map out their locations, and provide you with the details. Let me know if there’s anything else you require."

"I will need a location that is well-guarded and hidden—somewhere secure to keep the mutants. It must be difficult to access and equipped with proper quarters for their group. They should not suffer unnecessarily, but rest assured, I will ensure their cooperation for this...milking of mutagen." he continued. "I have no personal objection to it. However, if it appears as painful as you described, their compliance may prove… problematic. Torture will only breed resentment and rebellion."

"We will find a way to make them cooperate without issue," Cynthia assured him. She poured two glasses of cold sake, the crystalline liquid catching the light. Offering one to Shredder, she raised her own. "Let’s toast to our partnership, Oroku Saki."

Shredder took the cup, inspecting it with a critical eye. "This had better be good quality."

"Daiginjo," Cynthia said with a small smile. "For you, only the finest."