#this story sounds very dubious to me i’m sorry

[bubbledtee]

Bub it’s the same 16 year old anon and basically my uncle just took me to buy fireworks and it was at a literal trap house and one of the guys was so cute and I tapped him and said “hey give me one” pointing to his beer and he literally opened the fridge and handed me one (I love him) and basically I just drank it on the car ride home and threw it out the window, and I also smoked with my cousin while talking about music, but my question is why do I like old men so much? Why do I always find myself regressing and acting like charming in front of them so they find me hot?

you are seeking validation in older men because possibly you did not receive it at a young age

[slut4thebroken]

Doctor’s Orders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x patient!reader

Summary | Jonathan Crane wears a weak dose of fear toxin as cologne to his appointments just to put his patients on edge. He’s particularly fond of how you react to it though.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, manipulation, inappropriate use of fear toxin, obvi, very dubious consent, painful sex, fearplay, HEAVY breeding kink, forced breeding, technically housewife kink?, overstimulation, abuse of power?, ionno lol.

Words | 3.3 k

Notes | Based on this post. Credit to @lasagnebats for the idea. (Lowkey the plot kind of deviated from the whole fear cologne thing tbh but it’s still very relevant so whatever lmao)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

It’s not mentioned in the actual story but it’s very important for the plot so incase you didn’t read the summary I’m going to say it again lol. He wears a weak dose of fear toxin as his cologne.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked as he walked in and sat down across from you, putting his briefcase at his feet. 

“Better.” You said with a small smile. After only a moment though, your heart started beating harder and faster, and your breathing picked up. You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat before adding, “I- I think.”

“You think?” His voice sent a shiver through your body. You weren’t sure if he was purposely trying to sound threatening, but that’s how you heard it. 

“I…” You couldn’t look at him as your stomach started churning. 

“Please look at me when I'm talking to you.” He sighed, making your gaze snap back to him. “We won’t get anywhere if you continue to overreact to even the simplest questions.” 

“I know— I know. I’m sorry.” You started bouncing your leg incessantly, trying to get rid of some of the nerves you were feeling. “H-how are you?” You asked in return to his original question. 

“Always so polite.” He said with an amused smile. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know… That’s just how I was raised I guess.” You shrugged, not having a better answer for him. 

“It has nothing to do with how terrified you are of upsetting me?” He asked curiously, tilting his head as he looked you up and down. 

“I- I’m not…” You cleared your throat and wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “I was just… taught to respect people with more authority than me.” You said nervously. But it was true. You were always taught to show respect to people above you no matter what, especially if they were older than you. 

“I see. And you feel I have power over you right now?” 

“Yes.” You said quietly. Doesn’t he always?

“Well I don’t want you to fear me. These sessions are pointless if you can’t be completely open and honest with me.” You looked away from him again and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I promise you, nothing you say will upset me. I just want you to be truthful with me… So I can help you to the best of my ability. Do you understand?”

“Yes..” 

“Good.” He paused, seemingly coming up with the next topic of conversation. “You’re still having nightmares?” Your blood ran cold and your heart was almost starting to hurt with how hard it was beating. And all just because of a reminder of it. 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“The same ones? Or something different.” 

“The same… But I noticed that they tend to happen more after our sessions than on days where I don’t see you…”

“Yes, that’d make sense. Since we talk about it, it’s only natural your brain would be thinking about it more.” 

“Right. Yeah— You’re right.” You said through a breath. 

“May I see your hand?” He suddenly asked, making you stiffen. 

“What?”

“Your hand.” He held out his own, waiting for you to place yours on top. With a shaky breath, you wiped your hand on your pants again, then placed it on his open palm. He turned it over so your palm was against his, then let out a quiet hum. Before you could ask what that meant, he grabbed your wrist and held your hand up, watching it tremble. He released you and you placed it back in your lap. 

“Why are you so scared?” 

“It… it's probably just because I started thinking about the nightmares.” That was the only explanation that made sense. It’s not like you’d be scared for no reason.

“Really? What were you thinking about?” You froze and looked away from him, trying to recall, but you never actually thought about them, more so just… remembered them. 

“I… I’m not sure.” You said absentmindedly, still trying to figure it out. He sighed quietly and took off his glasses, examining you closely. 

“I like to think that we’ve grown a bit closer since our first session. Wouldn’t you?” All you could do was nod wordlessly. “Almost like we’re more than just doctor and patient… Do you feel that way as well?” 

“I- I think so.” You said quietly. It was hard to tell right now. 

“Which is why I think we can try something that might work better for you.” He stood up and dragged his chair around the table, the loud screeching sound making you flinch. He sat down next to you and you waited nervously for what was next. 

“I think… if your brain is half focused on something else— something pleasurable…” he placed his hand on your thigh and leaned closer to you, “then you might be able to talk freely about what’s troubling you. What do you think?” Your chest was heaving as you stared at him with wide eyes, not able to respond. It felt like your throat was closing up and the speed at which your heart was beating made it feel like his hand was on your chest instead of your thigh, pushing down as hard as he could.       

“Is something wrong?” He asked once he noticed your reaction. 

“I-” You choked out, not able to say anything else. 

“Hm?” He waited, giving you a chance to respond. When you didn’t, he sighed. “As your doctor, if you’re in a state that leaves you unable to think or communicate clearly, it is my responsibility to do what I think is best.” His hand started snaking up your thigh, moving toward the center as it climbed higher. His touch was burning a trail on your skin and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

“Just relax. You want to actually make some progress, don’t you?” You gave him the tiniest nod, unable to do anything else. “Good girl. If you can control your emotions, then we can talk like civilized people, but for now, we’re going to have to try this.” You weren't even sure what exactly was making you feel this way, but you trusted Dr. Crane. He would only do what’s best for you. 

“Take off your pants.” He suddenly ordered, making your body go completely rigid. “I won’t repeat myself.” He warned and you immediately scrambled to take them off. Once they were on the floor, he grabbed your hips and guided you so that you were straddling his thighs, sitting on his lap. “Now, this might be a bit overwhelming for you, so I don’t mind if you need to keep your face buried against my chest or neck. Like this,” he gently grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into him, “see?” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, bringing your hands up the grab at his suit jacket. It felt like your entire body was trembling now. “Dr. Crane, I- I don’t feel very good.”

“Shh. Your body’s just excited. That’s why your heart is racing and your breathing is shallow.” He explained calmly. You’ve never felt this ‘excited’ before in your life. “Are you going to let me do my job now?” You nodded, burying your face into the crook of his neck to comfort yourself. “Thank you.” His hands started dragging up and down your thighs, just getting you used to his touch, but all it was doing was making you more anxious. His fingertips felt like claws on your hypersensitive body, but when you looked down, you saw no marks left behind. 

“I know you’re excited but you need to try and calm down.” He said calmly. “Take a deep breath through your nose, then out through your mouth.” You complied, though it wasn’t nearly as slow as he actually wanted. But it was an improvement. “Again. Deeper.” You inhaled again, trying to let the smell and warmth of his body soothe you. But it was like the deep breaths were making everything worse. 

“Dr. Crane, it’s not— I…” He sighed and your stomach churned when you realized he was disappointed in you. “No- I’m sorry. I’ll try again. I’ll keep trying.” You rushed out, taking more deep breaths. 

“That’s a good girl. Nice and slow.” His hands snaked up your thighs to your hips, then up the sides of your body, under your shirt. 

“W-what are you doing?” You choked out, when he dragged his hands up even more until he was touching your breasts. 

“Just feeling your heartbeat.” He explained. You gasped when he gently squeezed your breasts, groping them in a way that made your entire body feel hot. 

“Dr. Crane?” You whimpered and he shushed you. So you clung to his suit jacket and buried your face into the crook of his neck even more, seeking comfort. 

“I’ll need to remove your shirt. It’s obstructing my examination.” You hesitantly agreed and he pulled it over your head, then guided you back into the same position, now only in a pair of panties. “Deep breaths.” He reminded you as he continued. He only groped you for a few seconds before focusing his attention on your nipples. You let out a strangled moan when he gently pinched, rolling them between his fingers. You’ve never been overly sensitive there before, but right now, just the barest touch sent a shock through your body. 

“Your heart is racing.” He commented, flattening his hands on your chest and sliding them down your stomach. He reached your hips and gripped them tightly, then pulled them forward to grind your clothed heat on his bulge. You gasped at the sudden movement and when you felt the obvious sign of his arousal. 

“When’s the last time you’ve been fucked?” His tone remained the same; clinical, unemotional. It took you a moment to register his question, but once you did, a blush took over your face. “You’ve been a patient here for a few months now so I’m assuming at least a few months ago?” All the work you did to calm your breathing was gone in an instant. Words couldn’t form in your mouth, so you just nodded against his chest. “How long before that?” 

“I… I don’t remember.” You choked out, finally able to speak. 

“Poor thing. It’s been that long since you’ve been filled?” He cooed with faux sympathy. 

“Dr. Crane.” You sobbed, fisting his suit even tighter to ground yourself. He was still guiding your hips and you started to feel arousal pooling in your stomach. 

“Is that why you’re not making any progress? Your cunt’s been craving a cock so bad, you can’t even think?” You whined and started moving your hips on your own now, desperate for more. “Yeah I think that is the reason. You’re in your prime child bearing years, it’s only natural you’d be longing to breed.” You let out a strangled moan, feeling both humiliated and aroused by his words. “A few more sessions like this and you might actually be able to use that pretty little head of yours again.” 

“Please,” You whined, tears of desperation brimming in your eyes. Your heart was still pounding and your breathing was still shallow, but it started feeling different. Before, you weren’t sure what the cause was, but now you know it’s arousal. At least it mostly is. He suddenly gripped your chin and pulled your head so your face was only inches from his. As his eyes trailed all over your face, taking you in, he hummed in thought, still staring at you with his piercing gaze. 

“Misattribution of arousal truly is a fascinating subject.” He smiled. You had no idea what that meant. “Take off your underwear.” He suddenly ordered, making your eyes widen. When he stared at you, giving you a warning gaze, you scrambled off his lap to remove them. He started unbuckling his belt, then opening his pants. When he took out his cock, your breath caught in your throat. Where is that supposed to fit?

“Sit.” You tentatively got on his lap again. He sat back in the metal chair a little, dragging his eyes down your body. “Put it in.” You swallowed and looked between his face and his length, feeling your heart start pounding even harder. “Now.” Biting your trembling lip, you grabbed his cock and put it at the right angle, then slowly and apprehensively lowered yourself onto it. You whimpered when he first breached your opening, immediately feeling the burn of the stretch. 

“You won’t like it if I have to take over so I suggest you do better than this.” He warned and you whined in response, but forced yourself down lower. 

“It hurts, Dr. Crane.” You whimpered, hoping for sympathy from the cold, apathetic doctor. 

“Enough.” He growled, grabbing your hips and lifting you off of him. He stood and spun you around to push your torso onto the cold metal table with a hand on the back of your neck. Holding you down firmly, he pushed his cock back in, this time going all the way. You cried out and scrambled for purchase on the table as he immediately started thrusting. 

“W-wait, Dr. Crane..” You choked out, the burning stretch bringing tears to your eyes. Not bothering with replying, he removed the hand from your neck and you heard clothes rustling, then he was putting his tie between your lips and wrapping it around your head to secure it. Almost instantly those feelings flared up again. Your chest heaved as you panted, trying to ignore how much it was hurting from your heart beating so fast and hard. 

He put his hand on your head this time, forcing your cheek onto the cold metal as he held you down and started moving faster. You sobbed out a moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on calming down but everything was just so much. 

“Is this what you needed? Have you been playing the role of the dumb little patient this whole time just to get me to fuck you?” You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t move it under his hand. “I can feel you pulsing around my cock. Is it really that good?” The way he was mocking you had you squeezing your thighs together, but he couldn’t have that. He lifted one of your legs and placed it on the table, keeping you from getting any real stimulation on your clit besides his balls smacking against it with every thrust. 

“Please!” You cried, the word being muffled by the tie. 

“I know. You’re probably so eager to come right now, aren’t you?” You did your best to nod, despite him holding you down. “Is the thought of finally getting bred making you all needy?” He asked condescendingly and you let out a strangled whimper. “Should I let you come on my cock?” 

“Yes!” You yelled, trying to make it sound coherent through the gag. He released your head and grabbed your shoulders, starting a brutal pace that made you almost scream from the intensity. The table was screeching against the floor with each thrust and you could start to hear his quiet grunts as he neared his orgasm.

“Go ahead then. Show me how needy this pathetic little cunt is for my cock.” He said and, despite the degrading words, you almost cried in relief. You’ve only made yourself come maybe a handful of times since being admitted to Arkham, so it did not take much longer for you to get there. You all but screamed around the gag when it hit you, making your legs turn to jelly. His thrusts didn’t even waiver, but you could hear groans coming from him. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through you, so intense that it bordered on painful. 

When it was finally done, you sagged into the table, but your body immediately went stiff when the overstimulation kicked in. You cried out and squirmed, trying to escape it, so he grabbed your hair and yanked you up, wrapping his other arm around your stomach. 

“I know.” He pulled your head back until it was resting on his shoulder, then turned it so your face was up against his neck. “Just breathe through it.” But you couldn’t. Everything was just too much. You sobbed loudly and buried your face in the crook of his neck as he fucked you, moving both hands down to grab your hips. 

“Just be a good girl and take it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be fucked and bred like a bitch in heat.” You let out a strangled sob at the degrading words. “No… It’s what you needed.” He growled, making you whimper. “Don’t worry, we’re going to keep doing this until I finally fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be less cock hungry. But we’ll probably have to keep this up while you’re pregnant because of all the hormones.” After your orgasm, everything your body was going through started to feel like it was from fear again, rather than arousal. His words were making you spiral into overthinking. You can’t have a baby yet— you’re too young. And also there’s the fact that you’re in an asylum… 

“And I think… I might make you my little lab rat. You respond so well to such a small dose, I’m eager to see how you’ll react to something more potent.” Now you were truly confused, but you were also too fucked out and overstimulated to try and understand. “God— that’ll be a fucking sight.” He choked out, rutting into you more frantically. Tears started streaming down your cheeks as he kept fucking you, getting more painful with every thrust. But based on the way his sounds kept getting louder, you knew it’d be over any second now.  

You cried out when he roughly snapped his hips into you and stayed there, wrapping his arms around your torso to keep you close and letting out a low groan. His hips bucked forward with every spurt of come that left his cock, despite the fact that he was already completely inside, pressed up against your cervix uncomfortably. Even after his orgasm ended, he remained buried inside you, keeping you plugged up for now.  

“That’s better, isn’t it? Now you’re nice and full.” He spoke softly, turning his head to kiss your neck as his hand rubbed over your lower stomach. “Mm… I can’t wait to see your belly all big and round— your tits swollen with milk. You’re going to look so beautiful.” Even though everything calmed down, you still felt anxious and scared. “And I’m sure once that kid is out, you’ll go back to being a brainless little bitch in heat so I’ll have to fuck another one into you.” You let out a weak sound, unable to do anything else. Your whole body was shaking. With how you were currently feeling, his words sounded like a threat. 

“Still can’t use that pretty head?” He asked curiously. You didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like he expected you to. “You must need more, then.” You whined at the thought. He gently pushed your torso back onto the table and you hissed in pain when he dragged his cock out. When his come trickled out, he cursed under his breath. Using his thumbs, he spread your puffy, abused folds, giving him a better view of your gaping hole. You flinched when he used his fingers to scoop up his come and push it back in. “Lucky for you, I cleared the rest of my schedule today just for this session, so I can keep giving you load after load until you drain my balls completely. Maybe then you’ll actually be able to fucking think.” 

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[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "comfort person" ⎯୧ (cyj)

+*:🤎:*﹤descrip. : comforting yeonjun!!

+*:🍓:*﹤content : smut, sub!yeonjun, domtendencies!reader

+*:🥞:*﹤warnings : 18+ mdni!!, cockwarming, there is absolutely no mention of a condom in this story i am so sorry please practice safe sex, dubious consent maybe but idk, yeonjun does slip into subspace here, intercrural sex, handjob for like 2 seconds, reader calls yj yeonnie, jjunie, and sweetie ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ

+*:❤️:*﹤word count : 2.1K

+*:🤎:*﹤masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

Yeonjun’s having a hard week. You’ve been making sure he’s getting full nights of rest, but he still looks physically drained constantly. He just shrugs and shakes his head noncommittally when you ask him what’s wrong, so you stop asking and figure that he’ll tell you when he’s ready.

You still want to do whatever you can to help him, making him warm meals and washing his hair when he’s too tired to do it himself. Tonight, you’ve decided to keep him warm and cozy on the couch, bundled up in blankets while you guys watch his comfort movies. You check on him every so often, glancing at him. Sometimes he smiles, and very rarely he lets out a small chuckle, but it’s obvious he’s barely focused on the TV. The next time you look at him, his eyes are on the ground and he’s lost in thought.

“Yeonjunie?” You call out, and his eyes flick over to you like he forgot you were in the room. He looks so tired, it breaks your heart, so you slide a little closer to him and rub his back gently. “Would you like to do something else?” But you’re not really sure what you would do instead—you’ve fed him and ran him a warm bath already. 

Yeonjun shakes his head and mumbles, “This is fine, I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head as well, running your fingers through his hair and smiling when he melts into the touch. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We can do whatever you’d like.”

“Just wanna be close to you.” His voice is so soft and sweet, eyelids low and blinks slow, and his lips are fixed in a pout.

“Okay, we can do that.” You snuggle up closer to him. His skin is soft and scented from the bath, and you place a kiss against his neck appreciatively. His breath hitches, so you do it again and again until he’s breathing quickly. You stop and look at him when his hand comes up to grab your arm gently.

“I’m sorry, Yeonnie. Did I go too far?”

He shakes his head again. “It’s not that. I wanna be with you, I just don’t know if I can…” He trails off. It seems like he has more to say, but he doesn’t open his mouth again, so you work with what he gave you. 

“D’you want me to touch you?” 

He shakes his head, buries his face in your neck, and wraps his arms around your torso. “No, wanna hold you.” You hum and think in silence while rubbing his back again.

“We can try cockwarming, if you’d like,” you suggest. It’s come up in conversation before, something you two could do if you want to be intimate but aren’t physically up for sex, but you’ve never actually done it before. “Would you like that, sweetie?” Yeonjun’s hair tickles your skin when he nods. You smile, happy to be able to offer him some help. 

Per your request, he pulls his member through the fly of his loose boxers. The couch-side table has a drawer with emergency lube in it, so you pull that out while Yeonjun is getting himself settled. You lay in front of him, and he hides his face in your neck again as you slowly stroke his dick, getting it nice and wet. He makes little sounds, and his hips twitch, but he doesn’t move other than that. 

You don’t wanna leave the warm blankets to take off your clothes, so you lift your t-shirt up and pull your panties to the side. It’s a little bit of a struggle, but eventually, Yeonjun’s head pokes against your opening. You keep your leg draped over his hip, your knee pressing against the back cushion, and Yeonjun lets out a small whimper as you guide him in.

“This okay?” You ask once your hips are flush against his, and he nods again. You settle into all of the feelings—the soft scent of Yeonjun’s hair (he used your blueberry shampoo), the dim lighting from the movie still playing on the TV, the rise and fall of Yeonjun’s chest against your body—and everything is so tender and safe.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The two of you stay like that for a while. The movie you had on has gone off, and another one auto-played. The volume’s low, lulling you into a dreamy state, and you almost fall asleep, but the sound of your own involuntary moan clears the fog from your mind. 

Yeonjun’s arms are wrapped around your body in what you previously thought of as a warm embrace, but soon realize is him holding you in place as his hips jerk into your own. His thrusts are uncoordinated and shallow, but they pull another moan from you as you feel his cock sliding against your walls.

“Jjunie,” you call out, but he doesn’t answer. His breath is quick and harsh when it hits your skin, and you realize he’s asleep. You run your hand through his hair again, and his head falls back weightlessly. His eyes are squeezed shut and his cheeks are puffy, proving your point. You mean to make a noise of endearment, but it comes out as a whimper as your walls flutter around him. You’re so wet you can hear it, and you figure you must’ve leaked a lot to accommodate the weight of Yeonjun in your cunt. 

His lips are still fixed in a pout, and you’re overcome with the need to kiss them, but he’s still a bit too far down. You settle for running your thumb across them and debate whether to wake him up or not. Part of you wants to let him sleep because you know how tired he is. Another part of you feels bad for him, wants to fuck him (and be fucked) properly, so he can actually get some rest. 

Yeonjun’s lips part from your touch, breaking the barrier that’s holding back his noises. His grip on your torso gets tighter, pulling you closer to him as small gasps and whines tumble from his mouth. His thrusts are harsher, shaking your body, but still shallow and awkward, and you can tell he’s getting frustrated by the way his eyebrows are furrowed. 

You decide enough is enough – the poor baby obviously needs your help. You reach your hand down to halt the movement of his hips. He’s flush against you, and still weakly trying to thrust, but you hold his hip in place and pepper kisses along his forehead. He seemingly gives up, hips settling for grinding against you. 

“Yeonnie,” you call out, swallowing down another moan and shaking him delicately. He stirs. “Wake up, sweetie.” Eventually his eyelids lift and his pretty eyes peek out, and you smile warmly at him. “Need help?”

He follows your eyes down to where your cores are connected, and even in the dim lighting you can see his face redden. His hips stop grinding into yours.

“Shit, ‘m so sorry.” His voice is thick with sleep and hushed from embarrassment. You giggle.

“That’s alright,” you say. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Uh– I’m not sure,” he says, but his hips are twitching again. Your walls squeeze around him, and his eyes shut tightly. “I’m not…can’t hold myself up.”

“That’s okay. I can do all the work for you, Jjunie.” You hold his hips as you slide him out of you, and he lets out a breathy moan. 

“Oh, my,” you breathe out, because there’s so much liquid. Yeonjun’s cock is coated in the sticky, white fluid, a mix of your wetness and Yeonjun’s precum.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun breathes out. You look at him, and he looks up at you, but his eyes fall back down to the vulgar sight. The sight of his dick twitching, leaking more precum out of the tip, springs you into action. You lift up from the couch to hover above Yeonjun’s hips, giving him a few seconds to lay on his back. In the meantime, you slide your wet panties off. When he’s all settled, you straddle his hips and grind your wetness against his length.

“Mmh~ Y/N,” he moans breathily over the sticky, wet sounds, and his hands come to rest on your hips.

“Does this feel good?” You ask around your own breathless noises. 

“Y-yea, but I’m g-gonna cum.”

“Don’t wanna cum, Jjunie?” 

He shakes his head against the couch, roughing up his hair. “Wanna feel you again, w-wanna be inside you.”

On a different day, you might’ve made him cum like this then fucked him, but he’s in such a tender headspace, and you don’t wanna push him too far. You stop the movements of your hips and instead lean down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. He’s kissing you back immediately, and his hold on your hips tightens as he grinds into you.

You pull away from the kiss and say with a smile, “Thought you wanted to stop that.”

“Feels good, ‘m so hard,” he says. You move a little lower, straddling his thighs instead, and take his member into your hand. You stroke it a few times, slowly. His hips try to thrust into the touch, but your weight is holding him down. He whines in discontent.

“Y/N– please don’t t-tease me, I c-can’t take it.” 

You hum at that and kiss his cheeks in apology. You lift your hips and align his tip with your opening. You both groan when you bottom out, and Yeonjun nearly sinks into the couch cushions.

Yeonjun’s going to slip into subspace. You can tell from the way his eyes are already glazing over and his hands are laying uselessly by his sides. You lift them up to lay them by his head instead, and hold yourself up by pushing them into the cushion. His finger twitches, and you lean down to kiss it gently. 

“Gonna move now, okay, sweetie?” 

He nods, staring at you in wonder. You give him another smile and slowly lift your hips, sliding until his head is hooked on your entrance. You whimper at the feeling, but it goes unheard under Yeonjun’s breathy whine. You slide down again and build a pace.

“Fuck, you’re so warm and s-soft and–” His words fall off as your pace quickens. He’s so pretty, body rocking up and down against the couch as you bounce on his cock, and his hips buck up to meet you halfway. His eyes stay on you even though it looks like he’s struggling to keep them open, and his hands repeatedly ball into fists just to unravel. “So good, it’s so g-good, not gonna last long.”

You’re angling him to hit your sweet spot dead-on, and you’re not gonna last long yourself watching Yeonjun fall apart below you. He’s usually more composed to this, but he babbles the most when he’s in subspace, feeling so many emotions and needing to tell you, needing to let you know that–

“I’m gonna– cum, fuck, N/N, don’t stop, please, don’t–” Only then do his eyes squeeze shut, mouth hanging open and hips meeting you halfway as you send him over the edge. He’s still fucking up into you, even as his noises raise in pitch and his hips jerk from overstimulation, until you’re reaching your own high, moaning out praises just for his sweet ears. 

It takes every ounce of strength left in your body to not collapse on top of him. His hips are still twitching, and he whines as you slide him out of your heat.

“Are you with me, Yeonnie? Can you look at me?” You ask when his eyes don’t open. They flutter open prettily as soon as you ask, though. They’re still spacey, his mind still a bit far away, so you pepper kisses along his torso while he comes to. His fingers come down to tap on your thigh, grabbing your attention, and when you look up at him, he puckers his lips.

“Aw, you want a kiss?” You ask joyfully, so endeared by him, and you give him another gentle one since he’s still fragile. “Was that all okay?” You ask after pulling away, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. He nods. “Think you’re gonna need another bath?” You ask, ‘cause his boxers are soaked, and his skin is glistening with sweat, and you figure you’re in a similar state. He nods again.

“Okay, sweetie. Let’s go get you cleaned up, then you can rest, okay?” You help him out of his shorts and lead him to the bathroom. 

In the warm, soapy water, you scrub him off and give him a listening ear as he finally tells you how shitty his week has been, and how you helped him through it even if he was too drained to give you a proper thank you. He gives you one now, and you guys rinse and dry off before snuggling in bed, exchanging more sweet kisses, and drifting into sleep.

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : my very first yj work yay!!! this fanfiction being released from the dungeon after being in my google drive for weeks :

this story on ao3 :))

[guiltyasdave]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. “Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen.

“H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper.

“N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No, no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek.

“Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

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[mimicha-arts]

Qian Jin

Hello and sorry. I’m here again with my “catch the details faster than the frame changes.” Let's talk about Qian Jin! I'm pretty sure we'll learn new information in the next episode because of the flashback, so I want to get ahead of things a little and play bingo ;)

SPOILERS FOR S2

1. Romeo and Juliet Many have discussed this, but we will go deeper. One of the main key points in the s2 is the Romeo and Juliet theme and poster, which we now know is related to Qian Jin's story.

In my opinion, his whole scene with the poster looked very personal, hardly just "symbolism" of his feelings after losing his wife or something like that. And here I will try to explain why. Because, most likely, the actress on the poster is Qian Jin's wife. Her name was shown for such a brief moment that I actually nearly lost my mind while trying to capture the frame. So, her name is probably Chen Nan (陈楠). And I really don't think it was necessary to include such details if they are minor.

Well. Pure speculations. We all remember that initially everything was wrong with the case, the suspect in the murder of Qian Jin‘s wife after some time committed suicide and left a note with a confession. Although I can read some words, I can't rely on my eyes, so I can't string them together into complete sentences. But what I can guess is that there are two characters in the signature, and the surname kinda looks like Zhuang (庄).

So. Which character also has the surname Zhuang, who has already been "shown" in the series… On the same poster of "Romeo and Juliet", where the actress, theoretically, was Qian Jin's wife… Yeah. Zhuang Shuai (庄帅)

Okay, this could all be a coincidence, my imagination, speculation. But is these details actually connected, for now, until this has been refuted, I suspect that the story of the murder of Qian Jin's wife was much more personal and deep. Like, now we are convinced that after he found out about Cheng Xiaoshi's ability, his motivation is obviously to capture Cheng Xiaoshi in order to rewrite the past. Likely to save his wife (?). But I'm not sure how much more complex it will be?

If any of this is confirmed, I rather think that Qian Jin's wife was killed by Zhuang Shuai out of jealousy. I also need to say, for now I don't think that 戴绿帽子 is a possible situation here, seems TOO cruel for me, but who knows.

2. Qian Jin and details Eyes. We were all confused because Qian Jin's eyes were not common, but icy yellow. In fact, his eyes can be said to have three states. I also note that sometimes pupils are not drawn or too small because of 2D graphics, so I take into account only obvious close-ups. First type: present, yellow eyes with a vertical pupil. We see that kind of his eyes in most of his scenes. The same type of eyes are in his character design pictures and intro.

Second type: present, yellow with a round pupil. This type of eyes appears specifically in episode 4.

(Technically) third type: the past, yellow eyes with a round pupil. In all the close-up scenes in flashbacks, his pupils are round.

Abilities: It's hard to guess, but at the moment I don't think he personally has any special abilities. It seems to me, given his one line, that Qian Jin relies more on his skills, plans and his people, treating abilities (at least in this situation) in a rather lenient way. Also, his real words sound more special and poetic - If there is a way to reach the sky, it will be difficult to fly away even with wings (friendly reminder, I'm not a translator or native speaker)

But there is one dubious detail. OK. Speaking of gloves, he probably uses gloves to avoid accidentally touching Li Tianchen and getting controlled, which is a pretty logical conclusion after episode 8. But. At some point, while talking to Li Tianchen, when the frame points to Qian Jin, there is a rather small movement of the hand and the sound of either the rustle of clothes, or the sound of something being handed over (ep 7, 1:22-1:28). This was weird.

This may be a trick, but at some point, when it gets to 7pm, Qian Jin claps his hands. And given to Cheng Xiaoshi's abilities, we know that clapping can be a means of activating/disabling an ability.

Speculation: Since we can't fully rely on changing the shape of the eyes, pupil, eye color, due to the change in visual "rules" compared to season 1 + animation errors, but for now I'll make assumptions.

In fact, in some of these scenes, Qian Jin may be possessed by Cheng Xiaoshi (which is trite, but possible)

Someone uses their abilities on Qian Jin, they are in cooperation. This person either possess him either they watches events through Qian Jin's eyes from time to time, as if through a camera.

Qian Jin gave something to Li Tianchen in the car, and that will play a role in the plot.

The change of eyes is an attempt to show the change in his personality, but I don't think it's that simple.

3. Something beyond my understanding

The man with a hat. They are obviously connected, and I already wrote a big theory about this, if the man in the hat turns out to be Liu Xiao, let's not dwell on this, if you want to read, click on - Person in the shadows.

Dates In his intro, although there is some information, as always, the year is not indicated. Obviously, the current year is still 2021 (according to s1). But in the second season, we are not shown specific dates anywhere (even with the twins, although we can find out their year of birth by literally subtracting 19), and here. There is an event, there is a blurry date. Not specified. I guess something is wrong with time already or is this a hint that it doesn’t matter, because the events are looped / will be erased.

Player and music And probably the most ??????? thing. When Qian Jin is in the car, there is a VERY short frame before he takes the call. If you catch it... here is a player on the screen. The music is Symphony of Fate (生命交响乐). And the player does not have a "back" button, only forward.

Time is like music, yeah. Thank you for reading once again ~ I hope episode 9 gives us more information and answers some questions though… *cries*. Feel free to discuss!

[keyboard-mang0]

Lost and Found

Part 5!

Genshin Impact x Child! God! Fem! Reader

This has passed the point of impulsiveness with the amount of effort it took to make myself write! But it's a silly idea for a cult au with a dubious level of proper SAGAU, and no hint of Imposter in sight.

Reader is referred to with she/her, and is set to be around the same age as Klee and the other small child characters. Not proof read! If you see any typos, no the fuck you don't.

Notes: Just barely not a month since the last part! Actually managed to yank myself away from Elden Ring long enough to finish this. You know what "Favored" and "Auxiliary" mean, and now you'll see who all belongs in the two teams. Also establishing where in the game story this takes place!

Warnings: religious themes, likely out of character moments, mentions of blood/bleeding, honestly some very slight body horror stuff, a war scene! Mentions of death/dying, kidnapping, drugging, and stress.

<~Part 4   Part 6~>

Word count: 3,774

Gentle waves lap at the pier, the imposing shadow of the Alcor casting away from where it sat docked. Earning the glances of shogunate guards that found themselves disinclined to actually approach the waiting crew.

Beidou leans over the rail, glaring down at Ritou as annoyance growled from her throat. Whirling to face her Inazuman companion, "Where the hell are they?"

Kazuha shrugs quietly as the sound of hurried steps pull both people's attention to a head of blonde hair. A young woman sprints down the pier, the large bow of rope tied at her back bouncing behind her. "Wait! I'm sorry for being late!"

"Firecracker!" Beidou shouts, jumping off the side of the Alcor, landing on the pier hard enough to shake the wood boards.

"Captain Beidou!" Yoimiya shouts excitedly as she dives into a hug with the taller woman. The pair laughing through the embrace, "it's good to see you! How have you been? Have you seen Miss Jean and Shenhe? How are they?"

Setting the girl down Beidou smiles brightly, "whoa whoa, slow down there. Good to see you too. I've been good, and had a really eventful time lately. I, sadly, just missed Ms. Serious. And Shenhe is… Shenhe, she's fine… I think."

Yoimiya nods in understanding, "well I'm really looking forward to hearing what this little meeting of the Favored is for!"

"Well we're still waiting on the two Auxiliaries we came for as well." Beidou groans, rubbing at the back of her head as she spares a glance in the direction of Ritou.

"What? I thought I was late enough that you might leave without me. Are they not here yet?"

"Nope," Beidou pops the P as she speaks, turning her eye back to the blonde, "but the Traveler left to look for them already, so let's hope she brings back news."

As if the mention of her summoned her, a flash of blue pours from a teleportation waypoint and from the glare Lumine steps out, Paimon drifting ahead of her as she walks towards where Beidou and Kazuha flanked Yoimiya.

"Please tell me you're here to say our wayward Auxiliaries are on their way here now." Beidou groans in frustration.

The blonde shakes her head, "no, but I have different news and possibly a plan."

<~~~~>

The rain gently falls down over Nazuchi Beach, gray clouds rolling slowly as if they could understand the tension that lay beneath them.

Two armies face one another down. With armor purple like the lightning they serve, the Shogunate army cast an intimidating shadow. Sheer number and quality of equipment cast doubt into the comparatively few Watatsumi warriors.

At their center the famed tengu General, Kujou Sara levels an indifferent glare to the red dyed army. Eyes landing on the canine commander standing beside them. 

The pair stare, quiet, measured, studying. Both leaders daring the other to call the first command. To announce the battles beginning.

And when blades cross, whoever did call the first order to charge means little. When blood spills, and life is threatened, only one thing holds meaning. Survival.

The battle does not go for long before it turns in one side's favor. The resistance had always known they faced poor odds. But to watch as comrades are cut down in the sand, the skill of a single shogunate samurai proves to be too great for two foot soldiers to handle. They found themselves to be outnumbered by only a small margin. But they were outmatched by a far greater level.

Gorou launches arrow after arrow, dodging above and beneath swords and spears, all the careful precision that has come to be expected of him. Across the battlefield, Sara stands firm, shooting at a slower pace, taking carefully aimed shots that down men with each arrow she lets go of.

Lumine searches the field, eyes scanning over the chaos of soldiers, sword drawn and swinging crushing blows to any who dare get close to her, mind too preoccupied to care which side those left in her wake belonged to. Watching, waiting, looking for the signal they had agreed on. Inching closer and closer to where the General stands without drawing her attention.

Rainfall grows heavier, in the noise of the desperate and dying, who would notice the slow steps of a single woman?

Rain soaked sand began to take a blue glow, bubbles of water rising from the grit, drifting upward, growing in number, peacefully bobbing.

Gorou's eyes are pulled from the battle, widening at the sight of his leaders arrival, "her excellency!"

Kokomi stands proud, arms raised as rain water rises from the sand, drifting bubbles taking to the air, pulling eyes just long enough for the Shogunate soldiers to miss the trampling feet of new enemies.

"The wait is over, my comrades, now is our moment!" She calls out, giving her signal to the reinforcements that follow her.

A second brigade charges from behind the shipwreck, quickly running at their heels a crowd of sell swords. Headed at their front a tall woman garbed in red, dragging a metal slab of a sword behind her.

"I just hope you can afford all these mercs you've gathered!" Beidou's cheerful voice calls through the noise of the battle. The monstrous size of her Creator-given claymore throwing soldiers off their feet several at a time.

Quickly the tide is turned. The ambush pinched the shogunate army in between blades. And the addition of vision holders made individual samurai's skills all but worthless comparatively.

The general lets out a sound of annoyance before waving her hand, "all forces, retreat!" She shouts angrily, turning to make a run for it with her soldiers.

"Here's our chance, Traveler!" Beidou shouts as she sees the retreating Auxiliary member.

Lumine wastes no time, launching herself forward at an almost impossible speed, dashing to catch up with the tengu, diving headlong into the woman. Pinning Sara down into the wet sand as anemo, geo, and electro rage around them both, Kazuha quickly moves to follow, striking down the few Shogunate soldiers that stop to assist their pinned General. The pair rush to retreat back with the tengu in tow.

Kokomi can't help but gawk at the unexpected rush to capture Sara, but how could she complain? A won battle and an extraordinarily strategic prisoner, truly Beidou and her crew prove to be mora well spent.

Stepping down from her position atop the ruined ship, Kokomi finds her way to where her commander stands with Beidou, Kazuha, the now tied up Sara, and the Traveler that she's heard so much about while away. Kokomi gives a small smile, "I must say, Captain, I must commend you. I expected your help would be of great use, but to have taken General Kujou as well? Impressive."

Beidou's boisterous voice echoes in the quiet battlefield as laughter bubbles from her, "well I can't take all the credit. And I can't say her getting captured is for you or our deal."

Kokomi sees Lumine and Kazuha move to take places on either side of Beidou, Lumine pulling Sara behind them with her movement. The Hydro user raises an eyebrow in surprise, "then why, may I ask, did you take her?"

"Nevermind that now. I do have something else to discuss with you, however." Beidou's eye's flash over to Gorou then back to Kokomi, "maybe we should go back to our little hiding spot, get some more privacy." 

Suspicion building, Kokomi turns to Gorou, "tend to the wounded and regroup at the fort, I will meet you there." Turning back to the mercenary group, and giving a curt nod as the group move towards the wrecked ship.

Kazuha slings the tengu's bow over his shoulder, while the Traveler passes her vision back and forth between her hands, both earning the fierce glare of Sara.

Beidou pulls a flask free from her belt before turning her eye to the much shorter woman. A broad smile stretching across her features, "well before anything else, it's a little tradition of the Crux to share a toast after such a battle!" Holding the flask out to Kokomi. "This victory is yours, so you take the first drink!" Her smile unwavering as the heavy flask drops into the smaller woman's hands.

Kokomi eye's the flask uneasily, the powerful scent of alcohol assaulting her senses, taking a deep breath, holding it in, and tipping the flask to her lips. The burn is immediate, feeling like a Pyro slime had been forced down her throat.

The intense burn held her attention just long enough to not notice the way Beidou dumped the rest of the flask's contents into the sand after taking it back from her. The floaty feeling in her head takes over, and one moment she's standing proud after her victory, the next the Traveler's arms are wrapped around her torso as her legs no longer hold her. Beidou's voice calls commands, but despite the priestess still seeing the captain stand directly in front of her, she can't clearly hear her voice. Darkness taking over the edges of her vision, the final sight before the dark dominates her senses being Kazuha pulling a visibly confused Sara to her feet while the Alcor crew gather around the group, all following Beidou's direction.

<~~~~>

With her pacing back and forth, Eula was worried Jean might ignite the ground beneath her. The pair of knights waiting outside of Bubu Pharmacy where Ningguang had said in a note she was bringing Y/n, for reasons not well conveyed.

"Acting Grandmaster, this isn't going to help." Eula speaks gently, trying to help the blonde woman to calm down.

"But what if something is wrong with Y/n? What if she's sick? Can gods even get sick? Or what if she got hurt? Who would do such a thing as to hurt a child like her? Much less the Creator herself!" Jean rambles, venting her stresses only a little. But enough to have Eula take long strides and quickly cover Jean's mouth before glancing towards the door.

"Remember what Lady Ningguang said. Don't say that where Y/n might hear it." Eula whispers, eyes locked on the entryway to the pharmacy.

Pushing the other woman's hand away Jean sighs, pinching at her temple, "and then there's that… What are we supposed to tell people? They already know."

The blue haired woman shakes her head, "that doesn't matter right now, when it comes to it, maybe we can make something up, but for now, it's no use to dwell on it."

"You think we should lie to the people of Mondstadt? You know how important just the idea of news about Y/n was to all of them!" Jean whispers incredulously.

"Well, what if it isn't a lie? We just bend the truth and give them something to look towards?" Eula scans the pair's surroundings again, taking note of the distance to the nearest passers-by.

"That still doesn't sit right with me though…" Jean crosses her arms, face scrunched in thought.

Eula shakes her head, "like I already said, right now it does not matter. Lady Ningguang is talking to the doctor here, and said she would tell us what is the matter with Y/n once she had finished with that conversation." Eula steps to the side of the doorway, leaning back as she stares out towards the stairs leading up to the pharmacy. "All we can do is wait, and hope that vengeance will not be necessary."

<~~~~>

"You have some explaining to do, Lady Tianquan!" Baizhu whispers in a harsh tone, normally soft eyes taking a serious glint.

Ignoring his tone, Ningguang simply hums for a moment, "How is she doing?"

The doctor pinches at the bridge of his nose, exasperation pouring from him, "I gave her some medicine for the pain, which seems to be working. But vision healing had no effect at all. It seems all we can do is keep the numbing up until her wings are fully grown in."

"Her wings?" Ganyu asks, yawning into her palm.

"Do you two take me for a fool? You come in here at this ungodly hour with a child crying gold and bleeding traces of all seven elements, and did you expect me to not recognize the Creator?"

Silence hangs heavy as a small white head peeks out from the coils hanging like a scarf. "The little one is without a doubt our Creator, and our Creator bares wings."

"So then what is happening is that she is growing into herself?" Ningguang questions, eyes snapping between the doctor and the snake.

Ganyu stares at the floor, eyes wide at her own silent revelation. "The Creator was not a human, but we summoned a human child. Tore her right from where she once lived, and she was dropped here, alone for so long, and now that she's lived around people again, the child is changing to match."

The trio stand in the quiet, only the muffled sound of the three children talking amongst themselves echoing in the pharmacy.

The doctor coughs into his fist, adjusting his shirt collar before speaking, "Whatever the implications of that, Y/n should stay here for the rest of the night, with luck the growth will be done by morning."

<~~~~>

Y/n lay face down on the table Baizhu had placed her on. The tears in her back have stopped growing, but feathers continue to sprout. All near shining in pure white, unmarred even by the multi-colored blood they grow from.

Klee sits on her knees beside Y/n, tightly clinging onto the other girl's hand. Wide eyes moving back and forth between focusing on patting her friend's head comfortingly and staring as another feather sprouts.

"Is the medicine working?" A small voice suddenly sounds to the opposite side of the bed from Klee. Lavender hair poking up over the top of the simple sheets.

"It doesn't hurt as bad now." Y/n mumbles into the pillow. Turning her head to face the new voice. 

A pair of small hands push a glass of water up onto a bedside table, quickly turning from the task in favor of grasping at the edge of the bed to pull herself up onto the surface. "Dr. Baizhu said, you should have some water."

Y/n gives a small nod before moving to sit up, Klee gently helps support the other girl as Qiqi moves to grab the glass again. Soon the two vision holding children watch as the h/c girl gulps down water, silence hanging until the cup is empty.

"Did that help?" Qiqi whispers, pushing the glass back onto the side table.

The girl hums, nodding "I think so." Y/n smiles, turning to face Qiqi, holding out her hand. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"I'm Qiqi, I am a zombie," giving an awkward handshake, Qiqi's eyes move to a slightly bouncing Klee.

"And I'm Klee!" The blonde girl says excitedly, smiling wide at seeing Y/n so calm again. "Do you wanna be our friend too?"

Y/n matches Klee's smile as she turns to Qiqi as well, both girls waiting patiently towards the silent stare of the other girl.

Qiqi stares back at the pair, unemotive confusion swimming in her head before speaking "I'm sorry, I don't remember how."

"You don't remember how to be friends?" Klee asks, her excitement melting into matching confusion.

Y/n smiles, "well when I stop hurting, we can teach you! And we can all steal whatever tasty things you want!" Y/n giggles, reigniting Klee's excitement as Qiqi stares at the pair.

The zombie's eyes open just a hair wider "even coconut milk?" Her monotonous tone takes the tiniest hint of excitement.

"Yea! Y/n's super good at stealing! That'll be no problem!" Klee cheers, causing Y/n to puff up at the praise.

Sitting back for a moment Qiqi thinks, before reaching behind her and pulling a large book into her lap. "Ok, I'll write orders in my diary so I won't forget."

Klee's bouncing grows more eager, "Yea! We're going to go steal more stuff! And we'll blow something up! And um… Qiqi, what's something you like to do?"

Qiqi stops her writing, staring quietly, "I like to watch the finches."

"Then we'll watch the finches too!"

Qiqi nods before turning her attention back to the diary, pausing to read before facing Y/n again. "But you should lay back down now. Dr Baizhu said you need to rest." Qiqi chides, gently pushing Y/n back into laying on her stomach.

"Ok, but will you stay here with us?" Y/n asks, relenting as Klee joins Qiqi in laying her down.

There is hardly a pause before Qiqi has her answer, "yes," she says simply, grasping onto the girl's  free hand shortly after Klee takes hold of Y/n's other.

A small sigh falls from Y/n, both her hands occupied by the other girl's. One unnaturally hot to the touch, the other incredibly cold. But both holding nothing but silent soothing communication.

The feeling of calm washing over the trio. A foreign feeling Y/n has been resisting growing used to. Being at peace, no need to seek out her next meal, no fear of being seen by other people, and no crippling loneliness in the shelter of her hideaway. Just these two friends she's found, that she was able to meet because Beidou and Ningguang had taken her in, off the streets.

Y/n lets out a sharp gasp, the moment of calm abruptly interrupted. Where pained screams would have arisen, only discomforted groaning starts. Hands clenching tight on their hold to the two other girls.

Feathers sprout rapidly, each popping out in the blink of an eye, several at a time. That's when the sitting pair see it, bones and muscles writhe beneath Y/n's skin. Limbs not naturally born forming from the bleeding sea of feathers. Formless masses of sticky wet flesh rise, dragging feathers up along with them. Four almost tendrils sprouting and rapidly forming skin, the bleeding slows to a stop, but the new limbs still wriggle unnaturally.

The door slams open, none of the three girls having noticed the alarmed scream Klee had released. Not until a pair of knights barge in with swords drawn, followed quickly by an annoyed doctor and a concerned Tianquan.

The newly arrived group stop in their tracks. All eyes on the quartet of tendrils as they writhe, muscles finding their place along settling bones, feathers sprouting faster and fuller. Bending and taking the shape of proper wings, the pair higher on Y/n's shoulders appear far larger than the pair lower on her back.

Four wings, pure white in color, and fluffier than clouds on a clear morning. Down feathers of a baby bird twitch with a new feeling. Sinewy muscles settling in place, stretching out like one would stretch their arms upon waking. And much like a baby bird, they fold and twitch, unusable for flight, but a feeling part of the child.

A head of h/c hair pokes up, shaking arms pushing herself up into a sitting position. Qiqi quickly grasps at her shoulder to hold Y/n steady. Klee slowly reaches a hand out to pat the white feathers.

Y/n turns around with a confused smile at the adults in the room, one eye maintaining her natural e/c, the other an orb of solid gold.

"Did something happen?" Y/n squeaks, unsure at the staring eyes.

<~~~~>

A man flops down on the bench beside the contemplative archon, his arms laying over the back rests as he crosses his legs casually. 

"Good to see you again, comrade!" Childe chimes cheerfully, a broad smile stretched across his features as he attempts to pull Zhongli into conversation.

"Childe. I thought you'd returned to Snezhnaya." Zhongli states, his eyes dragging to look at the harbinger lounging beside him.

“I did. But her majesty sent me back after receiving some very interesting news.” His face split in a smile hardly covers the air of menace he pushes forward, “I thought perhaps my old buddy the Geo Archon might have some answers for me.” His voice is low enough to prevent passersby from overhearing.

A sigh of annoyance slips from the composed Archon, “and what questions would you like these answers to?” 

“I’m here to ask about our Divine Creator.”

Zhongli stills at that statement. Eyes taking a dangerous glow as almost reptilian pupils bore into the Snezhnyan. “And what would you ask me that your Tsaritsa could not answer?”

"Straight to the point then, the Tsaritsa is all too aware of that summoning ritual you held with the gods of Anemo and Electro, so don't try and lie about that." Smirking at the ease of which he was able to start the discussion, Childe ignores the dragon’s glare in favor of taking on a more casual posture. “Well little birdy says that the Divine Creator has been living in Liyue."

The retired archon's posture runs rigid at those words, scale patterns making themselves known around already distinctly inhuman eyes. "Were that the case, I would be by their side."

"I suppose so… but her majesty's tip off is very reliable." Childe leans in closer to the Geo archon, whispered words for no other to hear "and I don't think I need to tell you that an act such as hiding our beloved divine Creator is something many would consider starting a war over."

Zhongli grips at his coat harsh enough to nearly rip the fabric, threatening glare oozing with malice. Jaw tight, wordlessly daring the harbinger to keep threatening Liyue.

Childe lets out a convincingly bright laugh as he creates more distance, again taking the time to appear casual. "Well if you don't know anything, it can't be helped! I just hope I can find some proper news for her majesty, and fast. Wouldn't want my colleagues to be coming here and wreaking havoc, now would we?"

The harbinger hops to his feet, taking a moment to stretch his limbs and half turning back to face the archon. "I guess since you weren't as helpful as I would have liked, I'll have to call on other contacts. The Qixing is quite good at hiding things, but the Fatui won't rest until the Tsaritsa has the answers she wants."

And with the final remark Childe disappeared into the Liyue crowd. His words, still echoing in Zhongli's head.

Could the Creator he had been searching for been right under his nose the whole time?

Taglist:  @twstfan-san @saltysugarysembei @universal-rose @qluvrv @jaynahh @heavenlyflooff @thetwinkims @victoria1676 @beemarkie @definitely-a-keqing-simp @inlovewithwaffels @qinxin02 @aminormistakewasmade @namine123 @nomorefstogive @my-white-canvas @kiraisastay @sarahyumiko2

[keaalu]

Fic scraps?

This has been living in my brain for a couple of weeks so I thought I probably should at least scribble a little down for the sake of unclogging the pipes. Just a handful of disjointed scenes that may or may not go anywhere, and probably very out of character, but eh. I think I need to do more research if I do anything real with it, haha (story of my life).

Set shortly after Charlie has a heart attack in the middle of nowhere and there's a mad dash back to civilisation where the ambulance crew will be waiting. Quite loose on the whole timeframe except that the NHS obviously exists, haha.

(Since I don’t think James’s crew had names, I’ve dubbed them Albert and Bill, just for now, after two of the Flying Scotsman’s real drivers; I think I read that Bill was on board for their record-breaking run in 1934? Seemed fitting, anyway.)

-------------------------------------

James sat in a little pool of light with his arms dangling loosely at his sides, the backs of his knuckles against the platform. “I don’t think my arms work, any more. I might have worn them out.”

“Your arms are tired,” Edward corrected, with an affectionate chuckle. “Give them a little while to recover and they’ll be as good as new.”

“Almost.” James looked meaningfully down at his bandaged hand.

The engine’s smile faded, a little. “How is your hand?”

“Sore.” James examined the filthy bandages. As well as a liberal layer of coal dust, the edges now had the brownish discolouration of blood. He flexed his fingers and grimaced, then groaned a frustrated laugh. “Really bloody sore. I don’t know why it still hurts. It happened ages ago!”

“I’m sorry.”

James found a smile, lopsided and ironic. “Why are you sorry? I was the careless one. Absolutely should have known better than to go grabbing pipes I knew were hot.”

“We shouldn’t have assumed you’d be fine. It was your first time on the footplate. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to give you gloves.” Edward glanced up to meet his gaze. “I’m particularly sorry it was me that injured you.”

----

“I think I’m cursed,” he said, melodramatically, sprawling backwards against a convenient planter and letting his arms flop, bonelessly. “I feel like I have a whole train full of bad luck coupled to me and I can’t even get started pulling it.”

“…situation normal, then?”

“That was cutting, Edward. Cutting.” He managed  a feeble laugh. “Oh, ow. Why does everything hurt.” He wiped his face with his good hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything about not ending the day on another disaster, should I.”

----

“Charlie’s not out of the woods yet but he’s in the best possible place. If you three hadn’t got him back so quickly, it might be a different story.” James’s fireman slapped a palm against Edward’s boiler, fondly. “Let’s get a brew on, shall we, Ted? I think your new apprentice fireman needs it.”

Edward gave a dubious little hmm. “I’m not sure if James likes tea, very much.”

“What you mean is, he doesn’t like Charlie’s tea. And to be fair, I don’t like that travesty your driver brews, either. Tea shouldn’t be so strong you can stand the spoon up in it.” He hopped up into the cab.

----

The fireman appeared out of Edward’s cab with two battered little white enamel cups; he grinned and held one aloft in a little sort of acknowledgement salute before climbing back down to the platform.

James sighed in a way that tried hard to come across as exasperated but just sounded bone-tired. He accepted the offering anyway. “Why do you all keep trying to get me to drink this horrible stuff.”

“Horrible stuff! Blasphemy.” Albert laughed. “Well, I let it brew for less time, and gave you more milk, plus some sugar. Hopefully it’s more to your taste, this time.” He tucked his legs down underneath himself and sat cross-legged, forming the third point of a triangle where he could see both of them properly. He watched James take a small sip, and while he didn't gush over how delicious it was, he didn't make a face at it, either; Albert took it as a positive reaction. “You got a lot of tongues wagging, with the speed you came rocketing up the line. There were a lot of folk convinced you were going to wreck when you got here.”

Edward offered a good-humoured roll of the eyes. “I said I could stop in time.”

[moon-ursidae]

it’s time for session #2!

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR BOTH OF THE LAST OF US GAMES UNDER THE CUT!!!!

these notes are so scattered if you read them without context and i am SO SORRY lmao. i’m typing them so fast trying to keep up with my brain that’s going 700 mph and the game. ANYWAY, we’re getting a very late start tonight bc i was helping my friend learn guitar for a few hours haha

total play time: about 2 hrs and 40 min (there’s not much story progression here just exploring seattle!)

okay so we last left off with ellie and dina in the woods on horseback post joel’s house. i have not gotten farther than the woods bc i was super ultra mega tired. so let us continue!

okay sooooo this section is called the gate cool cool cool

this is fucking gorgeouuusssssss

omg dina listing off all the people that joel crossed

i’m sure there’s more before that bro

oh my god the LIGHTINGGGGG in the woods so so good

we’re so close to seattle i’m scared

so much happens here man

map acquired✅

CARD BABYYYYYY

jesus christ i L O V E the aesthetic of nature reclaiming land and man made structures. it’s sooooooo pretty

oh shit QZ!

i’m looking through ur journal ellie hope you don’t mind haha

dina seems to be sick? well. i know why but ellie doesn’t yet so shhhhhh

it’s so sad to me that every drawing of joel so far that ellie’s done, she hasn’t been able to draw his eyes. that was the last thing she saw of him while he was alive. like she wants to get them just right but everytime she draws it that means she has to look him in the eye again. and maybe she’s feeling too guilty to do that rn. ugh idk i know neil always does shit like that but maybe i’m reading too much into it haha. ANYWAY that is one of the most heartbreaking parts about her journal dude. UUUUGGHHHHH 😭

“i really love her.” 😭😭😭😭 ELLIE TELL HER PLEASE

we just got a letter, wonder who it’s from🕺🏻

kieran?? kieran duffy??????

haha wrong game

also lemme just say, i fucking love dina

she’s so sweet and empathetic, but will cut the fuck out of a bitch when needed

I HAVE TO PARKOUR?? UP HIGH?? IN THE LAST OF US?? OVER A GATE??

this is some nathan drake shit bro where’s nolan north

FUUUUUCK I THOUGHT SHE WAS GONNA FALL BRO OH MY GOD

hoooooollllyyyyyy fuuuuuuck this is a big city jesus christ

LMAO her wobble before she fell down to the platform below

this game is so gorgeous. holy fuckin shit i’m gonna say that a lot huh?

THE SOUND DESIGN??? WHEN GOING DOWN THE LOOKOUT TOWER AT THE GATE OF THE QZ??? WHEN SHE FALLS AND IT ECHOES?? THAT SHIT WAS CRAZYYYY

guys i’m gonna be honest. i’m team brick.

i LOVE being able to break windows this is so fun

oh god i have a horrible memory plz don’t make me memorize these gate codes

side note: i love ellie’s hair here. i’m gonna have to try a lil half up half down situation

i saw someone on twitter point out that it looks a lot like tess’s hair🥺

“well, we believe in you” shimmer and dina? or baby and dina? hmmm things to consider

totally unrelated, but i can’t not hear ashley johnson going “babyyyyyyyyy” with an s.o. since the mighty nein reunion lmao

ellie seeing dina and going “babyyyyyyyy” like yasha LMAO

ANYWAY

fuck i hope i can pull out that page of codes dude

THANK GOD

oh shit another hotel

i’m traumatized after the last on dude you can’t make me go back

H O L Y. S H I T.

THIS IS SO OPEN I’M GONNA SPEND SOOOOOOOO MUCH TIME HERE

FUCK DUDE

this is fucking crazy

there’s so much small shit everywhere oh my fucking G O D

omg joel was definitely reading that space book for ellie she just talked about an early moon mission at this tank

DINA’S JOKE “she’s sounding a bit hoarse” they’re literally made for each other

OH MY GOD I JUST FOUND THE DR. UCKMANN CARD NO FUCKING SHOT

damn is this his way of addressing the crunch work hours at naughty dog?

“once a well respected researcher… questionable experiments in the realm of pushing human limits saw him ostracized from the scientific community… Laurent Foucault of SPARK Laboratories found his work dubious…”

the music is hauntingly beautiful in this area oh my god

OH MY GOD THE SCANNERS THAT DETECT THE VIRUS FROM THE BOSTON QZ IN THE FIRST GAME

i miss the first game LMAO even though i JUST finished that

THERE’S A FUCKING PEARL JAM POSTER IN THE MUSIC SHOP😭

IF I EVER WERE TO LOSE YOU, I’D SURELY LOSE MYSELF😭

i feel like this is supposed to be hank williams which would be fucking sick bc “alone and forsaken” and all that jazz haha

“guitars starting at $49.99” BRO SINCE WHEN I FUCKING WIIISH DUDE😭

as a drummer, i can confirm dina is a fucking natural

“i love you?” A H H H H H

ANUTHA CARD WOOO

Das Wort is my favorite card so far. he just like me fr

WAIT THIS IS THE TAKE ON ME SCENE

i will cry

SHE’S PLAYING FUTURE DAYS😭😭😭😭

BARRE CHORDS??? ellie i could literally never wtf

the chords are all accurate too holy fuck naughty dog

ashley has such a nice voice oh my god

i’m gonna fucking cry bc they put this in the hbo trailer

AAAAHHHHHHH😭😭

this is why i fucking love music dude. it transcends everything and always will. it’s the one thing that connects everyone. and it’s connecting people in this game too and i UGGHHH i love music holy fuck

the way dina looks at her🥹

and also knowing that joel was the one that showed her all of these songs and artists bc ellie wasn’t even alive to hear take on me and future days, and literally everything else. GOOOOODDDDDDDD😭😭

“you should have kissed me then.” “i wanted to.”

god i love dina and ellie they sound like an old married couple already

first dawn of the wolf poster i’ve seen!!! WOOOOO

i’m gonna come back to the nutrition distribution center bc i feel like that shit is gonna be bad news bears

“wasn’t joel all about coffee?” as he should. i’d be all about coffee too if i didn’t have it for years

ANUTHA CAAAARD

i really like the Big Blue card too

THAT FUCKING INFECTED IN THE BATHROOM SCARED THE FUCKING SHIT OUT OF ME MY SOUL LEFT MY BODY OH MY GOD

so many fucking side quests oml what do you mean “barko’s”

oh my god there are so many fucking alleyways to go down

THERE’S SO MUCH TO DO I AM SO BUSY FINDING SECRETS AND STUFFS

BARKO’S LOCATED

it’s too dark in here i don’t like it

“they think we’re sheep! BARE YOUR FANGS.” what in the fuckin trump train “sHeEpLe” is goin on in here

i feel like i’m gonna get fucking jumped by infected again in here

THIGH HOLSTER ACQUIRED

omg plz “we can get a little creature to take care of” AND THEN THEY HAVE A FARM AT THE END😭😭😭

STUN BOMB ACQUIRED

i have already spent 2 hours in this fucking QZ holy shit

i just wanna explore rn i don’t wanna progress story atm

i am secret hunting

ANUTHA CARD BABYYY WEST GATE 2

it doesn’t even look like i’ve done that much😭

i also have a bad feeling about this bank

oh fuck this shit. it goes underground

they are ALWAYS underground bro

dina this is not cool, this is scary

i don’t fucking trust this shit

HOW DID I FUCKING KNOW

infected or whateva🙄

SHOTGUN ACQUIRED

FUCK this bank dude i’m GONE

dina said she’d get a farmhouse with the money😭😭

okay i think i’m gonna stop here bc it is literally 5am and i am sleepy haha. no story! but got some goodies and secrets out of the way! i will continue maybe tomorrow? not sure bc i am quite busy but we’ll see!

having a really good time so far and i love watching ellie and dina’s dynamic! still lots of buildings and secrets to loot! i’m excited >:)

[sommer-girl]

Fremover, Part III | Self Para

Date: 15 March, 2023 Warnings: None

Anna seeks answers after the incident with Sajje.

Anna waited until everyone else had left for their afternoon free time before she went to talk to Mari. She didn’t want Sajje to see— it would only confirm her belief, probably, that Anna was a totally desperate loser. And maybe that was true, but Anna still wanted to talk to Mari. 

“Hey. Um, can I ask you something?” Anna asked nervously.

Mari could tell something was up. Or, rather, it was pretty much written all over Anna’s face.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” she suggested.

This only confirmed to Anna that Mari noticed everything. That everyone noticed everything, maybe. And just because a couple of days had passed since Ashleigh’s assessment of Anna, none of it was any less true, at least not to Anna.

Still, Anna wasn’t going to say no to Mari. She nodded and followed Mari down the hallway, then out to a garden that the group had weeded the previous day. It was a place for quiet reflection, Mari had said. A lot of the fairies who came through here needed that. Even if now, with spring barely beginning, it still looked quite dormant.

She kept walking, out the back gate toward a supply shed. “It’s supposed to rain quite hard tonight. I wanted to prepare some of the more delicate seedlings so they don’t get washed away, if you wanted to help me.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Anna said, because she had a policy of always saying yes when her help was needed. And also because more manual labor sounded good right now. 

Mari handed Anna some popsicle sticks that the seedlings would be connected to. “So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Mari asked, crouching down to begin the work.

Anna crouched down too. “Okay, this is, um, probably very silly, but… I think I may have offended Sajje and I feel really terrible about it and I just… don’t know what to do,” Anna admitted, sighing. “I know I shouldn’t be bothering you about this, I just thought you might know what to do, since obviously you know her really well, and… yeah.”

Mari sighed and shook her head, looking oddly mildly amused. “That doesn’t really surprise me.”

Anna’s stomach dropped and she looked up at Mari, her eyebrows crinkled in concern. Mari could tell too, couldn’t she? How lonely and desperate for purpose Anna felt?

“I, uh-”

“Anna, it’s alright. It probably didn’t have that much to do with you.”

“It… didn’t?” Now Anna was really confused. 

Mari shook her head and dusted her hands off, then looked at Anna, resting her elbows on her crouched knees. “I think I have a pretty good idea of what happened. And the thing you should understand, Anna, is that Sajje has been through a lot over the past few years.”

“I know, that’s why I wanted to be her friend. I figured she could use one…” Anna trailed off.

Mari’s expression was gentle, but dubious. “And I’m sure you meant well by that. But she has seen a lot of well-meaning volunteers come and go over the years. And, you know, she is young. She has quite a tragic story, the way her education was interrupted, her home destroyed. A lot of people pity her for that.” Mari paused. “It is not a good feeling, being pitied, Anna.”

Anna’s face turned red, and she felt a rush of embarrassment. She wanted to go on the defensive, to say that she wasn’t trying to make it sound like that, but thinking back over her conversation with Sajje… well, she could see how it sounded. And, honestly, she could see how there was probably some truth to what Mari said.

So maybe Anna had made a lot of assumptions about Sajje. Maybe she had seen another girl who was standing alone on this trip and assumed she was lonely, that her heartache was exactly like Anna’s heartache, and that by solving her problems Anna would solve her own. Anna had tried so hard to be a good volunteer… but maybe, in doing so, Anna had made all of this about her.

Just like she always did. God, would she ever get out of this vicious cycle?

“...I’m so sorry,” Anna breathed. Mari shook her head.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Anna. I just thought I would give you a little more insight,” Mari explained. “And I’m sorry if Sajje’s actions made you uncomfortable or put a damper on this experience. Your group, you are our guests here.”

“I know, but- well, she should be able to say what she thinks. And… I probably kind of deserved it. I mean… in retrospect, what I said probably sounded pretty condescending.” She was quiet for a moment. “Uh, thank you, by the way. For explaining all of that to me.” Anna admitted. 

Mari just nodded and continued with her work. Anna followed suit.

“Sometimes I do think our model here is a bit flawed, having volunteers come in for one week, two weeks,” Mari added after a silence, pushing another popsicle stick into the ground. “There’s never really enough time to get the full picture. And we do appreciate the help, of course, but there are always other ways. We have year-round volunteers.”

“Then why do you do it?” Anna asked, blinking in surprise. She had thought the group was so invaluable, so important. Was Fremover just humoring them?

Mari smiled sadly. “Well, as I said, we do appreciate the help. But I think it’s also very educational. It raises awareness. And we hope that people go back home and feel motivated to stay involved, whether it’s with our Hollow or with fairy rights in their own communities,” she explained. 

“Well, I definitely want to stay involved,” Anna said seriously. She wasn’t quite sure Mari believed her, but she wanted to say it anyway. “Do you think I could come back?”

Mari raised her eyebrows. “Well, there are certain opportunities. Obviously I wouldn’t push you in any specific direction, but if you’re genuinely interested, there are some programs we work with to source our longer-term volunteers. I could get you some literature.”

“That would be amazing,” Anna said quickly. “I’d really like to look into that.”

“Great,” Mari said, and just as quickly, she was back to her planting.

Anna continued working alongside her, but one thought was bothering her, bumping up against her excitement (and maybe slight anxiety that she’d overpromised). It was a totally unrelated thought to anything Mari had said, and as she looked down at the seedlings, it wedged itself into the front of her mind.

“Um, Mari?”

“What’s up?” Mari looked up from the seedling she was carefully leaning against a stick.

“Do you think it’s going to be enough? The sticks?” Anna asked anxiously. “I mean, what if the storm’s bad and this all gets washed away anyway?”

Mari chuckled. “I’ve seen many storms, Anna. I know these don’t seem very sturdy, but they will help. These plants have deep roots. They are stronger than they look,” she explained. “And worst case scenario, we start over and re-plant. The storm is good, anyway, for the garden as a whole.”

Anna nodded, closing her thumb and finger around the last stem and examining it. Mari was right. It didn’t look sturdy at all. But at least this was a step, and maybe Anna would just have to have faith that things would work out.

A raindrop landed on Anna’s cheek. And then another, on her shoulder.

“We ought to get inside,” Mari said, standing up. “Thank you for your help, Anna. Got it done twice as quickly.”

“Any time,” Anna said, and still feeling a bit lost (but not necessarily in a bad way) Anna followed Mari inside.

[angryschnauzer]

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

-

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

-

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

-

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

-

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom. 

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised. 

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

-

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind. 

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

[forevermore-quoth-the-kitten]

Batfam as SAO Abriged Quotes Part 2, Because I Can

First | Current

Tim, Doing a Great Job at Making Lex’s Life Miserable And Enjoying Every Minute Of It: Well how would you like me to mock you? I take requests.

-

Some Villain: Someone so dead inside, he’d use a child as bait to lure me out.

Dick: Hood would never do something so horrible.

Jason: Oh no, she’s right, I totally did that. *points over his shoulder at the tied up and gagged Damian still in his Gotham Academy school uniform*

Dick: What?!

-

Steph: I will eND you, thot!!

-

Villain: How did you know I was lying?

Damian: Ah, you see, it’s quite simple, really. You see, I’m not an idiot.

Villain’s Goon: Yep, that would do it.

-

Duke: What the hell is that?

Babs: Well Signal, I believe the locals call it a, hex-a-gon? Not sure if I’m pronouncing that correctly, I’ll have to check back with you.

-

Jason: Sweetie, I’m gonna let you in on a little known secret of comedy. Bad things, aren’t funny, when they happen to Jay-Jay.

Lian: What about Daddy?

Jason: Oh Daddy’s fair game, go for the throat.

-

Cassie: Our team doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘surrender’.

Tim, from the background and on his back: But we’re willing to learn!

-

Tim, 110% Done With Ra’s Al Ghul and His Bullshit: Plans To Kidnap Him: Wow, this how you thank everyone who saves you? I can just feel the gratitude radiating off of you. Like a warm summer breeze wafting across the meadow . . . that Bambi’s mom was shot in.

Talia: *impressed by both the insult and the delivery*

Ra’s: *barely knows what Disney is outside of it’s existence as a major corporation, does not get it*

-

Babs, doing her Oracle thing with Dick tied up in her tower for his own safety since he has a broken leg: Even in that state I’m not convinced you won’t try to set me on fire with your mind  . . . *she freezes, turning around to deadpan at him as he glares* you’re trying to do it right now aren’t you?

Dick, whose little brothers are in danger: ssttaaaaaarreeeee

-

Jason: streaking through the snowy sky, on a sleight full of christmas cheer. The patron saint of prostitutes, look it up, Old Saint Nick.

Duke, slightly horrified because they’re reading a story to literal children: *shocked pickachu face*

-

Jason, Black Mask’s captive, does not give a shit since he’s already died once: No language on earth has a word for how little I care. A quantum supercomputer, calculating for a thousand years, could not even approach the number of fucks, I do not give.

Steph, with the others about to save him: *files that one away for later use*

-

Jason, the Ultimate Abridged Kirito Kinnie: Really? What part about that was out of character for me?

Tim, who he’d left to fight a whole gang by himself so he could go hit his favorite bakery before it closed: *flips him off*

-

Bruce, 17: Sorry, what was I talking about?

Alfred, a Tired Father: you were apologizing.

Bruce, Self Aware of his Issues, Mostly: that doesn’t sound like me.

-

Dick, young and dumb, over at Babs’ otherwise empty house: but uh, are you sure it’s ok for me to be over this late?

Babbara Gordon, Batgirl and badass to a fault, raising an eyebrow: why wouldn’t it be?

Dick, very very dumb: Oh sweet naive, stupid Barbara. *doesn’t notice her get up and dim the lights* you may not be able to see the dubious implications, but to a man as worldly as I- *open his eyes* Babs?

Barbara, stripped down to only her underwear and bra: why are your pants still on? are we doing this or what?

Dick, red faced, staring: *tea kettle noises*

-

Jason, standing up when the rest of the Batfamily got beaten down as we scattered around, unable to move: You know something? I really . . .  hate . . . people. *calls the All Blades and attacks the Untitled* They're selfish, ignorant, loud obnoxious pricks, with basically no redeeming qualities whatsoever! I mean really! Look at all they've achieved! Genocide, global warming, reality TV, and just a never ending parade of failures and fuck ups! They are, without question, a complete write-off of a species, AND HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CARE ABOUT THEM!!!!! *the untitled dies, Jason drops his swords, panting while stumbling in place* There. Everyone's safe. Now you can all go die for all I... care... *falls back, unconscious*

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: NMJ gets caught in a time loop that makes him repeatedly relive the day Meng Yao leaves for Langya, until he realizes that it's a bad idea and stops him from going?

Time Loop - ao3

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn, mind already racing ahead to his tasks for the day: getting in some morning saber practice, working on a giant pile of sect business and even more giant pile of work related to the war, making time to write a letter scolding Nie Huaisang (for what, yet to be determined, but inevitable – if he didn’t, Nie Huaisang would complain of neglect), trying to find a replacement deputy (or seven) to do the work Meng Yao did now that he’d headed off to the Jin sect…

There was a lot to do, and even less time to do it in – and moping about it would only make it build up even more. Nie Mingjue sighed and swung his legs to the side, intending to get up and get started right away.

He stopped as soon as he saw the calendar on his desk.

It was the wrong date.

Now, there were two possible reasons for this. The first was, of course, that he’d simply forgotten to mark the day as completed on his calendar yesterday evening, even though that was generally the very last thing he did before bed and longstanding habit had trained him to have trouble falling asleep if he didn’t do it.

They said forgetfulness was one of the first signs of mental decline.

Easy enough to check, though.

He got up and walked to the tent door, cracking it open. “Hey, you,” Nie Mingjue said to one of the guards going by on patrol. “Where’s Meng Yao?”

“I believe at this hour, Viceroy Meng would be checking over the supplies,” the guard said. “Would you like me to call him?”

“Mm,” Nie Mingjue said, because that wasn’t definitive; the guard didn’t know for certain, and he might just be making an assumption based on past precedent. “What about Lan Xichen?”

“Sect Leader Lan hasn’t yet arrived – I believe he’s due in for later today, closer to noon. Did you want –”

“No, I don’t want anything,” Nie Mingjue said, deeply relieved to have identified that he had not, in fact, forgotten to fill out his calendar. “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

“…ah,” the guard said, looking taken aback – he must be new to Qinghe, like many of the cultivators in the army. Like Meng Yao, for that matter. “Is that…bad?”

“No, it’s fantastic. I’m going back to sleep. No one is to bother me all day.”

“But – Sect Leader Lan –”

“Meng Yao can host him,” Nie Mingjue decided. He’d write out Meng Yao’s recommendation letter, put a big red mark on the calendar right now just to make sure he didn’t forget, and go back to sleep for the entire day like he hadn’t done in what must be literal years. “Like I said: don’t bother me.”

-

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

No big red mark.

“Fantastic,” he said, and went back to bed.

-

He slept for four days.

-

“Sect Leader Nie?” Meng Yao said, poking his head in. “Sect Leader Lan is – I’m sorry, are you painting?”

“I haven’t had time for it in ages,” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at the paper. “You know, I thought he was just trying to get out of practice, but actually Huaisang’s right. It really does require quite a lot of dexterity.”

Meng Yao opened his mouth, then closed it again.

After a few more moments, he asked, voice very cautious, “Are you painting a battlefield map?”

Nie Mingjue stopped, appalled. “Is that what it looks like?” he asked. “I was trying for a beaver. You know, the small furry swimming mammal from Xinjiang.”

“No, it looks like a beaver,” Meng Yao said, though now Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. “I just thought it might be some sort of – code. Maybe.”

Nie Mingjue conceded that this made sense, given what he was normally like. “No, no code,” he said. “Just a beaver. Thought it’d make for a funny fan painting to give to Huaisang.”

“I see,” Meng Yao said, and seemed to struggle internally for a moment.

“Is this about Xichen’s visit?” Nie Mingjue asked. “You can just show him around yourself if you like. I’ll see him tomorrow, should it ever come.”

“…right,” Meng Yao said. “I’ll – do that.”

“If you want a recommendation to leave to join the Jin sect, you can pick it up on the desk on your way out,” Nie Mingjue said, already turning back to his painting. “Have fun, good luck, kill Wen-dogs. The usual.”

Meng Yao didn’t say anything, just bowed. His expression was very strange.

-

Turned out that painting was a lot harder to accomplish when your supposed ‘friends’ kept trying to spring unwanted and unnecessary medical interventions on you.

Ugh.

-

Actually, that Song of Clarity shit from round 13 seemed really helpful? He’d have to look more into that.

-

Apparently, reading novels was even more concerning than painting.

What, like he wasn’t allowed to have hobbies? What else were time loops for if not to catch a break, damnit?

-

“Oh all right,” Nie Mingjue said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll fix the time loop.”

“You’d better,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What in the world did you do to freak them out at the crack of dawn such that they flew all the way to get me and back before it reset?”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “Nothing.”

“Did it involve sex?”

“No comment.”

“Did you forget that they’d reset when you woke up?”

“No comment.”

“Just fix the damn time loop, da-ge.”

“That sounds like someone who is not getting a beaver fan.”

“…beaver? Fan? For me? Wait, did you paint it? Da-ge! I want it! No, don’t go to sleep, I want to keep -”

-

“Please sit down,” Nie Mingjue said to Lan Xichen and Meng Yao. “I’m going to need your help on a strategic question of great importance.”

“Anything we can do to help, of course,” Lan Xichen said, and Meng Yao nodded.

“I’m always at your service, Sect Leader,” he said.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said. “Now – what do you know about time loops?”

-

It took about five days, but he finally managed to figure out how to word the explanation so that it only took as long as a cup of tea to explain and got them to believe him without immediately deciding that he was insane. At that point, they were able to finally start seriously brainstorming solutions.

“We just need to figure out what it is that went wrong and fix it?” Meng Yao asked, sounding dubious. “What is considered ‘wrong’ in this context?”

“Things resulting in massive amounts of death, usually? Sometimes your own.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “It’s a matter of fate, a natural opportunity to avert disaster; you only encounter one when you’re very lucky. Otherwise do you think my father would’ve died the way he did?”

“…an excellent point,” Lan Xichen said, grimacing. “Very well, let’s make a list of all the things you did, play out the possible consequences to see which ones could potentially result in disaster, and then you can try to change them one at a time.”

“Worth a shot,” Nie Mingjue said.

-

“Good morning, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, saluting. “What do you need me for this early? Sect Leader Lan has not yet arrived.”

“I need to talk to you about your future,” Nie Mingjue said. “And what you hope to get out of it.”

Meng Yao straightened his back and blinked owlishly, looking wary. “What do you mean, Sect Leader?”

“You want to go rejoin the Jin sect, don’t you? To earn a position with your father?”

Meng Yao blanched. “Sect Leader –”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable ambition to have,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “Unfortunately, I don’t think a letter of recommendation from me will cut it. I’m too young, and one of his rivals; Jin Guangshan doesn’t give me face – and what will you do if he sidelines you and puts you under someone awful to suppress all your achievements? Wouldn’t it be as good as throwing away your life, ruining your best chance for success?”

Meng Yao frowned. Nie Mingjue was pleased to see it was having an impact: he’d consulted Meng Yao the day before on precisely what wording to use, since his own versions were having no luck.

“I have no objection to your ultimate goal,” Nie Mingjue said. “But we’re going to need to be a bit more clever about it. When Xichen gets here, we’ll put our heads together and think about what we can do to make it impossible for your father to reject you. How does that sound?”

Meng Yao swallowed. “Thank you, Sect Leader,” he said, his voice low and sounding, if anything, a little touched. “I – appreciate it.”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, and put a red mark on his calendar. “Also, there’s another issue to discuss involving yourself and Xichen –”

-

Nie Mingjue opened his eyes in the morning and sat up with a yawn. He looked at his calendar.

There was a big red mark.

“Oh good,” he said, and turned around and laid back down.

“What’s good?” Lan Xichen muttered into his collarbone. “Mmm, A-Jue, no, don’t lie down. It’s time to get up.”

“It is not,” Meng Yao said from the other side. “It’s time to sleep in.”

“Listen to Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, settling his arms around him. “The world can wait a little more.”

“It really can’t, though,” Meng Yao said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and starting to sit up, which was obviously the wrong move. “We’re in the middle of a war, and we all have important things to do today.”

“That’s true,” Nie Mingjue said, a little reluctantly. “I owe Huaisang a beaver.”

Meng Yao blinked.

Lan Xichen blinked.

“…it’s a long story.”

[ibijau]

Oh, here's a prompt! Nie Huaisang travels back in time to ensure that Jin Guangyao stays away from the Jin sect. When he gets back, he's disturbed to find that not only is Meng Yao now his stepbrother (or has at least become a very respected disciple of the Nie sect), but is also now engaged to Lan Xichen. Cue screaming and/or fainting. But at least Minjue is still alive, right?

It was surprisingly easy to make it all happen, much to Nie Huaisang's surprise. In stories time travel was always so complicated to orchestrate, with so much to plan for... but Nie Huaisang had just done it, and it seemed to be working well.

His first stop had been to Meng Shi, shortly after the birth of her son. He could have gone back further and prevented her from ever having that son, but... but at the end of the day, he'd been impossibly fond of Meng Yao even if he'd grown to hate Jin Guangyao. The solution, then, had been to visit his mother and make sure she didn't fill her son's head with impossible dreams.

It had taken some money to get Meng Shi out of the brothel for a few days, and she'd been quite suspicious of him at first. But Nie Huaisang had been a gentleman, and she'd warmed up to him a little. She'd even given up on trying to seduce him once he'd explained that while not opposed to feminine charms on occasion, he mostly cut his sleeve. She'd acted quite sorry for him when he'd explained that actually, he'd just gotten out of a long relationship that had ended badly due to some trust issues and a the betrayal of a man they'd believed to be their friend. Meng Shi had shared a few stories as well, some her own, most her colleagues'.

By the time they'd arrived in Lanling, Nie Huaisang had become quite attached to Meng Shi, and decided he might change his plans a little, depending on what would happen in the next few days.

Meng Shi was not happy to meet other women who'd had the dubious pleasure of sharing Jin Guansghan's bed. She was even less happy to talk to them and learn that none of them, not a single one, had ever received money or attention again after he'd left them, not even those who'd had a child. One of them, the servant of a powerful family of merchants, had gone begging at the door of the Jin sect when her three years old daughter had fallen sick with something nobody understood. She'd been sent home under threats of a beating if she ever showed up again, and her daughter had died.

That had been nearly four years earlier. Jin Guangshan hadn't been sect leader yet, but he'd been his father's favourite and most spoiled son, so he would have had the power to do anything he pleased, including sending a doctor to his daughter, or having her brought into Jinlin Tai to make sure no dark spirit was attacking her. He wasn't even engaged to his wife at the time, so it was impossible to use her to excuse his lack of care. And he'd known about the child's sickness, because he'd happened to be passing by when the mother came begging for help. It was he who had ordered she be sent away, annoyed by her crying.

Meng Shi had gone paler and paler as that poor woman told her tale of sorrow, clutching her son tighter against her chest. When Nie Huaisang and her had returned to their inn, she had asked him why he'd wanted her to meet those other women.

“I just don't like what he's doing,” Nie Huaisang replied, a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought she might get curious. It was stupid of him. Meng Yao surely couldn't have gotten his brains from his father after all.

Meng Shi, sitting on her bed, rocked her infant son in her arms in silence for a moment.

“They were all weak,” she said after a while.

“Who?”

“Those other women. They were all weak.”

Nie Huaisang tensed, fearing that she might announce she was cut of another cloth, that she would persevere where they had given up, but Meng Shi only sighed and kissed her son's forehead.

“He picked them so they were young and would have no one to turn to. Servants and prostitutes and unwanted daughters... he picked us so we'd have no one to turn to when he'd abandon us, no one to defend our honour and force him to pay for the children he made us have. Women like us, it's our own fault for getting pregnant in the first place, isn't it?”

Nie Huaisang stared at her, and realised she was right. He'd been so busy collecting names, he hadn't paused to wonder if there had been a pattern to Jin Guangshan's actions.

“Are there any more you want me to meet?” Meng Shi asked.

“No, she was the last one.”

“Then I suppose we'll started heading back to Yunping City tomorrow. I'll have to make new plans for...”

“No, we're not going back,” Nie Huaisang announced, startling her. “It's too unfair if you go back, you deserve better. Both of you deserve better!”

She blinked a few times, and gave him an amused smile, still rocking her baby. She didn't believe him, of course. Nie Huaisang could hardly blame her for that. After her last experience with a cultivator...

But Meng Shi really did deserve better. Nevermind that in a future he hoped to have now prevented, he'd desecrated her body to get back at her son, this was a different thing. Meng Shi was not a bad person. He'd once thought her guilty of ambition at least, but after a couple weeks in her company, he realised she'd just been desperate for a chance to escape her lot in life. He couldn't really hate her for that, even if it had led to such tragedies after her death.

Nie Huaisang liked her now that he'd met her, and he couldn't condemn her and her son to a worse fate than what they'd have known without him.

He needed a plan.

He needed a smart plan.

He had a plan.

“So, I might have lied a little, you're going back to the brothel,” Nie Huaisang said, earning an unimpressed smirk. “But not for long! I'm going to try something but... would you be willing to lie about who sired your son?”

“Why not? At this point, the truth won't get me much.”

“Perfect. Then I'm going to warn my sect that I have fathered a child, and that I'm unable to care for it at the moment. I'll have to write to them but... but I know Nie zongzhu will immediately send for you. He'll probably ask after me, he hasn't seen me in nearly a decade, but I know he won't have forgotten his cousin Nie Xingyu, and he'll do what's right for my son and his mother.”

And there was no risk of the real Nie Xingyu ever returning to ruin that story, Nie Huaisang knew. His father's beloved cousin, who'd become a rogue cultivator after an argument with their grandfather, had actually died a year or two before Nie Mingjue was even born. A Night Hunt accident, one which Nie Huaisang had discovered by chance while investigating some of Jin Guangyao's crimes. But he remembered his father always hoped to see Nie Xingyu return, always speaking so highly of that cousin who had been almost a brother to him.

Nie Huaisang's father would be delighted to meet his cousin's son, and if “Nie Xingyu” asked for it he would buy Meng Shi's contract in a heartbeat. It would only be a matter of convincing sect leader Nie then, and Nie Huaisang wasn't worried about that. His father had kept all the letters his cousin used to send and read them to his sons, so Nie Huaisang was confident he could imitate his prose and handwriting, not to mention he too carried the Nie seal to mark that letter.

At worst, if it didn't work, Nie Huaisang could always find the money somewhere to buy that contract in person and try to find somewhere to leave Meng Shi, but he'd rather know that she and Meng Yao were safe and sound in the Unclean Realm.

Meng Shi, of course, looked unimpressed by his plan. She still thought he was lying, or trying to sell wonders like other men before him so they could share her bed for a reduced fee, or demand more of her than they'd paid for. Nie Huaisang didn't mind. If people's opinions of him mattered, he would have chosen a different way to avenge his brother, wouldn't he?

-

It took nearly a month after Nie Huaisang had brought Meng Shi back to her brother, but one morning, from the room he'd rented across the street, he saw a small group of Nie cultivators go in. His father was among them, and when they excited the building, he was carrying little Meng Yao in his arms and chatting cheerfully with Meng Shi who seemed shocked at this turn of events.

Unseen by her Nie Huaisang smiled, and went to activate the talisman that would take him back to his own time. Hopefully this would have been enough to save Nie Mingjue. And if it hadn't... well, he knew how to travel to the past now.

-

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes. He was in his room, and yet not. This was what used to be his room when he was young, before he became sect leader. A little smaller, a little more private, with a view on a small private garden where he kept his favourite birds. Hisroom, the one he'd always preferred, and had only abandoned in a desperate attempt to be the leader he'd thought his people would need. If he still lived in this room, then it meant Nie Huaisang wasn't sect leader.

Delighted by this apparent victory, Nie Huaisang sprung to his feet and rushed out of the room, only to run head first into someone.

He'd ran into that person enough times that he knew them instantly, even before seeing their face.

“Well someone is in a hurry,” Nie Mingjue said with a laugh.

A laugh.

Nie Mingjue was laughing. Nie Huaisang couldn't even remember the last time he'd heard his brother laugh like this. Not since the Sunshot Campaign, he thought.

“Your cousins haven't arrived yet,” said someone standing just a step behind Nie Mingjue, her voice also full of laughter. “You didn't oversleep, don't worry.”

It took all of Nie Huaisang's willpower to look away from his brother (Nie Mingjue, happy, laughing, healthy) but he managed it, because that other voice was a little too familiar.

It was odd to find Meng Shi in her fifties when just a few hours ago, Nie Huaisang had seen her in her early twenties. Her hair had turned grey, there were wrinkles on her face, and she had exchanged the bold colours she used to wear at the brothel for the muted tones the Nie sect favoured. It suited her. Growing old suited her, if only because she would never have had the chance, had Nie Huaisang not changed her fate.

“I think he's not quite awake yet,” Nie Mingjue teased when Nie Huaisang stared too long, poking his little brother in the shoulder. “But at least I don't have to drag him out of bed. Can I leave the rest to you, auntie?”

Meng Shi smiled, and assured him she'd make sure Nie Huaisang was ready for his cousins' arrival. Nie Mingjue thanked her and left. Nie Huaisang almost ran after him, suddenly needing to touch him, to hug him, to make sure this was real, that he had truly...

“Now it's finally you,” Meng Shi noted, earning a curious glance. “I've realised a few years ago that you looked oddly similar to the man who helped me. Too similar to simply count it as family resemblance. But until today, you didn't look quite right either.”

When Nie Huaisang could only blink at her, she laughed.

“I thought so. I've been wondering for years, but... you did something to change what was meant to happen, didn't you?”

“I did. I wanted... I needed to save certain people.”

“Your brother,” Meng Shi guessed.

Nie Huaisang nodded.

“And my son?”

He nodded again. “Where is he? Is he well? He learned cultivation, right?”

Meng Shi smiled proudly. “He's one of the best in his generation, people keep telling me. He's married now, and living with his husband, but they come visit often. They wanted me to come live with them in the Cloud Recesses, but it's too cold for me over there, and I like the friends I've made here in Qinghe, so I... is something wrong?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, then shook his head. “His husband?”

“A-Yao is married to Lan zongzhu,” she explained. “I would have preferred if he'd married a woman, but Lan zongzhu is a very good husband to him, and they always seem so very happy when they're together. It's all a mother can truly wish for, isn't it? To see her child settled and happy.”

Nie Huaisang said nothing.

He did not run back into his room, didn't hurriedly prepare some ink so he could draw another time travelling talisman and set things right. It was tempting, so tempting. But Nie Huaisang resisted that temptation, and forced himself to smile.

“I'm so happy for them,” he mumbled after a while, and hoped he would learn to mean it.

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that. 

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him. 

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things. 

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation. 

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit. 

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do). 

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster. 

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

[willowcrowned]

I wish you would write a fic where for some reason Luke & Leia are dropped in the past, specifically in the Mellida/Daan conflict after tiny baby Obi Wan has decided to stay there and Qui Gon has left him, which is followed by them winning that war and adopting/kidnapping Obi Wan and then meeting Qui Gon who kinda wants to 1- induct them into the order and 2- his Padawan back

Keeping in mind that I haven’t actually read any of the books, and all my knowledge has been gained through dubious fandom osmosis, let’s do this:

Luke and Leia are both twenty seven. The New Republic is established, the new Order has lots more Jedi Masters, and both of them are, well, not obsolete, because they both take an active role in their respective jobs, but they’re not necessary. Leia and Han are married, Luke has had a string of hookups, and they’re both... restless. You don’t live a war for four years and come out of it knowing how to live peacefully. Leia doesn’t know how to stop being in command; Luke doesn’t know how to stop feeling like he needs to be saving people all the time.

And then, all of a sudden, they’re in the middle of a war zone. Shots are flying, there’s yelling, and, worst of all, there are children everywhere. Luke ignites his saber, Leia grabs her blaster, and they get out of there, pulling as many children with them as they can. 

The kids take them to their high command, which is filled with children— and only children. Luke and Leia share a look, and they can feel the other’s face harden in tandem with their own. This cannot— will not— go on.

And then, leading them, is a tiny jedi padawan and a girl with a shock of red hair, and Luke, against all odds, knows who the child is.

The war ends quickly after that— not bloodlessly, not without sacrifice, not without pain that the children never should have had to endure, but at least it ends quickly. Obi-Wan and his friend, Cerasi, both survive through the war, and through the rebuilding.

And then Luke and Leia are at a loss. 

They’ve done this before— staying after peace has been established, seeing the resurgence not only of life, but of culture, of music and literature and science, and they love it, they love seeing the beginnings of a new kind of civilization but... there’s nothing for them to do. 

Okay, they think, looking at each other. There must be other planets like this. We can bring them peace.

They tell the Young, the Melida, the Daan— they tell Cerasi and Obi-Wan— and everyone is happy but one. Luke can sense it— he’s always been attuned to Obi-Wan— and he asks him what’s wrong. 

The whole story of Qui-Gon tumbles out of him— Tahl, leaving him, and Bandomeer before that— and Luke is a kind person, but this? This is awful.

“Alright,” he says to Obi-Wan, “If you want, I could train you.” And every bit of anxiety that Luke might feel about his own negligible mastery is washed away by the pure brightness of Obi-Wan’s face.

They leave Melida/Daan to its rebirth, and find another system to help. Obi-Wan grows, both in stature and in skill, and most importantly, in security. Every day that Luke and Leia don’t leave him, every day they hug him and come back for him and ask him what he’s feeling and what he wants like it matters, like he matters, he heals a little more.

And then, when Obi-Wan is fifteen, Qui-Gon tracks them down.

They’ve been on Mandalore a month when he shows up (Obi-Wan clearly has a crush on Satine, and Leia is coaching him through the politics of it while Luke just says vaguely encouraging things about love and connections with other people). Luke and Leia are... not pleased, to put it politely. They tell him, very sweet and very cold the whole way through, that he’s not welcome anywhere near Obi-Wan.

And then everything goes down.

The five of them end up on the run together, stuck in small ship after small ship, and Qui-Gon wants to dislike them, he really does, but they’re competent fighters and leaders, subtle when they need to be and loud when they don’t, and they’re excellent teachers for Obi-Wan, who’s excelling in a way Qui-Gon has never seen of a padawan before.

But they don’t let him near Obi-Wan. (The deal, as they explained it on the first night, was that until Obi-Wan asked to talk to Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon would not be talking to him. It’s a hard rule to enforce, and they do occasionally have to work together whenever they get into a tight spot, but for the most part, it sticks. Qui-Gon hasn’t been able to say any more to Obi-Wan than “On your left,” “Get down,” and “Now!”)

(Obi-Wan and Satine, all this while are engaging in the sort of courting that would only occur to two fairly repressed teenagers who tend to get shot at a lot, which is to say that there are many, many, occasions upon which they stitch each others wounds.)

And then it all comes to head.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon get trapped on a planet, Luke and Leia blasting off into the atmosphere with Satine, because they’ll all die if they don’t, and Obi-Wan is left alone with the man that might have been his master. 

Qui-Gon, to his credit, doesn’t push— they’re both exhausted, and Obi-Wan is wounded, and Qui-Gon may be practical but he’s not cruel, so after they’ve found shelter and stitched themselves up, he doesn’t push. After all, no one dies if Obi-Wan continues on the path he’s set for himself, even if the Order loses what might have been a brilliant Jedi. And besides, Qui-Gon has too much respect for Luke and Leia now to say that what they’re teaching Obi-Wan is bad.

So it’s Obi-Wan who speaks first.

“They’re coming back, you know.”

Qui-Gon doesn’t scoff but— it’s a near thing. “The mission is more important. They know that.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t react defensively— not the way a normal child might— he just shakes his head, and says with complete peace and certainty, “They’re coming back. They always do.”

Qui-Gon inclines his head, not conceding the point, but conceding that he won’t argue it further. 

There’s a silence, then, a stillness that stretches beyond not moving— something in the Force, a waiting, the static before a thunderstorm.

“I came back,” Qui-Gon says, in the end, tired and older than his years, “to Melida/Daan. I came back for you.”

Obi-Wan swallows, looking very, very, small all of a sudden, even wrapped in Luke’s cloak. “You left me,” he says, barely above a whisper. “You left a thirteen year old in the middle of a war he didn’t know how to handle, and then you took my home from me.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon says, and he knows what he has to say— what he’s known since he found Melida/Daan at peace, and Obi-Wan gone, spirited away by some specters of a war ended, and realized that he had lost him for good— but that doesn’t make the words come any easier. “I was wrong,” he chokes out, syllable by agonizing syllable, “it was cruel, and I was wrong.”

A strange change comes over Obi-Wan, as if, after all these years, Qui-Gon’s words still mean something to him— as if whatever explanation he can give is enough for Obi-Wan’s absolution.

“Yes,” he agrees, and if he sounds older than he is, it’s not because he’s tired, but because he’s balanced, “it was.”

“I’m sorry,” Qui-Gon says, because it’s true, because he is, because he knows know what he didn’t know then— that Obi-Wan was right, was better than him in that moment, that Obi-Wan saw injustice, saw pain, and gave up everything he had, everything he’d ever wanted, to stop it. Qui-Gon hasn’t ever been able to do that, and he wants to blame it on Dooku, on the Order, on the censure he always receives for acting outside the exact guidelines, but he knows the truth of it; he keeps himself from caring so he doesn’t ever have to face those choices. Dooku may have taught him, the Order may have shaped him, but it’s him who makes that decision, day after day, and it took losing another padawan to finally face it. If Qui-Gon is what a Jedi is, then Obi-Wan is what a Jedi should be.

Obi-Wan looks at him, and he’s hurt, yes, and still grieving, but above all else he’s kind, like he can see what Qui-Gon has gone through, like he’s witnessed the worst he has to offer, and still thinks there’s good in him— the genuine, shining, good embodied by Obi-Wan.

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, “and I forgive you.”

[love-and-monsters]

Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

“Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.