#yes this comes on the heels of the national service thing

[360degreesasthecrowflies]

So I'm going to talk about real politics in the UK for just a second now.

You know what I actually want from the next election, after decades now of Tories and their voters getting in and not trying to build any kind of bridge whatsoever with the opposition?

When they lose, which I believe they will...

I want them to not only get nothing they wanted.

I want the absolute opposite of anything they'd like to get put through.

I want them to feel a bit of what they inflicted on everyone else in the country just to please themselves, things they didn't even NEED, because they took a twisted joy in our suffering.

Call it reparations. Or the consequences of your own actions.

If they had even tried to ever meet us in the middle or behave like actual adults and fellow citizens I wouldn't feel like this.

But that's not the world we live in. I'm not sorry.

[uncookedfeeler]

How it all started 👹

Jessi x Reader

Tags : 5k, smut

Loyalty is a deep and enduring commitment that manifests itself in trust, respect and support. It implies a sense of obligation and responsibility where each individual acts in the best interests of the other. This bond, which grows stronger with each passing week, month and year, is the cornerstone of any successful partnership.

For the investor, it's the guarantee of a long-term financial investment, not without risk of course, but also the exclusivity of every opportunity linked to the person being supported.

For the celebrity, it's the guarantee of permanent and intangible financial support, as long as the terms of the contract are respected, as well as access to other resources in the eventuality of difficulties.

It's been a busy few weeks for you, and as the number of visitors to your establishments increases, so does your workload. The financial returns are excellent, your customers seem satisfied with your services on both sides, and there's no sign of a downturn in business, which in a way doesn't bother you and the last thing you want to see right now is problems like scandal.

Scandals are an integral part of the industry in which you do business, and you are no stranger to them yourself. Before you implemented a 'zero' policy in your establishment, there were a number of outbursts from investors who were a little too physical with your customers, which earned you some minor concerns, but also a great deal of respect and trust for the way you handled these problems.

And nothing prepared you for the one that set the nation alight last night, incriminating your oldest client and long-time friend. So you arranged a meeting with this person.

It's not uncommon for you to appear in public at your favourite club, enjoying your own service and waving to the many clients and staff who fill the place. Amid discreet glances and whispers, you sit down at a table in the middle of the room and lean back.

Quickly, one of your employees, accompanied by the manager, appears in front of you to serve you. 

"Welcome sir, I'm sorry I didn't come to greet you myself", says the manager in a hurry, the little man looks rather stressed and his face doesn't remind you of anything, probably a newcomer, you think.

The young woman next to him, much more stoic, bends down slightly to greet you.

"Good evening, sir, how are you? A double with ice as usual?" The familiar tone seems to disturb the manager, who is about to reprimand her.

"Yes, please, Seola," you say, smiling at the spectacle unfolding before you, and after taking your order, the young woman gives her manager a dark look of authority before returning to the bar.

"I'm sorry sir, I'll make sure she's disciplined, please excuse her", the manager says to you, bowing to show his respect.

"Haha, don't worry newbie, even if you're her boss she'll give you a hard time" you give the manager a light pat on the back before letting him disappear from your sight.

Shortly afterwards, Seola appears with your drink and sits down opposite you as if nothing had happened. 

"So what's he been saying since yesterday?" you ask her in a low voice.

"People seem worried, the fact that it happened right outside the bar doesn't help, especially with the media attention of the scandal", she replies, matching the volume of your voice.

"It's not good at all, is it?"

"Not really, people here know she's directly connected to you, so we need to solve the problem quickly, at least internally"

"Leave it to me, sorry for the trouble"

The young woman gets up and goes back to her work, information gathering is crucial in your field and people like Seola, who are your ears within your walls, make it a lot easier. 

And just as you're enjoying your drink with a clear mind, you hear the sound of heels tapping in the distance, then the surrounding noise falls to a deadly silence, and without even looking in the right direction, you know who's just entered the room, and quickly all eyes follow the progress of the woman who appears behind you and finally sits down opposite you where Seola was just a minute ago.

Under the red and dim light of the room, a small woman with long light brown hair appears, wearing a strappy purple outfit that accentuates her huge breasts, slightly hidden by a large sparkling crystal heart necklace. Her make-up is striking, with heavy eye shadow and a bold lip, giving her a pouty look.

"Sit down Jessica" you say firmly and loudly so that the whole room can clearly hear your order, supported by your furious expression, the young woman obeys without saying a word except for a simple one:

"Oppa ... I" that comes weakly from her trembling voice.

It's a show of dominance that you are preparing to display to your audience. Jessi, the woman with such a charismatic and strong image, is crushed under your authority and you intend to make an example of her.

With a simple, dramatic wave of your hand, you ask one of the waiters to bring a glass of water to your table and, leaning back in your armchair, you light a cigarette, even though it's forbidden inside, but no one will dare reprimand you, given the way things have turned out.

The woman keeps her legs together, doesn't dare look at you, and stares at the glass of water in front of her. She's obviously waiting for you to start your scolding, as usual. But this time she's gone too far and you stare at her for several long minutes.

"Oppa, I... I didn't mean to cause so much trouble, The kid came out of nowhere and my friend just overreacted. It's not like I pushed him myself" The young woman finally breaks the silence and looks up at you for the first time.

You don't know where to start, the situation is so bad from every angle, so you just listen.

"Of course I feel sorry for the boy, but with the CCTV and now the police questioning, it's just nonsense. People really do have time on their hands".

You already knew she wasn't the most mature of the bunch, but her reasoning is completely wrong, so you take the lead.

"Is that all you've got to say to me?" Anger slowly builds inside you, from the tension and adrenaline pumping through you.

"YOUR FUCKING FRIEND HIT A CHILD, A MINOR, IN FRONT OF MY ESTABLISHMENT, FOR GOD'S SAKE!" You throw your half-empty glass down, shattering it into a million pieces as it hits the floor. You continue to make large movements towards Jessi, explaining:

"LISTEN TO ME, JESSICA, I AM TIRED OF CLEANING UP AFTER YOU. YOU PUT MY BUSINESS AND EVERYONE AROUND US AT RISK WITH YOUR BULLSHIT".

"Oppa, I'm sorry, sit down." Her voice shaking, she also stands up to try and calm you down, but to no effect.   

In your exaggerated anger, you rip off his collar, throw it on the table and grab his face, squeezing his cheeks hard.

"NOW YOU'RE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME VERY CAREFULLY, YOU'RE GOING TO SORT OUT THIS PROBLEM WITH THE POLICE AND THEN YOU'RE GOING TO LEAVE YOUR LABEL AND MAKE YOURSELF VERY SMALL BECAUSE I SWEAR TO YOU, IF I SEE YOUR UGLY FACE ON TV AGAIN, WE'RE REALLY GOING TO HAVE A PROBLEM".

The pressure and violence of your words overwhelms Jessi, who begins to cry her eyes out, her make-up suffering the effects and running down her face. From the outside, the scene seems to have shocked your audience, who are witnessing a public humiliation, but that's all it takes to show that you're still in control of the situation.

You let go of the woman's face, still in shock, and you can see in her eyes that she is terrified and didn't expect this when she arrived.

"Go and freshen up in a private room, I'll join you in 5 minutes, we haven't finished our discussion yet," you order her, snapping your fingers, and the young woman complies before disappearing from the main room,

You turn to your staff to apologise for the mess and you do the same to everyone in the room, the audience seems to have been captivated by the scene, leaving a feeling of respect but also fear. Finally, you make your way to the corridor where the private rooms are located.

Access to the corridor is controlled by scanning a membership card to open a sliding-door that blends seamlessly into the wall. Although entry to your establishments is already by selection, those who wish can pay to gain access to these private rooms.

Once the door is open, you enter a corridor about twenty metres long, with several doors on either side. Each of these rooms is numbered and equipped for total privacy. As you walk along with your hands in your pockets, one of the doors on your left unlocks and you see one of your clients and former idol, Ms Seolhyun, step out:

"Good evening, Madame. I hope you're having a lovely evening? Everything going well inside?" you say with a warm smile as you stop in front of door N°4, greeting her with a simple nod.

“Good evening, Sir! Everything's going great... I..I just need to go to the toilet, thank you so much for your concern!”, replies the young woman as she leans over to greet you, her large breasts on full display.

You notice the delightful sweat on her face and her gorgeous, slightly flushed complexion. You even take the time to pull up the strap of her dress that has slipped off her shoulder, being careful not to drop the access card that is stuck between her two magnificent boobs. Then you move aside to let her pass.

You discreetly peek inside and see one of your old friends, Mr Hang, sitting on the sofa at the back of the room, enjoying the mouth of a short-haired woman while playing with the breasts of another.

You shut the door yourself with your foot until you hear the click of the latch, sealing the privacy of your clients once again, and make your way back to the room next door, wearing No. 6, you take your hands out of your pockets and pull the belt out of your trousers before wrapping it around your hand. Gently, you scan your card again on the badger by the door and enter the room.

You move slowly into the room, your footsteps echoing lightly on the tiles, each inch adding gravity to the moment, and stop before a kneeling Jessi, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Without a word, you drop your belt at her feet, immediately attracting the young woman's attention, her gaze rising towards you with the anxiety she is trying to hide.

You walk past her, staring at her coldly, and sit down on the beige leather bench just behind Jessi, who is still kneeling. She now has her back to you, emphasising the vulnerability of her posture in the face of your lack of response.

And for the first time since you entered, you start talking to her : 

“Come here, darling” you say in a soft, affectionate voice and you see her obey without hesitation. She leans towards the belt on the floor, clutching it between her teeth with total obedience, in a show of deliberate submission. As she moves towards you on all fours, her eyes lowered, she seems to be aware of your penetrating gaze, which follows her without distraction, detailing her every move with silent satisfaction.

Finally, she reaches the seat and gently lifts her head to offer you your belt, her eyes tentatively searching your gaze for reassurance. In that suspended moment, you reach for your belt, then gently loop the strap around her neck, adjusting the buckle with cold precision. The belt tightens just enough to remind her of her existence without compromising her breathing. You take care to use the notch, deliberately drilled a little lower, adapted for this precise use.

“There you go” you murmur in a low, confident voice, Jessi's eyes rise slowly towards you, filled with unreserved submission, but also with a deep and palpable desire, the young woman is waiting for you to set your devotion on her.

“I'm sorry, my darling, for what I did before in front of everyone”, you gently reach out your hand to her, letting your fingers caress her still red cheek with tenderness, your thumb caressing it in a slow gesture, as if you wanted to erase your mistake, the young woman in her vulnerability closes her eyes and slowly lets her head rest on your thigh.

“But... you've been very naughty today and daddy needs to give you a little punishment, do me a favour and take off my trousers” and without further do the young woman complies and starts unbuttoning your trousers and then pulling off your underpants to free your semi-hard cock.

Jessi wraps her fingers around your shaft, gently stroking it to the head in a few thrusts. Then she extends her tongue and slides it along the underside of your cock, from the base to the tip. You let out a soft moan, your head falling back. "Go on girl, just like that..."

She swirls her tongue around your bulbous head, licking the beads of pre-cum dripping from the tip. Then she wraps her lips around it and sucks hard, lowering her head until the glans touches the back of her throat.

"Mmmmh! Now I recognise my little Jessica..." You gasp slightly as Jessi begins to rock her head back and forth, sucking on you with deep desire. One hand cupping and stroking your swollen balls as she works your shaft with her lips and tongue.

In no time at all, your cock is soaked in saliva and throbbing against the roof of her mouth. Jessi gives your swollen head a few more licks before pulling out. "Mmm do you like it when I do this daddy? Let me take care of your big cock a little longer.

She stays on her knees and slowly slides the straps of her tight dress to the side, exposing her huge tits as they bounce under the effect of gravity. You look at her lustfully and your cock continues to harden as they begin to push against each other.

She takes your thick shaft and presses it between her soft mounds, wrapping it in warm, soft flesh, squeezing her breasts around it and sliding it up and down. You just watch blissfully as your cock disappears between the flesh of her breasts, again and again.

Jessi continues to fuck you slowly and sensually, occasionally moving to suck the head of your cock before pushing it back into her cleavage. Her heavy breasts engulf it completely, your thick shaft disappearing each time before reappearing glistening with sweat. The wet, obscene sounds of her movements fill the room.

"What a needy little slut", you growl in approval as she gags and drools on your cock "You like choking on my big cock, don't you?" She hums in response, the vibrations making you roll your eyes.

Saliva drips down her chin as she works you, and you can't resist tangling your fingers in her soft hair, gripping it tightly as you begin to thrust into her mouth. "That's it, take it all in like a good girl", you command.

Jessi relaxes her throat, letting you push your cock deeper until you feel her nose pressing against your pubic bone. You hold her down, your heavy balls resting on her chin before you pull out. She gasps, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, only to see you thrust back in.

You use her mouth like a fleshlight, thrusting into her head and grunting with pleasure. Drool drips down her chin as she gags and chokes on your thick meat. But she was a fighter, she took everything you gave her.

Pulling back abruptly, you slap her face with your saliva-soaked cock, leaving traces of her own saliva on her cheeks. "Open up you little slut," you say, lifting her chin with the tip. "Ah!" Jessi screams as you thrust your cock back into her open mouth. As you start to thrust, you pull on the belt around her neck, tightening it just enough to make her dizzy. Her eyes roll back and she moans like a whore.

Holding her neck tightly, you finally let go of her hair and start slapping her fake tits hard, the impact of your thrusts leaving red marks on her body and you really let go, brutally fucking her face. Her throat swells obscenely with each deep thrust.

"Take it, you cock hungry bitch!" you growl, punctuating your words with particularly vicious thrusts. "Choke on my cock!"

Tears stream down her face as she chokes and spits, her throat convulsing around you, you can feel her dizziness from the lack of air and the rough treatment. But you don't care. All you care about is using your property for your pleasure.

Just before you spit your load, you pull out and point your cock at her face. Jessi manages to get her hands up just in time to grab your thick, heavy balls and stroke your cock as I come. Shot after shot of hot, sticky cum splashes into her face, coating her cheeks, nose and open mouth. She swallows as much as she can but it drips down her chin and onto her breasts.

"Tsk tsk, you're a mess", you say, chuckling darkly as you pull yourself in "Get up and take your dress off, we're going to have a chat while I claim your little pussy again".

Jessi stands up on shaky legs, her tiny body glistening with sweat and cum. Her once innocent face is now covered in your thick, sticky cum. Tears stream down her cheeks as the reality of what has just happened begins to sink in. She looks up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to comfort and reassure her.

You pull her towards you, hold her trembling body in your arms and let her rest on your shoulder. "Shhh, it's all right, my little girl", you coo softly, running your fingers through her tangled hair "I'm sorry, Daddy, I was naughty, I didn't mean any harm".

You slowly let her sit on you, her little body spreading out as you stroked her back. Her breasts, now covered with your fingerprints, rise with each shuddering breath. You lean down and take a stiff nipple between your lips, sucking and swirling your tongue around the sensitive bud. A soft moan escapes her as you lavish your attention on her abused breasts.

You align your still rock hard cock with her fully soaked pussy. With a slow, deep thrust, you bury yourself inside her, moaning as you feel her silky walls tighten around you. She lets out a cry, a mixture of pleasure and pain, as you thrust your thick cock into her cunt.

You begin to move, establishing a steady rhythm that makes her pussy throb around your throbbing cock. Her hands come to grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as you fuck her. Leaning down, you capture her lips in a passionate kiss, your tongue thrusting into her mouth to claim every inch of her.

Pulling away, you plant hot, mouth open kisses along her neck before latching onto her pulse point and sucking hard to leave your mark. She arched her back against you, her hips undulating in response to your deep, powerful thrusts. The wet sound of skin against skin echoes around the room, mingling with her moans of need.

"Sounds like someone needed that", you growl into her ear. "Your pussy is really tight, is it my big cock you miss so much?" Grabbing her hips hard enough to leave bruises, you thrust into her, the force of your thrusts bouncing her off your thighs.

Reaching between her spread thighs, you find her sensitive clit and begin to rub tight circles over the swollen bud. She lets out a high-pitched squeal, her head bobbing from side to side as you pull her closer to the edge. Her pussy begins to ripple and quiver around your cock, signalling her impending orgasm.

"That's it baby, let yourself go" you instruct as you pinch her clit between your fingers. "Play on my big cock like a good little slut". Her body tensed, her back on the table as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She begins to convulse, clear fluid gushing from her pussy, covering your cock and balls.

As you feel her tight pussy milking your cock, you let out a bestial grunt. Pulling out, you flip her stomach onto the table, grab your belt again, throw her head back and force your way into her still throbbing hole, giving her no time to come down from her euphoria.

You thrust into her with brutal, punishing strokes, the wet sounds of your cock sinking into her cum-soaked pussy obscenely loud. She moans and sobs, her battered body no match for your relentless assaults. The force of your thrusts shakes her entire body, her crushed tits swaying beneath her with each stroke of your hips.

Leaning over her, you bite her shoulder, growling and moaning like a wild beast as you thrust into her. Your balls slap against her clit with each thrust, bringing her to the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm.

"I'm going to cum, hold your pussy tight", you moan, your thrusts becoming erratic and you tug on your belt as your orgasm approaches. "I'm going to stuff my cum into this fertile pussy." You pound into her a few more times before thrusting deep and crashing against her womb. With a loud groan you explode, painting her insides with thick streams of hot cum.

You continue to rock inside her, driving your sperm into her quivering hole. She moans and gasps as your cock twitches inside her, each spurt sending sparks of pleasure and pain through her body.

Finally, exhausted, you collapse onto your back and pull her onto you. She lies limp, still impaled on your softening shaft, her mixed fluids flowing around your cock. You wrap your arms around her and hold her close as she kisses you lovingly, her small body shaking from the force of her orgasm.

"Shhh, it's all right now", you soothe her, covering her face and neck with soft kisses " I've missed your body, feeling your pussy milking me like that reminded me of all the times I got you pregnant, but we need to talk about what's next, darling". You whisper compliments in her ear until her breathing slowly calms down.

While you're still slumped on the bench, with Jessi resting on top of you, your phone buzzes with an incoming text message. Pulling it out of your pocket, you see that it's from your friend Mr Hang.

When you open the message, you are immediately greeted by an extremely obscene photo. In the shot, three young women - Seolhyun, Choa and Jimin are kneeling in front of the camera, their faces completely covered in huge ropes of thick, creamy cum. Each of their mouths is stretched around Mr Hang's huge semi-erect cock, obviously fresh from an aggressive blow job on its thick shaft. The bulging cockhead, coated in their saliva, glistens obscenely as it emerges between their lips. You can even see trickles of cum dripping from her chin and splashing onto her swollen breasts.

The sheer depravity of the photo makes your cock throb in Jessi's pussy. She moans and clenches around you in response to your arousal. A diabolical thought crosses your mind as to how to respond to Mr Hang's message.

Gently, you encourage Jessi to lift herself off your rigid pole. Cum immediately pours from her gaping hole, her stomach and thighs already soaked in the creamy cum you've pumped into her. It's at this moment that you realise just how much of your cum you've filled Jessica with - it's impossible not to get pregnant with such a load.

Moving surprisingly quickly for having just ejaculated inside her, Jessi collapses onto her back on the table and spreads her legs. Streams of pearly cum continue to ooze from her pussy, running down her slit and spreading over her tanned skin.

You reach out to steady Jessi's right ankle, lift her leg and use your other hand to tilt your phone for the shot. Through the lens you frame the perfect shot - Jessi's cum-filled pussy opening invitingly on the messy table, her swollen pussy lips smooth and glistening with your cum. Swirling ribbons of cum paint the insides of her thighs and the surface of the table a pure white.

You snap a few photos to immortalise the debauchery that followed your crude coupling, the obscene evidence of her well-trained hole. Pressing the screen, you send the most incriminating picture to Mr Hang in response to his obscene message, knowing that he will appreciate it.

As she rests her leg, she looks up at you coquettishly, her face flushed and her eyes heavy with desire. Your palm lands on her ass check with a resounding slap as you rub the pink imprint of your hand across her tanned skin.

"That's how I love you Jessica" you growl, your voice rough with lust. "And I'm far from finished with your wicked cunt, unless I change and hammer your arse".

Jessi moans in need and arching her back, presents her dripping cunt to you like a bitch in heat. You slap her arse again, leaving another red mark on her creamy cheeks. The way she moans and wiggles her hips fuels the fires of your excitement.

You push into Jessi's dripping pussy again as she lies on her stomach and spreads herself for you. "Remember that first night?" You ask, grunting as you sink deeper into her tight warmth. “When my little Jessica spread her legs for her daddy" She lifts her head and gives you a shy smile. "Oh yeah? You really remember our first time together ? When I signed that first contract?"

You grin, remembering clearly. "How could I forget? Eighteen years ago, you were this cheeky 17-year-old young rapper trying to make a name for yourself. So fucking eager and innocent, not realising what you were really getting into with me".

Jessi lets out a small laugh. "Innocent? Please, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to be your artist and personal fucktoy. I just had no idea how long you'd keep me around once you'd had your fun". Jessi moans, her back arching as she takes you completely inside her "Mmm yes, I'll never forget that Daddy", she moans. "You were so gentle... the first man to claim me completely".

You grip her hips tighter, your fingers digging into her soft flesh as you slap her roughly from behind. "And look at you now", you growl in approval. "My perfect little breeding slut. So eager for my cum."

"Always, my body and my womb belong to you," she says, thrusting herself back against you. "You're the only one who's ever satisfied me... who's ever filled me so well"

"Well, yes... that too. But also that you were the one. The girl I wanted to make mine forever," you slow your thrusts, savouring the feeling of her wet heat clutching you. "And I did. I've kept this tight pussy all to myself for eighteen years now."

"Mmm yeah, and what a crazy ride it's been..." Jessi muses, clutching my cock. "Like when I got knocked up, huh?"

You nod, remembering the panic and subsequent solution. "The first couple of times you told me you were pregnant, I nearly had a heart attack. I couldn't risk you carrying my child yet."

"Yep. Abortions and the morning-after pill have become my best friends'". She jokes dryly. "Although I suppose I should be grateful that you always went out of your way to help and support me afterwards".

You nod. "Yes, it's true. I could never get rid of that gorgeous bum, and I haven't even mentioned your tits" You punctuate the sentence with a hard slap on her hip.

Jessi yelps, then moans as she pushes herself back against me "Ffffuck, keep it up. I'll cum again if you do".

You smile and obey, picking up a relentless pace, watching her ass jiggle with each slam of your hips against hers. You slid one hand down her body to squeeze her tits as you fucked her mercilessly. "That's it, come for me Jessica. Squeeze my cock like the perfect little cock muff you are".

"Ungh, so close!" She gasps, the walls around you begin to throb, signalling her impending orgasm "Fuck, I'm coming again... I'm coming!"

Jessi's pussy tightened and she came with a loud moan, her whole body shaking with the force of her orgasm. The grip on her pussy was too strong and with a moan you buried yourself deep and came violently, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into her quivering pussy, still full from your previous load.

You collapsed together on the table, gasping for breath as the aftershocks rippled through us. After a moment you withdrew carefully, watching with satisfaction as your cum dripped out of her wet, saturated hole.

Jessi lay on her back and look at you with a lazy, satiated expression "Fuck, you really let it all out deep inside me, I'm not going to be able to get any more, look how my pussy is overflowing".

You giggle and take her in your arms. "Yes? Well, get used to it again. Because this body is still mine, as it has been for the last eighteen years. And I still have a long way to go before I'm done with it".

She smiled mischievously at you "Mmm, I love it when you get all dominant and take charge. I suppose this is the part where you stuff my pussy every day with your seed?"

You smile back and kiss her deeply, knowing she was right. "And I intend to keep this pussy mine for at least another eighteen years. At least. So get ready because the rules have changed, no more contraception or abortion, it's your turn to make me drink your milk, Mummy"

.

.

Your bedroom is softly illuminated by the glow of the bedside lamps. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat. Jessi lay on the king-size bed, her hair fanning out against the silk pillowcase. Her voluptuous body drenched in sweat, the marks of your passionate lovemaking visible on her ivory skin in the form of red scratches and love bites.

You stand over her, your handsome cock still semi-erect, glistening with a mixture of your combined juices. Her freshly crumpled contract, stained with traces of your thick, potent cum, lay forgotten at the foot of the bed, a testament to the depraved acts you'd just indulged in together.

"Please", Jessi moans, looking up at you with desperate, lustful eyes. "Come empty yourself inside me. I need to feel you come inside me again and again until my womb is filled with your seed."

She spreads her thighs in invitation, exposing her dripping, well-fucked pussy to your delight. "Make me pregnant, Daddyy. Now that my career is over, come and start my life as a mother. Please ravage me again!"

You tower over her, a predatory gleam in your eye as you watch the spectacle of debauchery before you. Your aching cock contracts and hardens at her shameless pleas, ready to deliver another massive load deep into her fertile young womb.

[thewulf]

If You Insist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - What if one of reader's love language Is act of service,She used to prepare a lunch box for her and her (now ex) boyfriend but he never appreciated the gesture,because he isn a kid and could buy food like his other team mates... Read Rest Here

A/N: This is just PURE fluff. Insecure reader a little bit and a very confident fluffy Jake!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k +

While you finished putting the leftovers away into glass containers Jake finished off the dishes beside you humming a song you didn’t recognize. You danced alongside him regardless, his bounciness rather infectious. You found everything about the blonde man beside you mesmerizing. Even after as long as you’ve known him and as long as you’ve been dating him you never ceased to get butterflies by his flirty comments. He never grew tired of making you blush. The day you stopped was the day he knew he fucked up.

No matter how tired he was after a long day in the air he made sure to never let you have the brunt of the chores when it came to housework. He knew you worked just as hard, if not harder, as a patent lawyer for a local firm that kept you very busy. Jake didn’t know the half of your job but when it came to listening to you dominate a conversation on the phone he knew he was absolutely head over heels for you. He found you so damn attractive when you put people down with legal jargon he could hardly understand. He was rather helplessly in love with you. Not that he minded, not a bit. He loved being in love with you. It was easy with you. Blissful with you.

Good thing too, because you were just as in love with him as he was with you. While he hadn’t proposed just yet he had big plans too. He knew he wanted to do something with the jets he flew on a daily basis but just hadn’t figured out the perfect plan. So, it’d just gave to wait a little while he talked it through with his coworkers formulating a fool proof plan that’d surly have you saying yes to him.

You and Jake had met by complete chance at the national air show during fleet week in San Diego. You’d been dragged out by your roommate who claimed you never did anything fun, so you had to prove her wrong. To your absolute horror you quite literally ran into Jake, spilling your nacho cheese all over the front of his Navy whites. You’d become a stuttering mess of a human and nearly cried you were so embarrassed when you saw the fake yellow cheese coat his perfectly pristine uniform. But Jake took it in stride. He calmed you down reassuring you that he wasn’t mad or upset. He was actually thrilled you ran into him because you were ‘quite stunning’ which brought out a brilliant blush to your cheeks. That same blush Jake strived to get from you on a daily basis. He had yet to fail.

From that moment on the two of you were glued at the hip. You’d taken it slow going from acquaintances to friends to best friends before he finally worked up the courage to ask you on a date a year after the nacho cheese fiasco. Fast forward another year and you’d never been happier in your life. You’d been dating and falling helplessly in love with your best friend. A man you only knew as Jake but heard of the stories of him as his callsign Hangman.

“Thank you.” You smiled sweetly at your boyfriend as he took the last plate from your hands.

“No need to thank me sweetheart.” He put the plate in the dishwasher, cleaned his hands and walked right up to you before planting a soft kiss right on your forehead, “Teamwork, remember?” He raised his eyebrows at  you referencing an earlier conversation the two of you had regarding housework. You felt guilty early on in the relationship when he would do random chores or cook you dinner. You felt like a failure of a girlfriend. That’s how your ex would’ve framed it anyway. He wasn’t the best guy you’d come to learn as you figured out what a loving relationship was actually supposed to be like. Jake had reassured you that as partners he would take on some of the housework and help you out. He’d made it clear it was a partnership that was always going to be worked on.

You hummed acknowledging him, “I know, I still appreciate it though.” You leaned up on your tippy toes kissing his cheek with a slowness about you that wanted to cherish the still moment you were having with the man you adored, “I appreciate you.”

He scooped you up in his arms with ease, “Of course darlin’.” Kissing your nose this time he walked over to the couch carrying you in his arms where he set you down softly before pulling you into him once more. Not that you were complaining. You learned quickly how much of a physical touch kind of guy he was. You initially weren’t. But you’d come to love it. You loved giving him what he needed and craved, it made you feel good.

“Thank you for dinner.” He squeezed your hip, “It was delicious.” Jake lived for moments like these. Moments where it was just you and him. The house was quiet. Life was relaxed. You were as beautiful as ever. It revived him after long days of relentless thinking and berating from his superiors. You recharged him without doing a single thing. That’s how he knew you were his one and only. He just wanted to be around you, no question. He’d choose you over and over again without so much as a second thought. He thought he knew love before you, but he was sorely mistaken. Each and every day with you was a gift he made sure to cherish and relish. He just hoped you knew how much you meant to him. How he literally couldn’t do life without you anymore. You were his shining beacon, his north star, the guiding light he never knew he needed. And he couldn’t bear the thought of losing that thing that kept him chugging along. He needed you. Now and forever.

You grinned up to him, brushing his overgrown hair out of his face, “You know it babe. I know you’ve had a rough week. Want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to but it looks like somethings on your mind?” You asked softly noticing the small changes. He never snapped at you, but he seemed more irritated, more on edge. Had he gotten a new assignment? Gotten into an argument with a superior? It wasn’t like him to not talk to you about it, no matter how small.

He laughed it off softly, “It’s dumb, really.”

You shook your head before resting it on his chest. Breathing in his scent you were sure you’d never tire of it. He always just smelled so damn good. No matter what. After a workout? He smelled heavenly. A long day of work? No sweat, he smelled perfect. Waking up? The most amazing morning scent. You were attracted to him no matter what. That’s how you knew you were a goner. He never made you angry or annoyed either. As much as you loved your friends and family they still always annoyed you to pieces when you spent an extended amount of time with them. Not Jake, no. You could spend every second tied at the hip for the rest of eternity and still have a good time.

“I promise it’s not dumb if it’s bothering you.” You spoke as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

He wrapped an arm around you to secure into his chest, “The admiral decided the cafeteria needed a renovation, so we’ve been without one for the week. Thought it’d be okay but I’m struggling. We’re all struggling” He laughed hating to admit how defeated he was by the simple problem, “Not enough time to run out for food and well… I haven’t packed a lunch since I was twelve. Seems like the whole squadron is in the same boat.”

You smiled giving him a squeeze, “That’s not dumb Jake. You’re just hungry my love.”

He gave you a sheepish smile back, “I haven’t taken it out on you, have I?”

Shaking your head you ran along his arm, “Hardly. You just seemed a little more agitated this week is all.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” He closed his eyes leaning back into the couch relishing every second he got with you like this. Utter peace. He’d wish for nothing else other than this. Life was bliss with you.

You laughed softly letting yourself mold into him preparing yourself for the movie night Jake had proposed earlier on during dinner. Your favorite kind of night. A night spent in cuddling up to your favorite human to ever exist. This was what life was made for. What else could you really ask for?

“Hardly.” You yawned mumbling into his side feeling your week catch up to you, “I’d be a shitty lawyer if it did.”

“You could never be shitty at anything, not even if you tried darlin’.” Jake spoke while rubbing your head with the softest strokes knowing it was your ultimate weakness. You wouldn’t be awake for too much longer if he continued doing it and he knew it.

You hummed, “Flatter me Seresin.” You felt drunk for the tiredness the didn’t allow your eyes to open.

You felt the vibration of his chest before hearing the sound of his laughter, “Flattery or truth?”

Mumbling something incoherent you didn’t even know you were saying you let the darkness take over as you fell asleep on your rock. He made you feel more safe and secure than anyone or anything had before. He was worth the wait and the shitty relationships you struggled through before.

You didn’t think much of it as you packed a second lunch for Jake while making your own the next morning. You had to be in early this week for court, so you were up before him for a change. You’d decided to just go ahead and pack the innocent man his own lunch that would actually fill him up instead of the random shit you knew he just threw together in the morning while he was half awake.

You wrote him a simple note, ‘Hope you enjoy, love you!’ Leaving it on top of the food and putting it in the fridge hoping he’d appreciate the small gesture.

You’d forgotten all about it until Jake had made it back to your apartment that night. You weren’t expecting him but it was always a pleasant surprise when he did come over. Instead of his usual gentle kiss he all but bull rushed you into a corner before scooping you up and slathering you in a slew of kisses all over your face.

You started giggling feeling all too giddy with his lips all over and his hands roaming your waist, “Jake!” You couldn’t contain the laughter from the high of the interaction between you and him. God, you loved this man beyond measure.

“I love you soooo much.” He grinned once he pulled back. He made sure to go in for one, much longer, kiss on your lips before wrapping his

You kept on giggling not sure where this was all coming from. Not that you were complaining. Not in the slightest. It was refreshing to have a partner who was so forthcoming with how he felt. It was so different than any relationship you had been in prior.

“I love you too! Where’s this coming from?” You had to ask hoping it wouldn’t dampen his sweet mood.

“You packed me a lunch. Do you know how jealous the squadron was? Rooster couldn’t believe it. Phoenix was jealous as hell. Fanboy was all but begging for the sandwich you packed.” He snickered recalling the envious faces of his dagger coworkers.

You shook your head, “That was nothing babe.” You said as if it were nothing. Truth be told you were insecure about the whole thing. Not knowing if you overstepped a boundary or anything. The last time you tried to do something sweet like that for your ex you got scolded for wasting food because he didn’t ask you to pack him a lunch. You were careless and wasteful. You should’ve known it would’ve been different with Jake though. Everything was different when it came to Jake. The polar fucking opposite of the narcissistic guys you normally dated.

He shook his head setting you back down on the ground, “Nothing? Sweetheart! That was everything. Thank you. I love you.” He made sure to plant another soft, gentle kiss to your lips just to let you know how sincere he was being.

You grinned up to him, “Really, it was nothing.” You insisted before plating up dinner for the now two of you. You’d always made extra for lunch, so it wasn’t a hassle that he came. It was a pleasure to have his company when you were expecting to sit in silence or watch some silly rerun you’d seen a hundred times.

He eyed you knowing how hard it was for you to take compliments, “No sweetheart, that’s wifey material.” He watched your reaction seeing how’d you respond to that.

“Oh, is it?” You laughed it off setting a plate down in front of him at the table.

“Beyond.” He nodded before looking down at dinner, “And now my favorite for dinner? Like you were expecting me or something?” He gave you a grin knowing you loved the dish just as much as he did, “You’re spoiling me honey.”

You grabbed your own plate before joining him, “You deserve it. You do the same for me. Let me.”

He simply nodded his head happily grabbing at his fork, “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do babe, I do.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm taking about your day.

The next day at work you’d gotten a few texts from numbers you weren’t familiar with. When you finally got a second at your own lunch break to check you broke out into a grin seeing the video Bradley had sent you.

Jake was showing off the lunch you packed him to the overly jealous group of pilots. Who were all sing songing your praises.

‘You’re so lucky. My girlfriend told me to pack my own damn lunch.’ A male voice you didn’t recognize came through making you laugh.

Natasha’s unmistakable voice came next, ‘She’s too good to you Hangman.’

‘Trust me, I know.’ You heard your loves own voice sending your heart into a literal tizzy. How could he think that? If anything, it was the other way around. He was too damn good to you. You just merely tried to return the favor.

Bradley sent the video with the text, ‘You spoil him you know that? He’s become extra insufferable these last few days with your lunch specials.’ Bradley made sure to end the text with a wink letting you know he was just playing with you.

You dialed Jake’s number not sure if he was back in the skies or not. But the quick answer let you know he was still available.

“Sweetheart! Is everything okay?” he asked almost nervous for your call to him.

“All good babe.” You were grinning ear to ear, “Bradley sent me a video, enjoy your lunch?”

He chuckled. A sound you’d come to cherish over the course of your relationship with him, “Darlin’, I loved your lunch. Love your lunches. I’ve never felt so happy eating a lunch before. I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I’m being serious.” He admitted quieting down with the second part of that statement probably trying to hide it from his dagger squad members.

“I’m glad you like it hon. Just wanted to check in.” You spoke with a full on happy little smile dancing across your face. You weren’t sure what good you did to deserve a love so pure as his but damn were you thrilled you snatched it up when you could. A love so secure and sure, so positive and pure.

He clicked his tongue, “I’m going to make it up to you, tonight.”

You retuned his laugh from earlier, “Jake, that’s hardly necessary.”

You were sure he was shaking his head, “See that’s where your wrong sweetheart. It’s very necessary. I want to. What’d you say last night? Let me spoil you? Well, let me spoil you pretty.”

You wished you were at home with him right now and not separated by miles and a base, “Alright, if you insist.” You joked along with him.

“I insist. And I think you’ll like it, the surprise that is.” His voice deepened hinting at one thing and one thing only.

You twirled your hair in your hand letting your mind wander just a tad. With a love so sure it was only natural things came easily between the two of you in the bedroom, “Any hints?” You teased along with him.

“I think you have an idea sweetheart.” He didn’t miss a beat letting you know exactly what he had in mind. You, him and a lack of clothing or something like that.

You sighed internally looking at the time, only half past one. The day was going to drag on, “Can’t wait.” You let out after a quick pity party for yourself.

He gave you one last deep chuckle, “You can’t? I can’t wait to see that beautiful face.” You knew he could get a lot more… graphic with it. But he was likely standing right next to Bradley or Bob, and it wasn’t the time nor place.

Pursing your lips you stifled the laugh, “I’ll see you at my place tonight?”

“I’ll see you. Be ready. Love you.”

“And I love you.” You hummed before ending the call. Shaking your head, you placed the phone on the desk next to you. Focus. Just focus on this case for the next four hours then you had a night to Jake. You could do this. You could. Jake would surely be the death of you though. But you just couldn’t care. You were going to let yourself be distracted and happy. You were in love with the best man for you. Oh how happy life could be.

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[corrunuptia]

@yellowfingcr

♚;  

                                           footsteps hurried behind great wooden doors. the crackling of the flames along the stone walls. the wind howling fiercely, biting cold at this time of year. all of these sounds clear like ice over a pointless cacophony of speech.

‘ we need act swiftly, commander francis. ‘tis well known now that unrest in yharnam is building. the bridge to cainhurst should be closed with all due haste, to avoid insurgents stoking the lower classes. ’

‘ and leave us without the grain and foodstuffs that sustain us through winter? let us not act foolishly and mobilize precious troops in fear of mere rabble- ’

‘ then are we to wait for a revolution, like crabs in a boiling pot? ’

the argument goes on and on around the long table. annalise sits at one end, head resting on her hand, her attention entirely elsewhere. her ministers quabble ceaselessly - why, if she does not stop them, she fears they could continue going until they both died of old age. she then reconsiders this fact: if they keep her locked in this parley hall one more hour, she will have them both killed.

of course, there would be unrest in yharnam. mere mortals, partaking of a holiness they do not deserve, playing house with the children of gods. they are fools to the one - even the creature that brought to her the delightful blood that awakened the great powers of her line. for what devil or witch was ever so great as the first queen herself, whose burning ichor flowed in these veins, the great mother of phtumeru? to think it was that filthy betrayer who brought it before her.

annalise’s disinterest begets the attention of the young lord annenkov, son of the present lieutenant of the same name. 

‘ your highness, far from me the thought of ordering you, but your thoughts on this matter would be appreciated. i simply wish to make certain your silence is not interpreted as permission to go on forever by our eloquent debaters. i am certain we all have better things to do today, yourself chiefest of all, ’ he smiles. 

proud little swine, she thinks to herself. a good looking young boy, all too ambitious for his own good in a nation where indulgence is one's right and one's death. she remembers the young lord asking her for a dance at the grand ball where he made his début, drunk with blood and the elation of her attention. she thought she had crushed his confidence under her heel sufficiently that night, but it appears it wasn’t enough. she sighs, redressing in her chair and dismissing the boy’s comment with a wave.

‘ thou wouldst do well to teach thy son some manners if he is to be welcome at our inner court, lieutenant annenkov. thy loyal service has afforded you many rights, but our patience comes at too high a price for even thee.’

a delicate hand comes to rest on her forehead, ruffling ash blonde hair.

‘ though impertinently, the young lord brings a fair point. we do not wish to spend overlong in circular discussions with no end in sight. ministers, we ask that thou maketh thy point more efficiently, should this issue arise again. how long ago hath either of thee visited the city, we must ask? the one whose thoughts we should hear on the matter is not ye, nor ourself this time. ’

annalise turns to her left. in the corner of the parley hall, nearby the great stained glass window that bathed it in green and blue, an outsider had been allowed to sit. ministers and officers alike had voiced much discontent, surely leading to the guest's silence, but annalise would not hear their complaints. this was her court, after all, and if she wished for a dog to sit on her council, so it would be - a cur would at the very least have no eyes for the throne; better than some of the rats that already spoke at the table, hungry for scraps of her power.

‘ lady heysel, thou hath sought asylum here from yharnam not too long ago, yes? if there is aught thou knowest of the situation there, we would much like to hear it. do not be shy overmuch! we have allowed thee to attend our court for this very reason.’

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 We Are Not Checkmated (muted)

3. "Democracy is a meaningless sham as long as the working class is under the boot-heel of capital."

+1 Communism

Level up!

That's Mazovian Socio-Economics coming in with the bonus XP for saying Communist things.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant clears his throat. "Of course, the detective's personal views do not represent the views of the RCM."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Ah, my friend, but the lesson of the Revolution is that communism does not work."

"It 'didn't work' because the Coalition crushed it violently."

"We just haven't tried *real* communism yet."

"And you're telling me *this* world here is working out well?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oh, yes, the big bad Coalition crushed the Revolution. Tell me, if the revolution was succeeding, would it have been crushed so easily?"

"Are we really so bad for wanting compromise, peace, and prosperity -- on reasonable, achievable terms? Ask yourself that."

"Now, enough of this delightful political interlude. Was there anything else you wanted to ask?"

6. "Tell me about Sur-la-Clef."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "What's there to say? Sur-la-Clef is a modern, urbanized country that measures very high on the Human Development and Freedom Index. Mostly, though, it's known as the executive heart of *EPIS*..."

"Moreover, it is a great sponsor of less-emerged countries. Revachol is only one of its many darlings whose progress it supports and cherishes."

"What makes Revachol Sur-la-Clef's 'darling'?"

"That's nice of them."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Because a great percentage of Revachol's culture hails from Sur-la-Clef -- its language, its people, its cuisine even, or at least in the downtown La Delta area."

PERCEPTION (TASTE) [Medium: Success] Jamrock and other parts of the International Zone have been mercifully spared of Sur-la-Clef's love for meatballs and mashed potatoes.

7. "Tell me about Oranje."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oranje is an *exemplary* nation who, as a core member of EPIS, contributes 28% of our annual budget. Next to Sur-la-Clef, Oranje is probably the most prominent member of the international community."

"Which one of them is more EPIS?"

"Okay, but outside of EPIS, what is Oranje?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "As founding members they are *both* very EPIS. Oranje carries a lot of political weight, while Sur-la-Clef takes care of the business side of things -- Sur-la-Clef hosts the headquarters of the major EPIS institutions."

"Okay, but outside of EPIS, what is Oranje?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oranje's economy is one of the most advanced in the world. It has successfully transitioned from heavy industry to advanced services, and generally acts as an engine for sustainable change in the international community."

"Can't you just… talk like a normal person?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "About what?"

"About Oranje -- just tell me what it's like there."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Oh, it's very urban and very well-organized. Their streets are clean, their horsecars run on time, the people are polite and efficient. Like I said, they are an example for less-emerged nations to follow."

8. "Enough business, let's talk about something else."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Whatever you wish, officer."

3. "Can you tell me about your friend?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Ah, my friend. My friend is a good young man. His family immigrated here from Kedra and life has not been easy for him. But he understands the importance of education. He has taken his future into his own hands and that's all that matters."

"What's Kedra?"

"How did you two even become friends?"

"You still haven't told me who he is."

"What are you doing in his apartment by yourself?"

"I had something else in mind..."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Kedra is a candidate member of EPIS. But, between you and me, their potential membership is a more... *contentious* issue."

"What do you mean?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "That it's never going to happen. They entered negotiations in '21 and it's been pending ever since."

"What's this EPIS thing you keep talking about?"

"But that doesn't tell me anything about Kedra itself. Is it warm there? Cold? Something in-between?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "EPIS is a very special program developed by the Moralintern to support certain Occidental nations. It began as a unified system of weights and measures, which proved to be a *wild* success. Nothing but kilograms and centimetres as far as the eye can see!"

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - God, yes. Sweet standardisation. The backbone of rationality -- and commerce.

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It was *such* a wild success that we expanded it into an economic union for the processing of steel -- another success. And between you and me... the Moralintern feels *emboldened* by this success. Emboldened to take EPIS to the next level."

"Okay, but like, what does it stand for?"

"What's the next level?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Why, it stands for progress and stability, like the Moralintern as a whole."

"No, what do the *letters* stand for?"

"Sure, fine. What's this next level you were talking about?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It's been such a wild, *extraordinary* success thus far. We are very excited to take it to the next level..."

"You don't even hear the words I'm saying, do you?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "A supranational political alliance, the United States of Occident."

"Is it going to be like this place here?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "You mean Revachol? No, it's going to have transparent democracy."

"Is Revachol going to be part of EPIS?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It's one day going to be a *candidate member* of EPIS, sure."

"Didn't you say that candidate members never become real members?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "No, no, candidate members *do* become members, why do we even have the whole system in place if they don't? It just takes time -- time and evaluation."

"But we were talking about my friend here, not politics..." He chuckles gently.

2. "How did you two even become friends?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "How did any of us become friends? Bad things happening on the Insulindian isola. Oil platforms ablaze in the night. Civil wars lasting for years. Finally, the international community is forced to step in."

"What are you talking about? No one becomes friends that way."

"You're describing how the Coalition occupied Revachol."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "One of the wonders of democracy is that everyone is allowed to have his own opinion." The man pats his pockets, looking for something. "And not just allowed, *encouraged* even. Have you ever tried debate?"

"What do you mean?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Debating. You should consider joining a debating society for adults. I hear they're *oodles* of fun. I used to have a flyer for one, but..."

"But now that I start to think of it, it was for an improv class anyway. It's this funny theatre thing, you know," he moves his fingers, "very *creative*, helps relieve stress."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - A chill runs down your spine as you envision a half-dozen people in professional attire standing around a chair awkwardly pretending to be waiting for a motor-bus. It's neither funny nor creative.

3. "You still haven't told me who he is."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Sorry, who?" The man throws a quick glance at his watch.

"Your friend, the smoker on the balcony. We were just talking about him."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "But I told you, officer. He's a bright young man here to pursue his education. Education is the foundation of our future, especially the arts. It is a cornerstone of our civilization."

"Fine, but what's his real name?"

"So all you can tell me about him is that he's here to study the arts?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Officer, you have to understand... I can't give you his personal information. I'm sure you have your own methods and databases, right? Please don't put me in this situation."

2. "So all you can tell me about him is that he's here to study the arts?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "He's deeply enmeshed in the study of the fine arts, yes."

"Which arts?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "He's a truly free spirit. He likes all the arts. Perhaps graphic design? Printmaking? Who knows? The world is open wide for a talented youth like him."

4. "What are you doing in his apartment by yourself?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "I'm just enjoying the view," the man smiles, nodding to the window.

"What view? It's dark outside."

"Isn't it rude for your friend to leave you alone like this?"

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Listen," he says, raising his hand...

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - A baby is crying in the neighbouring apartment.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Legendary: Success] - Waves crashing in the distance, the sound of sea below the window.

"I can hear the waves."

"Someone's baby is crying."

"What? I'm not hearing anything."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "The Insulindian Bay."

"What about it?"

"I was asking about your friend."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "This place used to be a luxury accommodation, before the Revolution. Apartments, of course, were much bigger then -- a few walls have been added here and there, leaving some of the tenants without a private bathroom or a kitchen..."

"But the million reál view stays. You can't take that away." He knocks on the balcony door, his face mirrored in the darkened glass.

"I was asking about your friend."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "My friend comes and goes. I'm sure you'll see him around, he's a busy bee."

5. "I had something else in mind..."

SUNDAY FRIEND - "I'm all ears, officer."

4. "Thanks, I've got all I need." [Leave.]

SUNDAY FRIEND - "A moment, officer."

"Do you have everything you need from me? I'm afraid we won't have the chance to speak again once you leave."

"Hold on, why can't we talk later?"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just want to take a look around in this apartment." [Leave.]

"Thanks for the heads up, but my work here is done." [Leave.]

SUNDAY FRIEND - "It's against diplomatic best practices for an official in my position to be discussing murders with local militiamen." He pauses. "And I'm pressed for time. After you leave, I should be leaving as well."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - That's not the real reason he's so apprehensive -- men in his position shouldn't be seen loitering around in underprivileged young men's apartments in the middle of the night.

There's nothing else we're going to get out of this guy, unless we want to accuse him of the murder. And as much as I'd *like* to do that, I get the feeling it's a bad idea.

2. "Thanks for the heads up, but my work here is done." [Leave.]

SUNDAY FRIEND - "Of course, I'm sorry I couldn't be the 'break' you were looking for. Good luck with the investigation."

[gumjrop]

On May 4, Ontario, Canada resident Joshua M. Ferguson was issued the province’s first nonbinary birth certificate. Instead of an “M” or an “F,” Ferguson’s birth certificate is now assigned the gender-neutral marker, “X.” The decision comes on the heels of similar groundbreaking laws in California, Oregon, and the District of Columbia, which began allowing residents to choose “X” as their gender on government IDs in 2017.

These new policies are undoubtedly cause for celebration. Nonbinary, intersex, and transgender residents will no longer have to make the compromise of selecting a gender designation that doesn’t align with their true identity. They’ll be able to experience the affirmation that arises from being acknowledged by their government and being able to be visible as their most authentic self.

But is there a downside to third gender markers?

If the transgender, intersex, and nonbinary communities have learned anything from the last several years, it’s that visibility and recognition often come with a price.

As we passed through the transgender tipping point, we entered into a period of increased bias-related violence, particularly targeting trans women of color. We entered into a period where governments are now debating the right for trans people to use the bathroom that aligns with their gender and where the actual U.S. president has taken unprecedented measures to ban transgender people from serving in the military.

Things have gotten better, yes. But, they have also gotten very, very bad. Could the very visibility that will help affirm transgender, intersex, and nonbinary people in our identities also expose us to more harassment, discrimination, and harm?

Transgender, intersex, and nonbinary people are often mistreated by the police even when they themselves are seeking assistance. According to the National Center for Transgender Equality’s 2015 U.S. Trans Survey, 58% of respondents who had interacted with the police in the year prior to taking the survey had experienced some form of mistreatment such as being verbally harassed, misgendered, physically assaulted, or sexually assaulted. It doesn’t seem far-fetched that a police officer or other government official might discriminate against a person with an “X” marker on their ID. And call me paranoid, but in the Trump era where registry threats hang in the air, the last thing I want is for the government to have an easily accessible database of all its trans, nonbinary, and intersex citizens.

Currently in the U.S., legislation is being proposed, and even passed, that would require people to use the bathroom associated with their assigned sex. With so few gender-neutral bathrooms, locker rooms, and other spaces available, it seems possible that people with third gender markers might struggle to gain access to some of these necessary spaces. Will people with third gender markers struggle to find a place to pee in peace, particularly in places where discrimination is legitimized culturally and even legally?

It is often in the act of presenting legal identification that trans people face some of the worst discrimination — particularly if their legal gender doesn’t match their gender expression. According the 2015 U.S. Trans Survey, 25% of respondents had been verbally harassed when showing an ID that was incongruent with their gender, while 16% had been denied services or benefits, and 9% had been asked to leave an establishment.

All of which is not to say that third gender marker policies should not be passed — they’re a major step in a positive direction. But there’s much more to consider in terms of “legalizing” nonbinary genders, and there’s a whole lot more work to be done.

It’s crucial for government entities that offer a third gender marker to recognize that education, training, and policies will need to be implemented in order to ensure that folks with a third gender marker are treated with dignity and to make certain that they have access to medical care and a place to use the bathroom safely. Passing this legislation is an important step in promoting respect for nonbinary folks, but it would be dangerous to make the assumption that just because this one important legal change has been made, transgender, intersex, and nonbinary people are now any safer or more accepted than they were yesterday.

So do we need gender markers on our IDs at all? A major win regarding Ontario's new policy is that it allows for one to completely remove the gender marker on their birth certificate. And one of the organizations that spearheaded the fight for the third gender marker in California, Intersex & Genderqueer Recognition Project, says in the following their mission statement: “In the future, as with race or religion, sex or gender should not be a category on birth certificates or identification documents for anybody.”

With a glint of optimism, I certainly hope this is the case — that further legislation makes critical steps toward a future without gender markers at all.

KC Clements is a queer, nonbinary writer, speaker, and educator based in Brooklyn, NY. Their work has been featured on The Establishment, Bustle, Into, GO Magazine, Huffington Post, Healthline, and more.

Clements, KC. “Legally Nonbinary: What It Means to Change Your Gender Marker from M or F to X.” Them, Them, 10 May 2018, https://www.them.us/story/legally-nonbinary-third-gender-markers.

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

May 7, 2024

TOP 10 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A COP AT A RIOT

10 – Love your outfit, it really brings out your eyes.

9 – Does your mother know you're out late?

8 – Come on man, this is our class project for Poly Sci.

7 – I love it when you talk dirty.

6 – Dude, can you spare a donut.

5 – We're the Rec Department. Check out our new tents.

4 – You know, they have a cure for bad breath.

3 – What's you're favorite position.

2 – Weren't you the guy who kissed Majorie Taylor Greene on the lips.

1 – And the worst thing to say to a cop at a riot: Is that a big stick or are you just glad to see me.

GOV. DeSANTIS BANS LAB MEAT, INTESTINAL FORTITUDE

“We will save our beef,” declared Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis regarding meat grown in laboratories. But saving face, well that's another story. In Florida they like to ban stuff — books, abortions, back bone. The petri dish beef ban comes on the heels of DeSantis' come-to-Jesus meeting with former President Donald Trump, where the governor demonstrated he still has a taste for buttocks — real buttocks, real big buttocks. DeSantis even told supporters he is willing to help fundraise for Trump, when he isn't busy kissing The Donald's hammies. “It’s true that Trump doesn’t forgive easily — but he does love when people show remorse for what he views as disloyalty,” said columnist Hayes Brown. “Especially when that groveling comes with dollar signs attached to it.” DeSantis joins a long list of Republicans who have surrendered to the “Man Who Would Be King:” Sens. Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, Lindsey Graham, Tim Scott... the list goes on and on. Trump makes Republicans do what he wants by threatening and bullying, and those who cross him pay with humiliation — they must praise him as the Second Coming. The only defense is honesty and integrity — oops, looks like the Republicans banned that, too. Bummer.

BIDEN SHOULD SHOOT HIS DOG

If you've been hiding out at the animal shelter you may not know that Kristi Noem, the South Dakota governor who was on the short list to be Donald Trump's V.P., bragged in her new memoir, ”No Going Back,” that she shot her 14-month-old dog, Cricket, because he wasn't any good at pheasant hunting. He also killed some chickens. “I hated that dog,” she wrote. No Wilson, we are not making this up. She caught a bunch of grief from the liberal lame-stream media with such headlines as: “Noem shoots dog, commits political suicide.” Kinda catchy. So the ranch-girl governor doubled down on CBS's “Face the Nation,” saying President Joe Biden's dog should be shot, too, for biting Secret Service agents. He then could meet her puppy in Dog Heaven: “Commander, say hello to Cricket for me.” Haha. What a sense of humor. Some pundits suggest she included the ugly scene in her book to impress Trump with her toughness. Noem also noted putting down three horses, promising “more real, honest and politically incorrect stories that’ll have the media gasping.” Yes, Wilson, she got that part right. But the puppy-killer gambit may have backfired. Even MAGA celebs Don Jr. and Steve Bannon thought it was a little too base. Praise the lord and pass the ammunition

Post script — That's a wrap for another lovely week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of who's using public restrooms so you don't have to. Under a new Utah law people can rat out anyone using a restroom that does not reflect their sex at birth (read trans people). They can report violations on the so-called “hotline complaint form.” Offenders could be charged with criminal trespass and fined $10,000 per violation. Continuing with the Big Brother theme: In a Time magazine interview, Donald Trump said he would not prevent states from passing and enforcing laws allowing monitoring of people's pregnancies to make sure no one gets an illegal abortion. The legislation would require pregnant women to submit to regular government exams. And you thought car inspections were intrusive. That brings us to “Abortion Tourism,” the cute expression coined by anti-abortion activists for women having to travel long distances to receive medical care — as if reproductive healthcare is some kind of a luxury vacation. Try and come up with a pithy punchline for that. Ugh.

Young people are protesting on college campuses across the nation. But the authorities don't like it. They say the First Amendment is sacred unless you've got tents. Cops in riot gear break up peaceful protests and say no fee speech when there's violence. So wake up the band, Wilson, and take us out with an anthem for the times:

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son? And where have you been, my darling young one? I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you meet, my blue-eyed son? Who did you meet, my darling young one? I met a young child beside a dead pony I met a white man who walked a black dog I met a young woman whose body was burning I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow I met one man who was wounded in love I met another man who was wounded in hatred And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son? And what'll you do now, my darling young one? I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin' I'll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest Where the people are many and their hands are all empty Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison And the executioner's face is always well hidden And I'll tell and speak it and think it and breathe it And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it And I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin' But I'll know my song well before I start singin' And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

(It's A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall — Bob Dylan)

[nickgerlich]

Bowls And Lids

It’s funny/sad that I am returning to a company that I wrote about a year ago, and the story is even more grim now than it was then. Most of my students these days have little or no experience with this company and their products, primarily because it is a generational thing.

But just ask your parents and grandparents about our company du jour—Tupperware—and they will regale you with tales of cabinets full of mismatched bowls and lids, and in-home parties where these things were bought and sold. Maybe you inherited some from them, but more than likely, you have cheaper, competing brands in your kitchen.

Tupperware was introduced as a consumer brand in 1946 by Earl Tupper, who apparently liked his surname so much that he named the company and its product line after himself. In the 1950s, he started recruiting women to host Tupperware parties, usually at the home of a friend, who would then invite a gaggle of other friends to attend. The party coordinator would showcase all of the products in this very high-context environment, which then caused all of the women to open their purses.

It was part multilevel marketing scheme, part peer pressure. How could you say no when surrounded by all of those other women? It was sheer genius at the time, and Tupper promoted it as a form of female empowerment such that a woman could do this on a regular basis and provide income for her family. I think we can all agree that his intent here was good, even if it reinforced domestication of women. We can also agree that his method of direct marketing was very lucrative.

But Tupper continued to rely on in-home selling at a time when mass merchandising stores were spreading their reach across the nation, followed by e-commerce. The company was very slow to concede these points, having dug in its heels in the familiar soil of tradition. It started selling online in 1999 in an understated kind of way, and in Target stores in 2022, but the company still relies on the party method as if it were the gospel.

Somehow, Tupperware has managed to hang on, but the last year has found it on life support, unable to maintain liquidity. COVID dealt it a nice hand up, if only because people were cooking more at home and thus had leftovers to preserve, but those days are over. Between increasing costs of manufacturing, decreasing sales, and what the firm calls “significant attrition,” it looks like Tupperware is circling the drain.

Tupperware should have asked important questions years ago. Who has time or desire to host parties these days? Who wants to attend such gatherings? Who wants to buy storage containers this way and have to wait what is now an unacceptable amount of time to take possession, when there are any number of in-store and online alternatives available?

Yeah, it was quaint and very successful for a while, but it outlived its usefulness. We moved on, and Tupperware did not. They should have embraced e-commerce whole-heartedly, not just with lip service. And they should have forged reseller arrangements long before the recent one with Target. Yes, using middlemen cuts into margins, but you have the opportunity to sell much more. Imagine if they had partnered with Amazon 25 years ago. We probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.

I have many remembrances of Tupperware products. My mother also allowed herself to be used to host—I mean, she let her friend entice her with the promise of a gift item for hosting—a party in our house. My father, brother, and I had to leave the building.

It probably wasn’t worth all the effort, cleaning the house prior, preparing dainty little snacks, and cleaning up afterward, all for a couple of bowls and lids. And I’m pretty sure that Mom didn’t feel the empowerment vibe, because she wasn’t interested in being a Tupperware sales rep. Besides, as we have come to know with multilevel marketing companies, methods like this are probably a good way to lose friends.

I am not sure if I will be writing another blog about Tupperware this time next year. Things are looking far worse than just 12 months ago, and if it were possible, Tupperware needs to be designing a huge company-sized storage container to preserve itself.

Dr “Just Remember To Burp The Lid” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 312

John 1:4

UNITY OF THE BODY 15 – DEADLY INFILTRATION 3

1Co 1:10 I urge you, my brothers and sisters, FOR THE SAKE OF THE NAME OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, TO AGREE TO LIVE IN UNITY WITH ONE ANOTHER AND PUT TO REST ANY DIVISION THAT ATTEMPTS TO TEAR YOU APART. BE RESTORED AS ONE UNITED BODY LIVING IN PERFECT HARMONY. Form a consistent choreography among yourselves, HAVING A COMMON PERSPECTIVE WITH SHARED VALUES. TPT

There are Principles in Warfare you should know: if you are to face a stronger enemy, the possible chance of winning is either to attack the Weakest point in that enemy [Technical] or find a way to turn the Strong amongst them, against their weaker ones [Psychological].

Either one or both ways, you have a chance.

2Ti 3:5-6 They may pretend to have a respect for God, but in reality they want nothing to do with God’s power. Stay away from people like these! For they are the ONES WHO WORM THEIR WAY INTO THE HEARTS OF VULNERABLE WOMEN, spending the night with those who are captured by their lusts and steeped in sin. TPT

Did you notice: “worm their way” into hearts? That means pretentiously, secretly or cunningly.

That is Technical Warfare, where a weaker “Nation” tactically preys on “the weak” of the stronger Nation.

I have shown us b4 how God set us to be above satan in every way, making him weaker, and he knows it.

Gen 3:14-15 Then the LORD God said to the snake, "You will be punished for this; you alone of all the animals must bear this curse: From now on you will crawl on your belly, AND YOU WILL HAVE TO EAT DUST AS LONG AS YOU LIVE. I will make you and the woman hate each other; her offspring and yours will always be enemies. HER OFFSPRING WILL CRUSH YOUR HEAD, AND YOU WILL BITE HER OFFSPRING'S HEEL." GNB

satan “will have to eat dust” mean he can always exploit the weakest, degenerates and ignorant (Hos 4:6), even of the church. I have also shown how a man becomes “dust” and food for satan, right?

Gen 3:19 By the sweat of your brow, you will produce food to eat until you return to the ground, because you were taken from it. YOU ARE DUST, AND YOU WILL RETURN TO DUST." GW

You must now know: satan prefers the second option (Psychological Warfare) for three reasons:

First, if you have infections (Technical war against the weak) in your body, you take drugs, which fight the infection and aid the Immune System too.

The Strong will rush to help the weak. Anytime there is ailment or infections in the body, Lymphocytes (The Army) always rush to the “weak site” to defend furiously.

Jos 10:4,6 "THE GIBEONITES have signed a peace treaty with Joshua and the Israelites. Come and help me attack Gibeon!"… the Gibeonites sent a message to the Israelite camp at Gilgal: "JOSHUA, PLEASE COME AND RESCUE US! The Amorite kings from the hill country have joined together and are attacking us. WE ARE YOUR SERVANTS, SO DON'T LET US DOWN. PLEASE HURRY!" CEV

Yes, the weak will cry out to the strong for help and they will be [mostly] rescued easily.

That shows a perfect body, living in Love and Unity.

The second reason why satan prefers the psychological warfare – confusing the strong to attack their own weak – is that you won’t take drugs to kill the strong because you will be killing the body too.

You can only use drugs to suppress the “Crazy” Immune System – whose minds have then become messed up by the intruder – from evil.

Joh 16:2-3 They will put you out of the synagogue, yet A TIME IS COMING WHEN THE ONE WHO KILLS YOU WILL THINK HE IS OFFERING SERVICE TO GOD. THEY WILL DO THESE THINGS BECAUSE THEY HAVE NOT KNOWN THE FATHER OR ME. NET

Have you not noticed that while we see so much of problems with leaders in the church, we are always careful about deriding them because we know that we could be bringing down the church as well, right?

Mat 23:2-3 “THE RELIGIOUS SCHOLARS AND THE PHARISEES SIT ON MOSES’ THRONE AS THE AUTHORIZED INTERPRETERS OF THE LAW. SO LISTEN AND FOLLOW WHAT THEY TEACH, but don’t do what they do, for they tell you one thing and do another. TPT

Now the third reason why satan prefers psychological warfare is because he is totally unaffected by the war: he loses nothing because he is mostly unnoticed or is least thought of.

We all know that after a while, smoke disappears totally. Even the smell fades away and blends with the normal air.

Any war by the Church should [always] be against the enemy (satan and his cohorts). We all know that too well.

Eph 6:12 YOUR HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT IS NOT WITH HUMAN BEINGS, but with the highest principalities and authorities operating in rebellion under the heavenly realms. FOR THEY ARE A POWERFUL CLASS OF DEMON-GODS AND EVIL SPIRITS THAT HOLD THIS DARK WORLD IN BONDAGE. TPT

But when satan manages to turn the strong against the weak in the Christian body, the resultant outcome is devastating, yet the culprit, satan, is totally unharmed nor hurt in such battles.

He just sits and watches.

Zec 11:9 Then I said, "I REFUSE TO BE YOUR SHEPHERD. LET THE SHEEP THAT ARE GOING TO DIE, GO ON AND DIE, AND THOSE THAT ARE GOING TO BE DESTROYED, GO ON AND BE DESTROYED. THEN LET THE OTHERS EAT ONE ANOTHER ALIVE." CEV

That was the state of God’s nation when they turned their backs on Him. As we know, these problems come when the presence of God is “diminished” through our sins.

Anyhow, we can’t treat that depth here now.

We’re simply saying that satan manipulates the minds of the leaders in any system (Church and nation) to easily harm the body.

We have discussed why he loves “high” positions before, right?

Dan 10:20 So then he said, "Daniel, do you know why I have come to you? SOON I MUST GO BACK TO FIGHT AGAINST THE PRINCE (ANGEL) OF PERSIA. WHEN I GO, THE PRINCE (ANGEL) OF GREECE WILL COME. ERV

Angel of Persia or Greece is the demonic representative of satan, always attached to the ruling seat of power of nations, accessing all resources to control and manipulate the people.

That is why satan also “worms” his way into the leadership structure of the Church: to make them ruin the body of Christ.

Mat 27:20 Meanwhile, the chief priest and the religious leaders were inciting the crowd to ask for Barabbas to be freed and TO HAVE JESUS KILLED. TPT

We decree, all forces manipulating our leaders be expunged and destroyed, in Jesus name.

Join us on Friday for more digging in as we proceed with this enlightening subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Wednesday, February 08, 2023

08055125517; 08023904307

[imperfectcourt]

Andreil Prompt:

Neil is an Assassin. Some day something goes very, very wrong. So the first time Andrew meets Neil, Neil has to explain to him that he accidentally poisened him and Andrew has to go to the hospital to get the antidote.

So I was really unsure about this but when I got going I got really excited about it! But I also COMPLETELY MISSED the line where it said "the first time" so this is very much not the first time they meet ;__; sorry! I hope you like it though!

Neil had never panicked on a job before. He’d never made a mistake or killed the wrong person or not killed the right person. He could kill whoever he was told to kill, he could kill however he was told to kill, and he could be whoever he was told to be in order to do it.

Killing Andrew Minyard was the worst and last mistake Neil would ever make.

Worming his way into A. Minyard’s life hadn’t been easy but it had been natural- the most honest work of his filthy, bloody life.

It had to be this way. It couldn’t look like a typical mob hit, anything abrupt and easy would look suspicious. The call had to come from inside the house, or so they say.

Neil tipped the vial into the remnants of the whiskey bottle and poured two modest glasses. It wouldn’t be pleasant for him but he’d built up enough of a tolerance to survive. Odorless, collarless, no paper trail. He’d suffer some hallucinations and maybe some minor liver damage but he’d live and after tonight he’d be free. No more Moriyama’s. No more contracts. No more death.

No more Andrew.

Neil brought one glass up to swirl, smell, sniff, and sip. A perfectly normal glass of whiskey. He brought out onto the small balcony and put them on the rickety table between two lawn chairs. Andrew picked his up and didn’t make the small cheers motion he always did as a silent thanks, didn’t drink. He’d been staring at his closed phone for the last half hour. Neil knew he would say what was wrong in time (if there was time).

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said after several long minutes, punctuating the statement with a sip. Guess there was time, after all. Neil sat sideways on his chair so he could watch Andrew light a cigarette.

“That sounds ominous. You’re not a murderer are you?”

Andrew’s top lip curled in a small, vicious smile. “That’s a truth for a different day.”

No, it wasn’t, and Neil found himself reaching for another mouthful of whiskey. Andrew raised a brow at this, having caught on a while ago that Neil liked to draw the drink out as long as possible if it meant he didn’t have to go home yet.

“It’s nothing to form a drinking habit over, calm down.” Andrew took up his drink again and every sip he took felt like friendly fire. “You’re going to see something on the news tomorrow and I’d rather tell you myself than get pissy with me for not bringing it up sooner.”

“Secrets secrets are no fun,” Neil parroted. Andrew kicked out his socked foot to hit Neil’s heel and didn’t pull it back.

“A story will be dropping about my brother’s involvement in a gang bust tonight. Just got word that everything went well but his services had been needed on sight.” With the hand that held the cigarette, he gave his cellphone a little shake.

“You have a brother?” That hadn’t been in the assignment, but family matters were often left out for jobs like this. He couldn’t go in knowing too much and risk exposing himself.

“My twin.”

“You have a twin?”

Andrew threw back the rest of his drink and waved it at Neil’s face. “The only reason I’m telling you is because you’re going to see him parading around on t.v. with my face. We’re not that close.”

A gang bust. Big enough for national news. That couldn’t- that would mean-

“What’s his name?”

“Aaron.”

“A. Minyard. Doctor Aaron Minyard.”

Andrew froze. Looked at Neil so expressionless he might as well have been stone. “I never said he was a doctor.”

He didn’t have to. Dr. A Minyard. Fox affiliated attached to a photograph. Andrew had his PhD and his connection to Kevin Day was easy enough to find if you knew where to look. The Foxes were an elusive bunch of vigilantes but everyone had heard of Kevin Day, son of the founders of the Foxes.

Neil had never made a mistake before and killing Andrew Minyard was the biggest mistake of his life. He knocked the glass from Andrew’s hand only because Andrew let him.

“Now, right now,” he changed, grabbing Andrew by the sleeve and tugging him back inside. It only worked because Andrew let him. Andrew was always letting Neil, trusting Neil. And for what? For this?

Neil let go when he was sure Andrew would follow him and rushed to the tiny kitchen. He took the water glass by the sink and upended the entire salt shaker into it.

“Drink this right now,” he ordered Andrew.

Andrew did not take it.

“Andrew, trust me just one last time. Just this one last time trust me and drink this. Just this once. Just this one last time.” There was time. There was barely time. It had been less than a minute, there had to be time.

Neil didn’t know what he would do if Andrew didn’t drink, if Neil killed him for nothing. No matter what the outcome, no matter Andrew's decision, Neil would die either way.

Andrew took the salt water, drank the whole thing, and promptly threw up in the sink.

Neil watched, hands in his hair and tears clouding his eyes as Andrew righted himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“That’ll give you time to get to the hospital. You have to go now, you’ve got time.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Andrew put his hand slowly, calmly, over Neil’s throat, “until you explain.”

He pressed him into the wall.

Neil let him.

“You were supposed to be my last one and my contract would be fulfilled,” he said.

“Explain better than that. What does this have to do with Aaron?”

“There’s no time-”

“Then make it quick.” He pressed against Neil’s throat and Neil’s hands came up instinctively to grab his arm. He stopped before making contact.

“I was born into a debt that the Moriyama’s own. I was one of their hit men. A. Minyard. Fox associate. And a picture. That was my last assignment and I could finally… I could…”

Words were getting harder. He had begun ingesting the poison before Andrew and hadn’t gotten any of it out of his system.

“You’re the only one I never…”

“Never what? Never shot like a coward? Never succeeded in killing?”

“Never wanted to.” His hands came down onto Andrew’s forearm even though he didn’t have permission. His vision was swimming around the edges and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drug or the pressure on his trachea. “I didn’t want to kill you. H-hospital. You still need the hospital. You have time.”

“Why should I believe a single thing you say?”

“I’ve never lied to you.” It was so important for him to say that somehow the words came out with conviction. “Never lied. Andrew, you’re amazing and I love you but you need to leave right now.”

His knees gave out and for the briefest moment all of his weight was being held by the hand on his throat. Andrew lowered them both to the ground.

“What did- You idiot.” Ah, yes. He must have caught on. “You did all this to live only to fucking kill yourself? Neil. Neil… Neil!”

Neil had never panicked on a job, but he’d also never woken up in a hospital bed before. He was aware of the spike in noise before he was aware of his surroundings.

“The worst assassin in history.”

Neil groaned but didn’t yet open his eyes. His memory was just solid enough to know what he’d taken and experience told him he wasn’t ready to face the spinning world.

“Can’t say he was wrong, technically,” the same voice said.

“What kind of assassin not only chooses the wrong target but falls in love with their dumb ass?”

“This dumb ass has the same level of education as your dumb ass.”

“My dumb ass has a doctorate of medicine, not in books.”

“Literature.”

“Still dumb.”

“Sssh,” Neil breathed out, testing the waters of control and strength. He had very little of either.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the dumbest of asses.”

“Give him another hour and he might even be able to respond.”

“Now who would want that.”

The second time Neil woke up in a hospital, it was enough for him to look around and realize this was not a hospital but rather a medically furnished bedroom.

“I hate you.”

He turned his head to see Andrew slouching back in an overstuffed, wingback chair. The look on his ever-passive face was angry and Neil would take angry over dead any day.

“You made it,” he slurred. His mouth felt like cotton. “You made it,” he said again because it was right and good. “You made it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m fine. Got a tolerance”

“Is that something they teach you in the bright sunny world of the Nest?”

Neil made a finger gun at Andrew (why?) and slowly, slowly tilted himself onto his side to see him better. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there were things he needed to worry about, but for now he just wanted to look.

“I’m happy you’re alive.”

“I don’t care.” And he sounded like he didn’t, but that was how he always sounded. Still Andrew. Still him. Still alive. For a long, quiet while they stared at each other.

“I have to go before the Moriyama’s come looking to do clean up. This won’t be tolerated.”

“No. It won’t be. But not by the Moriyama’s.”

Andrew stood in a motion that made him look much older than he was, tired. As he came to stand over the bed, Neil couldn’t help but stare because not killing Andrew Minyard was the only right thing he had ever done.

“The Foxes completed their take down of the Moriyama’s. It’s been all over the news, which you would have seen if you hadn’t poisoned yourself.”

The… the what? Something must have shown on Neil’s face because Andrew pressed him down into the bed a split second before he’d tried to sit up. As consciousness cleared his fog, his brain began catching up enough to understand that he wasn’t understanding. The synapses were there but they weren’t connecting.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. Andrew’s mask twitched.

“Of course you don’t, you’ve been too deep cover to keep up with what was right under your nose. The Foxes won, there are no more Ravens, and you, Nathaniel, are a free man.”

The sound of that name, his name, sent a flinch so hard through his body that it made something cramp in his stomach. Andrew watched, bored, as he curled in on himself. If he knew that name, if his cover was blown so spectacularly, then there must be an ounce of truth to it.

“I’m just… Neil. I just want to be Neil.”

“Well, Neil.” Andrew slid his hand into Neil’s hair and squeezed, not hard but enough to tilt his head back. “If you ever do something that stupid again I will kill you myself.” Something in his eyes, however passive he tried to pull off, told Neil that Andrew was not referring to his own attempted murder.

“Were you… worried about me?” That couldn’t be right.

“I don’t know, Neil.” He kept saying his name like that and Neil didn’t know what to feel about it. “My whatever of a good stretch of time nearly killed himself. How should I be feeling?”

“I nearly killed you. I only poisoned myself a little.”

“Why?”

Why? The easy answer was forensics. Two glasses. Two drinkers. One lucky to survive the ordeal. But that wasn’t all of it. As Neil stared up up at Andrew, here at the other side of it all, he could admit to himself that he was glad for the punishment.

“Because… because I was going to kill you to save my own life and I had never hated myself for anything more than that.”

“I hate you,” Andrew spat.

“As long as you’re alive to hate me it’s fine.”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me more about the take down.”

“No.”

“Is your brother a Fox? Do I have to be killed for knowing that?”

“You have to be killed because you won’t shut your mouth.”

A good stretch of time. That’s how long Neil had been worming his way to be Andrew’s whatever. And in all that time he’d never felt safer. He lifted a shaky hand and waited. It took nearly a minute before Andrew released his hair and took the hand up in his own.

He didn’t apologize for trying to kill him. He didn’t apologize for coming into his life under false pretenses. If Andrew was there now, he trusted Neil enough to understand. They could talk about it later.

“Go back to sleep,” Andrew ordered quietly.

“So I’ll shut up?” Neil whispered back. His eyes were already drifting closed.

“Sure.”

[booksofkingdomsandcourts]

Nessian Modern AU: Proposal

A “sequel” to the drabble here that I posted for Nessian Week. As always, what started as a drabble spawned a full-length oneshot. Anyway, writing Nessian was a joy and I look forward to writing more for them in the future. Enjoy!

Warning: Gets a little NSFW near the end because, you know. Them.

           Cassian could feel the little velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket. Were his hands shaking? He was sure they were shaking. Oh god, what if he dropped it? It probably wouldn’t go anywhere, they were pretty far from the edge of the balcony, but it would certainly be embarrassing.

           His smart watch buzzed and he looked down at it to see a text from Azriel that said Dude, you’re practically sweating through your suit. Chill the fuck out. Cassian looked up and glared over the table at him. Azriel made a little “calm down” motion with his hands, and Cassian was so wired that if they’d been sitting closer he would have decked him. Luckily, Nesta was engrossed in a conversation with Emerie and Mor and wasn’t paying attention. The way everyone kept glancing at Cassian he was sure that she would have noticed something was going on by now, but she seemed unaware.

           Of course, the party was already all about her, she just hadn’t seemed to realize that they were (hopefully) going to be celebrating more than one thing. When she had gotten accepted into law school Cassian had promised her a celebration for the ages, knowing it could double as the perfect chance to pop the question. He had tried to keep it on the down-low, but his brothers had seen right through him. As soon as he had said, “So I’m thinking about planning a trip to Vegas to celebrate Nesta getting into law school. I just want to do something really special for her, you know?” they had turned to him with matching grins and said,

           “Oh yeah? Just a casual trip to one of the most spectacular cities in the country?”

           “Any special shopping you need to do first?”

           Cassian had swung at them while they dodged and laughed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to know, it was just that he worried that someone would let something slip to Nesta and ruin the surprise. But then he realized there was no keeping everyone from knowing, because he had to ask Feyre and Elain for their blessing (they gave it readily, with squeals and big hugs), and then he had to ask Emerie and Gwyn to help him find out about rings. Now he sat with what he hoped was the perfect ring in his pocket, showy but classy, with two black diamonds set on either side of a shining two carat white diamond. Shiny and noticeable but…tastefully so, he hoped. That was what Emerie and Gwyn had reported, and really, he should have guessed that, because Nesta liked to be noticed, but only in a way where she was respected, or at least revered.

Now they sat on a private balcony for a dinner service Rhys had helped Cassian book overlooking the Vegas strip, lights and fountains glittering around them, the noise of the strip a pleasant background hum. They had all the usual suspects—Azriel, Rhys and Feyre, Mor and Amren and Varian, Elain and Lucien, and of course, Gwyn and Emerie. Everyone Cassian thought Nesta would want to be here, and the usual plus ones that had to be invited either way. He knew Nesta wouldn’t want a true Jumbotron-style public proposal, but surely this was okay, right? Just their friends? He didn’t think she’d want no one to see it, and yet—

           “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his knee. He started, almost jumping out of his skin. She laughed. “What, did I startle you, sitting here exactly where I’ve been the whole time? Where are those judo reflexes now?”

           They all had a nice buzz going, though they were refraining from getting really messy until after dinner. Nesta was maybe the most openly happy Cassian had ever seen her, smiling and laughing and shining in a way that he had never seen before. He knew she was really proud to finally be going to law school after all this time. He could only hope that after this dinner her good mood would be doubled, not dampened.

           “Anyway,” Nesta continued, scooting her chair closer to his and sliding her hand dangerously up his thigh. “Could I steal you for a minute after dessert?”

           She looked fucking stunning tonight. Not that she didn’t always, but in that little black dress with her perfect tits tastefully on display, her lithe legs in those heels, and her hair swept up and away from her neck, Cassian might have asked to marry her even if she wasn’t his girlfriend. The only thing keeping his libido in check were his nerves, and if she said yes, it wasn’t going to be much of a competition between the two anymore. But until then….

           Cassian put his arm around her shoulders, trying to act natural. “I think we’re going to have cocktails then head out and hit the Strip again.”

           Nesta raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes. So it’ll be a while before we’re back in our room for the night. I was thinking we could just take a minute.” She moved her fingers on his leg again and with her other hand tilted his head to hers for a kiss. “You look so fucking good in that suit baby,” she whispered against his mouth.

           God, he couldn’t wait to marry her. He lost himself for a second, drinking in the feeling of her lips on his, her warm hand against his thigh. She had to say yes. She had to, or Cassian wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

           “Get a room!” Lucien called from the other side of the balcony. Cassian heard Elain chide him.

           Nesta pulled away and whipped back, “You are here on courtesy invite only, asshole.”

           “Nesta!” Elain complained.

           If there was anything that would put a damper on Cassian’s marriage plans it was that if he married Nesta and Lucien married Elain, he’d be stuck with the little shithead for the rest of his life. Then Cassian looked at Nesta, already laughing with Emerie again, her hand still resting on his leg, and knew that he couldn’t even pretend. Nothing could cause him to hesitate.

           That had to include his nerves. Now that they were finishing with dessert, the servers would be waiting for his speech before bringing out the cocktails and champagne. If he waited too much longer, Nesta would begin to wonder what the holdup was. Fuck his nerves. The last thing he was going to let keep him from marrying Nesta was himself.

           So Cassian stood, taking Nesta’s hand and standing her up. Her face brightened, and she gave him a look through her eyelashes. Then it turned to confusion as he started leading her out onto the balcony, in front of everyone.

           “Um, I was thinking we’d go inside,” she whispered to him, but he could hear the question in her playful tone. What the hell are you doing?

           What he came here to do.

“Everyone?” he said, just loud enough to beat the ambient noise of Vegas below them. They all turned to him from their scattered little tables, and he hoped Nesta wouldn’t read into the eagerness on their faces. Here it was: the main event.

           He didn’t let go of Nesta’s hand as he continued, “I want to thank you all so much for coming this weekend to celebrate the most incredible woman any of us have ever been blessed to have in their presence, soon to be the best attorney this nation has ever seen.”

           Everyone clapped as Nesta rolled her eyes and said, “Cassian, stop.” But she was smiling.

           He didn’t stop, but instead continued, “It has been such an honor to get to be the one by her side through all she has accomplished these past few years. ‘Now Cassian,’ you might be thinking, ‘surely some of that can be attributed to her incredible fitness coach.’ And you would be right,” he said, and as everyone laughed good-naturedly, he heard Nesta mutter, “Nevermind I fucking hate you.” He wasn’t facing her, but he could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

           “But in all seriousness, Nesta is the most amazing woman I have ever met. If you all could see her behind the scenes, how hard she works, how much she cares about her family and her friends,” Cassian paused to take Nesta’s other hand, turning her to face him. There were a hundred specific little things he could list, but knowing how easily she was embarrassed, he would leave it at that until they were alone. “I think you’d be pretty in love with her too.”

           There were a couple of “aw”s from the crowd, and Cassian was pretty sure Lucien’s was genuine. Nesta was blushing, but Cassian was glad to see she was still smiling. “Cassian, how drunk are you?" she laughed.

           “Just enough to fight my nerves,” he replied honestly.

           Her smile froze, and a crease appeared between her eyebrows. “What are you nervous about?”

           He gave her a grin that he was sure looked nervous as hell. “Would you be mad if I told you I might have had an additional motive for planning this trip?”

           He watched as her face changed, putting the clues together just as Cassian sank down onto one knee. She pulled her hands out of his, putting them both over her mouth as Cassian fished the little box out of the inside of his jacket and popped it open. He looked up into her eyes, wide as saucers now, and said, “Nesta Archeron. You are the strongest, sexiest, most capable, most remarkable woman I have ever been fortunate enough to cross the path of. I love everything about you, and I love everything about us. Marry me, Ness. I think we both know this is forever—let’s make it official.”

           She made a slight keening sound. Her face had turned very red, and Cassian could see that she was trembling. But at his question she started nodding frantically, and she choked out a, “Yes. Yes, yes.”

           Their little audience erupted into cheers as Cassian slid the ring onto her finger and stood. Before he could even kiss her, she pulled herself against him with crushing force, burying her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shuddering as she pulled in big, heaving breaths. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. Then, after a moment without her breaths settling, Cassian said, “Hey, are you okay?”

           “Yes,” Nesta said, pulling away just enough to talk. Her face was red and streaked with heavy tears. Her breaths were still labored, and Cassian suddenly realized she was genuinely hyperventilating. “Yes, I just, oh god, I can’t—” The words came out choppy as she tried to catch her breath, still crying. She buried herself back in his chest and he realized she was trying to hide her hysterics.

           “Okay, okay,” Cassian said quietly, hoping to calm her down before she made herself light headed and passed out. “Let’s step inside, okay? Are you okay to move?”

           She nodded, gasping. He gently put his hand on her waist and guided her past the tables. The rest of the party watched with concern, but he mouthed we’ll be right back as he led Nesta inside.

           The space inside was mostly just a hall to the balcony, so Cassian pulled Nesta aside to the little alcove by the bathrooms so they would be hidden from the big glass windows. As soon as they were out of sight he pulled her back close to him.

           “Just tell me this is happy crying,” he said.

           “It is,” Nesta said thickly with a choked laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

           “I’m sorry,” he said, slowly stroking his fingers down her back to calm her. “If I had known this would be your reaction, I would have planned something private for you.”

           “No! It was perfect,” she said. “Everything was perfect. I—I didn’t know I’d react like this.” She was still sniffling. “I’ve never really imagined my own engagement. I—I never thought I’d love someone this much. That someone would love me this much.”

           “I love you that much and more,” Cassian said, meaning it with everything he had. “I would marry you tonight if you wanted. We’re in Vegas—pick any venue and we can make it official.”

           She laughed. Her throat still sounded thick but her breathing had returned to normal. “Oh no. We’re having the most grandiose wedding anyone has ever seen. If I’m getting married, everyone is going to know. And I want a ten thousand dollar dress.”

           “Deal,” Cassian said without hesitation. Nesta’s heels already brought her much closer to Cassian’s face than usual, but she still had to press herself up an extra inch on her toes to kiss him. Cassian leaned down obligingly, and now feeling the warmth of her body, the cold press of her ring against his jaw as she cupped his face, sent heat settling at the front of his pelvis.

           “Now what would you say if I told you to drop your panties,” he growled against her mouth.

           She smirked. “I’d say I would.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and tipped her head to whisper in his ear, “But I’d have to be wearing some.”

           Cassian groaned, sliding his hands up under the hem of her dress and indeed finding only bare skin. “Fuck, Ness.”

“I was hoping you’d get handsy and find out during dinner,” she said. “But you had other things on your mind, apparently.”

“From now on I promise to always put my hands up your skirt at dinner to check if you’re commando,” Cassian said.

“At every dinner,” Nesta said, kissing him again. “For the rest of our lives. That better be in your wedding vows.”

“For the rest of our lives,” he repeated.

“For the rest of our lives,” she echoed again. Then she kissed him again, passionately, slipping her tongue over his lips.

He pulled his hands out from her dress and opened the door to the bathroom beside them. “Get in,” he commanded, voice a tight snarl. Nesta took her time, sending him a sultry look through ruined makeup as she swayed her hips and made her way into the single-person room. Cassian followed, locking the door. She stayed with her back to him, watching in the mirror as he slid his suit jacket off and hung it on the hook on the door. She licked her bottom lip as he rolled his sleeves up just a little, to try and make sure he wouldn’t soil them. He met her eyes in the mirror, and he read her intention in the look on her face. She leaned forward and braced herself on the sink.

           “Alright then,” he chuckled, undoing his belt and unfastening his pants to slide them down just over his rapidly hardening cock. He shoved the hem of her dress up to expose her bare ass and said, “Better make sure you’ve got a good grip on that sink, sweetheart. You’re going to need it.”

*~*~*

           Cassian made his way back out onto the balcony, put back together on the outside but with his head still swimming with the look on Nesta’s face in the mirror as she finished around him. Evidently someone had made the wise call to start cocktail hour without waiting for them, and the laughter he heard around him sounded a lot louder and messier than it had when he’d left. Gwyn and Emerie quickly departed for inside, makeup bags in hand, to help clean Nesta up for the rest of the night. Cassian was swarmed with congratulations, and he ordered a scotch on the rocks to keep him busy while he waited for his fiancée to reemerge.

           When Nesta reentered the party she was almost knocked to the ground by her sisters, and she begged them not to make her cry again. Rhys motioned to a server who brought out a bottle of champagne Rhysand had specially reserved for Nesta and Cassian (Cassian didn’t even want to know how much it cost), and Nesta popped the cork to raucous applause. Elain slapped them both with Just Engaged! sashes to wear for the rest of the night, and through it all, there was never a moment that Nesta and Cassian didn’t have some form of physical contact, be it holding hands or hips against each other or an arm around the shoulder. Cassian caught the way Nesta kept looking at her ring, tilting her hand to make it glitter in the lights. Then she would look at him, and she would smile, and as they headed out the Strip to celebrate, Cassian felt happier than he ever had in his entire life.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! reading your blog has become a sort of guilty pleasure for me. Thanks for everything, it’s so clear that you put a lot of time and energy into your content. I was wondering if you have any johnlock fics that feature a particularly well-written or memorable original character? I always love to see how authors integrate their own character creations into johnlock stories!

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh!! This is a GREAT request, because I like well-written OC’s in fics, so yeah, this is a great list to make. Here’s what I recall from my bookmarks. Please add your own faves, friends!

MEMORABLE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

The Prize We Sought Is Won by deathfrisbees (E, 4,610 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Mild D/S, Oral, Military Kink, Bottomlock) – Sherlock's in love, or in lust, or both--unfortunately, the object of his affections is not only his completely oblivious flatmate, but said flatmate would probably run screaming into the hills should he find out. John's been invited to a wedding--unfortunately, the groom used to serve under him back in Afghanistan, and requests that John wear a uniform he's honestly not sure he fits into. Unfortunately for both flatmates, Sherlock's got a military kink the size of Kandahar and John wants to know if he actually can fit into this uniform or if his eyes are deceiving him. It goes from there.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery, Desperation, Body Worship) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w., 1 Ch. || BAMF John, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Dating, Bisexuality, Arguing, Stupidity, Teasing, First Kiss/Time, Hand Jobs, Frottage, RST, Idiots in Love) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock's, and Sherlock can't figure out why he's so incensed about it.

High Tide by stardust_made (T, 8,540 w., 1 Ch. || Jealousy, Angst, First Kiss) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, affluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it. Part 1 of The High Tide Series

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt's Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John's family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Vessel by Rhuia (E, 15,695 w., 1 Ch. || Cancer, Medfic) – That was the surprising bit – the way his doctor said it, eyes shining with sympathy but breathing it out, shifting it off her shoulders and thrusting it onto his, making him take it like an unwanted gift.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w., 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid, Angst, Reunion, Falling in Love, Open Ending) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w., 6 Ch. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Jealous Sherlock, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock's five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w., 4 Ch. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she's also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she's placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy, Fake Relationship) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w., 10 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Experiments / Sexual Experimentations, Multi Pairings, Voyeurism) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking, Massages, Wet T-Shirt Contest, Group Therapy, Past Loss of Child) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Secrets and Revelations by Hisstah (E, 83,535 w., 9 Ch. || Sentinel / Guides Omegaverse AU || Adventure, Violence, Anal / Oral, Omega!John / Alpha!Sherlock, Case Fic, Politics, Mild DubCon) – Dr John Watson has some major secrets that he's kept from his flatmate, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock Holmes. Now the Sentinel Tower is after him. Can John stay out of their hands until he can reveal his secrets to Sherlock? Part 1 of Secrets and Revelations

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say: Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Swan Triad Series by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers' attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w., 17 Ch. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors 'Verse

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own. (SC’s version of Sherrinford may as well be an OC; he’s well written and different from Canon)

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn't he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

[slippinmickeys]

The Annapolis Grant, part 3/?

Despite being in first class and further away from the engine noise at the wings, the throttle up when the engines went to full on the runway never failed to wig her out. She gripped the armrests and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to go down. She repeated safety statistics silently in an attempt to remind herself that flying was still the safest way to travel, but it did little to assuage what she fully admitted was an irrational fear.

“Are you a nervous flyer?” Mulder’s voice rumbled at her shoulder. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he was leaning toward her, a look of concern in his eyes. She wanted to ease her grip on the armrests and give him a reassuring smile, but found she couldn’t. She nodded at him, pulling her lips into her mouth on a breath.

“Would it help to hold my hand?” he asked, rather sweetly holding out the palm of his hand toward her. She was about to refuse when the plane tilted sharply left. They’d opted to fly out of National rather than Dulles, which meant the aircraft had to bank more steeply at takeoff to avoid the no-fly airspace of the Capitol. Before it had even leveled out, Scully found she was gripping Mulder’s hand tightly, which he squeezed and pulled to rest gently on his knee.

His hand was warm, dry and soft, and he twisted it to interlace their fingers, his own long and elegant. Piano-playing fingers, her mother would call them.

“I’m not sure how much of a touchy-feely person you are,” he said after a couple of minutes, “but this is probably good.” He nodded toward their interlaced fingers. “How much public affection are you comfortable with?”

“Honestly?” Scully said, “Not much. But… I think I need to get over that for the purposes of this week. If we’re going to pull this off, we need to be convincing.” Mulder nodded and squeezed her fingers. “I’m not saying we need to lay it on thick,” she went on, “but, you should feel free to put your arm around me or hold my hand, or…” her voice trailed off as her thoughts spun.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said, then lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss on it.

She felt her stomach dip. What was going on with her?

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself,” he said, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Good idea,” she said, and leaned back in the plush comfort of the first class seat, telling him everything she could think of about herself, starting at the beginning of her life and going onward. He was attentive, occasionally asking questions, and several times made comments that made her outright laugh. “And that’s… me.” She finished, “I work long hours, I practically live in my lab-”

“-and you recently acquired a devoted and loving fiance,” he finished for her.

She chuckled. “Yes,” she said, “and that.”

She looked down at their laced fingers, realizing that somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten to be scared of flying.

“So what about you?” she asked him. “What should I know about you for this week? What will we tell McKay?”

“I’m going to pivot a bit here,” he said, “go with it?”

“Okay...” she was curious.

“Do you have a ring?” he asked her. “An engagement ring?”

“You know, I’d thought about that,” she said. She remembered the first thing McKay had done when she’d mentioned a fiancé, was glance at her ring finger. “I told McKay that the engagement was new and that we were having the ring sized. I went to a couple pawn shops and an antique store this weekend, but I couldn’t find anything that would really work.”

“I may be able to help with that,” he said, letting go of her hand so that he could reach into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch. He set it on the tray table in front of her.

She reached forward and pulled open the drawstring, shaking out its contents onto her palm. She gasped quietly. The ring was gold with an aged patina, a large diamond solitaire sat in the middle, flanked by two emerald cut sapphires.

“Mulder…” she said, looking up at him.

“It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “I find in these… situations, that sticking as closely to the truth as possible can help, well… sell the story. I’ll obviously need the ring back at the end of our arrangement, but little details might help this McKay to…”

“Believe the lie?” Scully offered.

“If you like,” Mulder said kindly.

Scully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

“Good fit,” he said.

She smiled at him and met his eye. “So stick as closely to the truth as possible?”

“Whenever you can,” he said, tucking the empty pouch back into the inner pocket of his linen suit. “So. I’m going to tell you about myself -- things you should be comfortable sharing with McKay -- that way we won’t talk ourselves into any corners.”

“That sounds sensible,” she said, “one thing though.” He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “What should we tell him you… do. For a living.”

He shrugged. “The truth.” It was her turn to raise eyebrows. “I’m pursuing my PhD,” he clarified. Her eyebrows went up even higher. “I was midway through my degree when my parents were killed in an accident. My sister was badly injured. She was in the hospital for months. I had to sell my parents house, move back… It cost a lot of money to get her where she is today. I do this job to finance my degree and to take care of her.”

Scully’s heart went out to him. Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

“Is she okay, your sister?” she asked him.

“Samantha,” he said. “She has good days and bad. We’re getting through it.”

For the first time he seemed to clam up and his openness closed off a bit. She wouldn’t pry.

“What degree are you pursuing?” she asked him.

“Psychology,” he answered.

“Where?”

“Oxford, until the accident,” he said, “now Georgetown.”

Scully looked at him. He was absolutely full of surprises. She looked down at the ring on her finger. It was exactly the kind of thing she would have picked out for herself.

“I’m… I was not expecting…” she started to say before she was aware she’d even opened her mouth, she stopped herself before she insulted him, “this level of service,” she finished lamely.

Mulder stared at her baldly. “We’re a full-service boutique, Dr. Scully,” he said.

Scully felt her face flush.

The flight attendant came by then with hot towels, and Mulder turned from her to politely thank the attendant.

“Mind the prongs on the sapphires,” he said as Scully shook a little heat out of her own before using it, “they have a tendency to catch on sweaters and towels.” She looked over at him and he gave her a quiet smile.

Xx

They were the first off the plane, out of the jetway and snaking into the masses -- LAX was absolutely packed, filled with travelers either coming or going for the Independence Day holiday. As they passed a gate that was about to board, a man wearing a huge backpack turned around, not paying attention to the added bulk strapped to his shoulders and bumped roughly into Scully, who stumbled. Mulder smoothly grabbed her elbow, righting her. From that point on, he led her gently through the busy terminal, one hand resting on the small of her back and the other held out to keep people out of her space.

He collected their luggage as it came off of the carousel, taking her suitcase and his own garment bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He then nodded toward an area near the exit doors.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand, “I think that’s our driver.” There was an impeccably liveried older gentleman standing with a sign reading “SCULLY.” When she looked up at him, his eyes were bright and focused on her.

It was odd. She'd dated men who'd been sweet and conscientious. She'd had boyfriends that made her feel safe and taken care of. She'd met men (and a few women) who made her feel wanted -- who looked at her with a hunger that made her skin feel tight around her bones. But she'd never experienced all of those things at once, all from the same person. An odd feeling that crept up her spine, but she shook it off, following the driver McKay had sent to their waiting limousine.

XxX

She had forgotten about the traffic in LA. Despite the fact that the airport was very near where McKay’s yacht was docked in Marina del Rey, it still took forty five minutes to get to the marina, enough time for Scully to have second thoughts. And third. And fourth. By the time the limo crawled to a stop in a narrow parking lot adjacent to the docks, Scully was as tense as a tightrope, ready to snap.

The driver opened the door nearest Mulder, who rose confidently onto the hot asphalt and held out a hand to help her out.

“This way, please,” the driver said, turning on his heel to lead them toward the docks. Scully turned back to the car to inquire about their luggage, but there were already two -- what Scully assumed to be dockhands or porters, pulling their baggage out of the trunk -- they were dressed alike, each in navy shorts with a walkie talkie clipped to their waist, and a crisp white polo shirt with the name “Dominus” embroidered on the front.

When the driver led them to the plank leading to the boat, she heard Mulder’s small intake of breath. She was bowled over, herself. She’d expected it to be big, but the Dominus was massive. She could see various crew members darting about on the various decks, and there, standing at the top of the teak and chrome boarding plank was Alexander McKay himself. She took a deep, steadying breath.

A man and woman dressed in the crew uniform met them at the bottom of the plank.

“Hello,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Greg, I’m the head steward for the Dominus. This is Krista,” he gestured to the woman, who smiled at them warmly, “she’ll be your personal steward. Anything at all you need, find one of us. We’ll be sure your baggage gets to your stateroom. Welcome aboard.” He gestured them toward the ship.

Mulder and Scully both gave them their thanks and then turned to… well, to walk the plank, thought Scully. Into the depths we go.

Just as she was about to take a step, Mulder put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to place a kiss into her hairline. She looked up to see McKay watching, a smile she couldn’t read playing about his lips.

With Mulder close behind her, she stepped aboard.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 4

I’m really chugging these out. Mostly because its practically written already. But I will let you know that in the original, I did write in “blue orbs” so you can assume how much I had to fix. 

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

“Um, hi.” I said, very surprised and confused that he was here. 

“We need to talk.” 

“As you mentioned. But we can’t talk here, you are a suspect in a crime and this is the sheriff’s house.” I crossed my arms over my chest. 

“Then can I get my jacket back, since you don’t want to be associated with a criminal.” This was the first time he had shown any sort of emotion besides seriousness. Granted, it was condescending. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be associated with you.” I handed him his jacket, a little sad to see it go, “You saved my life, I just don’t want you to get in trouble.” 

“A little late for that.” He said, putting his jacket on. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping closer to him. He looked at me warily (as if he needed to be wary of me) but didn’t move away. 

“You wouldn’t understand.” Usually, I would reply ‘then make me understand’, but I was still on the fence about him. He perked up a bit, like he was hearing something. 

“Here.” He held out his closed hand, I held mine out and he dropped my locket into my hands. I gasped, reaching up to my neck and realized it wasn’t there. I looked down at the locket.

“Oh my god, thank you. I would have never forgiven myself if I lost-” I looked up and realized I was talking to no one, “And you disappeared. Okay.” My phone beeped in my pocket and saw a text from Stiles move across the screen.

“Scott woke up in the woods and ran into a swimming pool this morning.” I read aloud. This town was starting to just become weirder and weirder. It was a nice distraction from my own personal life, but now it was getting borderline concerning. 

- 

At practice, Stiles filled in Scott and I on what he had heard over the police radio. The body, or half of the body, had been sent into the LA coroner’s office where the lad had found animal hair, specifically wolf hair. Scott wasn’t paying too much attention though, he looked like he was in his own little world. 

It was the first scrimmage game of the year and Coach was pretty excited, which wasn’t his usual tune. As the game started, I watched Scott pull off the craziest moves I had ever seen attempted on the field. He was moving so incredibly fast and he even flipped over someone and scored a goal at the same time! Finstock looked like his head was about to explode, which meant that he was happy. Or at least I think so. In a time out, he waved Scott over. 

“What in god’s name was that? This is a lacrosse field. You wanna try out for some gymnastics team?” 

“No, Coach.” Scott said. What I found weird was that his breathing was that of someone who had normal lungs and never had a breathing problem in his life. That just gave me a weird feeling, something that would stick with me for the rest of the night. 

“What the hell was that?” Coach asked, motioning to the field. 

“I-I don’t know. I guess trying to make the shot.” 

“Yeah, well, you made the shot. And guess what? You’re startin’, buddy.” Coach smiled, slapping a shocked Scott’s shoulder, “You made first line.” 

 Scott grinned looking between Finstock and me. I put on a smile. I was happy for Scott, but there was too much weird going on. 

-

I managed to beat Stiles home, even though he was driving like a maniac. I grabbed his arm as he walked up the driveway, “What is going on?” He shook my arm off.

“Leave me alone.” He grumbled, stomping through the house, up to his room and slamming the door shut. It was times like this that knowing Stiles well came in handy. He was pissed. And talking to him about it had a ten percent chance of working. They had put him in therapy when his mom died and the therapist told Uncle Noah that when Stiles was mad, it would be better to let him cool off on his own. 

Scott was at the door soon after, after letting him in, I patted his shoulder, “Good luck.” I could hear the arguing from my room, but the words were muffled by insulation. Things used to be so normal before, but it seems like the fires in this town caused unnatural things to occur. 

Maybe it was time I asked Derek some weird questions. Was this a good idea? Absolutely not. Regardless, I needed answers.

As I drove the dark back roads to get to the Hale house, I noticed that the moon was full. I hummed absentmindedly to my music and argued with myself on whether or not this was a good idea. It probably wasn’t.

-

I debated on whether or not to knock. The door was already halfway open and the whole back of the house was practically missing. I opted to knock. 

“Derek?” I called, after stepping inside, “Derek, it’s (Y/N). We need to talk. There are a lot of weird things going on and I need answers.” I turned and when I saw Derek standing right behind me, I thought my heart almost stopped. 

“Jesus, you gotta stop doing that.” I sighed in relief.

“What are you doing here?” That seemed to be his favorite question to ask, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to go out on full moons?” Oddly specific. But it was true, my parents never let me go out on a full moon. And when I was younger they would drop me off at Uncle Noah’s house, they called it a date night. 

“Actually, yes. How did you know that?” I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“You need to go home. Now.” He turned me around, pushing me towards the door. 

“Hey hey hey, no no no.” I dug my heels into the floor, “I came here to talk to you. Something weird is going on and it involves you. I know it does.”  

“You could not have come at a worse time.” He grumbled. 

“Listen here, Hale, I came here for answers and I intend to get them so I’m not going anywhere until-” I was cut off by Derek throwing me over his shoulder and hurriedly taking me outside. I pounded his back with my hands and kicked my legs. But he was too strong for me to move.

“Put me down! Derek!” He growled and set me back on my feet in front of my car door. He slammed his hands on the car, caging me between the door and his body. He was so warm, actually radiating heat. I tried to fight the blush that was creeping on my cheeks. 

“Why are you so stubborn?” He raised his eyebrows. He was so close and his actions made me speechless, “And why aren’t you scared of me? If you were smart you would go out of your way to avoid me like everyone else.” I finally found my voice. 

“Well, clearly I’m not like everyone else. I can see that something fishy is going on. Scott is practically bouncing off the walls all after being attacked by something in the woods. And you were talking about something in the woods so that means you know what it is, so tell me!” I shouted the last bit. Our eyes locked. It was hard not to look away, his stare was so intense. 

He sighed, “Fine.” He backed away, the cool night bringing a chill back after being so close to him. 

“Meet me in the woods by your house tomorrow. I’ll answer your questions.” 

“All of my questions?” I asked, a small tremble in my voice. 

“Don’t push it.” He looked around, clenching and unclenching his hands, “Now go home.” And I did, I got in my car and left. I was going to get my answers. 

-

“Arrested?!” I shouted in disbelief. I’m sure Uncle Noah took the phone from his ear.  

“We had to take him in. That body in the woods was his sister, Laura.” He said. Laura Hale was a name I vaguely recognized, but I never met her before. 

“We aren’t convicting him, but he’s already a suspect in his family’s deaths and now that we found his sister, he doesn’t look entirely innocent.”

“Derek wouldn’t hurt anybody.” 

“(Y/N), you don’t know that.” 

“He didn’t hurt me. He brought me to the hospital.” 

“And that is one of the reasons why I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.” He said, then sighed, “Look, we don’t have anything to hold him over night. We’re just getting his statement and then he’s free to go. As long as he doesn’t leave the area. Now I gotta go, I’ll see you at home.” 

“Okay, see you later.” I hung up the phone and fell back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Derek couldn’t have killed his sister. Especially cutting her in half. Or at least, that’s what I hoped. It scared me though, to think that Derek could be capable of that. But, no, he couldn’t be. He was the victim of happenstance. I think. But Laura had been out there a while, so the possibility of Michael was high. By running was he trying to frame Derek? 

They found wolf fur on Laura’s body and while it doesn’t explain who killed it did say something about the area. It seems like the wolf population is coming back. They could have come from somewhere else in search of food or maybe the national wildlife service moved them in to control the deer population. I feel like everyone would have heard about that though, at least an email or something. 

-

After dinner, I decided to go into the woods to see if Derek would actually meet up with me. I told Stiles that I was going on a walk to clear my head. A few minutes into the woods, I decided to wait instead on a boulder in a clearing near the creek. I had only been there maybe ten minutes when I heard the footsteps approaching. I smiled and stood. 

“Now is it that hard to make your presence known?” I turned and stared, but the person I was looking at was not Derek. It was Michael. 

He smiled, tilting his head to the side, “Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?” 

“Stay away from me.” My body started to tremble, “Stay back!” I backed up, keeping my eyes on him but cursed myself when my back hit a tree. Michael closed the gap between us, leaning closer. I turned my head away, listening to him sniff my hair. 

“You smell so good.” He hummed. 

“Get away from me.” Tears made their way down my cheeks. 

“C’mon. Just relax.” He placed his hands on either side of my face. 

“No, NO!” I screamed, and shoved him. He fell back a few feet, looking surprised at my strength. I looked down at my hands, then him. He was pissed.

“Alright, enough fooling around.” He got up and I started running. I didn’t get too far, Michael had always been fast. I heard him stumble, but he grabbed my foot, bringing me down to the ground. 

“HELP!” I screamed, “SOMEBODY!” 

“Nah, not this time.” he dragged me up from the ground, wrapping his arms around my body and beginning to drag me towards the creek. I struggled, thrashing my torso and legs. 

“HELP! DEREK!” I shouted, hoping that he was nearby, coming to meet with me like he said he would. Michael turned me in his arms, gripping tight. 

“Derek Hale? You shacking up with that freak?!” He shook me. 

“Michael, please, please, let me go, please.” I begged, my pleads were met with a sharp slap with the back of his hand. I yelped. 

“HELP!” I cried again. 

“Shut up! I said shut up-” A  loud roar cut him off, his grip loosening. It sounded like a bear, but when I looked to the source, my heart started to pound more than it already was. 

It was Derek, but he wasn’t entirely himself, not human. His eyes were a bright, glowing blue, his face was different. His brow bone was more pronounced. His hair grew down the sides of his face. his ears were pointed. He had large sharp fangs on his canines. He had claws on his hands. 

Derek leapt from the hill that he stood on, landing on all fours and letting out another hellish roar. He came towards us, Michael shoved me towards Derek, starting to run the other way. But Derek maneuvered around me, chasing after him. The chase went down a hill, towards the creek. What I heard next was Michael’s screaming and then a heavy sounding thud. I stood there for a while, still trying to process what the hell was happening. What is he?

My eyes shot back up to the hill, Derek was walking upright, his face and hands back to normal. I stayed in my spot, waiting for him to come up to me. He stopped, he was breathing heavily through his nose. I looked over at him, he was splattered with blood. I grabbed his hand, seeing normal fingernails and hands. My eyes then went to his face, I touched his cheeks. No more hair growing down. His eyes were back to their normal green. Derek slowly took my hands in his, bringing them back down to my sides. 

“What-What are you?” I whispered, not trusting my voice.

He looked at me for a moment before answering, “I’m a werewolf.” I left out a deep breath. Letting his words settle into my mind. 

“Are you okay?” He asked softly. I could only nod, still speechless. He softly brushed his fingers over my cheek where Michael hit me, I winced. It was already starting to feel sore. 

“Are you scared now?” He asked. I should be. I should be running for the hills. It was insanity to even believe in werewolves and yet, here one stood in front of me. 

I shook my head, “No. I do have questions though. Um, you answered one of them.” I ran a hand through my hair. He nodded, placing his hand softly on my lower back. 

“Let’s get you home.” We started walking, but I stopped us. 

“Wait, no, we can’t go there. I can’t bring you to my house. My uncle could be there and when he sees you covered in blood, he will arrest you.” I thought for a moment, “Dammit.” I had to think of something, something to protect him. Whether he saved me or not, he still killed Michael and that was still murder. 

“I got it.” I said, “Can you climb well?”

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

Read part 5 here!

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@nyotamalfoy

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[scullydubois]

What about a time when mulder meets up with scully to go for a walk with queequeg?

i may have gone overboard here, but how could i not? this prompt is so precious, thank you.

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

Friday Night with Queequeg, 2.4k--set in season three

“I can’t, Mulder,” his partner insists, her voice dialed up a few intervals for dramatic effect. “I’ve got Queequeg to worry about.”

Mulder drops his Washington Nationals tickets on the desk in disappointment. How lame to be overshadowed by a dog. “That fluffy little guy?” he whines. “Or girl, I'm not sure.”

“He’s a boy.”

“Okay well, he reminds me of one of those Tamagotchi things, have you seen the commercial?” Mulder rambles while shuffling various stray papers from his desk into a single incoherent stack. He’s careful not to sweep the tickets into it. “It’s a pocket pet--”

“I know what it is, Mulder. I have a godson.”

“And is Queequeg not just a glorified version of one of those?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. He needs food and attention and care. But, in case you didn’t know, he is also real and capable of giving much of that back to you.”

“Eh, reciprocated affection is overrated,” Mulder jokes, though life would be a lot damn easier if he believed that. “And it’s one of the few Fridays where we’re not traveling or jet-lagged or wholly tired of each other.”

Scully purses her lips. “I see significantly less of Queequeg per week than I do you,” she mutters, and Mulder wonders whether some of her feigned contempt might be genuine. He’s used to being subtly disliked, but the thought sure makes him sad.

Seeing the passion in his face dissolve, Scully realizes that he’s backing down. It’s not like him to back down, no matter how frivolous the issue is. She knows this about him if she knows anything. It’s as if he’s giving up, and that strikes her more than anything.

“Haven’t you ever had a dog, Mulder?” she asks, ignoring the chair in front of her to perch on the edge of his desk.

“Once. After Samantha.” He laughs out of pure scorn. “I think it was my parents’ way of trying to replace her.”

Scully frowns. She should know by now that any journey into his past will turn into a probe of his eternal wound, and that’s no fault of his own.

“What was its name? And were you fond of it?” Scully feels like a therapist--hopefully a kind and supportive one.

“Sparky. I’ve got no clue where the name came from, or the dog for that matter. He was just kinda there one day when I got home from school. And then in a few months, he was gone in the same way. Taken to my uncle’s cause my parents couldn’t stand all the upkeep.”

A thought pops into Scully’s head that is evidently shared by her partner. “No, he didn’t “go live on a farm’ or whatever, I was old enough not to fall for that,” Mulder insists. “He really did go live with my uncle. Lived like seven more years.”

Scully raises an eyebrow. “But did you like him? Were you sad when he was gone?”

“I was sad about a lot of things at the time, Scully.” He opens his desk drawer and pops a piece of gum in his mouth. He’s out of sunflower seeds. “But about the dog? Eh, he was fine to have around but it wasn’t a quintessential boy and his dog moment. He was already a couple years old and well into his grumpy old man phase, if I remember correctly. And he was a mutt, so I think my parents hated him because he didn’t match the furniture.”

“Mmm.” Scully rolls her tongue over the roof of her mouth. It would be a shame to put Mulder through this whole conversation only to insist that she can’t attend the game. But she wasn’t just making excuses. Queeqeug has been home alone all day. and she always takes him for a walk when she gets home from work. He’s used to their routine now, sitting there at the door when she unlocks it like he’s got an alarm set. He gets his dinner when they get back home and falls soundly asleep. Scully’s convinced this is the only thing keeping him from rebelling for being on his own for ten hours a day, and she doesn’t want to test that theory.

Mulder glances at the office clock. 5:46. First pitch is at 7:05.

“How about this...” He props his feet up on the desk to give himself the air of confidence that he’s lacking. “I’ll run over to your place, walk him, make sure he does his business...the whole shebang. You can finish up here then take a taxi to the park, and I’ll meet you there. Sound good?”

The edges of Scully’s lips turn downward. Mulder notes that today, they are brushed over with a very nice coral. Must be a new shade.

“Do you really care that much about me attending this game?”

Mulder shrugs. Yes he does, but he’ll be nonchalant about it. “I bought the tickets cheap through a newspaper ad. I just thought it would be nice for the two of us to do something that’s not chasing phantoms.”

“Phantoms?” Scully’s left eyebrow arches. “Have I finally broken your spirit?”

Mulder smirks. “Sorry, I thought flattery might get me somewhere here.”

Scully taps a heel against the ugly linoleum floor. He’s so adamant about this...boyhood loves stick, she supposes.

“If it means that much to you, go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when you’re late for the start of the game. Queequeg takes his time.”

Mulder claps his hands together. “That’s fine, that’s fine!” Surely he can hurry the canine up. “You take one ticket and head to the seats, and I’ll find you.”

Scully pulls her lips into a thin line, a hint of humor gleaming in her eyes. “Okay, Mulder. Do you have your key?”

He nods, pulls on his jacket, and edges toward the door. “See you there, Scully!”

“Bye.” Scully smiles at the empty office. Her partner’s enthusiasm is endlessly endearing.

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

Mulder has no time to register that he has no clue where Queequeg’s leash is, or if he’s supposed to bring some sort of bag to pick up any...ehm, droppings, or if there’s some special trick to walking a dog that makes it look easy when it’s secretly hard. In fact, he can’t recall ever walking Sparky. Thirty years old and never walked a dog before...surely that qualifies him for the Guinness World Record books.

Queequeg is alert at the door when Mulder opens it, and he’s glad the thing is more teddy bear than canine--he doesn’t have to deal with any barking or biting. He checks the coat rack for a leash, then begins rummaging around in the front table when he comes up short. It’s all old issues of girly magazines he never would have expected Scully to subscribe to.

Begrudgingly, he looks into Queequeg’s beady eyes. “Where’s your leash, boy? You wanna go for a walk? Show me where your leash is.” He uses a baby voice he didn’t even know he had.

Queequeg does nothing but paw the ground in annoyance.

“I know the feeling,” Mulder quips. He pulls out his phone and chooses Scully’s name from the speed dial list.

It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. Mulder ends the call, grumbles, then tries the office number instead. She picks up after one ring.

“Hello?” her dainty voice projects through the line.

“Scully, you haven’t left yet?”

“I was just locking up the desk. Is there a problem?” she asks like she knew there would be.

“I can’t find Queequeg’s leash.”

“It’s by the pantry, next to his treats.”

Mulder sighs, heads into the kitchen. “And I suppose I have to take his treats too?”

“Uh-huh. And there’s plastic grocery bags in there that you can use to clean up after him.”

Mulder opens the pantry, sees the hoard. “I feared so.”

“We always go left down the block,” Scully tells her partner. “There’s a patch of grass that way he likes to chew on.”

“And how much does he pay you for such indelible service?” Scully doesn’t listen to a word he says, but she’s at the dog’s beck and call apparently.

There’s a bit of silence as Scully decides not to reply with a smartass remark. Then--”I’m leaving the office now,” she murmurs into the phone. “Better hurry up or I’ll beat you there.”

During this teasing, Mulder attached Queequeg’s leash to his collar. Now, as he tries to lead him into the living room, the dog refuses to move.

“Uh, Scully?”

“Yes?”

“I put his leash on, but Queequeg won’t budge.”

“Do you have the treats?”

Mulder shakes the treat bag and makes kissy noises to encourage the canine. (How humiliating.) Still, nothing.

“He doesn’t want to come with me,” Mulder says. “Even the treats won’t lure him over.”

“Are you sure it’s the right treats?” Scully asks.

“Since when are dogs picky about their treats? Treats are treats. And these are the only ones in the pantry.”

“Huh.”

“If you’re rolling your eyes, I can’t see it,” Mulder mutters.

“I’m not rolling my eyes, I just--we’ve never had this problem.”

“Has anyone else walked him?” Mulder wiggles the leash, which does nothing.

“My mom.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t like men,” Mulder remarks.

“He lived with Clyde Bruckman…”

“Exactly.”

Scully takes a quick exhale. He has a point. “I’ll head over, okay? But I doubt we’ll make the game.”

“We’ll see.” Mulder sighs. He’s being...well, cockblocked isn’t the right word for it--but something like that--by a dog.

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

Scully arrives half an hour later to find Mulder crouched on the kitchen floor rubbing Queequeg’s belly.

“Am I interrupting something?” she teases. The dog rolls over and leaps into excitement at the sound of her voice, abandoning Mulder altogether.

“Hi buddy.” She scratches his ears and dodges his attempts to lick her face. “You ready to go for a walk?”

Queequeg whimpers and sits as if she commanded him to.

Scully looks to Mulder with a brilliant, taunting smile. “I think he’s ready.”

Mulder stands up, every disk in his back rebelling against him. “That thing--” Mulder jabs a finger in Queequeg’s direction--”has a Jekyll and Hyde situation going on.”

“Really, cause you seemed to be having a great time until I came in.”

“No, no, no, don’t spin this. I had to get down on the kitchen floor because he wouldn’t move! What was I supposed to do while we were waiting for you, ignore him?”

Scully shrugs, tries to hide her smirk. “Well, if you were so bothered by him…”

“Whatever, whatever. Let’s just go for the walk, okay? I don’t want to miss this game, it’s against the Red Sox. It should be good.”

Scully takes Queequeg’s leash from her partner, gestures for him to go ahead. “After you.”

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

It’s a beautiful spring night--the perfect occasion for a baseball game, Scully will give Mulder that. The sun is drifting down the cloudless horizon, and the chill that has hung in the air for months is finally admitting defeat. The sidewalk is crowded with other dogs and their humans, eager to end the week on such a lovely note.

Queequeg trots blissfully in the usual direction. Scully lengthens her stride to keep up with him--for once she and Mulder are walking at the same pace.

“So this is DC on a Friday night, huh?” Mulder says, glancing around at their fellow pedestrians and bicyclists.

Scully nods. “If you got out of the office before seven, you’d know.”

“Doubtful. My usual impression of DC on a Friday night is the traffic on the 14th Street bridge, and I’m pretty sure I can witness that at all hours.”

Scully allows herself a sidelong glance at her partner. She had never realized someone could be too dedicated until she met Mulder.

“Have you ever considered getting a pet?” she asks tentatively.

His gaze snaps to her. He chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets. “My complex has a hefty monthly pet fee. Rent is already bad enough.”

“Well it’s not like you go out often…” Scully starts, knowing this is short of a compliment. “You’re not a big spender, surely you have the extra cash on hand.”

“Ha, thanks,” Mulder responds. “Should I put that on my resume?”

“I just mean that…” Queequeg finds his beloved patch of grass, and they pause to let him chomp at it. “...you could use the companionship of a dog. Or cat, if that strikes your fancy.”

“I have enough companionship, Scully. More than I know what to do with. Have you heard my answering machine?”

“A woman from an 800 line is not companionship, Mulder. And you never actually answer any of your messages. Friends don’t count if you never see them.”

“Ouch.” Queequeg finishes up, and they resume the walk. “And what are your plans this weekend, Scully?” he asks, hoping to catch her in her own hypocrisy.

“As a matter of fact, I’m going to visit my mother tomorrow afternoon.”

Mulder busts out laughing. “You’re a real party girl!”

She ignores him, focusing on Queequeg. “But you get my point, don’t you? It’s not good to be alone all the time.”

“I seem to recall being told that we spend more time together than you and your dog,” Mulder wisecracks.

“That’s different,” Scully swears. “That’s work.”

“That’s the bulk of modern life, my dear.” He delivers this statement in an old-timey mid-Atlantic accent like some leading man of the 40s. It makes Scully smile.

“I have an idea,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh boy.” Mulder glances at his watch. 6:51. Damn it. “We’re gonna miss the game.”

Scully nods. “Let’s go to the animal shelter instead.”

Mulder stops. It makes Queequeg, and therefore Scully, stop too. “What?”

“You could make some dog very happy, you know. And Queequeg would have a playmate...I think it would be really good for you, Mulder.”

“Come on, I can’t just adopt a dog on a whim.”

“I did.”

“Shit.”

Scully laughs. “You’re realizing there’s no way out of this, aren’t you?”

Mulder grins. “Yeah, I--” He looks down and sees Queequeg taking a dump in the middle of the sidewalk. Scully readies the plastic bag she brought, then bends down and scoops the pile up like it’s nothing.

Mulder screws up his face. “On second thought…”

“Nuh-uh.” Scully ties the bag and taps it against Mulder’s arm. “You’re empty-handed, take this. It’ll be good practice.”

Mulder frowns but takes the bag. His partner’s huge smile is not lost on him, and it makes him smile despite himself. She knows how to get what she wants, and he has a feeling this one will benefit him too.

[hualianff]

Birthday Boy HC

Modern AU with police chief HC who is very dedicated to his job, especially because he grew up in a “bad” area and has first-hand experience from inadequate police service in poor neighborhoods. His co-workers and friends never see him go on second dates or have one-night stands. When HC’s birthday comes up, he insists he doesn’t want a grand occasion.

However, a simple party, he will permit.

Leave it to HX’s partner, SQX, to invite all of HC’s friends and acquaintances to HC’s own penthouse for a surprise birthday party, scheduled for the evening since HC typically works very late. When the police chief arrives home, still in his black uniform pants and red dress-shirt that goes under his suit jacket, the party is on the precipice of a full swing celebration.

HC is a bit put off by how loud and crowded his home is but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Things are lonely, he will admit. And if this is a once-in-a-blue-moon thing, then HC won’t stop others from enjoying themselves and frankly, spoiling him.

At the height of the party, right when YY is about to present the birthday cake, SQX whistles for everyone’s attention.

“All right, Hua Cheng, time to sit on that chair over there,” SQX says while steering HC from behind, pushing on his shoulder. The chair is placed in the middle of the living room, in the perfect spot to watch the front door open.

The lights are gradually dimmed.

HC is too confused to protest. He cautiously sits down.

The front door pivots open. The person who walks through the door makes HC’s eye widen in surprise. They are dressed in all black: jean-booty shorts, stilettos, and a tight-fitting crop top. A sheer veil is also draped over their shoulders, falling gracefully behind them as they enter the room. They wear a headband with pointy horns and dark, red lipstick.

As the person gets closer, HC’s breath picks up.

“You didn’t-“ he whispers mindlessly, directed at SQX. His best friend’s partner merely holds their hands up in surrender, as if saying they did nothing wrong.

The scarcely-dressed person looks around demurely, aware everyone’s eyes are on them, ogling at their outfit that exposes lots of skin.

And then they set their gaze on HC, who sits frozen in the chair, hands gripping his thighs.

“Are you the birthday boy?” The stranger asks, smirking slightly. HC audibly gulps, not quite believing the sight of his childhood neighbor standing right in front of him, dressed like a demon summoned for punishment for his sins.

(It takes .05 seconds for HC to tent up in his pants.)

HC can’t bring himself to speak without stuttering like a fool. It’s clear that he’s the birthday boy—he’s sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, goddamn it. But for whatever reason, HC feels like he needs to respond to every one of this man’s signals.

So he stiffly nods, managing to maintain eye contact.

XL’s smirk widens mischievously, holding a secret promise behind those glistening lips. He prowls forward slowly, the click of his stiletto heels echoing across the marble floor.

“It looks like I’ve gotten myself into a little trouble,” he says with faux-innocence, slipping the veil off his shoulders. Instead of coming onto HC, XL slinks around him, letting the veil skim across HC’s lap, up to his chest, and over his face.

It faintly smells of peach.

“All right, Mr. Policeman,” XL addresses, pausing to stand behind HC. “What should I call you?”

HC breathes out harshly through his nose, desperately wanting to tilt his head back in order to get another glimpse at the angel- no, minx who has evoked the intensity of desire and lust long-buried under HC’s skin. It steadily rises to the surface, heating HC’s skin, making him feel too hot in a room where too many people remain to watch the show.

“Hmm, will ‘chief’ do? Or perhaps...sir?”

“Hua Cheng is just fine,” HC grits out. He gives in to looking behind his shoulder with curious eyes. XL’s face is startlingly close, amber eyes holding a sultry look that sends pleasure down HC’s spine.

Then, those eyes fixate on him, getting a really good look for the first time. Familiarity flashes across XL’s expression but he quickly wipes it away in favor of connecting their foreheads.

“Hua Cheng it is.”

The click of handcuffs binding HC’s wrists behind the back of the chair makes his heart drop to his stomach. He whips his head around to SQX and HX who stand off to the side. HX raises an amused eyebrow.

Somehow, SQX convinced HX to steal a pair from the office.

These are his own cuffs.

“Is this okay, Hua Cheng?” XL whispers genuinely in HC’s. When HC audibly hitches, he giggles.

“Yes.”

XL unties HC’s low ponytail to card his fingers through the police chief’s hair.

“Does it feel good?”

Fuck, XL is barely touching him, but the light brush of his fingers ignites a flame in HC’s heart, making him feel alive.

XL unbuttons the top three buttons of HC’s shirt.

“There. All ripe for the taking,” XL purrs. He drags the veil up and over HC’s face as he walks away. A strong bass pounds from HC’s built-in speaker SQX has managed to operate.

XL begins dancing for HC, swiveling his hips and rotating in time with the music. HC’s breath quickens up, his police attire also feeling unbearably hot. XL ditches the veil, and then he’s walking to HC, long legs crossing with every step.

HC is certain he won’t survive this.

***

It turns out to be nothing more than a sensual lap dance. There was no kissing on the lips, no groping on HC’s part, and no intimate touches because XL isn’t that kind of dancer. SQX knew this. He also knew HC wouldn’t want anything more than a bit of teasing anyways.

Luckily, SQX contacting a fellow friend who he’d modeled with once has allowed HC to see XL again. When he’s released from the cuffs, HC stands up and approaches where XL picks up his veil from the ground.

“Gege?” HC questions quietly. XL turns to look at him, a pink blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Oh, hello again, San Lang,” the other man greets, nearly the same height as HC with the stilettos on. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Hmm.”

It hadn’t been either of their faults. Or maybe it was both. HC traveled to another part of the country to be enrolled in the most prestigious academy in the nation. XL moved to a different big city to pursue a degree in economics. Years of separation caused them to drift apart from best friends in high school to strangers living very different lives.

“Well, it’s really nice to see you again. The circumstances are a bit... unconventional, but I’m glad it was you,” XL laughs lightly, readjusting his headband with pointy horns. HC tries not to stare at how well they suit the other man.

XL shifts a bit uncomfortably, hugging the sheer veil tighter around his body. HC feels a natural smile curl upon his lips in hopes it soothes XL’s qualms about his state of dress.

“I’m glad it was you too, gege,” HC says honestly. XL’s face lights up like the golden fairy lights he had pinned on his childhood room walls. “If it’s not too much trouble, I ask if gege can stay?”

“Oh.”

“At least for cake-” HC rushes out, praying to whatever bastard up there that XL will say yes. “It’s strawberry,” he adds, softer. XL tilts his head in astonishment.

“I thought your favorite flavor was coconut?” XL asks in surprise.

“It is. But...I asked for strawberry this year,” HC finishes lamely.

Was he being too obvious? Would XL figure him out and be repelled? Sure, it was only a cake flavor, but what are the chances XL’s favorite is still strawberry?

XL takes his phone out of the canvas bag SQX brought to him after the dance. He scrolls for a few seconds, then quickly types something out. Turning the device back in its place, XL meets HC’s gaze with a cheerful smile.

He closes all the distance between them, a certain bounce in his step.

“I believe,” XL starts. “I can keep the birthday boy company for a little while longer.”

HC smiles widely, flashing his front row of teeth–his right canine pointier than the rest.

“Brilliant.”

***

Turns out, “a little while longer” meant talking until every last person called it a night and headed out. They catch up on all the years they missed out on each others’ lives.

Four years ago, XL adopted a daughter, Ban Yue. Ban Yue was a split-second decision when XL was a year out of university, unsure of what direction his life was heading. He says it’s the best decision he’s ever made.

“She brings me so much happiness. It was like I had a Ban Yue-shaped hole and she was the missing puzzle piece,” XL says enthusiastically. He pauses to take one more sip of his baijiu. “Does that even make sense? Hahaha….”

“It does,” HC reassures from beside him. They sit on his plush, velvet couch, holding their respective drinks with practiced form. XL leans back against the cushions, sighing in relief.

“San Lang, I knew you would understand,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t elaborate.

He doesn’t need to. It’s no secret XL’s parents would’ve disapproved of him for single-parenting a random orphan with no known heritage or background. But they were already out of the picture, disowning XL right after high school graduation when he was outed by a family friend whose advances XL rejected.

“Perhaps you can meet her one day,” XL adds as an afterthought. HC matches XL’s position, reclining against the cushions, keeping his body turned towards XL, offering him HC’s full, undivided attention. It’s a simple gesture that means everything to someone like XL.

“I would love to,” HC says.

XL hums happily, then goes on to explain that he’s a telemarketer by day, which allows him to stay home with flexible work hours that fit around Ban Yue’s school schedule. (She’s in the third grade now.)

XL also mentions that he occasionally dances at night for an extra income. Nothing too intense or frequent. Just dressing up and dancing for special occasions, at parties like HC’s. XL typically has MQ or FX babysit Ban Yue during those nights.

The word family echoes in the hollow of HC’s chest.

“Gege’s been leading a very eventful and prosperous life,” HC comments with satisfaction. He leans forward to tug the maple-red coat he lent back over XL’s shoulders, ensuring the other man stayed warm.

“Nonsense, my life is just like anybody else’s,” XL says, waving his hand in a lax motion. “But I am very interested in hearing about San Lang’s life. Police chief, huh?”

“Gege…” HC mutters shyly. Against his will, his mind replays the moment XL asked if he should address HC as “sir.”

Boners don’t get boyfriends; sexy, mature conversations do, HC tells himself.

“Please, San Lang? I won’t force you to talk too much about yourself! I know we don’t...know each other as well as we used to,” XL says, a bit embarrassed. “If you want, we can just end right now and I can leave-”

“No! Not at all, I’ll tell gege anything he wants,” HC says, scooting even closer to XL so their hips bump against one another. XL sets down his empty glass, his unsure expression morphs to contentedness.

As it should always be.

“Well…” HC trails off, taken aback by how vivid XL’s amber irises gleam as they pin HC down. “Actually, there isn’t much to tell-”

“Just tell it is how it is, San Lang!” XL laughs, reaching over to playfully bat at HC’s arm.

“Okay, okay! I’m on it.”