#you know when dogs destroy entire pieces of furniture?

[sandinthepipes]

The amazing devil sang the last two paragraphs of chords and you're telling me to be normal about it.

[sister-lucifer]

Stupid Dog! 

Puppyboy!Ticci Toby x Gender Neutral Reader 

Genre: Smut 

Summary: Toby is pent up, and he wants to be good, but he just can’t take being ignored anymore. 

Content/Warnings: No explicit consent but not non/dubcon, Toby’s breaking the rules but Reader makes no move to stop him beyond just scolding him for being needy and they both enjoy it, degradation, just a bit of praise at the end, dry humping, mentions of punishment, mean dom reader but Toby likes it, needy sub Toby, whatever the term for controlling when your partner masturbates is 

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All week. 

It’s been all week with this. 

With you, sitting at your desk, hunched over your computer as though it’s utterly captivated you with its cornea-searing rays and endless pings that constantly demand your attention, meanwhile your beloved pup has been practically thrown to the wayside without a care. 

It’s cruelty is what it is, complete neglect! No matter how much Toby whines or how loud he howls or how many of your shoes he threatens to tear to shreds, the mistreatment never ceases. How awful, how unfair, choosing your stupid job over him! He should be the must important thing in your life! Don’t you know he needs your attention to survive?! He’ll die like this! 

The worst part, though, is the fact that you’ve kept The Rule enforced despite your preoccupation. You have set many rules for Toby to keep him from destroying the house or getting the police called, but the one he absolutely hates the most is The Rule:

Under absolutely no circumstances is Toby allowed to masturbate unless under some sort of supervision. 

He had laughed in your face the first time you suggested that, only to choke on his mirth when he saw how deathly serious you were. He’d tried to argue, naturally, but you presented an awfully compelling case. He was messy and erratic, making complete filth of his bedsheets which you would then have to wash because he’s too scared of the noises the washing machine makes. He’d chew the pillows to bits and hump every piece of furniture in the house, and no matter how much you scrubbed or washed or sprayed his thick musk would be stuck on the fabric for weeks. Not to mention he had no idea when to stop, he was practically addicted to it; he’d go and go and go until he made himself pass out. It was for the benefit of you both that he be reigned in. 

He doesn’t like it, not one bit, but he concedes to the rules you set nonetheless. It’s just one of the many things he had to give up when you took him off the street and gave him the cushy life of a human. It was a big adjustment, yes, and although for the most part every change has been for the better, it’s times like these he wonders where he’d be if he was still feral. 

Certainly not as frustrated, that’s for sure. 

He’s been watching you from your bed for a while now, staring at your back as you click click click away at your keyboard with nary a fleeting glance at him. The first few days he whined, but gave up on that rather quickly when you didn’t budge. He barked a couple of times, but all that got him was a few coos and gentle shushes of pity. At this point, you don’t have the time or energy to keep explaining to him why you can’t play. He’s heard the same response enough times to know it by heart, anyways. 

The longer he sits here, the more restless he gets. The more restless he gets, the more his mind wanders, and his mind wanders to dirty places far too easily. When boredom seeps into his brain, he combats it with some rather lewd fantasies. His eyes flutter shut for just a moment, and in that split second an entire film of utter pornographic depravity plays on the back of his eyelids, memories of your bare body flashing through his mind. 

 It becomes far too much for him to bear rather quickly, and soon the full weight of Toby’s frustration is weighing heavy on him. He squirms on his back, nearly whimpering at just the slight friction of his boxers on his hardening member. 

He just can’t do this anymore! 

He practically throws himself off of the bed, hitting the ground with a hard thud. In the next moment he’s over your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck and whining softly. He sighs with relief when you actually reach up to scratch his head, although your free hand never leaves the keyboard. 

“Hey, puppy,” you say softly, without looking at him. You take your hand away far too quickly, and Toby whines when you pull your fingers out of his messy hair. He nuzzles you again, with a bit more intensity this time. 

“C’mon, Toby, I’m busy right now,” you say with a sigh. Toby huffs in annoyance. 

Dammit. So close. 

He can still feel the heat in his loins growing more and more by the second. This just won’t do. 

The next thing he knows he’s sitting between your legs, looking up at you from the floor. His heart flutters when you glance down at him with a soft smile, briefly tousling his hair in an almost condescending gesture, which earns another huff of irritation from Toby. 

“I’m sorry, pup, really I am,” you explain, “but I just can’t right now. I promise, as soon as I’m done I’ll do whatever you want. I just need you to be patient for a bit longer.” 

That wasn’t anywhere near the answer he was hoping for. 

He grumbles and leans in, shamelessly burying his face in your groin. He inhales deeply, tail thumping against the ground as he makes a show of taking in your scent. He smirks to himself when he feels you jump. 

“Toby, c’mon, don’t be like that—“ you start, but he cuts you off with a growl.  That makes you raise an eyebrow. 

You’ve seen him do this before. This is your cue. 

That’s how he lets you know he wants to play rough, and he’s ready to be treated like a brat. 

Of course, you oblige. It’s the least you could do, really. 

“Oh, you dumb mutt,” you hiss, and you can practically feel the smile he’s holding back, “can’t you behave for once in your life? You know damn well you aren’t supposed to be doing this.”

You have to hold back a grin of your own when the incessant wagging of his tail only picks up the pace. 

You feign annoyance with a heavy sigh, sharply turning your head to look back up at your computer. You carry on with your typing, ignoring the feeling of Toby shifting against you.

That is, until you feel his hips start to grind against your leg. 

Oh, fuck. 

It takes everything in you not to drop everything you’ve been working on right then and there, and  you even feel a slight pang of guilt when he whines that high pitched whine at you. 

You take in a deep breath. You exhale slowly. 

You have to stay strong. If you give in now, he’ll never learn. 

And besides, it’s so much more fun when you’re tough. 

“Toby. You haven’t been given permission,” you state firmly. This only earns an even more pitiful whimper from him. You resist the urge to bite your lip. 

“…Bad. Bad dog.” 

The words hold no weight. It only makes Toby hump your leg with more fervor. 

You shift your leg with intent, shuddering at the little yelp that Toby lets out when it rubs against his bulge. He’s already soaking the front of his sweatpants. 

“God, can’t you go ten minutes without begging to get your cock wet?” you growl. 

A shaky giggle manages to make its way through his gritted teeth. He nuzzles against your knee, and you can feel him looking up at you with those big, hazel eyes despite the fact that your gaze is fixed firmly on your monitor. He’s getting exactly what he wants, and you can’t even be mad. 

You do your best not to show how much this is affecting you. You force yourself to not look down at him, to keep your shoulders relaxed and your typing at its regular pace. 

“…You’re breaking the rules, and you know it.” 

For just a moment you feel Toby’s hips stutter at that. Then they’re only moving faster, his bulge desperately rubbing against your leg as endless whines fall from his lips. 

Oh, he’s just begging for more. 

“Stupid dog,” you spit, and you could swear his cock twitches at that, “Don’t you have any self control? I can feel you leaving a stain on my pant leg. Where’s your dignity?” 

He moans in response, and you feel him rest his chin on your knee. He’s panting heavily now. 

“I really should keep you on a leash,” you muse aloud, feigning thought, “If you keep acting like an animal, I’ll chain you up and treat you like one. You can’t get into any trouble if you’re stuck in the backyard, can you?” 

He growls, but it’s not aggressive; it’s desperate. It’s a needy rumbling in his throat that wants more. 

You shift your leg again, making a subtle effort to aid him in his release. 

He’s huffing and puffing like a freight train. Just hearing the sound makes you miss feeling his warm breath on your neck. 

“…P…P-Please,” Toby stammers, and your eyes widen a bit. 

It’s rare for him to use real words when he can growl and whine to get his point across, but now he’s using his voice to plead. 

Oh, God…

You inhale deeply once again, your breath shakier than before. 

You finally give in. 

You take your hands off the keyboard, resting them on the arms of your chair instead as you lean back. The way Toby lights up the moment you make eye contact, that dumb little smile that crosses his face and makes his entire expression go lopsided with a lust-drunk haze. 

“Go on then,” you order with a nod, your voice a bit more gentle than you meant for it to be, “make a mess. You’ll take the consequences for this, won’t you?”

He nods eagerly, and you’re not even bothered by the pool of drool he’s leaving on your pant leg. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you watch him. His desperation is evident on his face, eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he loses himself to the feeling of an impending (and much needed) release. 

“Oh, you’re just a dumb little pup, aren’t you?” you tease, only to be met with a slurred chant of ‘Yes, yes yes.’  You’re surprised he can speak at all with the way his tongue hangs limply out of his mouth like a useless appendage. 

He’s losing the slight semblance of a steady pace he once had. He’s getting close, and all that matters now is getting to the end.  He needs this. 

He can’t control his voice anymore. Each whine or moan is louder than the last, until he’s practically screaming. He’s nearly sobbing, both from the pleasure and the overwhelming relief of finally getting what he’s craved all week. He’s so close, so damn close. 

There’s just one thing that’ll push him over the edge. 

“…Go on.  Cum for me like a good boy.”

Toby nearly chokes on his breath. 

A tremor rocks his body as he releases without warning, his sticky release shooting through the fabric keeping his cock contained and leaving a warm sensation on your leg. The last moan that leaves him is completely pathetic, and soon his voice melts into nothing but barely audible whimpers. Slowly but surely his erratic grinding comes to a stop, and the only sound is his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He rests his head on your knee, now leaning against you completely since he can’t support himself. 

You take a moment to appreciate the sight of your puppy; all tuckered out, brunette hair flicking out in all directions, and barely conscious. 

Adorable. 

You reach out and gently pet his head, scratching his scalp right on that spot that makes his leg twitch. 

“Look at me, pup,” you order, and he obeys. His eyes are lidded, but he still has the energy to give you a tired smile. You return the gesture. 

“Mm…I hope you know you’re in big, big trouble.”

Toby nods, his grin only widening. He doesn’t regret anything. 

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[redux-iterum]

A Canine Eulogy

We put down my dog, Geno, today.

Textwall of sentiment under the cut.

Shortly, he was ill, and steadily growing worse every day at a rapid decline of a week before his death. He'd have brief moments of cheeriness, then go back to being listless, sluggish and unhappy. The vet made it clear a few days ago that there was very little chance of saving him and that his quality of life (the most dreaded phrase in a pet owner's dictionary) was poor, and only getting poorer. We made the decision to end his suffering before it got so severe he couldn't climb up the stairs into my house, or have accidents indoors, or starve himself to death (as he was starting to). It didn't feel good, not remotely, but it had to be done.

I haven't talked about Geno on this blog, so I figure the best way to pay my respects is to tell you all how great of a dog he was. Probably a bit late to introduce him, but whatever.

Geno (nicknames including Bean, Stinky Bean/Gene, Eyebrows Boy, Old Man and Geno Bon Benostein) was a dog that we never figured out the breed of. Many people, charmed by his pleasant, permanent puppyface that was always so happy to see them, would ask me his breed, and my answer was "He's got big eyebrows, that's all I know". That generally got a laugh, which was nice.

We attained Geno when he was about half a year old in a move. My pops runs a moving company, and we get all sorts of things from moves that people don't want to take with them to the new house across the state. I don't think a single piece of furniture in my house isn't secondhand, that's how much we get.

Geno in particular was our first longterm pet from a move. The lowdown is that the customers were divorcing and were viciously arguing over every single item and animal in the house. The wife threatened to take Geno to the pound, and immediately Pops offered to adopt him. I found this out when he picked me up from a sleepover in middle school and had a second dog with him, along with our first. It was quite a delightful surprise.

Our first dog was less than obedient and more than indifferent to humans, loving to destroy stuff and escape constantly. Geno, on the other hand, was only concerned about staying within eyesight of his owners, to the point of sitting on a windowsill as well as he could and staring at us through the glass until we let him in (at the time Pops was not eager to have dogs in the house). We never needed to chain him up or fence him in - he was entirely devoted to us from jump and got as close as he could at all times.

The first dog eventually died, and Geno was the sole pup of the house. He thrived in that, and he made a point to prove himself to be an excellent dog. He never had an accident in the house for many years (until age got to him), preferring to potty in the bushes or brush so that we didn't have to worry about stepping in it or even cleaning it up. He never barked or ran away or growled at visitors, nor did he knock over trash cans or even so much as get fleas during the summer. The only things we struggled with were his great hatred of other dogs and aggressive fear of wheels. The wheel thing was a little more embarrassing, because he'd bark at some poor bastard in a wheelchair who was just trying to mind his own business. Like, great, thanks, Geno. Now we look like assholes.

Geno went on many, many trips across the country with us, especially to Yellowstone, which is a yearly voyage pops and I go on. He was a treat to travel with - he just wanted to rest his head between the front seats and look at us adoringly. He went to beaches, where he didn't enjoy the coast and instead stuck with us by inches, and on moves, where customers and their new neighbors would fawn over him and he got to be the Super Special Puppy Dog, which he loved. He went more places than most people I know, and certainly ate more pizza than any other dog in the United States while we were in hotels. Maybe not healthy for him, but man did he love his 'za, and he'd stare at us with his big ol' cow eyes. How could we say no?

This dog was a major part of my life - he was around for half of it, from middle school to adulthood. I don't think I can ever get another dog that would be nearly as wonderful as him, and I don't know that I want to. I think he raised the standard too high and made every dog I take care of (I housesit for a living) somehow not as good as him, no matter how well-mannered they are. I expect that to be that way for a very long time.

His collar, I decided, will stay in my car, hooked around the rearview mirror. That way, he gets to travel with me no matter where I go. He always did thoroughly enjoy a car ride.

Moonshine will miss him greatly. She was infatuated with him no matter how much he tried to make her go away. He gave up towards the end and started being nice to her, at least. I'm just glad I've got pictures of them interacting and her demanding his affections. Those are precious memories above precious memories.

The vet techs mourned with us as we said goodbye, calling him "one of the good ones". I think that's a pretty high compliment.

I hope he's happy, wherever he is.

You were a good boy, Geno.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Six - Celebration @sapphicmicrofics

April Daily Series - 576 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Dorcas worked full-time as a legal assistant, she had a Bachelor of Laws degree, and was actively studying for the Solicitor’s exam. The last thing that she needed was a distraction from her lofty goals and the obscene amount of work required to attain them. She didn’t have time to lose herself in that devilish grin and those ocean blue eyes.

Stop it! That’s not helping.

She tore her gaze from the photos and shook her head clear. Dorcas needed Marlene like she needed a hole in her head. Both would destroy everything she’d built for herself here in London. When she finished her law program, Dorcas decided to forgo a celebration in favour of continuing her dogged pursuit of a solicitor’s title. Her parents were proud of her and she was proud of herself. That’s all she needed.

Nothing would impede her progress now. Not even a fit, blonde hockey player with muscular thighs, curvy hips, and arms that were deceptively strong. Definitely not.

“What on earth are you thinking about?” Pandora asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. “You look overwhelmed all of a sudden.”

Dorcas dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “Nothing. Lost in my thoughts.”

“Thoughts about Marlene?”

“No!” Dorcas stood up and resumed her pacing. She needed to settle herself and the repetitive movement helped. Walking stimulated blood circulation to the brain and she needed all the help she could get, at the moment.

Pandora followed her path with her eyes, but remained curled up on Dorcas’s bed. She never simply sat on a piece of furniture. That would be entirely too easy. No, of course not. Pandora insisted on draping herself over furniture like a Greek goddess instead.

“Come out for drinks with us tonight.”

Dorcas shook her head. “Alcohol and agitation are a terrible combination.”

“You need to relax, Dorcas.”

“The last thing that I need to do with her around is to relax,” Dorcas retorted, pointing at the closed bedroom door. “I will not allow myself to backslide now. Not after everything I went through last time.”

Pandora hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Fine, but you should know that she’s crashing on our sofa for the next few days. You can’t avoid her forever.”

“I thought Lily was crashing on the sofa.”

With a derisive snort, Pandora shook her head. “Do you know how long it's been since I had a girlfriend? Too long. She’s sleeping in here with me.”

Dorcas nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?”

“We have a two bedroom flat, Dorcas. Until Reg gives in to James and moves out, we’ll have to share the master.”

“All three of us?”

Pandora’s smile didn’t waiver as she nodded slowly. “Yes, it should be fun. Don’t you think so?”

“Pandora, if you shag her while I’m in here, I will–”

“That will not be a problem.”

Dorcas eyed her warily. “It won’t?”

“No, because Lily is a screamer and she’d be mortified if you heard her.”

Pandora’s expression was completely unbothered and her voice matter-of-fact. As if she hadn’t just given Dorcas a glimpse of her and her girlfriend’s physical relationship entirely unprompted. Then again, this wasn’t new. Pandora always was a little too open about her sex life.

“Yes, well…let’s make that a new house rule then,” Dorcas said, biting back the urge to tell her off.

What was I going to say? How dare you have mind-blowing sex with your girlfriend? I am losing the plot.

Next Part>>>

[marvelgiggles]

Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 1

I swear you guys aren’t prepared for the sweetness and sadness to come!!

THIS IS A TICKLE SERIES!!! DON’T LIKE THEN PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING!

The drive to Tony’s house was longer and more out of the city than you expected. The land was beautiful and then when you saw the house you were in awe. You’ve never seen a house so big.

“Not what you expected huh?” Tony asked. You shook your head when suddenly nervousness settled in your stomach, what if you got lost or got lonely in this huge house. Happy pulled into the entrance way and opened Tony’s door, you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize Tony got out of the car. “Having second thoughts?” You cleared your head and got out of the car.

“Well everyone knows your coming so it shouldn’t be a big surprise to them. Don’t worry they are some of the nicest and kindest people you’ll ever meet.” Tony said.

Who was everyone? Was it a large group of people? Were they people your age? A million more thoughts ran through your head as you walked closer and closer to the door. Tony opened the door for you and were just as in shock as you were when you saw the outside of the house. It was oddly comforting and also made you feel very very small due to the size.

“Come on everyone is this way.” Tony motioned for you to follow him. You walked into what seemed like a living room and there were probably eight people waiting to meet you. They all looked familiar too, but you still couldn’t remember where you’ve seen them. You were a little intimidated with all the eyes on you but you were determined to stand your ground. “Everyone this is Y/N, Y/N these are the Avengers.” 

The Avengers! That’s why they all looked familiar! But you were now going to possibly live with the Avengers, there was no way this was real life. This had to be a dream you would be waking up from very very soon.

“I’m sure you all want to get to know her but I’m going to show her her room and let her get settled in.” Tony stated as he motioned for you to follow him. He lead you down a maze of hallways. Finally the both of you stopped at the door you assumed to be your room, “I know it isn’t much right now but I have some stuff coming later and if you want anything don’t be afraid to ask, okay?” You nodded your head and opened the door. 

The room was far bigger than you’ve had in the past and you thought it was perfect right now, you had no idea what Tony could have bought to make it better. Although you all of a sudden felt guilty he had bought anything in the first place, I mean you were practically a stranger, a pretzel and hot dog were one thing but furniture for your own room was a whole other thing. 

“Go ahead get settled in. If you need anything let JARVIS know.” 

“Hello.” JARVIS’s voice echoed the room, alarming you a little. 

“Don’t worry he can’t see you or anything but go ahead put your things away and even take a nap if you want. You deserve a good sleep.” 

“Thank you.” You told Tony as you watched him shut your door to give you some privacy. 

You quickly put the few things you had away and crawled into your new bed. You’ve never had a bed this comfortable and quickly fell asleep.

________________

Meanwhile down in the living room

“Tony where in the world did you find her.” Steve asked. 

“She wandered into the Avengers tower lobby probably to get out of the heat. When I saw her all dirty and she looked so lost. I couldn’t help it and I can’t explain it. I tried to follow her but lost her in the crowd so I had JARVIS follow her. He followed her all the way to a teenage drop in center.” Tony said filling everyone in.

“Okay but you can’t just bring random teenagers back to the compound.” Clint argued. “What if she has an actual family out there or is on the run.”

“I’m having JARVIS try to find out her background and who she is. If she was kidnapped or something when she was younger, I will simply bring her back to her family. If they don’t have any red flags.” 

“I think she’s cute.” Bucky stated completely understanding what Tony felt because as soon as he laid eyes on her, a fierce need to protect her ran through him.

JARVIS discovered who she was and Tony starts reading the report to the team.

“Okay her name is Y/N L/N. She was born on Y/B to a Jane Doe at a hospital in Idaho and was abandoned in the hospital so she was immediately put into social services and was placed with a couple in New York. The reports from the social worker say that the couple was oddly clinical in their relationship with her but they had no means to remove her because she was excelling in school and all of her needs were being met. It also says that she always seemed to be on her absolute best behavior and the social worker said it looked like she was looking for approval and affection every time she looked at the couple she was placed with and it only got worse each time she visited.” Tony finished quietly at the end, his heart breaking for that poor girl. 

“She must not know what it means to be loved.” Bucky also stated with heartbreak in his voice. 

“Avengers, we have a new mission. We have to help Y/N learn how to be loved.” Everyone nodded in agreement. 

———————-

It’s been a few weeks since Tony took you in. You still couldn’t believe that you were living here. Everyone was so nice. They always smiled at you when they saw you, they wanted you to spend time with them and include you in things, they always communicated with you not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Although you had a special bond with Tony because he obviously took you in and was the father figure in your life. A couple days after Tony brought you to the Avengers compound, is what he called it, he noticed you were pretty quiet. 

“Y/N are you uncomfortable here?” Tony asked you. 

“No.” You told him honestly.

“Well I’ve noticed you’ve been pretty quiet.” He mentioned. “I just want you to know you can totally be yourself here and I know that your foster parents didn’t treat you very well.” You stiffened up a little when he mentioned them. “Sweetie, I have to know. Did they hurt you at all?”

“They didn’t hit me if that’s what you mean. I don’t think they really wanted me though.” You said almost ashamed and you looked down at your lap to embarrassed to look at Tony. 

“Oh sweetheart. Well I can tell you we want you here, we want to show you what a real family is. I also want you to know no question is off limits, so if you have absolutely any questions about anything don’t feel scared to ask. There is no judgement here.”

You nodded, excited to see what a family is.

Tony stood up, “Now let’s go get something to eat.” 

You also had a special bond with Bucky too. There was something about the way that he looked at you when Tony introduced you to everyone, you felt very safe, protected and something else you couldn’t figure out. You were also fascinated by his metal arm.

“Hey Y/N, wanna watch a movie with me?” Bucky asked you. 

“Yeah.” You said you didn’t watch a lot of them growing up and you loved them. Plus you had a lot of them to catch up on. You sat on the couch away from Bucky.

“Y/N you can sit closer to me if you want, if you wanna cuddle we can do that too.” Bucky smiled at you.

“What’s cuddling?” Your foster parents never showed you any affection. You knew what hugs were but that’s all and your foster parents didn’t even show you what that was. One of your classmates in kindergarten did that to you and you had to ask your teacher what it was. You liked it when you classmate hugged you it made you feel warm inside. Although your foster parents didn’t like it and you didn’t know anyone you could get a hug from. 

Bucky’s heart hurt a little bit, how could your foster parent never want to cuddle a sweet little thing like you. “Cuddling is a sort of gentle hug that you do with someone you care about. Here I’ll show you. Scoot over to me.” He waited until you were right next to him. “Now I’m going to lay down and you can lay down on my right side, then I’m going to put my arm around you and pull you closer. You can rest your head on my chest if you want too, kinda like a pillow. Sound good?”

You nodded excited about the new type of affection that Bucky was going to show you. You crawled into Bucky’s side and you had to shift a little bit to get comfortable but you loved this feeling. 

“Feel good sweetheart.” Bucky said. You nodded with a small smile on your face and nestled a little further into Bucky’s chest. “Good.” He said as he kissed your forehead. You turned to look up at him. 

“Why’d you put your lips on me?” You asked him. 

If Bucky’s heart hurt from the fact that you’ve never been cuddle, it shattered to pieces when he realized that you’ve never been kissed in your entire life. It made him want to cry and also destroy those foster parents of yours for neglecting you of love and affection your entire life. “That’s called a kiss. It’s another thing people do to show someone they love them. It can mean a lot of things hello, goodbye, it’s okay, I’m sorry, but it will always always mean I love you.” You felt bold and decided to also kiss his cheek in return, Bucky’s heart practically melted and he pulled you even closer. 

Later on in the movie, you were starting to drift off. “Hey no falling asleep.” Bucky teased as he squeezed your side. You gasped at the new feeling and tried to squirm away from his hand. “Well it looks like you’re ticklish, Y/N!” 

“What’s that?” You said before he could do it again. Bucky was so happy that he was the one that was teaching you all sorts of new things and by finding out you were ticklish made you even more adorable to him.

“Ticklish is something that describes when another person pokes, squeezes or rapidly moves their fingers over a spot on your body it can make you want to squirm away and causes you to laugh. Usually, people have more than one ticklish spot and they have one more ticklish than the other. Now let’s find yours.” 

Bucky pulled you up onto his chest so you were laying belly to belly, he wrapped both his arms around you and started to squeeze your sides again and you broke out into giggles. You actually didn’t mind the feeling it was kinda fun and something you’ve never felt before. “Seems like you pretty ticklish Y/N, so that must mean you are ticklish it some other places.” Bucky teased as his fingers started to work upwards towards your ribs.

You started to struggle a little bit more and laugh a little harder. You couldn’t stop your body from trying to grab his hands, even though you didn’t want him to stop tickling you. “Looks like your ribs are pretty ticklish Y/N. Are your armpits ticklish too?” 

When Bucky put his fingers in your armpits you started to laugh very high pitched and rapidly. “You sound like a Tickle Me Elmo doll there sweetie.” He said as he then kissed your cheek but didn’t stop tickling your armpits.

You were starting to get worn out and Bucky must have caught on because he stopped tickling you. “Tickling can also wear you out and it’s important to let the person you are tickling catch their breath after a while because you might make them pass out. 

“Are you ticklish?” You asked Bucky. 

“Yes.” He said with some nervousness in his voice. “But you can tickle me if you want.” 

You smiled and started to squeeze his side just like he did to yours and Bucky squirmed a little but start to laugh. You loved the sound of it and could understand why Bucky was having so much fun when he was tickling you. You decided to move in towards his belly to see if that was a spot people were ticklish too and Bucky started to laugh harder. 

“Ohohohokay!” Bucky said through his laughter. You immediately stopped not wanting him to be uncomfortable or mad at you. 

Suddenly you were looking up at Bucky because he flipped you over. “Let’s see if your belly is ticklish too.” He smirked and started to tickle your belly, you squealed, squirmed a little harder and laughed a little deeper. “This looks like your most ticklish spot so far. I want to try two more spots and then I will let you go.” You nodded not really wanting him to stop since you were having fun. 

“One spot that is almost ticklish on everyone is their feet.” He grabbed one of your feet and held your ankle is his metal arm. He quickly ran his fingers up and down and your body’s instinct was to kick and you started to laugh helplessly. “This is a good spot too, so far not as good as your ribs but there is still one more place I want to try.” He let your foot go and but pulled your leg so you didn’t have much room to bend your knee. 

“A place that most people don’t think is ticklish is their knees but let’s see if yours are.” Bucky started to squeeze right above your knee you screamed and laughed harder and deeper than any of the other spots. “Looks like your knees are your most ticklish spot Y/N.” He only tickled you here a little longer before letting you go. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Bucky and you both looked to see Steve and Tony standing in the entrance to the living room.

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“We heard Y/N scream and though something was wrong.” 

Bucky laughed again, “No! I was showing Y/N what cuddling is and found out she’s ticklish.” Bucky started to tickle your ribs again, you started to laugh again. “It seems like her ribs are her second most ticklish spot next to her knees.” Bucky started to squeeze your knees again making you frantically kick your legs and belly laugh again.  Bucky stopped again pretty quickly probably not wanting to wear you out too much.

“Looks like she’s almost as ticklish as Peter.” Tony smirked

“Who’s Peter?” you asked. 

[etherealvibespls]

till the stars fall out of the sky

Hi. It's been almost two years but I hope you enjoy this short + messy krii7y piece :)

--

The thing about it being the end of the world is how little time there is to prepare. No matter how many people seem ready with their canned foods and underground bunkers, or even the discarded pamphlets scattered throughout the streets filled with government advice as if, maybe, those in power had an idea of what was to come, no one is actually prepared for what they’re faced with; the end of everything.

And it’s terrifying.

Smitty had so many plans. A few weeks ago those plans held some dread, had his heart skipping at just the mere idea of change, and yet now his heart only aches.

In front of him the website mocks him. The screen is dim to preserve the little battery he has left in his laptop, but the floor plan of the apartment is still too bright, painting a pointless fantasy for his eyes to gaze longingly at.

He should have moved by now, but his fear kept him back. Rooted him in what he’s familiar with.

Now it’s too late.

A quiet ding snaps him out of his haze and the second his eyes settle on the notification the knot in his chest loosens, smoothed out by the person miles and miles away.

John (10:02): so it turns out the world really is ending

Smitty snorts. To his embarrassment, there’s already a smile stretching across his face.

Smitty (10:03): you’re just now realizing?

John (10:03): i mean can you blame me? how was i supposed to know all those youtube videos were real? but today i actually left the house for the first time in like, two weeks and it looks like i’m in hell

John (10:04): at first i thought i was dead because what the fuck, right? the sky is fucking red, but then i saw someone walking their dog as if it were normal so now i’m assuming this is what everyone’s been talking about

Smitty (10:04): have i ever told you i hate you

John (10:05): uh hello? what the fuck

Smitty (10:05): i’ve been stressed out of my fucking mind and you’ve been clueless this entire time?? go fuck yourself john. like actually take that dildo you thought i forgot about and fuck. off.

John (10:06): HELLO ? you said you’d never bring that up

Smitty (10:07): the world is ending dickhead. i’m allowed to embarrass you one last time

Smitty bites at the inside of his cheek, suppressing the urge to laugh as he waits for his friend’s response. It takes longer for John to reply this time but he’s probably writing a paragraph that makes absolutely no sense and only serves to insult Smitty whichever way he can.

After a quiet minute, John finally responds.

John (10:08): don’t say that

Smitty blinks, not expecting such a short reply.

Smitty (10:08): don’t say what?

Half of him is still expecting this to lead into a snarky remark and he prepares for John’s little ha-ha, got you, but by John’s next message, it’s clear he’s no longer joking.

In an instant, the mood has not only shifted into something serious, but into pure heartbreak as well.

John (10:09): “one last time”

John (10:09): it makes it sound like you’ve already lost hope

Smitty (10:09): john…there’s nothing left for us. they’ve done all they can but there’s no fixing something so completely destroyed, and at some point you just have to accept that it’s over

John (10:10): this isn’t the end

A pause.

John (10:10): i still haven’t met you yet

Smitty releases a long, shaky breath. He’s tried so hard to not think of the mistake he made those weeks ago, yet it seems like there’s always something to remind him of it.

It’s possible John isn’t even mentioning it now, but Smitty is so consumed by guilt that his mind wanders there regardless. The end of the world hanging over everyone’s head has only made it worse, dug it up again and shoved it into his every waking thought, constantly reminding him of what could’ve been.

Mocking the opportunity he ruined.

Smitty (10:12): i’m sorry. i should be there.

John (10:12): you don’t have to keep apologizing, smit. you had your reasons

Smitty shakes his head in disbelief at the message, biting down hard on his lip the moment his eyes begin to burn, blinking back unshed tears.

He hates how nice John is. How even as they face down their last days on earth there isn’t a part of him that’s angry, or at the very least, disappointed.

Smitty (10:13): my reasons were selfish and stupid and it’s because of them that we have to message each other as the world literally crumbles around us

John (10:14): being alone does suck, and it would’ve been nice to have some company, but i still don’t blame you

It probably isn’t supposed to come across as tragic as it does, but Smitty’s shoulders sag with grief anyway.

Briefly his eyes flick over to the corner of his laptop, locking onto the battery life. His heart twists painfully, constricting tight as it flashes, down to its remaining minutes of life.

John (10:16): you know...i still look at it sometimes

John (10:16): it probably sounds so lame but sometimes i imagine how it would’ve been. i’m not a morning person but i think you could’ve made me one, and you hate staying up late but i think i could’ve shown you why sometimes i never fall asleep

John (10:17): i even imagine how it would’ve been decorated. like, from the pictures you’ve sent me of your place it looks so plain and i think about all the trips we’d have to go on before we could agree on some simple shit just for the living room. but i wouldn’t want you to feel bad about your taste or anything so i’d probably let you pick out a bunch of things anyway

Smitty presses his face into his shoulder for just a moment, overcome by so many emotions. A part of him can guess where this is going and his chest nearly caves in at the thought, knows why it’s happening now, of all times.

Smitty (10:19): ... i look at it everyday, imagining the same

Smitty (10:19): i was looking at it before you messaged earlier...can you believe it’s still available? how has no one else wanted it?

John (10:20): because it was always meant to be ours

Ours.

His gaze drifts back to the floor plan still on the screen, and not for the last time, he yearns. He thinks even after everything is said and done, his longing will ripple through the endless void of space.

Thinks heartache as great as his can never die, instead linger like a mournful ghost that will haunt even the brightest stars.

Smitty (10:21): i’m sorry i ruined it

John (10:22): i’m sorry i didn’t try harder

Smitty (10:22): john, none of this is your fault. it was my idea and i couldn’t even go through with it

Smitty (10:23): we had so many plans and i shattered them all because i was too scared to leave

John (10:24): but i wanted it more than i ever admitted, and instead of fighting to get you here i didn’t say anything

Smitty (10:24): i wanted this to happen more than you think, believe me. but we know how my thoughts can get, so i don’t think there was anything you could’ve said that would’ve change my mind

John (10:25): what about i love you?

Smitty startles, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t expect this. His stomach still does a silly little swoop, the butterflies that are always present when he talks with John suddenly coming to life, fluttering rapidly.

Smitty (10:25): john?

John (10:26): if the world is going to end no matter what, then fuck it right? i’ve been keeping my mouth shut for over two years and even if now is probably the worst time because i can’t see your face and my laptop is about to die, i can’t go out without telling you i’ve been in love with you for half the time i’ve known you

John (10:27): and the time before that i really, really, really liked you

Smitty chokes on his tears, stopped caring about holding them back the second he saw i love you.

Smitty (10:27): me too

Smitty (10:27): i think i’ve been in love with you since you first messaged me that stupid one-liner about artists

John (10:28): oh god, i forgot that was the first thing i sent you

John (10:28): in my defense i was extremely bored and your page was filled with memes, i thought you would’ve enjoyed it

Smitty (10:29): i fucking loved it

John (10:30): i regretted it the moment you sent me a pic of yourself for the first time, though

Smitty (10:30): what? why?

John (10:31): because you were prettiest person i’d ever seen and i hated that the first message i sent you was about dicks

Smitty laughs, the sound croaky and awful and usually he’d be embarrassed about the noise but he sits alone in his living room, completely consumed by the messages and the guy sending them.

Smitty (10:32): who would’ve known that would be the way into my heart

John (10:32): after about a week of talking to you i knew

John (10:33): i think that’s when i started falling in love

Smitty (10:33) god, i hate that we’re saying this now. i wish both of us said something sooner

John (10:34): yeah...it would’ve been nice to finally hold you, but i’m happy you finally know

John (10:34): and no matter what happens from now till...the end, i want you to know i love you

John (10:35): i always have, and i always will

i love you-

The screen flickers once before it fades to black, the battery completely drained. Smitty’s fingers hover over the keyboard, his pinky so close to hitting ‘enter’.

It takes longer than it should to register in his brain, and for a few minutes Smitty sits and stares at the screen. He blinks rapidly through his tears, can still see i love you every time he blinks but his heart beats wildly, aware of the inky darkness surrounding him and the deafening silence, no longer interrupted by the quiet dings of messages.

Like a dam finally unleashed, his tears fall at once and a sob racks through his body, forcefully pushed out of his quivering mouth. With his legs curled to his chest and his face buried in his bony knees, he cries out in anguish, fingers clutching his sweatpants like a lifeline.

He doesn’t move, stays curled in the corner of his couch long enough to see the last bits of sunrise fall over his furniture, and stays even longer to hear the shouts of panic outside his front door, aware but uncaring, of everything ending around him.

--------

Based off the prompt: “So the sky is still raining fire and meteors, and my laptop is running low on battery, but I wanted to say that I like you, a lot. Even though we haven’t ever talked in real life, if this is the end of the world then I’m really happy that I got to meet you.”

[harryspet]

rogue angel [2] bucky barnes

[Warnings] darky bucky barnes x reader, noncon forced aged regression, daddy bucky, dd lg dynamic, ab dl dynamic, very light bondage, drugging, angst

A/N: I got a wayyy better response on the first chapter than I expected! Thank you all so much for reading! I guess I would call this chapter more of a filler with the reader just adjusting to her new life.

In which someone actually starts to care for you. 

series masterlist

word count: 2.9k

You were strapped to a table, serums of their making pumping into your body, a contraption attached to your head designed to send electric waves through your skin. You screamed for hours. Why didn’t you stop screaming? It never helped. It never made them stop the pain. Perhaps it was because your mind was so empty. 

You sat up straight, startled, at the memory. That’s when you realized Bucky’s hands were undoing the gag around your mouth, “I’ve got ya, angel,” You heard him say, finally able to close your lips together. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d carried you upstairs and ran a bath for you until you were actually sitting in the tub. 

It wasn’t the being naked that frightened you, it was the soothing hand on your back and fingers rubbing soap into your skin. The traumatizing memory had taken you away for a moment but now you were back in reality, where something even worse was happening. 

You had wet yourself in front of him and, like you were a child, he had cleaned you up. You couldn’t remember what it was like to be a child, you only knew what they had taught you about youth. In your opinion, the milestones seemed a bit boring, something you didn’t mind skipping. What use would pink overalls and bubble baths be to Hydra?

It wasn’t like you had much choice when Bucky brought the washcloth between your legs, you had much control over them as a baby doe. 

“Is your arm waterproof?” You asked, your curiosity striking you. 

Bucky chuckled, “For the most part, yes, but I try not to shower with it.” You nodded and had a feeling that Bucky was just happy that you were interacting with him in any capacity. 

“What … what are you going to do to me here?” There had to be other reasons why he was keeping you in the middle of nowhere. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.”

That wouldn’t be your name. No matter how much he said it, it would never belong to you. 

“But you want to turn me against them? Like Steve Rogers did to you?” Bucky pressed the cloth against your shoulder, swiping down your arm. The soap smelled like warm vanilla and, you wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it. 

“Steve and I already had an emotional connection, we were friends. That’s what helped me realize their lies. You don’t have any ties so I thought I could help build you one, with me.”

With him. As your Daddy. 

Maybe you could pretend, you thought. As soon as his guard was down, you could make a move, “I’ve never needed anyone.”

“It’s not a bad thing to need someone,” Bucky spoke earnestly but you only rolled your eyes. 

You didn’t protest when he lifted you from the tub or when he held your body as he dried every inch of your skin. Your teeth were gritted the entire time but your current plan was to comply and cause him to let his guard down. Even Bucky seemed surprised that you weren’t fighting him. 

He carried you from the bathroom into your “new room” which you didn’t get a chance to fully take in before. The walls and the furniture were both white but everything else seemed to be full of pastels. There was a bed fit with light pink sheets, mint green pillows, and lots of stuffed animals. A toy chest sat beneath the window and a giant, oversized rabbit sat right next to it. 

It was eerily calm in the room and you could see the last shreds of sunlight coming in through the white curtains on the windows. He set you gently on the twin bed and you watched as he crossed the plush white carpet towards a large white armoire. Your eyes widened as it opened, revealing a rainbow assortment of clothes. 

You took a wild guess and assumed they were all in your size. How long had he been planning this?

“What’s your favorite color, angel?” You met his blue eyes and found a soft expression on his face. You thought for a moment before shrugging. You hadn’t thought about it nor did you think it really mattered. He continued, “Hmmm, unicorns or spaceships?”

He held out the options for you to see and you winced, “Why can’t I wear normal clothes?”

“You’re too small for big girl clothes,” He spoke, making the decision for you. Spaceships it was.

“I am a-” You stopped yourself. You could do it, you told yourself. 

You let him slip the onesie over your head which was white and had little planets and spaceships printed on it. He urged you to lay down flat and that was when he reached into a drawer beneath a bed. As soon as you saw it, your plan went out the window, “No, no, I’m not wearing that!” You stared at the pink pull-up he’d grabbed, “I’m not a baby, you fu-”

He pinned your hands down above your head and you desperately tried to move your legs, “What if you have another accident?” He continued, slipping one of your feet into one of the holes.

“Please,” Bucky paused, and even you hadn’t expected the word to leave your mouth, “I won’t have another one.”

“Say ‘Please, Daddy’” You scowled at him, “It’s hard for me to listen when you don’t address me properly, angel.”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before swallowing the small shred of pride you had left, “P-Please … D-Daddy,” You stuttered out.

Bucky smiled, the hand that wasn’t pinning your arm was rubbing your legs soothingly, “Good girl, angel, now ask Daddy for what you want. Use your big girl words.”

“Can I … Can I please wear regular-”

“Big girl panties,” He interjected, correcting you. 

You gritted your teeth, “Can I please wear big girl panties ... “ He waited patiently, knowing the word was on the tip of your tongue, “Daddy?”

Bucky smirked, loving the name on your lips, “How about this, angel?” You struggled as he continued to slide it on you, “If you eat all of your dinner and you keep this dry all night, I’ll let you wear big girl panties. I’ll even let you pick the pair.”

Clearly, he hadn’t completely gotten rid of his sadistic side when he left Hydra. You felt that as soon as he buttoned the onesie closed.

+

You hated him but you had to admit he was smart. You couldn’t refuse to eat or you’d risk further embarrassment tomorrow. Tomorrow. It was starting to sink in that you’d be here for a while. 

After he’d put the clothes on you, he’d brushed out your hair, tying it back for you. His movements were a little clumsy but you could feel his happiness as he accomplished each task. It seemed like he had been practicing. 

He was even more excited to present you with a small, bear plushie that he thought would bring you comfort. 

He brought you down to the living room, setting you on the plush couch before ordering you to sit still while he went to retrieve something. Something he wanted to show you. As he walked out of the room, you looked around, noting the coziness of the room but also the locks on every window. 

You were mapping it out when suddenly heard the subtle sound of nails scratching against the floor. A dog ran into the room, jumping onto the couch and attacking you with a lick to the face, “Y/N, meet Archer,” You were unsure of how to interact with the creature for a moment until you decided to brush behind his ears. The husky dog seemed to like it, nuzzling further into you. 

You couldn’t remember ever petting a dog before and you had no idea they could be so … friendly. Archer seemed to already love you as he continuously lapped at your face. 

Bucky could see you letting your wall down and, deciding not to interrupt that, he left to start on dinner. He figured Archer would keep you busy and also let him know if you tried to escape. 

When dinner was almost read, Bucky walked back into the living room to find you sitting on the living room carpet, playing tug of war with the stuffed animal. Archer easily ripped off the bear’s head and you giggled … Bucky actually heard you giggle. 

“Bad dog, Archie,” He scolded the dog as Archer dropped the bear’s head into Bucky’s hand obediently, “We don’t chew on Y/N’s toys.”

“No, look, he likes it!” You protested, insisting that Archer get to destroy the rest of the toy, handing archer the rest of the bear. You clapped your hands as Archer ran around the living room, shaking it in his mouth.

Bucky sighed, figuring he could try to tame an assassin but he couldn’t stop her from liking to watch things be dismembered. 

“Alright, dinner time,” Bucky lifted you from the carpet, carrying you into the kitchen, Archer in tow. He helped you wash your hands before sitting you down in your seat at the dining table. You were like a little doll, helpless but it didn’t seem like Bucky mined doing every little thing for you.

You and Bucky were eating the same meal but his plate looked vastly different than yours. Your plate was flower printed and was separated into sections. Your steak was cut up into already tiny pieces and your fork was barely sharp enough to pick up your food. And then there was the dreaded sippy cup that he expected you to drink from. 

You held your fork, staring at the plate as Bucky started to cut his own steak, “Big girl panties,” Bucky winked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth, “Remember? You have to eat all of it. I know you’re starving.”

Whatever leverage Bucky he could get, he used. He had to get her used to eating regularly and not using it as a way to protest. 

You poked at your broccoli before bringing a piece to your mouth, “Good job, angel,” He praised you as you continued to eat. You were starving and this is exactly what your body was craving. You finished your plate faster than either of you expected and Bucky asked, “Do you want more?”

You immediately shook your head even though it was far from the truth. 

Bucky could tell you were lying and you flashed him a look of surprise as he slid the rest of his food onto your plate, cutting up the steak into small pieces for you, “Eat some more,” He told you and you lifted your fork again. 

It confused you, why he even cared about you. No matter how sinister his intentions might be, you found it was strange that he showed you even a little bit of compassion. 

Bucky watched you as you finished the rest of the food and he was satisfied when you cleaned your plate again. Thinking about the condition he found you in, he figured that you hadn’t been eating much since you were forced to abandon Hydra. 

He understood the mental battle you were going through right now and he was expecting it would be a while before you slipped into little space but he’d be patient. 

Bucky watched from the doorway as you played with Archie on the floor of your bedroom. You seemed to already have him better trained than Bucky ever did. Bucky noticed the less he interfered, the more you seemed to slip into things. He even noticed you sipping at your sippy cup and, as your actions grew lazier, he knew the sedative was kicking in. 

He had to get you a sleeping schedule as well. You’d fall into things better with patterns. Consistency was another thing that made humans feel safe. 

Your eyes felt heavy as you laid down on the carpet. Everything in this house was so … soft. Archie pranced over to you, licking at your chin and you pushed him away, a lazy grin on your face. 

You felt Bucky’s arms around you before you even noticed he had approached you, “I think it’s bedtime, princess,” Princess, that was a new one. 

“I’m not tired,” You moaned, sleepily, as he scooped you into his arm, “Archie save me … I’m being taken.”

Bucky chuckled, setting you down into the bed, and pulling a blanket over you, “It’s Archie’s bedtime too,” Bucky spoke softly, “Why don’t you say goodnight?”

You watched as she raised her hand to wave at the dog sitting idly by, “N-Night Archie,” Bucky’s heart warmed at the sight, noting how cute you were when you were tired. Bucky whistled and the dog pranced out of the room, his tail wagging. 

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Bucky assured you, sitting down at the edge of the bed. His hands touched your hair, soothing brushing it back with his fingers. Your eyes were already closed, a stuffed giraffe tucked into you. 

“What … about … you?”

“I’ll be here too, angel,” With that, she seemed to drift off into sleep. 

+

You awoke to sunlight on your face and the sound of birds chirping. For a moment, you looked around and felt safe … until the panic settled in. You started to move your legs, realizing you could finally move them a bit but, as you pulled the blanket off, you saw a cuff wrapped around your right leg. 

You investigated, finding it attached to a chain that seemed to be connected to the bed itself. You pulled at it with all the strength you could muster and nothing. It was a powerful magnet just like that gag he had put on you. 

You had fallen asleep? You couldn’t think about it that long as Bucky appeared, opening the door slowly. Maybe there was some type of camera in here that was tracking your movements for him. You didn’t put it past him. 

“Good morning, princess,” He greeted you and you noted his dark t-shirt and basketball shorts. You didn’t think he’d look normal in clothes typical for relaxing. He walked over, reaching down to undo the restraint but he paused, “Don’t you have something to say to Daddy?”

Great, you thought, sighing, “Good morning, Daddy,” Bucky imagined a point in the future where you spoke words like that enthusiastically. With that small sign of submission, Bucky undid the restraint and you noted he didn’t even use a special key. Maybe it had something to do with his arm?

“Sleep well?” You nodded though you knew that was probably due to whatever he had put in your drink, “It’s nice out so I was thinking we’d go out after breakfast, what do you think?”

“Go where?” You raised an eyebrow. He only narrowed his eyes at you, expecting you to add a formality, “Go where Daddy?” You corrected yourself, a fake smile on your face. 

“Down by the lake, for a picnic,” How romantic, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes, “What would you like to wear, angel?”

“Something normal preferably,” You were long overdue for a spanking, Bucky thought. He had to remind himself that it was only your first day here and there’d probably be lots of punishments in your future.

“I thought you wanted those big girl panties... maybe you’ve gotten used to you little girl ones?” You paused, unwilling to admit that you had forgotten about them. 

A staring contest ensued as he waited for you to back down and, as he expected, you did, “I like the color red … Daddy.”

Bucky was satisfied and you were glad you were getting a little bit of your womanhood back. You hadn’t even noticed how subtle he was with his system of rewards and punishments. With every good thing you did, he praised you and when you made snarky comments he threatened to put the pampers back on you. 

He brought you to the bathroom to relieve yourself, very awkwardly, and to brush your teeth. After, he picked out a red gingham dress whose skirt barely covered your bottom and allowed your bubblegum pink underwear to peak out beneath it. He matched it with a pair of black mary jane shoes and, as a cherry on top, he tied a red bow into your hair. 

You sat on the bathroom counter, watching him as he did his work. Looking at his face, you could tell he liked dressing you up, and, although you didn’t hate the dress, you didn’t like the unfamiliarity of it. You’d never dressed like this before and it made you feel a little insecure which made you even more frustrated. 

You looked back into the mirror and your eyes widened. You had never looked so … feminine. Your face had even gained some color and you had to poke your face to make sure it was real, “You look beautiful, angel,” Bucky’s words took you back. You’d never heard that from someone other than the old men you were forced to flirt with on missions.

You shook your head, embarrassed, but Bucky continued, “You do.”

You looked at him, trying to read his blue eyes, and you froze as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Never had someone done that either, “You’re heaven-sent, I’m sure of it. You’ve just been lost for a little while, that’s all.”

You felt something foreign, like that thing inside your chest was finally beating.

+

Send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! If there’s something you want to see in this series, I’m open to ideas, just send me an ask! Hope you enjoyed!

[madlymiho]

Not sure if I'm getting this in on time, but can you do an angst thing for Eustass kid like how he reacted to losing his arm?

I love this request so much!!! 🥺

I wanted to create a scenario, but I'm way too busy right now, so this would be a good headcanon anyway! 🥰

I hope you'll enjoy it, thank you for your request! 💕

Kid:

• We’re digging in probably the most important event in Kid’s life, perhaps the same level of importance than the day he sets sails with Killer to become a pirate. Losing an arm has been an emotional journey he wasn’t prepared to handle, and honestly, it could have destroyed everything within him

• He has been so confident about the outcome of the fight against Shanks that Kid never truly prepared himself to suffer from an atrocious defeat. Of course he has been warned and adviced by Killer, but Kid is stubborn, fearless and obviously reckless, and he thought that Killer’s doubts were just an insult to his power

• Because since Kid is among the Worst Generation, he feels himself in the need to challenge the world, and prove that he earns his place as the leader of those stupid pirates, lurking at the crown with a certain interest, forgetting that there are numerous monsters on the seas... And even if Shanks looks like the less dangerous Yonko in the world, he remains an emperor of the ocean, and would prove his supremacy through his intelligence and his combat skills...

• The second Kid loses his arm, through his anger and his shame, he didn’t really realize that it was a life change. He didn’t care about his limb, barking at everyone that he wouldn’t need any kind of special treatment ; it’s badass after all, to lose something in a battle, there’s no time to dwell on negative feelings, and he would be a “pussy” to actually pay attention to this detail

• Fact is, he doesn’t want to face the reality ; his defeat has been total and painful, Shanks proving him that he couldn’t match with an emperor yet. And this cruel reminder only pushed Kid to refuse any kind of treatment during his long recovery. He doesn’t want any sort of help! He doesn’t need to put bandages, he doesn’t need to have someone looking after him, he’s a captain, for fuck’s sake!

• Many times Killer found him with blood dripping out of his wound, soiling his clothes, bandage obviously uncleaned and reeking because he didn’t want to change it for a while. Many times he has developed fevers and other infections, because it was easier for him to deny his pain rather than facing it, his stump completely infected. Kid can’t admit that he has failed his crew mates, and all of them already know that it would take some time for him to change his mind

• Obviously, the loss of his arm leads him to wrathful situations where he forgot that he couldn’t do the same things with a missing limb. He has awful break downs whenever he tries to put a coat on, to open a door, yelling and slamming his other fist in every piece of furniture until there would be blood on his knuckles, his eyes gleaming with a certain pain his crew didn’t see before. He’s like a raging animal, cornered and hurt, and they don’t really know how to reach him for a long time, despite their will to try

• Slowly, this period of denial would change when nightmares and other night terrors would harass him. Because if he tries his best to avoid all those negative emotions when he’s awaken, Kid can’t forever escape them. At night, he often revives the same scenario, feeling the pain once more, the fear, the desperation, his mind sending him waves of intense memories he can’t barely handle, until he wakes up as a mess. He often toddles to the kitchen, pouring one, two, three, more and more large glasses of whiskey, trying to drown and muffle what made him shiver at night

• But it’s so hard to reach for help when ego dictates the way he thinks and acts. Everyone knows on board that Kid is depressed, angry, carrying the weight of his own sort of mourning, as he doesn’t know how to put his pride aside and sits down with his crewmates to reveal that he’s broken inside, defeated. He believes that he’s useless, a poor captain who can’t protect his crew, and those thoughts would never leave him for a while

• Step by step, though, he begins to accept the loss of his arm, and all that burden coming with it. Step by step, he feels that his crew mates wouldn’t leave his side, Killer always checking on him, forcing him to take care of his stump, joking around to ease the tension. It’s hard for him to open up, because even a “thank you” could scratch his mouth, as he only spits some venom and insults whenever Killer is rolling fresh and clean badage around his limb, even if he feels thankful to have such a loyal first mate

• With time, anger turns into shame, and shame into acceptation, Kid finally even making awkward jokes about his arm, already designing some new mechanical objects to replace what he lost. He can feel that the atmosphere is changing among his crew, the general worry feeling disappearing into something more friendly, carnal as always, but revealing the deep bond of those sea dogs who sail together

• Through the loyalty of his crewmates, and his own work on himself, Kid discovers something different in the piracy... Perhaps they are scumbags, violent, miserable and despicable... but they are also a family, and he can’t thank them enough for never leaving his side, especially when he reaches the bottom of his life. Of course, he would never express those emotions, only offering some harsh insults and dark side looks, his own way to tell them that they are the entire world to him

[chimchimsauce]

The Hills

The Hills have eyes

A commission for darling @illnevertrustmyselfagain​ 

Thank you for your patience! Commissions are open

A steady stream of sweat sticks YN’s thin T-shirt to her back and her hair to her forehead as she struggles under the weight of one of her moving boxes. It’s not all that heavy, but it's incredibly large and awkward to hold against her as she makes her way up the stairs. Finally, she sees the light at the end of the tunnel (or rather hallway) and steps foot into her brand new apartment, setting the box down immediately.

“Is there anything else you need, ma’am?” One of the burly movers YN hired asks her, sweat heavy upon his brow.

She’d brought the last box up herself, wanting to have the personal honor of finishing moving herself in.

“No,” she shakes her head, breathless from her own hard work, “That’s everything. Thank you, guys.”

She tips the men generously, knowing that it must have been extra difficult to move all of her furniture up the many flights of stairs in her new apartment building.

Now, all alone, YN can finally take a good look at it. ‘Apartment’ doesn’t quite seem to fit this new place. It’s massive - room after room with tons of space to put any and everything she could ever need inside of it. A small smile graces her face. 

She’s done it. This is all her. Working every single day for the past eight years and dumping all of her time and energy into her startup has truly paid off. She may have missed out on so-called rites of passages and her relationships have certainly suffered, but she’s done it!

That little startup that began in her childhood bedroom when she was in eleventh-grade grew to something so massive that investors sniffed around in record time. Soon enough, someone gave her a number bigger than she would have ever imagined and the decision to sell was easy. YN had given her company the very best she had, but now it’s time to move onto something new.

But before she decided to dedicate her life once again to a passion project, YN makes the choice to step away for a bit and enjoy her newfound wealth by moving to the richest neighborhood in Seoul - Hannam the Hill. The security ensures that she doesn’t have to worry about anything and the location offers her proximity to everything she’d ever want to do.

And speaking of location, YN drags her exhausted body to one of the many massive windows in her apartment, looking out and seeing the evening Seoul skyline. Buildings taller than anything she’s ever seen stand tall and proud like soldiers, their lights bright like her future. The businesswoman goes to bed with a grin on her face, her dreams full of lights that shine like stars.

Within a week of moving in, YN is more or less unpacked. All of her meager wardrobe has been placed in her massive closet and her dishes all unpacked, barely filling a single cabinet in the kitchen.

“Well that won’t do,” she says to herself, looking at her mostly empty-looking apartment.

In the past she spent the vast majority of her time at the office working, so her house was of little consequence She never even hung anything up on her walls. But now, now she finally has the chance to relax, to indulge and fill her life with color.

Grabbing her keys off of the hook by her door, YN decides that now’s as good a time as any to blow some money. She shrugs on a light jacket and heads out. Excitement drums through her veins and pep is in her step. For a moment, she’s in her own world, completely oblivious to everything around her.

That obliviousness leads her to run smack into a small, thin figure, nearly knocking the person off of their feet.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” she says, continuing on her way without questioning the person’s masked face too much.

She knows the Hill’s security is top-notch, so they’re certainly someone who lives here or otherwise has permission to be here.

Annoyed and exhausted, Yoongi glares at the retreating figure, trying to figure out if he’s seen that rude person before. Her face doesn’t seem the slightest bit familiar, so he guesses she must be the new neighbor who moved in a few days ago. Shoving his hands deep in his pocket he finds his keys and heads inside, not even making it to his bed before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, YN steps foot into the parking garage. Her car is fresh off the lot, that new car smell still clinging to her seats. She sets her GPS for the nearest furniture store and pulls away.

YN stays away from leather and white. Those were all her life had been - empty white walls and uncomfortable chairs and couches. She moves through the store slowly, analyzing each and every piece of furniture before settling on a bright yellow couch. It’s loud and undeniably eye catching, something she never would have even thought about buying before.

But now . . . the black card is burning in her pocket.

An hour or two later something of every color under the sun has been charged onto her card, destined to be delivered and put together in her home in just a few days.

And boy oh boy, does it feel good!

YN could swear the world is brighter when she leaves, walking through the streets of Seoul, boutique shops and fancy cafes lining her on each side. She comes to a stop when she sees an especially fascinating looking store and raises her hand to pull open the handle but stops when she hears a small whimper.

For a moment, YN thinks she’s making something up, but the sound comes once more. She pulls away from the storefront and peeks into the alley next door, carefully making her way down the near-empty valley. The whimper comes again and YN crouches down to open a sad looking box. 

There, inside, a small shivering puppy is balled up into himself, not even looking at YN. She feels her heart break. Gently, she lifts the small animal up, clutching it close to her chest and rushing towards her car, looking for the nearest vet.

Yoongi isn’t sure when the last time he left his house was. He’s been working nonstop, constantly leaning over his computer to write and compose. His work was easy initially, but Yoongi has been stuck on this bridge for only God knows how long now.

He sighs, pushing away from his desk to stand and stretch, ignoring the way his body screams out in pain and his bones creak. Chip bags and crushed beer cans litter the ground, Yoongi shuffling through the mess without bothering to pick any of them up.

Sunlight nearly blinds him when he steps into his living room. He tosses his arm over his eyes as spots swarm his vision, nausea bubbling up inside of him quickly.

Damn. He’d forgotten to close them last time he’d been out here.

Once he can finally look ahead without his vision looping he shuffles into his kitchen, plugging in his coffee maker and impatiently waiting for it to brew. The window his counter is pressed against to looks out over a park. Bored, he actually glances out for once, people in the distance not aware of the multimillionaire looking at them.

At first, he doesn’t see anything of interest, just the usual stiff-necked people wearing the absolute wrong thing to the park. But then, faster than light, a small creature dashes across the massive green space, a woman chasing after it. Yoongi thinks that maybe someone’s dog has run away, but it soon becomes evident that it’s some sort of game, as the dog starts to yip happily when the woman catches up with him.

A small smile makes its way onto Yoongi’s face as he watches them but it falls soon after. When was the last time he’d done something as simple as enjoyed a day at the park with his dog?

The coffee machine whirs to a stop but Yoongi doesn’t grab it, too lost in his own thoughts. It’s been how long since he broke up with his band mates and gone solo? Three years? Four? He honestly doesn't know. While at first, Yoongi had been all to happy to leave his twenties behind and move forward with his career as a producer and occasional soloist, it soon set in how terribly lonely such a decision made him.

He’s much too well known to simply stroll about how he could when he was a teenager, just another face in an endless stream of people with dreams. But once he reached that dream - once the words “Min Suga” were on every tongue across the globe, he realized that it wasn’t what he wanted at all.

He loved music and success but he hated always being in the limelight without a shred of privacy and under the constant creative censorship of millions of people. So when it once again became time to resign their contracts, Yoongi took a step back even though the others begged him to stay.

Yoongi remembers that day vividly. The look of shock and betrayal as Yoongi said that he wished he’d never even joined BTS, never even pursued the path to idoldom. It was all lies but he’d been feeling so overwhelmed that he just wanted everything to stop for once. Stop the cameras and stop the screaming fans each time he stepped foot out into public.

And so seven became six . . .

But it didn’t last long. Less than six months later the three youngest members decided to leave for military service together and they just never came back. Their sudden departure caused a media uproar and several lawsuits, but the boys had made more than enough money to sweep them under the rug. And then there were three. That didn’t last much longer at all.

Within a year of Min Yoongi leaving BTS, the entire group disbanded.

Yoongi sighs, reaching for his cup and tearing his eyes from the window. He doesn’t deserve such joy, not after he destroyed the only real familial bond he’d ever had. He hasn’t talked to the other members (Ex-members, he reminds himself) since he walked out on him.

Usually, Yoongi is able to create beats with very little inspiration, but lately, that same tiredness from before has sprung up inside of him, leaving him with nothing but pure garbage and terrible posture.

He desperately needs a new muse, but at this rate, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find one.

Pitying himself, Yoongi drags his feet all the way into his office, once more shutting the world out.

Within two months of living in her new apartment, YN can confidently say that her life has never been better. She’s never been so stress-free and relaxed. All this free time has her diving into new hobbies every chance she gets. While most of them don’t stick for more than a few days (Is it really a surprise that sewing isn’t her thing?) she has fallen head over heels in love with baking.

For most of her teenage and early adult years, YN lived purely off of takeout food, never once lifting an arm to cook something for herself or bake a treat. Really, it wasn’t her fault. She was always in and out of meetings, drafting new business ideas, and making trips. She just didn’t have the time! And while she is absolutely awful at most of her new hobbies, YN’d taken to baking like a fish to water.

She enjoyed it so much that she’d quickly overbaked for herself, somehow coming to be surrounded by dozens of cupcakes, muffins, pies, and every other sweet thing imaginable. So, freshly made treats in hand, YN began to introduce herself to her neighbors.

While she is phenomenal at meeting people in a business setting, going over to her incredibly rich and sophisticated neighbors’ homes had been a bit anxiety-inducing. YN has never been great at making friends, but she was pleasantly surprised how kind the other people of the hills have been. Multi millionaires tend to be portrayed as stuck up, but YN now has a few friends she meets up with for weekly coffee gossip sessions. While she doesn’t really have much to add to their conversations, it’s nice just to be included. 

At this point she’s met pretty much everyone on her floor, everyone except . . .

YN has never seen her next door neighbor leave their apartment. Whoever they are, they never make so much as a peep. It’s almost as if the apartment is completely empty. YN even asked her new friends about it, but they claim that someone has lived there for over three years now.

That once buried anxiety flares up once more as YN finds herself standing in front of his door, apartment number 613. She lifts her hand up to knock politely, hip supporting a large basket of muffins. She hadn’t made this many for her other neighbors, but something about the mystery of this one had her tossing in a few extra for good measure.

No one answers.

YN tries one more time and again there is not a single sound.

Just as she’s about to turn around with her hypothetical tail tucked between her legs the door creaks open ever so slightly. She can’t even see who is behind the door.

“Oh! Hello!” YN says, a little shocked, “I”m YN. I moved in next door about two months ago.”

Silence.

“I . . . um . . . I made muffins,” YN says, thrusting the basket towards the door.

Once again, the person doesn’t say anything. Unsure if she’s creeped out, embarrassed, or some awful combination of both, YN begins her retreat.

“Ah, well, I’ll just leave these here!” She manages to say, setting the basket down and hastily making it back to her own apartment, nearly slamming the door shut behind her.

What was that? What had just happened?

Just a few yards away, Yoongi stands in his own home, looking at the muffins his neighbor left outside his door. He never opens his door all the way, fearful that some old sasaeng would have found him out. But when he saw that it was her - the woman he’s been watching at the park almost every day, he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time in years, Yoongi felt a jolt of something running through his veins. She always looks so happy and full of life that Yoongi can’t help but feel intrigued by her. Hesitantly, Yoongi peeks out and plucks the basket up, bringing it inside.

His kitchen is bare of anything but empty wrappers, so the basket of freshly baked goods looks incredibly out of place.

Yoongi’s stomach growls, so he picks up one of the muffins, pleasantly surprised to find that it’s still warm. Before he knows it, he’s eaten six muffins, all of them delicious. When he retreats to his studio once more, a soft, sweet melody is in his brain.

He composes a song for the first time in months.

The next day, as YN prepares to go on her daily walk with her puppy Sugar, a small piece of paper slips under her door. Sugar is eager to check it out, sniffing it with abandon. YN, laughing at Sugar’s adorable antics, struggles to get the paper away from him without ruining it.

YN,

I apologize for my odd behavior. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday and thus acted rudely. The muffins you made were delicious and made me feel leaps and bounds better. If you feel up to it, would you like to go to dinner with me? I’d love to make it up to you.

Thanks again,

MYG

MYG? Is that her neighbor’s name? YN recalls her friends saying that the person next door is a near complete recluse. Dinner? Should she go?

YN clicks Sugar’s leash to his collar, throwing a look over her shoulder as she leaves her apartment to head to the park, unaware of the man peeping through his door.

Sure. Do you have any restaurant recommendations? There are still plenty of places I haven’t gone to. Here’s my number XXXXXXXXX

YN

Yoongi is more than shocked by the letter under his door when he emerges from his studio after cleaning up his latest song. That adrenaline rush he’d gotten from YN’s treats has worn off somewhat and inspiration has fallen quickly. He finished the first song in a breeze, but he began to struggle again with the second.

SO why not get to know her better? Best case scenario, YN provides more inspiration. Worst case, she’s a psychopath.

He doesn’t think the second one is very likely, but he’s still hesitant, choosing to go to a restaurant he’d been a regular in for quite some time. Yoongi books out a room in the back and texts YN the details, setting their meeting for the weekend.

When the day finally rolls around, Yoongi is more nervous than he has been in a long time. What if she recognizes him? Or worse, what is she stands him up altogether?

His fears are squashed when he sees her standing on the sidewalk, dressed too simply for the restaurant he booked.

“Hello,” Yoongi says, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how nervous he is, “You’re YN right? I’m Min Yoongi, your neighbor.”

“Oh!” she says, brightening up and sticking her hand out to greet him, “It’s nice to meet you!”

He takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently and pretending not to notice the shivers that shoot through him.

“This is the place right?” she asks, taking her hand back and brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Actually,” Yoongi says, noticing the odd looks YN is getting based on her everyday outfit, “I was just going to pick food up here and then head to the park, if that’s okay. It has a really clear view this time of night.”

“That sounds great!” YN says.

Yoongi, slightly frantic with his new lie, heads up to the reservation counter and asks to speak to the manager, a close friend of his. A couple of hushed whispers later, Yoongi is given a bag of freshly cooked food, the producer not feeling even the slightest bit bad about taking someone else’s order.

“So . . . how have you been enjoying the Hills?” Yoongi asks as they stroll side by side to the park she always frequents.

They’re standing too far apart to be more than anything but acquaintances. Yoongi finds himself wishing she was closer so their arms would brush.

“It’s been really nice!” YN says enthusiastically, “Everyone has been so kind and it’s been so amazing to finally have time for myself.”

“Finally?”

“Oh!” YN remarks, “Yeah, I had a startup that just recently got sold. I decided to take a few months off before I began another business venture. What about you?”

The curiosity in her eyes tells Yoongi that YN truly has no idea who he is. He finds himself relaxing even more.

“I’m a producer, mainly. Sometimes I write songs as well,” he says shyly, stopping next to one of the picnic tables that sporadically dot the large park.

He sets the food down and sits opposite to her, leaving plenty of space between them.

“Really? That sounds so cool! I’d love to hear something you made one day.”

Her tone is nothing but polite but dread forms in Yoongi’s stomach. He hasn’t worked on many new projects at all and he doesn't think he has anything good enough to show this incredibly bright woman.

Yoongi’s face must betray his apprehension because YN backs off right away.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to share! When I was younger one of my cousins was really into art but she never showed anyone what she made. I get it, it can be really personal.”

“No!” Yoongi says a little too loudly, “I’d love to show you something. I was just surprised you asked.”

YN smiles and everything is right again. The rest of the night passes much too quickly for Yoongi’s tastes, but he leaves feeling more inspired than ever. For once, he actually cleans his entire apartment, preparing it for YN to come over. Bags and bags of trash are tossed away and candles are lit to rid the space of any lingering odors He takes extra care in preparing his studio, hiding all the evidence of months of frustration in drawers and sitting down with a melody stuck in his brain.

She visits a week later. YN is more than surprised how clean Yoongi’s apartment is. She has learned quite a lot about him through all the texts they’ve exchanged and he never rubbed her as a clean freak. Methodical? Sure. Not the best at expressing emotions? Definitely. But the cleanest person she’s ever met? That’s a new one.

Yoongi is a little dressed up when he answers the door. His smile is wide and almost childlike, adorable in a way that has YN smiling as well.

They make small talk over the treats she brought over (cookies this time) before Yoongi leads her to a large room in the back of the house.

It’s breathtaking. Expensive devices line every open surface of the studio, all gleaming under the overhead lights. The studio walls are lined with records even she can tell are rare, each encased in a glass frame. A large couch is pushed against one wall with a coffee table in front of it, tastefully decorated with magazines and small plants.

“This is amazing, Yoongi,” YN says, half breathless.

Yoongi can hear his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears at the way stars seem to have shifted into YN’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, “Would you like to hear what I’ve been working on?”

He needs to work up the courage now before he comes up with an excuse to never show YN the song he’s been working on so diligently day in and day out.

“Of course!”

Yoongi had pulled an extra chair in front of his computer in advance and she takes a seat, waiting eagerly for Yoongi to pull up his masterpiece. His fingers shake ever so slightly as he pulls it up and presses play.

He doesn’t think he takes a breath during the entire three and a half minute long song. How could he? It’s not every day you show the love song to the woman you’ve been watching for almost two months.

“Yoongi,” YN says when it finishes.

He feels his heart clench.

“That was beautiful! Who’s it about?”

“Who?”

“It’s a love song right? Are you in love with someone?”

Her question is innocent but it sends Yoongi into a panic.

“Yeah, actually,” he says, looking at anyone but her, “You.”

For a moment everything is silent. Neither of them breathe. 

“Oh,” YN says.

Yoongi never knew two letters could crush him.

“I’m flattered but . . . I don’t really see you as anything more than a friend . . .”

YN trails off, not exactly sure what to say. She’s never been the romantic type. She always figured she’d fall in love when it was time but that time certainly isn’t now. She’s just barely figuring out who she is herself. She doesn’t have space in her heart for anyone else.

“Ah . . . I wasn’t expecting you to . . . um . . .”

Yoongi stutters out words at random trying desperately hard to not make things any worse than they already are.

“Maybe I should go . . .” YN says.

She doesn’t wait for his answer, simply standing up and leaving, casting one more glance at the hunched over man behind her. Her red heels click against the floor, fading when she leaves the home.

For the next two weeks, Yoongi texts her constantly. YN can barely go ten minutes without her phone buzzing with an apology or an offer for lunch. If she felt bad about rejecting him at first, YN is glad she did now. He’s behaving obsessively and it’s beginning to creep her out. Finally, she’s had it altogether, sending him a curt message demanding he never talks to her ever again and blocking his number straight away.

For a time, everything seems okay. Min Yoongi leaves her life just as swiftly as he had entered it. She’s almost forgotten about it altogether, until she’s stuck in traffic one evening. YN is listening to the radio, head bopping mindlessly along to the beat of a song she doesn’t know. But then the chorus starts and the hair on her arm stands on end.

Really, is it strange to fall in love? Really, is it odd that I want more? You flew in just like a turtle dove, pure and sweet, I only wanted your love. Maybe I should have locked you away? Maybe I should have clipped your wings? Then at least I know you’d stay? Stay, forever here with me.

Normally, YN wouldn’t have paid it any attention, but something about the song is so eerie that she begins to get creeped out.

Another male voice joins the singer.

Sweet like cinnamon, bright as the sun, soft, so soft, I needed you to melt into me. Salvation came in a wicker basket and left in bright red heels. Maybe I should have had something better to say, maybe then, you wouldn’t have rushed away.

Ignorance is bliss, but baby you’re all I think about. I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, if I wanted to. Ignorance is bliss, baby, but euphoria lives next door.

The song fades and the host’s voice floats out afterward.

“That song was ‘Red Heels and Cinnamon’ by Dave Kim and Min Yoongi. This song has been the most popular song on the charts for weeks! The famed producer and songwriter hasn’t given the press much background on the story, simply commenting that it’s something close to his heart and that more songs with this new vibe will be releasing soon.”

Release they did. Hit song after Hit song comes out, each creepier than the one before. If YN was able to convince herself that the songs weren’t about her, they became impossible to ignore. Yoongi next released a song about a woman with aspirations and no room for love, followed by one about a man following the woman he loved to make sure she was okay. That song detailed the entire events of her day.

And finally, Yoongi released a song giving out YN’s phone number.

Having had more than enough of this nonsense, YN knocks on Yoongi’s door, leaving her blaring phone behind.

He cracks the door open again before swinging it wide, looking much too pleased to see her.

“YN? I thought you never wanted to see me again. What are you doing here?”

“I know what you’re doing. Cut it out,” she hisses at him.

“Cut what out?”

“All of the songs! And the stalking! I know you’re following me!”

YN clenches her sweater closer to her body, trying to comfort herself. Yoongi looks down at it.

“You should have gotten the red one. It suits you better.”

Chill crawls down YN’s back and her limbs go stiff.

“What do you want from me,” she whispers, unable to look him in the eye.

“I feel something different when I’m around you. I feel alive - more motivated than I’ve ever been. All I want is for you to feel that same way.”

“And if I don’t?” YN asks, daring to look at him.

He’s silent for a moment. Yoongi’s expression darkens.

“That new firm that hired you as a consultant? The CEO’s daughter is a long time fan of mine. He’d do anything to keep her happy. Even replacing you . . .”

“But I can -” YN objects.

“Get a new job? Oh, sure. But I don’t think anyone would want to hire you if they knew what you did on May sixteenth.”

YN’s blood turns to ice. There are only a few things YN isn’t proud of and getting kicked out of a bar and then arrested after starting a fight is on the very top of that list. Thankfully, she had some connections to get her out of any charges and had swept the entire thing under the rug. But if it gets out . . .

“It’s up to you. Why don’t you come inside and see what I’m working on?”

Yoongi leaves the door wide open and retreats inside.

Hesitantly, YN follows after him.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

could i request a brief connor-angst drabble? the happy-ending AU with B and Demetri Connor, please

CW: Referenced conditioning and torture including dubcon/noncon situations in the past, angsty fucky dubcon thoughts now, referenced past biphobia/homophobia with religious overtones/parental emotional abuse

Demetri and B belong to @slaintetowhump and @moose-teeth

Mostly, he’s cool with it. He understood that they had bonded to each other in a way deeper than Connor could ever have hoped to bond with anyone, right from the start. They shared hell together - shared being held by men bent on destroying whatever of themselves they tried to hold onto, shared those mens’ bed, shared their tricks and games and torture techniques. They shared scars, witnessed times scars were made and times they were treated. They had built something shared, in secret, in the dark.

Connor’s just the asshole who was a part of the whole fucking machine of it, who helped hold up the structure and sure as fuck did his part to destroy them and others like them, who decided one day to stop.

That’s all he is. 

He’s not better, he’s not good.

He’s just another motherfucker who had it turned on him and couldn’t handle it anymore. He’s just some dick trying to turn it around, too little too late. You don’t get redemption, for the kind of shit Connor Manning has done. All you can do is try to get away, make sure that you don’t fuck up anyone else any worse than you already have. 

He couldn’t - and would never - ask for B’s forgiveness.

All he could do was give B - and then Demetri - a home in which they could rebuild whatever they still had left inside them. Connor Manning, a big damn hero all right, scooping up ruined pets to try and fix his own mistakes.

Good fucking job, numbnuts, you destroyed a hundred lives but you can kind of maybe make two lives better, aren’t you just the pinnacle of goddamn human achievement.

Jesus, I hope they do leave you, it’s what you deserve. It’s all you deserve. Should’ve just told Ferrick to fuck you death, he’d probably enjoy the goddamn challenge.

Connor kicked the barn wall with his boot, watching the momentum travel through the wood. Nearby, one of the fuzzier barn cats, a big fluffy gray with white front paws B had named River Rock, lay along a stall divider, tail swishing idly back and forth, watching him. 

He doesn’t even know what set him off, exactly. He’d woken up thinking about it, and then there’d been something... maybe the other two doing the dishes after breakfast, some flirtation between them, the way they worked so easily and perfectly together... 

He’s not stupid, or not all the time, anyway. He gets it, he does. He gets that he’s just the way they get to be together, the setting for their happy ending, part of the furniture.

He’d already been on edge and then they were just so perfect together, fit together like puzzle pieces, the large muscular ex-Guard Dog and the smaller lithe half-trained sort-of Romantic (what the fuck was that asshole mob boss trying to do, anyway) laughing together and Connor had sent them on an errand out where his land butted up to Anne’s pastures just to... just to buy himself time to lurk in here with the barn cats and hate himself.

Hating himself comes as easily now as it did when he was sixteen, and isn’t that a fucking laugh riot. Samuel Watson, Jr., went off to the big city - changed his name - comes back home and slides right back in to the same way he felt when he was just... Sammy.

Maybe he should call his mother in Florida and ask her to tell him all the ways he’s going to hell, add that on. It’s not like he’d even notice the extra weight, anymore.

Mom, you’ve got no fucking clue what I’ve actually done to deserve hell, but why don’t you tell me about how it’s the parts inside me that damned me, and I can tell you about how my actions were so much worse than my identity could ever be.

“Connor?” Demetri’s voice is soft, and Connor tenses in surprise, but he doesn’t turn around. 

“I thought I told you to go work out near the fields,” He says, his voice caught, eyes burning hot. He can’t turn around - Demetri’s too good at seeing tears even when Connor hides them. 

“I, I know you did, but... I was talking to B, and we thought-... you seemed sad. So we came back.” The voice gets closer, the scrape of Demetri’s boots on the barn’s dirt floor, pushing aside the hay they put down to help the cats keep warm in the winter. 

“Why?” Connor lays a hand on a bit of heavy, rusted metal. He’s not even sure what purpose it served, it’s laid here along the wall since his grandfather owned this farm. Maybe they built the fucking barn around it. “Why did you come back? Why do you ever?”

There’s a pause, a silence, and then Demetri’s boots scrape along the floor again, coming closer and closer. Connor holds himself perfectly still, refuses to look at the blond. He doesn’t tremble when he feels a long-fingered hand along his back. “Connor? What do you... what do you mean?”

Connor’s eyes close, tears building there, threatening to spill. “I have twenty-five grand in a savings account,” He says, trying to get the words out fast enough that he can’t stop himself.

Don’t leave me.

“And I can sign the truck over. I’ve got papers for you both, fake IDs, Social Security numbers, the works. It’s in my safety deposit box. I’ll give you money, and everything you need - you can stay in my old apartment if you want, I just-... I have everything you need to leave.”

“Why... why would we want to?”

Connor hadn’t even heard B. His boots didn’t make the same scraping sounds that Demetri’s did. B was trained to move silently, had had it even more strongly reinforced in him that he should be seen and not heard. When his voice asked the question, rumbling and deep, Connor caught his breath at how close B was, just on his other side.

“Why-... why wouldn’t... why wouldn’t you?” To his shame, Connor has to sniff back the tears, then, and the sound is as loud as a shout in the silent barn. His voice is trembling, struggling to get the words out.

He’s sniffling like a fucking kid when he doesn’t have the fucking right.

B is the first one to slide arms around him, nuzzling into he side of his head, into Connor’s thick dark hair. Demetri’s arms move around his waist, and there’s one on either side of him, the same way they often end up at night, but this isn’t sex and this isn’t sleeping, this is... something else.

“Love you,” B rumbles, just against his ear. “Stay with you, Connor.”

“Well, you shouldn’t, and y-you shouldn’t want to. I’m the piece of shit who did all of this to you.”

Demetri, after months here, showed a sharp-witted humor in flashes, the buried man under all the drugs and training digging his way slowly out. And now, he rested his cheek on Connor’s shoulder and said, gently, “Maybe we like the piece of shit who did this to us. Or we like you, anyway, which isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Yes, it is, I’m exactly the same as I was.”

“Not the same... you’re not.” B again, and he felt like they were winds blowing him around and shielding him from the wind, at the same time. They were both. “Not the same. None of us are.”

“I just-... I just wanted to do one good thing.” Connor groans, ashamed of himself for the admission. “I don’t think... I thought, maybe I could do one good thing, and if it’s the only good thing I could do, at least it’s... something. When you’re ready, I have everything you need to go.”

“We’re not, though.” Demetri kisses his cheek, at the same moment B nuzzles back into his neck, and Connor leans back into the affection he can’t possibly earn, will never deserve. 

“Not going anywhere.” B’s teeth just graze his neck, and Connor catches his breath at the soft little sting.

“You can’t make us,” Demetri teases, an easy flirtation that seems less trained and more genuine and sincere, or maybe Connor just can’t tell the difference when he’s like this.

“Love you,” B murmurs into his neck. “We love you, Connor.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Demetri snorts, and there are fingers lightly pressing on his jaw, until Connor opens his eyes to find his face has been turned to look right at the blond, who gives him a slight, wry smile and the softest kiss. “Connor. Don’t you think B and I get to decide that, now? We decided we love you. Just try and stop us.”

“Demetri-” Connor’s eyes drop, only just now realizing Demetri isn’t wearing a collar today. 

Demetri blinks, then his smile widens when he sees Connor’s gaze move to his neck and he tilts his chin up slightly, showing off the bare expanse of neck. “All day,” he says, almost shyly. “Since our shower. We want to be here.”

B’s fingers, then, taking his chin to turn it back the other way, and B’s kiss is harder, rougher, lasts longer, but Connor melts into it. “We want to be here,” He says, in his deep voice, the intensity of his gaze focused entirely on Connor’s face. “Both of us. With you. Love you.”

Demetri’s mouth is on his neck while B kisses him again.

“We love you, Connor.” Demetri’s lips move against his skin. “Life doesn’t give you... doesn’t only give what you deserve.”

If they tore him apart right here in the barn he’d have understood it was only what he'd earned, payment in turn for all the evil things he’s done.

Instead of what he deserves, they give him this.

Over and over again.

We love you.

[thestarkerisobvious]

Sixteen - The Masked Librarian

amazing art work by @starker-sorbet​  A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

Sixteen

1 The Masked Librarian

After his sixteenth birthday, Peter used his birthday money to buy several notebooks and spent the summer filling them up with the facts he had gleaned from Tony, along with the books he had gotten from the libraries.  For fear they would be found, he wrote a lie in bold marker on the covers:  

                                                Novel Ideas:  

                                              Ideas for a Novel

Putting a timeline together with the information he got from Tony was impossible.  Tony was far more concerned with his duties around the farm than who was actually ordering him around.  

Peter’s constant questions finally made it clear – Tony had never been terribly concerned with whom he was serving, as long as he was fed and had a job to do.  Who was the son, nephew or uncle or son-of-the-uncle of whom ultimately did not concern him.  The title of “Master” wasn’t even passed on directly from father to son in every case, although it was, Peter finally ascertained, only given to a male blood relative of the original Post homesteader.  There were other problems, too, with the things Peter was being told.  Tony had no interest in years or wars or anything in American history that Peter could plot along a timeline.  Peter quickly learned there was no point in asking “which war?”  Tony had never understood which wars were which, just that men sometimes left for them.  To Tony, all the wars were “The War.”  To further complicate things, Peter strongly suspected that New York City was referred to as “New Amsterdam” by the Post family long after it was really called something else.

What he could find in the libraries was sparse.  The best he could find was the same stories they had been told when they bought the house: that two Post brothers had come from Germany and married a woman who was related to the royal family in Portugal.  That the boys were always taught German in honor of the patriarchs and the girls Portuguese, for the same reason.  That a Post had been a famous hero in the Civil War until he died by Direct Encounter With A Cannonball.  No other details.

Until the 1920s.  That’s when things got interesting..  The Post Homestead, at one time, had been a type of artist colony, which was to say, the sprawling Post family were famous for inviting artists to live, sometimes for years, as guests in their multi-generation household.    This had started out as a series of artisans hired to tutor the multiple Post daughters.  Over the decades this had become a tiny thriving community.  Mostly painters and sculptors, according to the books, but there were musicians too.  This had caused a conflict between the Post family and the town – for a period of the time the Post Homestead had been bringing in jazz musicians at great expense, much to the delight of the tiny artistic community.  To the town at large, not so much.  (Those of the African American persuasion were welcomed to come and work in Devil’s Hollow, but not “let the sun set” upon them.  The Post Family apparently did not share those same reservations.)

What happened after that was hard to piece together.  Tony wasn’t around to ask, and even if he was, he might not have known the answer.  But the death of Jedediah Post certainly must have been a turning point. 

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Peter because that was the most newsworthy event he could find.  Jedediah Post was a man of considerable wealth, and left a great deal of it to the towns around him, as well as three different museums in New York City.  But none to Devil’s Hollow.  The amount of art the family had amassed was significant, including paintings, sculptures and something called “art deco” which, as far as Peter could tell, involved a lot of very fancy furniture.  The donations were large and it was easy to track down stories about them.  Some of the museums in New York City he had even been to, although he had never seen the art in question (he was more of a Science Exhibit man himself) but some Aunt May had seen. 

The breadth of the donations was breathtaking, but mostly Peter’s research turned up bitterness and resentment.  Jedediah Post had left nothing to the Devil’s Hollow library, nor the museum (there had been one in those days) nor the school.  Apparently After-You-Die Donations had been a local phenomenon in Devil’s Hollow, particularly from the Post family.  That ended, it appeared, with Jedediah. 

Was there a reason?  Did Jed Post attempt to create an artistic community at the Post Homestead, and resent the town’s undue influence on whom he was allowed to invite?  Or did he simply make more friends outside the boundaries of the town than in?  And was that why the sprawling Post family all relocated elsewhere?  Whatever had happened, sometime in between the 1930’s and the 40’s the last Post son was living there completely and utterly by himself. 

Was he hated by the townspeople because he was a hostile misanthrope, or did he become a hostile misanthrope BECAUSE he was hated by the townspeople?   Whatever had happened, the Post estate had gone from a busy, noisy, bustling place to a house with one resident.  

Evan Post.

Evan Post… and Tony.

When Peter wasn’t pouring over his books he was remembering what it was like to be wrapped up in the arms of the thing that lived under the bed.  Which reminded him of his promise to the thing that lived under his bed.  He took long walks daily, getting sunlight and climbing every available surface that looked climbable, doing all those things that he had been promised would make him “healthy.”  Exercise by itself was boring, but the further he could walk the more wildlife he could observe.  The higher he climbed, the same.  Aunt May started to call him “The Spider” as he came home daily reporting all the wildlife he had observed from dizzying heights.  The exercise did him good, it made him hungrier at night and soon he had grown several inches and put on more weight.  He admired himself in the bathroom mirror, he enjoyed standing on the scale.  He was proud of his new body.  

He couldn’t wait to show Tony.

The long walks into the forest and the many hours sitting in trees gave Peter time to think about what life had been like for his friend in the years between Jedediah and Evan Post.  Which led to even weightier thoughts about what life had been like for Tony in the years between life in the monastery and life with the stylite Simeon the Elder.

Primarily, Peter thought about Tony, and what Tony liked to eat.

In the monastery, it appeared Tony and the others (the ones he called “us”) were fed just like guard dogs.  Or more correctly, like hellhounds.  They were fed on cattle and “infernal vapors” and, on rare occasions, people.  All until he was sent to live with Simeon on a pillar where he learned how to feed entirely on feelings.

Peter went over it in his head many times, the things Tony had said about Simeon and his other monk-lover, the one he had left behind without a single thought.  Simeon he had loved, Peter was sure of it.  “I was his beloved,” Tony had said.  (He had also spoken about touching, about pretending to be shy, about needing to be ‘taught.’  Peter tried not to think about that, but he did.  He thought about it a lot.)  

It was true, Tony might have loved Simeon the same way he loved the fields of cattle being raised to feed him, but he loved the man nonetheless.  Spent 12 years with him on a pillar, when he was supposed to be convincing him to return to the monastery.  Protected his ability to ask questions. Took away his hurt and his desire to hurt himself.   Lived on that, and nothing but that, until the day he was forced to kill the man.  That was something he could not control, Peter was certain, any more than he could control being after “sent into the ground.”

The next thing he knew, he was working in the New World.  Was he fed with farm animals, too, working on the farm as he did?  The only thing Peter could think of was the roaring twenties and the artists that lived and created at the Post Homestead.  The layout of the little artist colony was easy to see from his vantage points in the tops of trees or in his hiding place in the empty barn.    Barns, silos, and animal stalls had been razed and almost a dozen cottage-like guest cottages built by Jedediah in his day, only to be raized to their foundations by Evan decades later.  Had Evan despised growing up in that cacophony, unable to find a quiet place to himself, destroying all vestiges of it in his old age?  Or had he treasured that life, growing up in the safety of his title as son of the lord of the manor, removing the artists village when he finally understood he would never see the likes of it again?  Had he hated people as an old man because he had hated people all his life?  Of had he considered the composers, painters and sculptures the ‘normal’ people, and hated the people of Devil’s Holler’ because they were anything but normal?

Even knowing what Evan Post had done, Peter could still sympathies.  He himself had to go to school with boys his age who complained that the “for’ners, n-words and queers” were taking over the country, while he sat in silence and day-dreamed about the day he could go to college in New York City and be surrounded by “for’ners, n-words and queers” again.

Peter tried to picture it, sitting up in a tree and observing the whole of the Post Homestead.  A little village of people, creating, despairing, hoping, disappointing, arguing, loving, scheming, fearing.  And Tony underneath it, grazing on it all.  Tony spoke of feeding from artists after the work was done, or else the work would never get finished.  Did he know it instinctively?  Or did he learn through trial and error?  How much art was never complete because he fed too soon?  It couldn’t have been much, the finished artworks that DID come from the Post Homestead were legion.  Did the artists even know they were feeding Tony their light?  Was it voluntary?  Mandatory?  Tony remembered a grandmother that called him “a musa,” The Muse.  Did they think Tony was the cause of the art that was produced in this place, or did they realize he was simply growing stronger from it?

And where did the money come from?  The Post Homestead was an actual farm, and then one day it wasn’t.  Were the artists all brought here because Jedediah Post was a very rich man, and knew what he wanted to spend his wealth upon art?  Or did Jedediah invest his money into feeding Tony, which in turn made him a very rich man?

And how difficult was it for Tony, feasting on the light of sculptors, painters and controversial Jazz musicians, to learn how to live on nothing but the hate and fear of Evan Post?  What did that turn him into?  Tony readily admitted that he had driven off everyone who had come to live in the Post Homestead before Peter’s family, driving them away because all he wanted to drink was fear.  Couldn’t stop seeking out fear, causing the fear, even when he realized his own greed was driving away his only source of food.

And he had tried to inspire fear in Peter and his little family of three, Peter remembered.  When his quiet family moved into the vast house they decided, that very first night, that there was a good reason why the Post Homestead was considered haunted.  Their quiet country home was anything but quiet. It wasn’t as noisy as their New York City apartment, of course, but still not quiet.  Not only did floors creak and doors slam in empty rooms, but entire wings groaned and floorboards squeaked in the exact rhythm of footsteps.  The wind howled under the porch like an angry monster.  The first night in their new home not a single member of the family slept a wink.

So, naturally, the little family sat at the breakfast table the next and formulated a plan – a research plan.  That very day they set out for the tiny town library, got library cards, and searched out books on architecture.  When the library proved lacking they drove to the next town and did the same.  Soon Peter had a pile of books to read and May and Ben set out to fix up their Still-Quieter-Than-New-York-City farmhouse.  Peter found the books fascinating, had read them to May as she worked in the kitchen or Ben as he worked on the fences, but when those two ran him off he mostly he found himself reading out loud to himself in his room.

And, just like that, the noises quieted down.

The wolves, too, that had howled with alarming frequency when they first arrived (alarming because they had been assured there were no wolves in the woods anymore) dried up the very weekend Peter had come home with an armload of books about canines.  At the time it seemed to Peter that he had superpowers.  Whatever alarming phenomenon their haunted house produced, Peter could make it go away just by researching it.  He joked about it with Aunt May as he read to her about plumbing at the breakfast table (the obvious reason for the growling sounds coming from the basement.)  She called him “The Masked Librarian.” 

Now, he realized, he had been doing something else entirely.  Tony had lived on a diet of fear.  But Peter was only providing Tony with questions, the joy of gaining new information, followed by more information.  The thing Tony called “light.” 

Sometimes Peter wondered if Tony would be happier in a household with more emotional displays – Peter knew that “light” was not simply the positive emotions.  In addition to fear and hate, Tony fed on anger, sorrow and righteous indignation just as well.  But Peter’s little family had certainly put Tony on a strict diet.  May was stubbornly, sometimes grimly, cheerful whereas Uncle Ben raised his voice so very rarely Peter could remember every single instant.  Peter was by far the most emotional of the trio, reading books about pollution that made him cry, about endangered animals and acid rain that made him so angry he felt like punching the walls.  Tony had requested all of those kinds of books, had requested laughter and tears and anger and questions. 

Had requested everything but fear.

He had described Peter as ‘fearless,’ and in many ways that was true.  Maybe Peter had inherited some stubborn, determined optimism from the same ancestor as Aunt May, or maybe he had learned it hanging onto her apron strings.  In any case when he had first discovered that there was a voice talking to him from under his bed, fearlessness and determination had certainly served him well.

But now that the thing that lived under his bed had a name and a backstory, Peter certainly felt some real fears creeping in.

Especially as the season that Tony had told him to wait for came creeping in, a sixteen-year-old Peter was aware of some budding feelings.  His body, he was told, would be changing.  He thought he was prepared for that.  But he was finding, much to his alarm, that his brain was changing too.  Watching the foxes chase rabbits from his perch high in a tree, or watching the owls devour their prey whole from his hiding place in the barn, Peter poked at those fears gingerly, teasing around the edges.

All his life, it seemed, pretending the fear wasn’t real had served him well.   Now he wasn’t so sure.  Normally, when Peter Parker was alarmed by something, he looked it up at the library.  But he wasn’t sure there were any books on this subject.

So he did the only think he could have done, he reviewed it in his brain.  Reviewed everything he knew about Tony.  Everything he knew about the thing that lived under his bed.

As he went over the story in his mind, he found himself with two things that he decided not to label ‘fears’ after all.  He decided it would be more expedient to label them ‘regrets.’

Alright, three.  Maybe four.

[a-very-fond-farewell]

Wen Yuan and the Prisoner of Koi Tower

*

the only HP!au I will consider for mdzs is the one where WWX acts as Sirius and LWJ as Remus.

also Cloud Recesses already acts as a magical school of sorts so I would not go as far as plant the entire cast in England, but a modern Chinese setting would be a very nice touch and will allow many writers to play around with both pieces of media imo.

my take would be:

*

- WWX has escaped a secret and hidden magical prison 13 years after protecting the remaining Wens from facing justice after the entire Sect had been accused of being a threat to the laws protecting the cultivation world.

- while some of the Wens (Wen RuoHan and his sons) had actively tried to oppose the allicance by messing with commoners and revealing themselves to the non-cultivation world, other Wens were completely innocent and yet they were still persecuted after the war (Sunshot Campaign) that had exterminated the rest of their Sect.

- WWX sacrificed himself by pretending to be completely unable to control his demonic cultivation and causing the explosion of resentful energy that destroyed the Burial Mounds (the Wen Remains’ hideout), turning the lush forest in a wasteland. the magical barrier dividing the premise and the non-cultivation world was compromised and WWX was accused of having sided with the Wen-dogs to jeopardize the anonymity of the cultivation world.

- by attracting all the attention on himself and destroying their hideout, WWX convinced everyone he accidentally killed the Wen Remains to allow them to escape. with the barrier growing weaker, the Wens slipped into the shadows of the non-cultivation world and pretended to be commoners for the time being.

*

- Wen Yuan (i assume he would not have a courtesy name if he were to live outside of the modern!cultivation-world, before enrolling in school) has lived 13 years in modern!Yiling with Wen Ning and he’s now 16 under a different name (idk what name, but they certainly don’t plan to be sought out by announcing the world they are called Wen). they live pretending to be commoners and can only rarely see Wen Qing, who was able to work at the “magical school” as a physician only bc the headmaster Lan QiRen is more interested in her talent than her last name.

- Wen Ning and Wen Qing decided not to reveal their little cousin about the happenings of 13 years ago. when they tried to step into the common world the first time after the explosion, A-Yuan had slipped from their grasp and they didn’t know where he had disappeared to (imagine the mishaps of the Floo Network and such or when someone disappararates). A-Yuan, “splinched” and feverish with no memories of his past, was found by LWJ who brought him back to the Wen siblings and helped their entire clan to disappear from the radar.

- upon discovering A-Yuan had, in fact, a golden core at 10/11 years old (although I would also like to see him enrolling in school at 8 or 9 tbh), LWJ offers to pay for his education but asks the Wen siblings not to reveal his identity as a benefactor. so A-Yuan only knows someone in the Lan Sect saw potential in him and... offered him a scholarship? I guess?

*

- he enrolls under the name Lan SiZhui and tries to find out more as he grows and learns. his suspicions fall on LXC at first, because he’s very kind and pleasant to talk to and he frequently visits the school even though he’s not a teacher. then he suspects LQR or one of the elders to be his benefactor. but when he enters the third year and he’s finally allowed to study with the Qin Language Master (either that or an Array Master or even Spellwork Master, you choose) LWJ... A-Yuan knows.

- so A-Yuan spends roughly two years trying to crack LWJ’s exterior... but it’s actually easy bc LWJ is very fond of him. yet, the elusive teacher doesn’t even try to talk about WWX with him. nobody does. Wen Qing looks after A-Yuan while he’s at school, but they have to pretend they don’t know each other: all the school staff knows she’s a Wen but none of the students have a suspect; if their families were to discover this fact, they would take the children away from the school in retaliation against LQR for having betrayed the alliance by protecting a Wen.

- A-Yuan spends a lot of time with her anyway, sharing meals and gossip in the medical wing late at night. he also tries to injure himself at times during night hunts so that he can meet with her and be scolded by her. it is a delicate balance and a dangerous game they’re playing, but only LWJ knows about it. not even LQR is aware that A-Yuan is a Wen: he trusted his nephew when LWJ told him he found a promising child to bring to the cultivation world and he trusted him.

- Lan JingYi was also “found” in a similar way and he adopted the Lan name and lives with LXC during the summer bc he doesn’t have a family. OuYang ZiZhen is one of the few representing his Sect while Jin Ling leads the way for his Sect and its many members. Jin Ling tries to be a rival to A-Yuan so bad (just bc A-Yuan seems perfect, not bc he’s a Wen. only Lan JingYi knows about that) but they end up being friends.

*

- Jiang FengMian leads Yunmeng as a Sect Leader while Madam Yu teaches how to wield spiritual weapons. JC was born without a golden core, but WWX sacrificed it for him with a forbidden spell and developed demonic cultivation to balance the absence of his core. LQR saw potential in him and offered him an opportunity to form another golden core... but his attempts failed miserably and WWX graduated following the demonic path before studying to become a teacher himself to explore other cultivation methods.

- Jin GuangShan’s alive and kicking [*cough*sons from staircases*cough*] at the top of Lanling and three of his bastards kids are teachers: JGY, MXY, and Qin Su.

- Nie MingJue rules over Qinghe and sent Nie ZongHui as a teacher and protector of the students from their Sects. Nie HuaiSang visits sometimes to discuss Sect matters with him

- LQR’s older brother is the head of Gusu and only LWJ is a teacher, taking his mother’s place (I envision his mother as an outcasts of sorts, similarly to Trelawney, but less............you know. we still love a cryptid woman in this house tho. basically she was kept away bc she knew too much and went mad with the knowledge she held and vowed to never speak again or something + also I like the idea of LWJ teaching in a secluded place. not necessarily a tower, but I remember Lupin’s office to be quite fetching nonetheless and the Jinghi can still keep all of its minimalist furniture and still be cooler than anything else ever existing in-universe).

*

- when WWX escapes from prison, the first thing he wants is to find the Wens. the teachers think he’s after Wen Qing and they make sure to destroy every corpse surrounding the school so that WWX cannot summon them. night-hunting is put on hold for the entire year (which would be a parallel with quidditch championship being shut down... also sports being put on hold bc of an emergency sounds oddly familiar...)

- JC still has his brother’s dizi, protected under spells in one of his mother’s cabinets at the school... but Jin Ling is a silly boy and wants to prove to his friends that he knows that his grandma Madam Yu is hiding something important in her office. so during a late exploration night after curfew, the juniors find the cabinet, take the dizi to inspect it and flee the corridors. Madam Yu finds them first, but LWJ defends them and feign ignorance when the woman demands to be the one punishing them. LWJ then asks Jin Ling to give him the dizi and the boy begrudgingly does as the teacher says.

*

- people start disappearing soon after. one by one, people from MoLing and Baling from the school staff vanish into thin air, then it’s the Jin and Jiang’s turn. By the time LXC disappears as well, LWJ gets worried but he trusts his brother.

- Jin GuangShan’s however, after his younger son’s disappearance, point his finger against the Nie Sect and its dangerous method of cultivation: why nobody of the Nie Sect had disappeared? the culprit must be one of theirs! and if MXY cannot be found, then the Jin Sect will demand reparations from Nie MingJue himself... with his life.

- when the dizi disappears from LWJ’s office, JGY suggests the Yiling Patriarch has finally made his way inside the school and that maybe he’s after the disappearance of so many cultivators and students. then, when the dizi is found among Wen Qing’s possessions, LQR expels her from the school to save himself (?) and his Sect from being accused of shielding someone hiding the Yiling Patriarch... but she is able to snatch the dizi and flee, promising A-Yuan to be back for him when nobody is watching.

*

- ...nobody aside from Jin Ling, who sees Wen Qing embracing “A-Yuan” one last time. the heir of LanLing demands an explanation from his best friend, asking him why that woman had called him with a different name and why was he talking with such familiarity to a Wen dog even though he knew what the Wens had done to his family. how JZX, his father, had died because of a Wen and how his mother had died because of WWX. on top of that, if Wen Qing was really helping WWX, then it was still a Wen’s fault if his uncle MXY was now missing!

- feeling betrayed, Jin Ling disappears on his own volition and Jin GuangShan accuses the Yiling Patriarch of having abducted even his grandson now. the rest of the juniors look for Jin Ling and they travel into the night until they find a lead: JC, apparently, has found a way to lure WWX out by calling the sword-spirit Suibian through his lend-me-down version of a golden core. feeling someone “pulling” him in, WWX was certainly bound to come back and meet with the heir of YunmengJiang , right? (is this the equivalent of the Patronus thingie? maybe not?)

- the juniors figure out that Jin Ling would follow his uncle JC and so they follow the man as well. they end up where everything started, in the Burial Mounds. but Jin Ling has arrived there even before his own uncle. the juniors see WWX holding an unconscious Jin Ling in his arms when JC arrives wielding Sandu. they duel and in the cave there are a lot of ancient corpses WWX can order around with his dizi. JC is close to have the upper hand... when LWJ enters the cave and knocks JC to one of the walls in WWX’s defense.

- [just like in the movie, I would like the narration to be hinting at LWJ having helped WWX all along. even if there were to be POV from LWJ’s part up until this moment, I would still not let it show he’s still in love with WWX. (eg: is he were to look at an old photo with WWX, maybe LWJ’s POV would show him tossing the picture aside and A-Yuan would accidentally see the scene and the POV would switch... so the kid would assume LWJ had beef with WWX instead)]

*

- A-Yuan, who up until then has never had any reason to think of WWX as anything but a menace to the cultivation world, feels winded. why does his mentor, his father figure, his benefactor... side with a criminal? and why does WWX have the dizi? did Qing-Jie really give it to him? but wasn’t she framed? the dizi must have been planted in her closet when they found it... right?

- LWJ tries to explain that WWX was not behind the disappearances. and that Wen Qing had not taken the dizi from LWJ’s office: Nie ZongHui had. After so many people disappeared, after Jin GuangShan’s accusations against the Nie Sect, Nie ZongHui panicked and wanted to protect his Sect. and since he knew LWJ was hiding something... since he knew how LWJ and WWX were close during their youth... he snooped around until he found the dizi and planted it on the only person every teacher was suspicious of: Wen Qing.

- Wen Qing, after being framed, seeks out WWX and helps him hide in the Burial Mounds, taking down the barriers the cultivation world has set around the area. she then sent a message to LWJ telling him that JC was being lured as well by WWX into the cave to talk... but that Jin Ling had attacked first.

- tired and still incredulous about being finally, finally free, WWX himself explains the truth about the Wen Remains and what he had done to save them. LWJ holds him tight as the other explains that he cannot use resentful energy as he used to and that -when he had tried to protect himself from Jin Ling’s attacks using the dizi- his first attempt had knocked down the kid. JC had found him at the worst possible moment, really.

- but then... who was behind the disappearances? then appears Su She. who had followed the juniors pretending to be invested in their well-being.

*

- the first cultivators to disappear were from MoLing after all, but not because they were abducted... but because they were the one abducting people to begin with. leaving out cultivators from the Nie Sect had been done only to satisfy Jin GuangShan’s request to find Nie MingJue at fault: the man’s only sin being that he would have never voted in favor of Jin GuangShan for the position of Chief Cultivator (something like the Minister of Magic, I suppose??) wishing to get more power for his Sect, Su She accepted to give an opening for Jin GuangShan’s plan... after being ordered as much by JGY.

- JGY... who had been very quick to “suggest” WWX was behind the disappearances after finding out the dizi Madam Yu and LWJ were hiding had disappeared.

- LWJ duels with Su She, but eventually has to take a step back after the other uses a transportation talisman and disappears himself. if they let him go he will tell everyone that WWX is back, that LWJ is with him and they they both took JC and the juniors as hostages. a siege will be called upon them and they need to flee ASAP.

*

- WWX takes them to Wen Ning’s and A-Yuan is really confused. if it’s true that WWX helped the Wen Remains, then it’s probably right to assume that WWX and Wen Ning were friends... but why did that never occur to him? why neither Wen Qing nor her brother told him anything??

- Wen Ning cries of happiness upon seeing WWX and they embrace for a long time. Wen Qing is there and has put barriers around their apartment in Yiling to protect them from being found. there are spirits (invisible to the commoners) lurking around and flying in the sky, prodding at every window and door. A-Yuan looks out for danger close to the widows, trying to find a solution... and also as a way to stay away from his family for a bit as he tries to figure the truth out all on his own.

- however, he cannot help himself from listening in on what is being told, not with Lan JingYi asking a million questions per minute to an exhausted Yiling Patriarch. Jin Ling and JC are still unconscious on the sofa and A-Yuan holds his friend’s hand by the window for comfort -more for himself than for the other boy- when he learns that Wen Ning defended WWX by accidentally killing Jin Ling’s father JZX 13 years back. and then how, in one last attempt to save her own step-brother, even Jiang YanLi had died in the explosion that should have destroyed Burial Mounds completely.

- WWX had seen her only at the very last minute, dragging her body over to the mostly ruined cave before he could lose his senses to prevent her to turn into a vengeful corpse. to preserve her body until other Sects could arrive. he had truly no idea his sister wanted to talk to him and he accepted to go to prison for it.

- (JC had been the one to find his sister’s corpse and WWX’s unconscious body in the cave 13 years ago. he cried and took both of them back. after his sister and brother-in-law’s funeral, soon after WWX’s incarceration, JC revealed his mother he had found the dizi. she decided to hide it in the school, where nobody could have found it, all to prevent the rise of another demonic cultivator. WWX’s sword was believed to have been destroyed in the explosion... only JC can feel its existence through his lend-me-down golden core. but he doesn’t reveal this to anyone.)

- WWX reveals he should have been brought to the “magical prison” (maybe on Phoenix Mountain?) but he was instead trapped within the dungeons of Koi Tower, the ancient residence belonging to Jin Ling’s family. Jin Ling had spent most of his life there... unaware that his uncle WWX was there.

- WWX also tells them that someone helped him run away, a man younger than him that used to keep him company in the shadows, listening to his stories. someone who brought Suibian back to him... even if he would not be able to wield it without a golden core (he tried in school under LQR’s tutelage a la “Legilimens lessons” you feel me?).

- WWX has met with this person for a long time, even if he cannot be sure how many years exactly. maybe five or less. still, he would like to find this person and repay him in kindness, even if he doesn’t know what his name is. when asked to describe him, WWX tells them his eyes had been shut close all along with talismans and that he would be able to recognize the man only by voice alone.

- Jin Ling is awake by the time the story ends and squeezes A-Yuan’s hand back. they both discovered horrible things about their families and they can barely share a glance between them before they start silently crying. LWJ notices and steps in to try to comfort them... but Jin Ling asks him why he helped WWX instead. demanding to know if he helped him 13 years ago in destroying his family as well.

*

- LWJ only looks back at WWX and smiles as he shakes his head. then the two of them reveal they had lived together for a while in secret before the fallout. they even got married without anyone but Wen Ning and Wen Qing knowing, just right after the war (Sunshot Campaign)... before WWX’s control over the resentful energy grew unstable and he had to flee to prevent LWJ to be caught in the aftermath of his actions.

- WWX pretended he didn’t love LWJ anymore and asked to be left alone. heartbroken but still mindful of the other’s boundaries, LWJ thought he didn’t have any right to control WWX and let him go. in the following year or two, WWX found a home with the Wen Remains and defended them until the end.

- LWJ had tried to defend them from the hatred festering the cultivation world from within... but treaded maybe too carefully in the attempt not to disrespect his father and the elders of his family.

- when the Burial Mounds exploded, LWJ disappeared to help the Wens find new homes instead of lending his hand in containing the magical power from spilling over into the non-cultivation world. this was seen as an insult from his family’s standpoint and he was forced into seclusion for years. so while WWX was trapped in a jail covered in suppression talismans, LWJ had been forced into a prison of his own, in a freezing cave where he had to focus all of his attention on developing his cultivation in order to survive such temperatures.

- this led both of them to develop a trauma they don’t know if they will ever be able to overcome, unless they learn to live with its consequences one step at a time. during seclusion, LWJ figured that WWX had lied to him, but that he had been too in love and to young to see the truth at the time. so after he left seclusion he looked once more for A-Yuan, who WWX had loved like a son, and was willing to adopt him... but the child already had a family and it would have been cruel to separate him from them.

- that was why he offered to pay for his studies and never wanted to be found out... but A-Yuan was too smart not to find out and so LWJ allowed himself to hope for a future when he could tell the boy the truth. he wouldn’t dare to hope for WWX to ever leave prison, but he could still dream to see him again.

- at the end of the touching story, JC punches LWJ square on the jaw. he was still weak and couldn’t handle the dizziness, but he had listened to everything and now is furious with LWJ. he demands to know why he didn’t tell anyone WWX and him were married; why he thought possible that such a lovelorn idiot like JC’s brother could ever not be in love with LWJ after obsessing over him for the entirety of their academic career. JC and the entire Yunmeng would have helped them! JC would have even convinced Madam Yu to wield Zidian to protect them and the Wens if necessary! why did they have to do everything by themselves?!

- WWX finally sits close to his brother and lets him punch his chest and arms as much as he wants, until the younger man collapses back on the sofa, exhausted. A-Yuan observes all of this and yet he cannot understand: he doesn’t remember WWX at all, nor to have ever lived in Burial Mounds. he will not trust WWX until he finds out the truth by himself.

- Wen Qing, ever so practical, reminds them they have the entire cultivation world breathing on their necks and that no amount of family drama will save them from execution if they keep hiding doing nothing. that’s when LWJ receives a spiritual butterfly (this is the Patronus thingie! I guess??) from his brother LXC: the butterflies goes under the radar and slips inside the barriers set by Wen Qing easily; it says that ��Nie MingJue is innocent and that JGY is helping them”.

- none of them could see how that’s possible, since it was JGY the one ordering Su She to kidnap all of those people just to give Jin GuangShan an opportunity to mess with the Nie Sect. yet, LWJ trusts his brother and decides to send another spiritual butterfly in response, asking where they should meet with LXC.

*  

- while they wait, they eat and try to get along. the Wen siblings distract the kids while WWX and LWJ talk by themselves for a while. they need some alone time and they move to the guest bedroom to figure things out (i doubt they would go for the papapa after all that distance, longing, exhaustion and touch-starvation... especially because last time they saw each other WWX told LWJ he didn’t love him anymore. but... you know.... they did miss each other a lot, and WWX desperately needs a shower, so.......................... yeah.)

- Wen Qing coax the juniors close with food and tells them all sorts of stories about the infamous Yiling Patriarch and how he didn’t even know how to properly cook for the Wen Remains. she tells them how interested he was in the non-cultivation world (Arthur vibes anyone??) and how he was the one teaching the Wens how to use all sorts of common objects, like cars and toasters, washing machines and ovens. Wen Ning sadly suggests that maybe WWX had already imagined how they would need such knowledge for when they were going to leave the cultivation world for good. everyone becomes somber afterwards.

- Jin Ling is still wary of Wen Ning, but he accepts his food and doesn’t try anything funny. Lan JingYi asks Wen Qing to teach him how to make a television work and he eventually blasts the volume up until he wakes JC and receives a knock on the head for the trouble. OuYang ZiZhen starts flipping through the romance novels Wen Ning collects and gets hooked on at least three of them at the same time bc none of them are related to the cultivation world. A-Yuan spends time with Wen Ning and they promise to talk about everything that happened as soon as this nightmare will be over.

*

- the following morning: the kids are sprawled on the floor, JC somewhat surrounded by them and cushioning their heads with his limbs; Lan JingYi slips and calls him “dad” for some reason; Jin Ling boinks his head with a fist and tells him he already has A-Yuan as a cousin and he doesn’t need another one; A-Yuan sobs a little when a sleepy JC tells the kids he has enough love for everyone; OuYang ZiZhen declares he wants to be a cousin too; Wen Qing slips the equivalent of Veritaserum down JC’s open mouth as he snores and they ask him all sorts of questions just to mess with him.

- all is well and the wangxian lovebirds come out of their room: all combed out and clean, WWX looks almost a respectable member of society, but dressed in non-cultivation clothes he still looks too skin for comfort. Suibian held close, LWJ’s hand in his, WWX properly introduces himself and asks for forgiveness.

- still under the effects of the potion, JC reveals that he’s just glad he’s still alive and as annoying as ever. WWX cries of happiness and LWJ has never looked more serene and moved since A-Yuan got to know him properly.

- right then, a spiritual butterfly (a shouting one! like the Howlers this time around!) passes through the window of the apartment and only says: “they’re coming. hold onto Suibian, all of you”. the group has barely enough time to huddle around the sword when the windows of the flat explode and spirits swarms their way inside!

- the sword activates (like a Portkey!) and they get sucked in through a passage until they reach a dungeon in Qinghe Nie. WWX realizes the engravings in the metal had been slightly changed to accommodate a transportation spell that would be invisible to the eye. LWJ takes his sword and point it at their host... but he only finds his fellow teacher MXY. for a moment he had thought the butterfly had come from JGY, because that had been the man’s voice screaming at them to take Suibian... but he couldn’t be sure. spiritual butterflies only speak to the one they are directed to, so nobody heard when the message had been opened aside from him.

- but... what did MXY have to do with all of this? the younger teacher doesn’t speak, simply gesturing them to follow along. then they reach the throne chamber through a secret corridor and there they find... NHS. who finally explains to them what is happening.

* (flashback)

- NMJ and JGY had planned to stop Jin GuangShan’s plan to take over the non-cultivation world. initially they thought they could postpone the inevitable by letting NMJ voting against the Jin Sect Leader in the election for Chief Cultivator... but then the pig ordered JGY to find dirt on NMJ and to orchestrate something to trigger a new war between Sects.

- JGY asks Su She (who he knows he’s a spy under Jin GuangShan’s wing) to start taking people away from the school and help him “frame” the Nie cultivators. JGY has full permission from NMJ to do so and LXC is informed as well. LXC pretends to be “kidnapped” and protects the teachers, students, and members of the staff that had been taken away in the meantime.

- JGY needs to take one specific person out of the school (out of sight from his father’s spies): his brother MXY, who had learned how to use transportation talismans long ago. MXY gives JGY some low-level talismans for Su She and his cronies from MoLing, just to make his older brother appear more trustworthy to the spie. but he’s otherwise preoccupied with perfecting a spell to lead an activated Suibian (aka, the Portkey) all the way in Qinghe.

- JGY needs MXY to finish the “receiving end” of the spell and the array that would have welcomed the Yiling Patriarch back. and to achieve that JGY has to sneak MXY out without people from the Jin Sect suspecting him.

- Qin Su conveniently “suggests” to Su She to take MXY away for good measure: she got news from her brothers of their plan to dethrone their father and she’s on board. so her suggestion was taken seriously by Su She and he himself sneaks MXY out of the school despite the (uuuuuuuuh) lockdown (??? too soon? too soon)

- Jin GuangShan now has what he wanted: an opportunity to seek NMJ out... but Nie ZongHui panics and steals WWX’s dizi, planting it in Wen Qing’s belongings. JGY knows his father will still try to ignore the WWX situation in order to pick on NMJ no matter what... but if the cultivation world hears about how the Jin Sect didn’t care if the Yiling Patriarch was behind the disappearances... JGY knows a siege will come for his father all right, but it will come for him and his siblings too.

- so JGY suggests WWX is the one behind the kidnappings, reminding his father -this way- how the entire Sect will be under scrutiny if he refuses to acknowledge the disappearance of the dizi. JGY doesn’t want for the name of Jin to be followed by hatred and disgust just like it happened with the Wens.

- his father luckily catches up on the tension in the room and for the time being accepts to look for WWX like the others instead of trying to come for NMJ’s head (ahahah)

- while MXY works on the array to activate Suibian from afar, LXC is confident LWJ will find WWX all on his own and convince him to help them. but in case LWJ will fail in convincing him... well, activating Suibian they will still be able to summon WWX whether he likes it or not. but LXC doesn’t have time to send the butterfly that LWJ has already left the school (after receiving Wen Qing’s message). so the little butterfly looks for LWJ for the entire night before he finds him... and a bunch of children (including JC).

- which is unexpected, but LXC trusts his brother. he informs JGY and the two of them entrust to MXY the task to send another butterfly to LWJ, activate Suibian, and welcome the group in Qinghe. all while LXC, JGY and NMJ meet in Gusu to plan a siege against Jin GuangShan.

* (end of flashback)

- NHS finally reveals how he had been the one suggesting MXY to give Suibian back to WWX after transforming it into a (raw and unpolished) transportation talisman before freeing him from Koi Tower (roughly at the beginning of the school year). MXY would have needed more time to finish the work on Suibian, but rumors had it WWX was soon to be executed bc now useless to Jin GuangShan after 13 years.

- tense under the scrutiny, MXY remains silent as WWX slowly falls at his feet and thanks him for keeping him company all of those years. MXY still refuses to speak when WWX marvels at the wonderful job he had done with Suibian as he kneels in front of him and tries to take one of the younger man’s gloved hands in his.

- “Finally, Yiling Patriarch,” utters MXY as he graciously accepts WWX’s offer and takes his hand. but WWX tenses, trying to take his hand back, still kneeling in front of MXY, who is smiling down at him.

- “You’re not him,” is all WWX is able to say before Xue Yang reveals his real identity (the changing-faces thingie is apparently called “face-changing technique” and works here in place of the Polyjuice potion). XY activates Suibian (still in WWX’s hand) once more and disappears with WWX.

*

- now that he has the whole story (and the Yiling Patriarch all for himself to play with!), XY can go back to Jin GuangShan and be given his two fierce corpses back (SL & XXC), who had been held captive for experiments in Koi Tower.

- XY took MXY’s place upon discovering JGY’s younger brother had secretly let the Yiling Patriarch run away with an unfinished transportation talisman. Jin GuangShan’s ordering him to keep the traitor MXY under control and to find WWX. retracing the spell-work backwards only from MXY’s notes would have taken ages so XY hid MXY behind a mirror in a secret chamber, torturing him to force him to tell him how to find WWX. but MXY refused over and over again.

- XY transformed his features into MXY’s ones, but his missing pinky would have jeopardized his mission, so he wore stuffed gloves on both hands, shrugging it off as a stylistic choice. his acting so spot on, not even Qin Su or JGY noticed anything missing, not even NHS, MXY’s best friend, or Jin Ling.

- but JGY never told him the whole story. and now that he knew the truth about Jin GuangShan’s intention to conquer the non-cultivation world... now XY has leverage to get what he wants and flee with his (partners?? lovers?? guinea pigs??) fierce corpses.

- working on a double array to activate Suibian (whatever that means) took almost an entire school year, but in the end he got to drag WWX all the way back to Koi Tower... where the siege will soon take place.

*

- WWX gets nails in his skull (which I assume could work in place of an Imperius Curse, even if he’s not a fierce corpse) in order to defend Koi Tower from the siege by organizing the corpses against 3Zun’s army of cultivators.

- LWJ looks for his brother as the others and NHS look for more help. they still don’t know WWX is in Koi Tower or for who XY I start working, but NHS knows Jin GuangShan will not wait for the siege to take him down so he suggest they move to LanLing.

- the juniors are exhausted and yet they fly to Koi Tower in the attempt to warn LXC of what had just occurred, when they hear the dizi Chenqing summoning the dead. the battle begins, but doesn’t culminate until 3Zun show up and destroy most of WWX’s corpses.

- WWX himself is fighting against the nails in his skull and his demonic cultivation is deeply unstable, so much his corpses crumble down easily enough. still, there are so many: Koi Tower must have harvested them against the laws of the cultivation-world (XY being one of the mad scientists/magicians behind the project under Jin a GuangShan’s guidance... all in order to terrorize the commoners and eventually rule over the non-cultivation world)

- eventually, LWJ is able to face WWX and take him down, forcing him to come to his senses after taking the nails out. Jin GuangShan is captured and will face trial. Madam Jin takes over the Sect and makes JGY her General.

*

- during the battle, A-Yuan gets hit in the head and the other juniors try to use a spare transportation talisman (disapparate) to get him back to Wen Qing... but they don’t know where she is fighting and so they go back to Cloud Recesses.

- A-Yuan gets (Splinched) injuried even more and the pain reminds him of his past, of WWX and the rest of his family in the lush mountain of Burial Mounds.

- the school is empty, but Jin Ling finds a way back to his uncle JGY’s office where he knows there are medicinal herbs and talismans they can use. inside, they only find XY who’s looking for something by the desk in a hurry. XY tries to kill them (with an hex??) with a curse... but Madam Yu saves them by capturing him first with Zidian.

- Jin Ling embraces his grandma and explains what happened and where JC and WWX are, but he also insists on the need to save A-Yuan. once that is settled, Jin Ling forces XY to tell him where his younger uncle is -fearing he may be dead- by pointing his father’s sword at him.

- after getting what he wants, Jin Ling runs to MXY’s office and finds the bronze mirror... but he cannot step inside of it. he wishes and wishes and wishes, but nothing happens! he slides on the floor and cries his heart out.

*

- WWX and LWJ arrive with JC and Wen Qing at the school. Madam Yu is cold towards WWX and accuses him of destroying their family and of disrespecting the debt he owed them. WWX listens carefully and then embraces her anyway. it doesn’t last long, but he doesn’t care.

- LWJ steps inside JGY’s office and asks XY to tell him where MXY is. the other offers to tell him only if LWJ helps him find something in JGY’s room: a key to the (magical, I guess) cell where SL and XXC have been trapped.

- LWJ tells him they already freed them and that they are waiting for him downstairs. restless and eager to meet them, XY tells him nobody aside from someone with MXY’s face can open the mirror door in MXY’s office.

- tired of all that nonsense, LWJ drags XY over to the office, Zidian still cracking and squeezing him in place like a snake, and forces him to perform his imitation magic once more.

- WWX runs behind them and they find Jin Ling sobbing on the floor. WWX smashes XY’s now transformed face into the mirror and they barge inside. MXY is there, some fingers missing, a lost ear, too skinny for comfort, traumatized beyond recognition. but he immediately recognizes WWX and weakly allows the older man to embrace him and hold him tight.

- A-Yuan sees all of this, after Wen Qing got to work her magic on him and starts to cry. he too once had been too skinny and weak, he too had been saved by WWX and then once more by LWJ.

- he remembers everything now. LWJ hugs him tight as they made their way to WWX and MXY. A-Yuan holds WWX tight as MXY marvels at him.

- “Is this... is this A-Yuan? Wen Yuan?” MXY asks, smiling even in his weakened state, “Your dad told me so much about you... so it was you all along, Lan SiZhui?”

- and even if MXY had never been anything but one of his many weird teachers, now that A-Yuan finally sees him after one entire year, knowing he kept WWX company in Koi Tower for so many years... A-Yuan cannot do anything but feel a great deal of affection for him too. so he hugs MXY as well and he laughs as WWX and LWJ hold him tight.

*

[what a ride. what a fucking ride. I want 150k words for this but I cannot do it. any volunteers? anyway you can interpret the WWX/MXY thingie as strictly platonic, but you are talking to a wangxianyu shipper so........yeah. no but really, I just wanted these poor characters to be happy. also, even if this is a “HP: POA” inspired au, I’ve always loved the mindfuck that was discovering the truth about Mad-Eye Moody in “HP: GOF” so..... sue me.]

[XY will face a trial don’t you worry]

[ignore all the plot holes, Su She would be proud of me for them]

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - XXIII

A/N How much has changed

T/W Mentions of war violence, death, and grief

Mail lines had been cut earlier in the week, meaning letters to and from home were undeliverable. The soldiers’ morale was low from this, most only really hanging on after mail delivery days with calm words from their families. Even still, the capture of Passchendaele was a huge success for the British army and the moment of peace from battle as well as the newly arrived sunshine for the men was more than appreciated. Uniforms were hung up over crumbling brick walls and half destroyed window ledges to dry and most of the men walked around in their undershirts, finally being able to feel the warm springtime sun. A few men were sent to bring in a few crates of food rations and supplies from their old trenches, the trucks not able to make the trip over the still flooded battlefield.

As Corbyn had assured him, Daniel was permitted another week’s rest by the General who was more than impressed with his valour and determination, his leadership ultimately helping the Allies to gain this major foothold in the war. A few German cots were left over in some of the destroyed buildings so Daniel and Corbyn assembled themselves a little room in an old house where Daniel could rest.

He was still heartbroken and arguably traumatized by the events of the prior few days or weeks and after such a physically draining battle, he was back to square one; tucked warmly under a blanket on the cot, silent. Corbyn didn’t mind, still graciously taking care of his friend whenever he could, and he was just grateful that Daniel was more willing to eat now.

Daniel felt like the ache in his heart would never go away; if he dwelled on it too long, thinking too much about what had happened, it would feel like someone had a knife through his chest, twisting it and pushing it deeper until he lost his breath.

It was torture.

So Daniel tried not to think about it, leaving his tin box shut tightly as it only contained memories he didn’t want to relive: Elizabeth’s photograph, Zach’s dog tags, and Christian’s few belongings. He stayed on his cot for a few days, more coherent than before the capture but still broken, letting himself take time to himself to unwind. He wished he could write to his mother, missing her comforting words of wisdom and reassurance. He wondered if she knew that Christian was killed yet. He wondered if she thought he was dead too.

Daniel prayed a lot since their arrival at Passchendaele. Although his faith may have dwindled since the start of the war, he felt like the only way to push onward was to trust in God. He knew his three favourite people were in good hands.

Sunday brought cloudless blue skies and warm weather, drawing Daniel out of bed for the first time in four days. Some of the soldiers were sat around the ruins of the small church, the sun brightening up the area filled with lighthearted chatter and freshly served rations, a few of the men barefoot as their socks were hung to dry beside them. Corbyn was amidst them, smoking a cigarette and laughing at whatever story someone was sharing. His smile only grew when his eyes landed on Daniel approaching them.

“Hey, Seavey!” he cheered, the rest of the men looking over to the quiet young man and welcomed him excitedly.

“Want a smoke, mate?” one offered. Daniel politely declined as he sat next to Corbyn on one of the upturned church pews.

“Good to see you up.” Corbyn patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s good to be up.” Daniel reached forward to grab a can from the crate they were using as a small table. “What’s for lunch?”

“Only the best lukewarm stew a man could ask for.” one of the men across from him grinned through a thick Australian accent as he took a drag from his cigarette, his dark blonde curly hair sticking up in all directions.

“Lovely.” Daniel cracked a half-forced smile as he pulled the lid open and shuffled through his pockets for a spoon.

“Besson here says you led us to capture the town, is that right?”

Daniel looked around the group who were all staring at him expectantly. He looked back down as he swirled his spoon around the dark stew, “Um, I don’t know about ‘led’ necessarily.”

“Don’t be daft. We all know you did.” Corbyn scoffed.

“Just had a pinch of luck, I suppose.” Daniel shrugged.

“Blimey, mate, we captured an entire town in one day! That’s more than a pinch of luck.” the blonde man gaped, leaning forward to stamp out his cigarette on the side of the wooden crate, “Us Aussies and New Zealanders had been trying for months. You made it look easy.”

Daniel bit back his embarrassed smile as he took a bite of his lunch.

“It was definitely the back up you lot got from the Canadians that pushed you.” another man spoke from his place on the ground, lit cigarette between his fingers as his cap embroidered with a maple leaf rested over his eyes to shield him from the sun.

“You bloody wish.” Corbyn laughed.

“You should count yourself lucky that you had our manpower.” the man sat up, dropping his cap to the ground and he ruffled a hand through his shaggy brown hair, offering a cheeky smirk to Corbyn and Daniel as he took a drag of his cigarette under his mustache.

“We’re all on the same team.” Daniel protested softly over their bickering. “We all did it together.”

The Australian man shrugged teasingly, “Yeah, maybe, but-”

A shadow fell over their small group and they all glanced up to see the General standing over them, his usual serious scowl across his face and his hands behind his back, “Sorry to interrupt lunch, gentlemen, but I must request to see both of you down by the lines as soon as possible.”

“Yessir.” Daniel and Corbyn offered him a salute as they watched him walk off through the destroyed town.

“Down by the lines? Christ, we better not be going back into battle. My socks aren’t dry yet.” the Australian held up his bare foot to the group.

“Bloody disgusting.” the Canadian gave him a shove, making him laugh loudly.

Daniel and Corbyn packed up their few belongings, slinging their rifles over their shoulders just in case. They said their quick goodbyes to their new friends before making their way to the dirt road towards the battlefields. Daniel ate as they walked, his boots scuffing against the rubble below them. The sunshine led the way, both young men silent and growing more hesitant with each step, wondering what the General was to speak with them about.

General Dolan was stationed in one of the dugouts in the overtaken German trenches and Corbyn and Daniel were directed there by one of the higher officers. Daniel left his empty lunch can on the side of the trenches as they approached. The structure of the German trenches was much more impressive than the British; steel beams and wood posts holding up the ceilings of massive dugouts, torches lining the walls with sufficient lighting and sets of metal military furniture filling the space. General Dolan was sat at the desk, scanning the maps that were laid out over the desk and had been left behind in the raid.

“Sir.” Corbyn greeted, both men saluting once again.

“Thank you for your prompt response.” General Dolan spoke, glancing up at the two of them, “Can either of you read German?”

“No, sir.” they both answered.

“Pity.” the General shuffled the maps to the side to focus his attention on the two men in front of him. “I wanted to speak with you about your incredible work you’ve done for this Division. Both of you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corbyn responded.

“Besson, you’ve been with us for almost a year now, is that right?”

“Yessir.”

“And Seavey, you’ve only been here for a few months?”

“That’s correct, sir.” Daniel nodded.

“Listen, you both have helped our country greatly in the amount of times you’ve both been here, especially with capturing Passchendaele, and your teamwork and dedication to this Division is unmatched.”

Corbyn and Daniel waited for him to continue.

General Dolan took a soft breath, glancing between the two young men with narrowed eyes as if analyzing them, “This war is no where near over. There’s no end in sight currently but we are making progress, especially with this foothold we just got over the German advances.”

The General lit a cigarette. Daniel looked to Corbyn who met his gaze, shrugging lightly and they both looked forward again.

“Now, I’m not supposed to do this so early on in the war so don’t go spreading it around, you hear me?”

“Yessir.” the two men spoke strongly.

“But I believe you two men have done us plenty. Look these over for me and tell me if they are up to your expectations.” General Dolan blew out a puff of smoke as he picked up two pieces of paper from the tabletop and held them out towards them. Corbyn stepped forward to take them from him.

Daniel glanced over his friends’ shoulder. In Corbyn’s hands were two discharge papers, already filled out with each of their names and military descriptions and only requiring their signature and a stamp from the General himself.

“If you wish to stay, you may.” the General broke their silence first, a small smile playing at his lips. “But otherwise you are free to go home to your families.”

Daniel could feel his eyes filling with tears and he looked to the ground to regain himself, taking a shaking breath and nodded quickly, “Thank you, sir.”

“Will we be sent back out here if our services are still required?” Corbyn asked straightly.

“If you take the discharge, no. I wrote it in as stated in Paragraph 392, Section 25 of the King’s Regulations. ‘His services are no longer required.’ Once home, you can no longer re-enlist into this war.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corbyn tried to hold back his own smile.

“Sir, if I may...” Daniel asked.

General Dolan nodded for him to continue.

“If a man has been fighting under the age requirement, would he be permitted to be discharged, sir?”

“Absolutely.” General Dolan seemed taken back by the question. “Under Section 6: ‘Mis-statement of Age on Enlistment, soldiers under the age of seventeen at the time of application must be discharged if brought to the attention of a commanding officer’. Are you aware of an underage solider, Seavey?”

“No, sir.” Daniel breathed. “Just curious.”

“Sign right here if you agree with the terms.” the General pointed to the blank line near the bottom of the page. Corbyn passed Daniel his own form as he bent down to take the pen from the General.

Daniel scanned the page again, disbelieving to what he was really holding in his hands.

This is to certify that Sergeant Daniel J Seavey enlisted in into the 1st Division, 3rd Battalion, D Company, Rifle Section of His Majesty’s Royal Army on the 12th of February 1915. He served in Belgium under General G. B. Dolan and is now discharged from the service by reason of his services no longer being required by the military as of May 9th, 1915.

“Seavey?”

Daniel looked up to Corbyn holding out the pen towards him, his wide smile on display, the General behind him with a content upturn on his lips too. Daniel took the pen from his friend and leaned over the desk to sign on the line as well.

They watched as the General stamped the official crest onto the bottom of both pages and stood up to offer them each a firm handshake.

“Congratulations, men. You did exemplary work out here and you made your country very proud. Now pack up your things and you’ll be on the next truck towards home.”

Daniel and Corbyn thanked him once more, both sharing their last formal salute to their officer who did the same back and they left the dugout. Daniel smiled down at the parchment in his hand once they were back outside, feeling like a weight was off his shoulders but still pressing down on his chest, knowing who won’t be there waiting for him when he would get off the train.

[vannahfanfics]

Hiiiii again! I would love a current chapters compliant soowon x yona and I trust!!

So... I am honestly not sure if you’re the same YonaWon Anon that requested this story (which also happens to be Part I), so I just wrote another story anyway! So, if it is you, lucky you! Two stories! XD 

Mad World Part II

After wresting the dusty tome from the towering bookshelf, Yona fell back on the flats of her feet and tucked the volume underneath the crook of her arm. She paused to sweep an errant strand of her dawn-red hair from her forehead and tuck it neatly behind her ear. She pulled the book out from underneath her armpit to inspect its front cover; it was an accounting of a specific war from antiquity, written by an esteemed general. Soo-Won had requested she retrieve it from within the stacks and she obliged because, well, she was his assistant now.

Following her manic fit, Soo-Won had given her leave to enter and leave his personal study as she pleased. It was a far cry from the freedom she desired, but it was much better than being basically imprisoned in her bedroom to talk to the walls all day. As promised, Soo-Won had sent some contractors to repair the destroyed curtains with the concocted explanation that Yona had tripped and accidentally wrecked them. Their concerned side-eyes at the princess as she sat at her calligraphy desk silently drawing characters on parchment indicated that they didn’t quite believe that story, but they knew better than to openly dispute the fact. Yona had not since been gripped by that manic anger since that night, most likely because Soo-Won had taken her fragile mental health in mind and afforded her the tiniest bit of liberty.

The castle was quiet as she walked back towards Soo-Won’s study. Yona’s prior residence in the castle seemed like a lifetime away, but she still didn’t recall the castle ever being so… lifeless. Her memories, hazy as they were, were of a castle filled with laughter and smiles, of jovial parties and consular meetings, of bright days and the sense of home. To Yona it now felt like a foreign fortress of which she was a tolerated guest- fed well, clothed well, but looked upon like a stray dog or relative overstaying their welcome. The servants embraced her presence, at least, and always greeted her with genuine smiles and friendly words; however, Soo-Won’s cabinet always eyed her like a scheming wretch, a bug to be squashed before it could nip the tender flesh of their king and mar it forevermore.

They weren’t exactly wrong. Yona was indeed scheming, even if her scheming yielded no useable strategies. Scheming, as well as performing mundane chores for the king, at least kept Yona sane. Although… There was still one maddening gear that just didn’t fit properly into the clockwork of her mind.

The king himself. Soo-Won. Current sworn adversary whom she was also madly in love with and may or may not have kissed him in a very un-princess-like way after tearing curtains from a wall like a deranged maniac. Yes. A very oddly-shaped and uncooperative gear in her little whirling mind.

Yona’s steps faltered until she was standing in the middle of the hallway, just hugging the large book to her chest and staring pitifully at the stone floor. She had tried to forget about that kiss, to cordon it off in the recesses of her mind to be blissfully forgotten. She couldn’t, though. She couldn’t forget about how good it felt to have his lips moving against hers, to have his tongue swirling with hers, to have his hands roaming her body and lighting up a fire in her nerves. She couldn’t forget about what might have happened if they hadn’t stopped. She couldn’t forget about the headspace that one kiss had created, that temporary world where she could forget about all the maddening aspects of her reality and just be Yona. Not Princess Yona, not Yona the reincarnated Dragon King, not leader Yona of the Happy Hungry Bunch. Just… Yona.

Groaning, she knocked on the side of her head with a fist to shove down the tempestuous feelings that were once again rising up. It was already so complicated; she didn’t want to complicate things further by dredging up her old love for Soo-Won. Come on, Yona. Just deliver the book. It’s late in the evening, so you can retire to bed after. In her head, it sounded like a perfectly simple plan. With renewed vigor she set off to the study. Her pace was less than leisurely so she arrived in no time at all.

“Here’s the book you asked for,” she announced as she strolled in, holding up the book by the spine. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll…” she trailed off as Soo-Won leaned back in his desk chair to gaze at her with a small smile. Her words, and her plan to retire to bed, were completely forgotten in a mere instant. She stared owlishly at the taller man as he languidly rose and walked over to pluck the book from her hand.

“Thank you.” Her mouth made some gratuitous remark, but her brain did not register it. Her arm flopped limply to her side as he turned to begin thumbing through the pages. She was fixated on the way he moved, unbothered yet purposeful, languid yet graceful. Soo-Won had always been beautiful in his own sort of way. She was yet again reminded of that fact, and all it had taken was for him to get up from a desk and walk over to her. He suddenly looked up to eye her through his peripheral vision and she quickly shut her mouth after realizing that it was, in fact, hanging open. “You were going to say something?”

“Uh.” Yes, she was, but now she had no recollection of what. That little gear had tried to once more wedge itself into the cogs of her mind and sent her thought processes careening. Soo-Won raised an eyebrow and snapped the book shut to set it on the desk, turning back to face her. She found herself dimly wondering if his profile or his full face was more handsome. It was a very tough decision.

“Yona? Are you all right?” he asked. The genuine concern in his voice made her heart twist up, finally returning her wits to her. It was always that concerned, guilty look that did her in. It was so confusing. How could Soo-Won be so troubled about her well-being, and yet set this entire maddening situation into motion? How could he care for her, and yet murder her father in cold blood? She felt her throat begin to close up with mounting anxiety.

“I-I need to sit down,” she wheezed and stumbled for the nearest seat, his desk chair. He caught her underneath her elbow as she tripped over the hem of her dress, gently guiding her fumbling form to the chair. She sank down into the cushioned furniture with a shaky whine. She looked down at her hands to find them sweaty and frightfully trembling. Her face was beginning to feel clammy and sweaty, too. It was happening again. It was all surging up, the anxiety and the hypotheticals and the reality, a tsunami threatening to take her under and spirit her down into the dark abyss.

“Yona.” His voice was so soft, so reassuring. It shone out to Yona like the convivial beam of a lighthouse, and without thinking of its implications, she swam headlong towards it. Soo-Won was kneeling down in front of her. He reached out with his hands, then hesitated, leaving them hovering over her lap. When she made no move to resist, he slowly grasped her trembling hands in his own and squeezed them. “… It appears I have made you displeased again,” he remarked wryly. Despite it all, Yona sniffed self-deprecatingly.

“No. It is my own mind that is the problem,” she answered wretchedly. “I simply do not know what to do with you, Soo-Won, and it maddens me.” He glanced up at her with slightly wide eyes, then smirked dryly.

“If I told you that you don’t have to do anything with me, would you listen?” His own tone of voice indicated that he already thought he knew the answer. Before the establishment of the alliance, it would surely be right; Yona would scoff and agree that no, she would not listen. That’s what would have made sense to her. However, nothing made sense to Yona anymore. After months of spiraling down into a maelstrom of secrets and plots and myths made reality, nothing made sense at all. All Yona wanted was to reach out grasp the one thing that could make sense to her, even if it went against everything she had learned and experienced up until then. None of that made sense either; she knew not how all the puzzle pieces fit together. All she wanted was to shove the puzzle aside and for one brief, short, single moment, breathe.

“Yes,” she answered before her addled mind could convince her otherwise. Her eyelashes fluttered as she committed herself to the decision, and then repeated again more softly, “Yes… Just for one moment… I want to pretend that’s true.” His expression was calculating as he tilted his head to the side and searched her face for any sign of hesitation or insecurity. No such sign appeared. Yona closed her eyes as a sense of calm swept back over her just by the way he squeezed her hands again. Just for one moment… I want things to be uncomplicated.

On some level, she knew the kiss was coming. She knew the instant his hands met her cheeks. She knew the instant his thumbs swept away her falling tears. She knew the instant he ever-so-slightly tilted her head and the instant his warm breath ghosted her face. She knew it was coming, and she shamelessly welcomed it. Maybe she had gone mad, during those days isolated in her room poring over possibilities and hypotheticals. Maybe she had descended into insanity, but just for one moment, Yona wanted to delve into that madness where somehow things made sense.

She sighed in relief the moment his lips met hers. She leaned into the kiss, moving her mouth in tandem with his, and reached out to grab onto the front of his robes. His hands fell from her face to her shoulders, slowly making their way south until he had a firm hold on her waist. A small moan reverberated in her throat when she parted her lips and his tongue immediately moved in to claim hers. The chair creaked as she shifted forward, legs bumping into his as she searched for any semblance of closeness. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. She wanted to feel him, to know him. She keened with a needy whine, hoping Soo-Won would understand her wordless plea.

In an impressive display of athleticism that contradicted his fair physique, he deftly and swiftly wrestled her from the chair and spun her around, such that he was now seated, and she was sitting in his lap. At first, she was sitting with her legs hanging off the side; however, pressing herself into him was incredibly awkward and still didn’t provide that proximity she craved. With a grunt of frustration, she loosened her obi and opened her kimono just enough that she could swing her leg around and straddle him. Soo-Won made a choking noise of shock as she surged forward to kiss him with a ferocity, every square millimeter of her torso pressed against his.

The hairpin securing a segment of her red hair clattered noisily to the floor as his hands fisted the wavy tufts; they soon fell away to run down her back, pulling her loose kimono away from her shoulders. She whimpered as his mouth left her bruised lips, only to sigh contentedly as his lips reconnected with her neck. His name left her mouth like a divine prayer as he planted kisses down her neck, along the column of her throat, and then across her right shoulder. He finally stopped there, mouth resting against her flushed skin as he side-eyed her thoughtfully. She had her head tilted back, eyes lidded and hazed as she gazed up at the ceiling. Lost in the fog, where reality couldn’t touch her. So lost that it took her a moment to realize that Soo-Won had stopped showering her in his affections. Slowly, it dawned on her how very improper the whole thing was, and every inch of her face turned the color of her hair.

“Feeling better?” She felt him smirk against her skin. Blushing fiercely, she looked in the opposite direction of him but made no move to get up. She was feeling better. The tempest had receded back into the depths, biding its time for another moment of weakness. He took her silence as affirmation. He snorted in laughter and rested his cheek on her shoulder, staring at her in mild amusement. Yona, realizing how close she was to unveiling her modesty, pulled the front of her kimono together with her hands. “Yona?”

“What?” She couldn’t force any venom in her voice if she wanted to. She’d just let the man kiss her like a common harlot; she couldn’t pretend that she hated him now. Her mouth twitched with the urge to frown, and she rolled her eyes in their sockets to meet his heady gaze. The look in his eyes electrified her. There was no pity or triumph burning in those pools- only affection and longing. His hand shifted at her back, holding her tenderly to his body.

“If I told you that you could trust me, would you listen?” Her mouth ran dry and her throat bobbed like she was trying to choke down a rock-hard biscuit. Trust. That was a very complicated notion. Yona had not trusted Soo-Won from the moment she had watched him yank a blood-soaked sword from her father’s limp corpse. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Yona wanted to trust Soo-Won more than anything in her life. It would make things so simple. It would take her maddening reality and just paint it all in black and white; blissfully, she could just submit to that trust and everything complicated would all go away.

But yet… But yet…

“No.” He offered no resistance as she climbed off him and turned her back. With numb fingers still tingling with exhilaration, she fixed her disheveled kimono and refastened her obi snug around her waist. “No, Soo-Won. I wouldn’t.” Tears glistened on her lashes and she discretely flicked them away with her index finger.

“That’s fair.” He had said that the other night, too. That’s fair. Was it? Yona didn’t truly know. But that was the reality of things, in this mad world of hers. She could trust herself; she could trust Hak; she could trust Yoon and her dragons. No matter how much she wanted to, no matter if she loved him so much it was painful and allowed him to romance her as he wished… She couldn’t trust him.

And that was the only thing that truly made sense.

The chair squeaked as he reclined back against it. She glanced over her shoulder at him as he sighed deeply and rested his arm on the desk, the other stringing his fingers through his slightly sweaty blonde locks. He made no move to fix his ruffled robes, but instead picked up the tome he had discarded earlier and flipped it back open. Yona finally remembered the words she was going to utter earlier.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be retiring to my room now.”

“Goodnight,” came his only response, but he did not miss the way his eyes flickered to her form to watch her leaving. Just as she reached the door, he called out to her. “Yona.” She froze in the doorway. Was he going to ask her to stay with him tonight? Honestly, she didn’t know if she had the will to refuse him, as much as that would complicate things. She did not look back, afraid of what his expression would be. “… If you can’t trust me, trust in my love for the people.” The utterance caught her off guard. She stood in the threshold for a few seconds, processing it. Yes. Yes, she could trust in that. If anything, she knew deep down that he wanted what was best for the country.

“All right. Goodnight.” And with that, she left. He may have had her trust, but that did not mean that Yona was giving up. After all, if she did not continue fighting to uncover the truth, what was her purpose in this web of lies, deceit, and secrets? Yes, Yona would still fight, even if she believed in Soo-Won’s will to protect the people.

After all, in this mad, confusing, scary world, the fact that they were somehow working together made a comfortable amount of sense… but not enough. Not nearly enough.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork

[sleepymarmot]

There were a couple of posts discussing how JGY could have genuinely thought killing NMJ would be only doing a favor for NHS -- but re-reading the flashback in the book, I find myself feeling the same way! Mental illness is no excuse for being abusive towards your family -- and NMJ is, both in words and in action! Let me quote at length:

One day, the moment he returned to the main hall of the Unclean Realm, he saw about a dozen folding fans, all lined in gold, flattened out one next to the other in front of Nie HuaiSang, who was touching them tenderly, mumbling as he compared the inscriptions written on each one. Immediately, veins protruded from Nie MingJue’s forehead, “Nie HuaiSang!”

Nie HuaiSang fell at once.

He really did fall to his knees from the terror. He only staggered up after he finished kneeling, “B-b-b-brother.”

Nie MingJue, “Where is your saber?”

Nie HuaiSang cowered, “In… in my room. No, in the school grounds. No, let me… think…”

Wei WuXian could feel that Nie MingJue almost wanted to hack him dead right there, “You bring a dozen fans with you wherever you go, yet you don’t even know where your own saber is?!”

Nie HuaiSang hurried, “I’ll go find it right now!”

Nie MingJue, “There’s no need! Even if you find it you won’t get anything out of it. Go burn all of these!”

All of the color drained out of Nie HuaiSang’s face. He rushed to pull all of the fans into his arms, pleading, “No, Brother! All of these were given to me!”

Nie MingJue slammed his palm onto a table, causing it to crack, “Who did? Tell them to scurry out here right now!”

Someone spoke, “I did.”

Jin GuangYao walked in from outside the hall. Nie HuaiSang looked as though he saw a knight in shining armor, beaming, “Brother, you’re here!”

In reality, it wasn’t that Jin GuangYao could calm Nie MingJue’s anger, but that since Jin GuangYao came, all of Nie MingJue’s anger would be directed at him alone, having no time to scold others. Thus, there was nothing wrong with saying that he was Nie HuaiSang’s knight in shining armor. Nie HuaiSang was absolutely delighted. He greeted Jin GuangYao again and again as he grabbed the fans in haste. Seeing how his younger brother reacted, Nie MingJue was so outraged that he almost found it amusing. He turned to Jin GuangYao, “Don’t send him those useless things!”

In a hurry, Nie HuaiSang dropped a few fans on the ground. Jin GuangYao picked them up for him and put them into his arms, “HuaiSang’s hobbies are quite elegant. He’s dedicated to art and calligraphy, and has no propensity for mischief. How can you say that they’re useless?”

Nie HuaiSang nodded as fast as he could, “Yes, Brother is right!”

Nie MingJue, “But sect leaders have no need for such things.”

Nie HuaiSang, “I’m not going to be a sect leader, though. You can be it, Brother. I’m not doing it!”

As his brother’s glance swept over, he shut his mouth at once. Nie MingJue turned to Jin GuangYao, “What did you come here for?”

Jin GuangYao, “Our second brother said that he gave you a guqin.”

The guqin was given when Lan XiChen was here to play Sound of Lucidity for Nie MingJue, in order to help him calm his temper. Jin GuangYao continued, “Brother, in the past few days, the GusuLan Sect is at a critical point in its reestablishment of the Cloud Recesses and you refuse to let him come, which was why he taught me Sound of Lucidity. I assume that even though I’m not as skilled as our second brother, I’d still be able to help calm you to a certain extent, Brother.”

Nie MingJue, “Just take care your own things.”

Nie HuaiSang, however, was rather interested, “Brother, what song? Can I listen? Let me tell you, the limited edition that you gave me last time…”

Nie MingJue shouted, “Go back to your room!”

Nie HuaiSang fled at once, not to his room, however, but to the living room for the presents that Jin GuangYao had brought him. With a few interruptions, Nie MingJue’s fury had mostly died. He turned around to look at Jin GuangYao, whose face seemed quite tired, robes of Sparks Amidst Snow covered in dust. He probably came here directly from Carp Tower. After a pause, Nie MingJue spoke, “Sit.”

Jin GuangYao nodded lightly and sat as he had been told, “Brother, if you’re concerned for HuaiSang, softer words would do no harm. Why this?”

Nie MingJue, “Even when a blade’s at his neck he’s still like this. Looks like he’ll always be a good-for-nothing.”

Jin GuangYao, “It isn’t that HuaiSang is a good-for-nothing, but that his heart lies somewhere else.”

Nie MingJue, “Well you’ve really discerned where his heart lies, haven’t you?”

Jin GuangYao smiled, “Of course. Isn’t that what I’m the best at? The only person whom I can’t discern is you, Brother.”

He knew of people’s likes and dislikes so that he could find suitable solutions; he loved running errands and could do twice the work with half the effort. Thus, Jin GuangYao could be said to be quite a talent at analyzing others’ interests. Nie MingJue was the only person whom Jin GuangYao couldn’t probe out any useful information about. Wei WuXian saw this already, back then when Meng Yao was working under Nie MingJue. Women, liquor, riches—he touched none; art, calligraphy, antiques—a pile of ink and mud; the finest green tea leaves and dregs from a roadside booth—there was no difference. Meng Yao tried everything he could think of yet still couldn’t find if he was interested in anything beside training his saberwork and killing Wen-dogs. He really was a wall made of iron, impenetrable by even the sharpest blades. Hearing that his tone was one of self-mock, Nie MingJue wasn’t as disgusted as he would’ve been, “Don’t help him build such a conduct.”

(Chapter 49)

To sum up: NHS, an adult man by then, is absolutely terrified of NMJ. NMJ yells at him, frightens him by hitting furniture, threatens to destroy his belongings, disparages him both to his face and behind his back, and is tempted to use physical violence against him. NMJ’s personal interests align with his duties, and so he pushes them on NHS, while hypocritically refusing to respect NHS’s own interests.

Next scene. Note that by this time, JGY has started to play Clarity for NMJ, and according to WWX, it was working as intended, calming him. This scene follows the confrontation where NMJ kicks JGY down the stairs and insults him, sealing his fate.

Remember the scene in Fatal Journey where NMJ breaks NHS’s brush? Well, they toned it down in adaptation. A lot.

Nie MingJue was on the school ground, teaching and supervising Nie HuaiSang’s saberwork in person. He didn’t acknowledge Jin GuangYao, so he stood at the edge of the field, waiting with respect. Since Nie HuaiSang was quite uninterested and the sun was bright, he was rather half-hearted, complaining that he was tired after just a few moves. He beamed as he got ready to go to Jin GuangYao and see what presents he brought this time. In the past, Nie MingJue would only frown at such things, but today he was angered, “Nie HuaiSang, do you want this strike to land on your head?! Get back here!”

If only Nie HuaiSang were like Wei WuXian and could feel how great Nie MingJue’s rage was, he wouldn’t grin in such a bold way. He protested, “Brother, the time is up. It’s time to rest!”

Nie MingJue, “You rested just thirty minutes ago. Keep on going, until you learn it.”

Nie HuaiSang was still giddy, “I won’t be able to learn it anyways. I’m done for the day!”

He often said this, but today Nie MingJue’s reaction was entirely different from his past reaction. He shouted, “A pig would’ve learnt this by now, so why haven’t you?!”

Never expecting Nie MingJue to burst out so suddenly, Nie HuaiSang’s face was blank with shock as he shrunk toward Jin GuangYao. Seeing the two together, Nie MingJue was even more provoked, “It’s been one year already and you still haven’t learnt this one set of saber techniques. You stand on the field for just thirty minutes and you’re complaining that you’re tired. You don’t have to excel, but you can’t even protect yourself! How did the QingheNie Sect produce such a good-for-nothing! The both of you should be tied up and beaten once every day. Carry out all those things in his room!”

The last sentence was spoken to the disciples standing by the side of the field. Seeing that they had gone, Nie HuaiSang felt as though he was on pins and needles. A moment later, the row of disciples really did bring out all the fans, paintings, porcelain from his room. Nie MingJue had always threatened to burn his room, but he had never actually burned them. This time, though, he was serious. Nie HuaiSang panicked. He threw himself over, “Brother! You can’t burn them!”

Noticing that the situation wasn’t good, Jin GuangYao also spoke, “Brother, don’t act on impulse.”

Yet, Nie MingJue’s saber had already striked. All of the delicate objects piled at the center of the field erupted in roaring flames. Nie HuaiSang wailed and plunged into the fire to save them. Jin GuangYao hurried to pull him back, “HuaiSang, be careful!”

With a sweep of Nie MingJue’s hand, the two blanc de chine antiques shattered into pieces in his palms. The scrolls and paintings had already turned into dust in a split second. Nie HuaiSang could only watch blankly as the much loved items that he had gathered throughout the years vanish into ashes. Jin GuangYao grabbed his hands to examine them, “Are they burnt?”

He turned to a few disciples, “Please prepare some medicine first.”

The disciples answered and left. Nie HuaiSang stood at the same place, his entire body trembling as he looked over at Nie MingJue, pupil encircled by veins. Seeing that his expression wasn’t right, Jin GuangYao put his arm around his shoulders and whispered, “HuaiSang, how are you feeling? Stop watching. Go back to your room and have some rest.”

Nie HuaiSang’s eyes brimmed red. He didn’t even make a sound. Jin GuangYao added, “It’s alright even if the things are gone. Next time I can find you more…”

Nie MingJue interrupted, his words like ice, “I’ll burn them each time he brings them back into this sect.”

Anger and hatred suddenly flashed across Nie HuaiSang’s face. He threw his saber onto the ground and yelled, “Then burn them!!!”

Jin GuangYao quickly stopped him, “HuaiSang! Your brother is still angry. Don’t…”

Nie HuaiSang roared at Nie MingJue, “Saber, saber, saber! Who the fuck wants to practice the damn thing?! So what if I want to be a good-for-nothing?! Whoever that wants to can be the sect leader! I can’t learn it means I can’t learn it and I don’t like it means I don’t like it! What’s the use of forcing me?!”

(Chapter 49)

He kicked his saber off to the side and ran out of the field. Jin GuangYao shouted from behind him, “HuaiSang! HuaiSang!”

Just as he was about to chase over, Nie MingJue ordered in a cold voice, “Stop!”

Jin GuangYao stopped in his tracks and turned around. Holding in his anger, Nie MingJue glared at him, “You still dare come?”

Jin GuangYao answered in a low voice, “I came to acknowledge my mistake.”

Wei WuXian, What a face—it’s even thicker than mine.

Nie MingJue, “Have you ever acknowledged your mistakes?”

Just as Jin GuangYao was about to speak, the disciples who had gone to bring medicine came back, “Sect Leader, LianFang-Zun, Young Master has locked the door and won’t let anyone inside.”

Nie MingJue, “Let me see how long he can lock himself up for. How dare he defy me?!”

Jin GuangYao spoke to the disciple with a kind countenance, “Thank you. Give me the medicine. I’ll take it to him afterwards.”

He took the bottle of medicine. After everyone had left, Nie MingJue turned to him, “Just what are you here for?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, have you forgotten? Today is when I play the guqin for you.”

Nie MingJue gave him a straightforward answer, “There’s no room for discussion as to Xue Yang’s matter. You don’t need to flatter me. It’s not working at all.”

Jin GuangYao, “First, I’m not flattering you. Second, if it’s not working, Brother, then why would you care if I’m flattering you or not?”

Nie MingJue was silent.

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, these days you’ve been stricter and stricter towards HuaiSang. Is it the saber spirit…?”

After a pause, he continued, “Does HuaiSang still not know about the saber spirit?”

Nie MingJue, “Why would I tell him so soon?”

Jin GuangYao sighed, “HuaiSang is used to being spoiled, but he can’t be Qinghe’s idle Second Young Master for his whole life. One day he’ll realize that you’re doing this for him, Brother, just like how I realized that you’re doing this for me.”

(Chapter 50)

You know what? After seeing this scene, I’d be inclined to do something drastic to NMJ, even without extenuating circumstances such as “he threatens my life and political standing”, “he kicked me down the stairs”, or “he called me a slur”. If NMJ couldn’t control himself even under the effects of the real Song of Clarity, maybe it’s a good thing JGY killed him before he could completely black out and raise his saber against NHS himself instead of his treasured personal belongings.

(Edit: Upon rereading this post I feel the need to clarify that I don't condone violence against mentally ill people, or think this justifies JGY's actions. But from a consequentialist point of view, maybe the canon version of events where NMJ is murdered by the man he already mistrusts and hates is less painful than the hypothetical timeline where he strikes down his beloved brother in anger and has to live the rest of his (short -- regardless of JGY's involvement) life with it.)

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Oh Deer || Ariana & Deirdre

 Ariana goes over to Deidre’s to repair a leaky faucet.  @deathduty

Ariana had been pleasantly surprised that the woman she spoke with online, wanted to pay her so generously for her work despite her lack of professional training. Deirdre had all but insisted she demand more for her services. So even if this woman loved math, she could look past that and happily do the job. With Grad Night and Prom around the corner, she could totally use the extra cash. She knew Celeste had been picking up extra shifts at the diner so that Ariana could have these experiences, but it’d be nice if she could cover the cost for herself. Celeste had worked hard enough to give them a comfortable life, she hated the idea of her working even harder. Fixing a leaky faucet was simple enough, so she headed to Deirdre’s with her tools in hand. When she arrived, she knocked on the door to indicate she arrived and waited for an answer. 

Deirdre had lived with that forsakes leaky faucet for too long. Yes, it was a funny joke to try and invite people over to fix it. But with Morgan staying with her now, and an incessant dropping noise she had to live with, enough was enough. She opened the door gleefully to find the young Ariana. Good kid, she surmised. Even if she didn't like math. "Come in! Come in!" She threw the door open to her lavish home, spacious and filled with expensive furniture and delicate decorations, and ushered her in. "It's the faucet in the kitchen there," Deirdre pointed. The foyer of her house lead into the large, two-story grand room, which was then connected to her immaculate kitchen with the exorbitant looking marble counter tops and built in double oven. It was like a feature out of a magazine, and for all Deirdre knew, it probably was. "Would you like something to drink first? Water? Juice? Wine?" She paused with a smile, "that last one is a joke, obviously. Just testing you." 

When the door opened, Ariana was a bit shocked to see the nicest home she’d ever seen in her life. Everything was immaculate. She didn’t realize people actually lived like this. She’d been sure homes that were this perfect only existed in display rooms or home magazines. Even with a google search, she was a little foggy on what all a life actuary did, but she concluded they must make a shit ton of money. Following Deirdre in, she said, “Wow, this place is beautiful.” It was no wonder the woman all but demanded she charged more for her time. Maybe if she followed that bit of advice, she’d have a house this nice one day. Well, maybe not this nice, she preferred things to have a little bit more of a natural element, but space would be nice. Her and Celeste had always had to live in somewhat small spaces. Her eyes immediately fell on the double stove, was that a range stove? She dreamed for that kind of temperature control while cooking. Shifting her focus back to Deirdre, she responded, “Water would be great. I’ve never actually had wine before. On the job and taking my sister’s car home is probably not the best time to give it a try.” She could hear the leaky faucet long before she saw it. “I’ll need to turn the main water line off so I don’t flood your whole kitchen. Did you have laundry or anything going you needed to turn off before I do that?” 

Deirdre shrugged, she was aware her house looked nice but she'd never cared much for the fact. She had money, she might as well spend it. And luxury was the best way to. She turned and poured Ariana water in a delicate wine glass—for the joke. "There you go, now just pretend that tastes like funky grape juice." Deirdre poured herself a glass of red and sipped it slowly. "Oh," she laughed, "do I look like the kind of person that does her own laundry?" Amused, she dipped her head back and laughed louder. She did do her own laundry though, unfortunately. Since Morgan had started staying with her, it didn't make sense to bind humans into doing her chores anymore. She would miss those incompetent, yet beautiful, humans dancing around for her, but it was much better this way. Deirdre sipped her wine again, "yes, of course. You can shut it off. She gestured to her large glass windows and the door leading out to her deck and the equally immaculate backyard. "The valve is just outside, I think. Admittedly, I've never had to shut it off before. But it shouldn't be too hard to find, right?" Deirdre glanced outside, there was so much space. And a pool. And Ariana was so tiny. She might get lost out there, but Deirdre lifted no fingers to help.

Ariana couldn’t help but laugh as Deirdre gave her a wine glass filled with water. After taking a sip, she said, “So that’s what all the fuss is about.” She did a little air cheers before setting the glass back down. She’d been a little thrown off about the laundry comment. Did people really pay other people to do their laundry for them? She’d never heard of that, but she shrugged. “You really know how to live. Folding clothes definitely isn’t my favorite weekend activity.” When she was given the direction of the backyard, she made her way out to find the main water line. The yard was just as luxurious as the rest of the house. That pool looked super inviting, too. Everything was perfectly kept as well. She was sure if she had a ruler, every blade of grass would be exactly the same height. Without too much searching, she was able to find the main line on the side of the house and switched the valve to off. She’d been just about ready to head back in when her senses went haywire. She could practically feel the hairs on the back of her neck raising and heard the rustle in the trees behind her. Sniffing the air around her, it almost smelled like a deer. When she finally spotted it in the trees, something looked entirely off about it. It’s head seemed to be a different tone that wasn’t quite brown, but she couldn’t make it out. As the deer began to charge toward her, she remembered a common beast Celeste spoke about. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She took off sprinting toward the house hoping that would be enough to evade it. This thing wouldn’t follow her in would it. Quickly closing and locking the door behind her, she called, “Uh, Deirdre, we might have a problem. You seem to have a friend out back.”

Ariana was a good kid, Deirdre decided. Most kids were good, usually. But that was beside the point. She sipped her wine, waiting for Ariana to return. When she did, frantic, Deirdre took another slow sip. “A friend?” She raised a perfectly manicured brow. “Hm, is it a bunch of dogs again? Leprechauns?” She shook her head with a laugh, gesturing for Ariana to come closer and ignore it. “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s not like---” But she’d spoken too soon, and behind them the deer charged into the house, shattering the glass. Its antler caught in a sofa, stuck there just long enough for Deirdre to take in its appearance: bright red head, large body. “Oh,” she blinked, taking another slow sip of her wine, “this is one of those ‘spinach’ things.” Deirdre turned to Ariana. “We probably shouldn’t let that touch us.” Her eyes trailed over the plethora of knives and swords she had on display (really, she’d just left them lying around but she called that display). The sianach reared back, head out of the sofa. It turned to Ariana. Deirdre took another sip. “I’d run if I was you.” And then it charged, trampling furniture in its wake.

With the door shut behind her, Ariana thought she was in the clear. When she heard the glass shattering, it became evident that would’ve been way too easy. She listed off other supernatural creatures before saying something about spinach. What the actual fuck was going on? Why was she so calm when a giant deer had just decided to rampage through her door? “A spinach thing? Sure doesn’t look like a freakin’ salad to me.” She ducked behind a table and out of its sight momentarily. This was supposed to be an easy faucet repair. Not a wild deer chase, or rather a wild wolf chase since she was the one being chased here. She grabbed one of the knives laying on the table she was currently hiding behind. It was weighted nicely, it could work. Inching away from behind the table, she had the deer thing in her sights and threw the knife at it. Grazing the left shoulder of the weird spinach deer, it made a shallow slice before it flew past and fell to the ground. Spinach deer definitely did not like that and began charging her way again. She bolted from where she was standing to the other side of the room. Wait, was Deirdre still drinking wine? Was she not freaked out by the actual wild animal in her living room? “Do these spinach things have any weaknesses I can exploit?” She threw a vase at it for good measure before darting to another side of the room.

“Well, it’s not exactly spinach. It’s close. I can never remember the names of these sorts of things…” Deirdre trailed off, following her sentence with another sip of wine. The deer, meanwhile, was having a real go at destroying her house. Furniture was getting knocked over or outright trampled, her nice wooden table sat in pieces in the middle of the room. And, of course, her beautiful window had been shattered in when it charged indoors. “Nope,” she said casually. Her wine was done. She moved to pour more. The clinking of glass alerted the creature and it pulled its head up, vision squared on Deirdre. The one person decidedly not throwing vases and knives at it. Angry as it was, it turned to what it assumed to be the easier target. And then it charged. “Hey!” Deirdre rolled out of the way, watching as the creature ran through her kitchen island--all that precious marble cracked around it. Then it charged again, through the other side and into her beautiful double ovens. “Hey, my girlfriend uses those!” She threw the bottle of wine at it, shattering red liquid across its already red fur. “They die like any other animal!” She called out, rolling and diving out of the way. Shades of glass caught in her palms and knees as she moved around, avoiding the creature’s insistent charging. Deirdre eventually made her way to Ariana’s side, panting and bleeding. “You should sacrifice yourself for me,” she joked. She could scream, but with all the charging and Ariana running around, it was hard to aim. And she didn’t want to hurt the kid, she never liked doing that. “Don’t touch it!” She urged again.

This thing was really beginning to piss Ariana off. She let out a low growl to try and intimidate it though it didn’t seem very frightened. If this was what was lurking around in people’s backyards, she was really going to need to work on trying to transform at will. She knew standing at 5’1” she wasn’t exactly the most intimidating in human form. Apparently it was ruining the stove that was cause for alarm and had Deirdre throwing a bottle of wine. “Your whole living room is destroyed but it’s the stove that gets your attention?” It made her laugh even though they clearly weren’t in the clear yet. There was shattered glass everywhere and this thing was definitely not relenting. The red wine only seemed to make it angrier. “Alright, so kill it without letting it get close enough to touch me? Need something with range.” She grabbed what looked like some sort of ancient axe and watched the deer carefully. This was a lot easier when the target wasn’t moving. She threw it across the room, but the thing was too quick, and it only hit the deer’s buttocks of all things. “Ugh,” she grumbled tugging at Deirdre as she rolled out of the way of another charge, this one taking down her dining room table. Hopefully she hadn’t been planning any lavish dinner parties. It looked like the now detached faucet was going to be the last of their concerns.

Did Ariana just....growl? Did she hear that? Deirdre squinted at the kid, rubbing her bleeding palms against her pants as it started to irritate her. “Because without an oven, I can’t get pie! I have priorities, Ari!” Deirdre rolled out of the way of another charge. She watched Ariana pick up the axe, eager to see that thing cleaved and then...watched it bounce harmlessly off its backside. “Great, if anything. Hopefully they’ll talk of the deer with the shapely ass at our funerals.” Not that they were going to die, Deirdre knew that. But jokes were funnier if you pretended someone was going to die. “Oh for fuck’s--” Deirdre pulled a knife out from one of several spots she had them concealed on her person. She wound her hand back and threw it, watching as it sunk easily into the deer’s ass---what should have happened with the axe. “See?” She turned to Ariana, “that is how you--” Her sentence was cut off by another charge, this one desperate. Maybe it was trying to escape? Deirdre didn’t know. All she knew was her TV was no on the floor, knocked down by the force. “Wait, I have an idea,” she panted, “why don’t I distract it?” It might have made more sense to have Deirdre, the one who spent most of her life learning how to kill, try to kill the demon-deer. But she worried, against her own judgement, about Ariana’s wellbeing. One role was certainly safer than the other. “And then you--maybe--throw something properly!” The knife jutting out of its backside made its movement sluggish enough for Deirdre to evade with more ease. It limped around, trying to get close enough to either of them, whistling out its pain and desperation.

If she weren’t currently trying to out maneuver a creepy ass deer, Ariana would have found Deirdre’s priorities to be funny. She could have a laugh about it later. Right now staying alive was the primary objective. She’d be damned if a deer was taking her down of all things. She hunted deer not the other way around. This was not how the food chain was supposed to work. “Don’t start planning our funerals just yet.” There was no way in hell a wolf was about to get taken out by a deer. Not on her watch. She watched as Deirdre’s knife stuck in the deer’s ass. Well, she definitely had good aim. Ariana much preferred fighting in close range which was way harder when you weren’t supposed to let something touch you. They could hardly get a word out before the next charge. This thing was relentless, then again, it did have a knife in its ass. Ariana would be pretty pissed too. Deirdre seemed to have a plan, though it seemed dangerous. At least this thing was moving slower now. “Okay, got it,” she said while grabbing several knives. Deirdre seemed to have the thing’s full attention so she began throwing blades at it before it reached her. The slowed movement made it easier to aim, the first knife landing in the side of its neck, at least bringing it down to its knees. Not quite dead yet. She threw another knife that landed just a few inches behind the first one. She looked to Deirdre, “Did that do it?” For good measure, she still threw another knife toward its stomach.

Deirdre suddenly realized that this was a bad idea. Not only was she ducking and rolling and sprinting out of the way of an enraged supernatural deer, but now she had to make sure none of Ariana's knives hit her too. Thankfully, the girl had better aim with them than she did with the axe. Deirdre huffed, jumping out of the way as the deer toppled over, bringing down more furniture and crushing a table under it. It whined, its voice thick and pained. Seeing a creature die never was much fun. She drew another knife and sunk it effortlessly into its skull. Deirdre could feel a light diminish in her. The creature went still. It was dead. "Good work," she looked up, smiling. Then turned her head down to survey the creature. Ariana landed three knives, all vital to bringing the creature down. It was, without a doubt, actually good work. "Don't touch the carcass," she held a hand out, "still can't touch the thing." She looked around to her house, damaged beyond simple repair and left in tatters and pieces; ruins. And her faucet, the leaky one, had been destroyed in all the chaos. "It's a good thing you turned the water off. We might have had to deal with flooding too," she stepped over broken glass and bits of sharp wood, dug out another bottle of wine, popped it open, and took a long sip. "There's no leaky faucet left now so I guess you did your job. Do you want cash or should I wire the money?" She eyed one of her vases, the one Ariana had thrown earlier. Wasn't that thing worth over a thousand dollars itself? Oh well.

Ariana felt relieved as Deirdre stuck a knife in the deer’s skull. She looked over her living area and it was effectively destroyed. Even going down, another table went with the damn thing. She felt bad the deer followed her back into the home. She’d have to help her with getting this all back in order. It then dawned on her that Deirdre knew what it was. “Got it, don’t touch it. So, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know about this kind of stuff?” She watched and was a bit amused to see her going for another bottle of wine. “Oh, yeah, water would have not been a fun addition to this mess. Sorry it chased me in here. Need a hand getting it cleaned up?” She kept finding that Deirdre was full of surprises. Avoiding the broken glass on the floor, she walked over to check the sink. The pipes were not even remotely reparable in this state. “I’d say I’d turn the water back on, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Cash or Venmo is fine. Whichever is easier for you.” She picked up some broken wood from the floor and placed it in the bin, “Would you like me to come back tomorrow and help get everything cleaned up?”

"I'm Irish. I think you can figure out why I know so much, Ariana." Deirdre smiled. Yes, it was a stereotype to think of anyone Irish as being Fae but...well, it was true. She dipped the wine bottle back again and took another sip. "I don't need help," she sighed, "I'll just pay someone to come in and fix everything. I'll get some of my men to come pick up the body on gurney." Her men being the strange group she'd somehow roped into doing her deliveries for her. It was like having a group of servants on call for her. "Thank you, Ariana. When everything is fixed, can I have you back over? I'll loosen a pipe so you have to fix it and you can get a proper pay for proper work but for now…" she trailed off. Her phone was somewhere, she didn't know. She turned to the dented drawers and cabinets instead, trying to find any one of the wads of cash she had laying around for….who knows what reason. That was a mystery to her too. "Oh, here," she slapped a wad down on the broken remains of her kitchen island. The bundled cash was well over a hundred dollars, Deirdre didn't bother to count. It could be a thousand, it could be two hundred—it didn't matter to her. "Take that as payment and an apology. That poor deer thing ruined your fun plumbing experience."

Ariana’s eyes were wide and her face lit up at the realization that she must have been fae. Celeste had told her about fae before. They’d been prevalent in a lot of the audiobooks Celeste listened to on their drives, too. She’d always imagined wings, but maybe there was a way of hiding those. She subconsciously sniffed the air a bit. There wasn’t anything animal-like in the air besides the monster deer. “So, fae then? That’s super cool. On that note, I’m definitely not that kind of hunter. I just enjoy catching a deer during the full moon. I think you can figure out the rest.” She had circled back a bit to their online conversation. Meeting someone else supernatural was always exciting and Deidre definitely seemed like a good person to be friendly with. When Deirdre mentioned loosening a pipe again so she could do proper work, she let out a laugh, “You got it. Just let me know when. I’ll keep a better eye out for potentially dangerous friends next time.” When she took the cash, she could easily tell it was definitely way more than they agreed, too. She thought about saying as much, but quickly realized Deirdre would reject that. She did keep telling her to ask for more. “Thanks, Deidre. This was very generous of you. It was good actually meeting you, too. I look forward to having my proper plumbing experience.”