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faebaex · 2 years

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The Escape Plan

author note: back by popular demand (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ i swear, when light fae reader and Malleus are together, they actually have negative amount of brain cells. Also, extremely indulgent but necessary Diasomnia family moment, featuring little Silver and Sebek (*≧ω≦*) so far most of my stories have taken place either at NRC or just before they attend, so this was a nice change of pace.

characters: Malleus Draconia x F!Light Fae Reader

Left. Left. Straight. Right. Down the stairs. Straight. Right... And dead end.

You grumbled in frustration as you scribbled down the failed route for the umpteenth time in your journal. You pouted up at the cold stone wall, as if it would feel your ire and open a path up for you out of shame. You flipped back through the pages of your journal, your pout only intensifying as you saw your scribbles over your past failed attempts to escape this place.

You had been residing in Briar Castle ever since the odd fae with the horns had whisked you away here. Not through choice, of course. Every free moment you had, you’d been trying to find a route out of this castle and back to your cottage. Being entirely unaware of your location and surroundings, you couldn’t take the easy way out and simply teleport home. But that wouldn’t stop you, you’d walk all the way home if you had to!

Your arrival in Briar Valley had caused quite a scene. It appeared that many of these fae felt the same way as the horned one, that because you were a light fae, you needed to be protected. Your protests fell on deaf ears, and the Queen had decreed that you could stay in this place until they discovered your origins. You’ve never regretted a sarcastic comment more in your life, with the mess it’s gotten you into. It also didn’t help that the horned one turned out to be the Crown Prince of this kingdom.

You huffed at the thought as you begun retracing your steps, flipping through the pages of your journal, one you’d started since you arrived here. It contained every route you’d attempted to try to leave the castle, as well as thoughts you’d jotted down and little sketches of castle scenery that had stuck with you. One particular page, towards the front of the journal, contained sketches of several faces with notes framed next to each one. You hummed, looking over the information, wondering if you had anything new to add. Maybe making the horned ones sketch look more unsavoury would satisfy you...

“Is that supposed to be me?”

You almost jumped straight out of your skin, slamming your journal shut with a sharp slap of the pages before looking around in alarm. Of course, you should have known. Hanging upside down from the rafters with a devilish smile on his face was the horned one’s caretaker, Lilia. You put your hands on your hips and glared at him unabashed, “get down from there! You’re too long for such behaviours, what would your son think?”

Lilia’s ruby eyes glittered, any mention of his son always bringing a fond shine to his otherwise sharp eyes. “He quite likes it, actually,” Lilia commented as he swooped down from the rafters, falling easily in step with you, “how is the escape going?”

You huffed and stuck your nose in the air, he knew exactly how it was going! “None of your business.” You replied curtly, although your growing pout undermined your position. Lilia only laughed at your disposition, before holding out an arm to stop you, “Well, are you done pathfinding for the day? I’ve come to collect you for dinner.”

You froze, giving Lilia a wary look, “dinner with you? I don’t quite feel like taking my life in my own hands tonight.” Lilia’s grin only widened at your words, holding his arm out to you with a dramatic flourish for you to take, “unfortunately, I am not in charge of the food for tonight. Besides, we’ve got some little guests who’d be delighted to see you.”

Well, when he puts it like that...

You sighed, “well, I suppose...” You tucked your hand into his arm and before you knew it, he’d teleported you both to a different part of the castle. The room you appeared in was smaller than most of the rooms you had dined in previously, more of an intimate setting. A cozy room, mostly dominated with a table that held five place settings, and a crackling fireplace adding a warm glow to the area.

You let go of Lilia’s arm once you orientated yourself, and he strode forward with a sigh. “Now where has Malleus gone? I told him to wait here. Searching for you two in this castle is aging me, you know,” Lilia complained, but with no bite to his words, “you wait here, my dear. Hopefully this won’t take long...” With that, he strode out of the room without even a glance back.

You sighed, deciding to take a seat at the table whilst you waited. You flipped open your journal again, finding the profiles page again and wondering if you should add Lilia’s apparent rapid aging into the notes. You didn’t have much time to ponder it, however, as the sound of little footsteps running down the corridor met your ears, before the door burst open.

“F/N!”

A small boy with fluffy silver hair made a beeline as soon as he saw you, and you couldn’t resist the urge to pull the boy into your lap, giving him a soft squeeze, “hello Silver. My, you’ve grown again, haven’t you?” You smoothed down some of his unruly locks from his run here, which proved fruitless when he nodded his head proudly at your words.

“I’ve grown 6 whole centimetres since I saw you last!” Silver informed you excitedly, and you exclaimed at his words. Humans really did grow as quickly as Lilia had described. “Wow, you’ll be taller than me soon.” Silver seemed encouraged by your words, flexing his little arms as if he was trying to show off his strength, “I can protect you better if I am bigger!”

How sweet. You ruffled his hair at his words, ruining your own previous handiwork but not really caring. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by a disruption in the corridor.

“SILVER!!”

Both you and Silver exchanged a wide eyed look, fully aware of what was about to come bursting through that door.

“SILVER, HOW DARE YOU RUN--” The lime green boy came bursting through the door, his booming voice doing more than enough to announce his presence. However, clearly he was not expecting you, as his jaw immediately dropped when he laid eyes on you, pink beginning to dust his cheeks. Nevertheless, ever adaptable, Sebek balled his hands into fists and projected his embarrassment right at Silver instead.

“SILVER! HOW DARE YOU CLIMB UPON PRINCESS F/N! CEASE AT ONCE!”

The little green haired boy always brought a smile to your face, acting and speaking like an adult even though he was practically considered still in his infancy in fae eyes.

“Now, now Sebek, none of that. I told you just to call me F/N,” you scolded gently, before gesturing him over. Sebek approached almost meekly, and you scooped him up onto your lap next to Silver once he got close enough, watching as the pink on his cheeks bloomed into a fiery red, his hands fisting into his lap.

You curled your arms around both of the boys, resting your chin on Sebek’s head as you listened to him announce that he had grown 8 centimetres since you’d last seen him, and how he was definitely excelling in his training with Master Lilia. You exclaimed in acknowledgment and Sebek preened at the praise, holding his head up high and almost knocking you in the process. Soon, both Silver and Sebek were clamouring to tell you their achievements, beginning to bicker with each other in the process.

“Ah good! You’re all here! No more people to find.”

You looked up to see Lilia marching back into the room, with Malleus trailing behind him, wearing a pleased smile. You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes a little, always feeling a certain kind of bitterness whenever you saw Malleus. You didn’t have long to dwell on it, however, as you almost found yourself elbowed by a very excited Sebek.

“WAKA-SAMA!!”

Sebek squirmed himself off of your lap to rush forward and attempt to prostrate himself before Malleus, Silver clinging onto you during the ruckus to make sure he wasn’t sent flying. Sebek was stopped by a firm hand from Lilia on his shoulder, “Come on Sebek, dinner is waiting. It’ll spoil if we loiter any longer. To your seats, the both of you.” Silver reluctantly slid off of your lap to take a seat at the opposite side of the table along with Sebek, who had his hair ruffled by Malleus as he passed. You expected Malleus to take the seat at the head of the table, but instead he approached the seat beside you and slid into it. Lilia tittered at the sight, as he made his move to the only free chair, “how kind of you to offer me the head chair, Malleus.”

You scowled at that, and that only caused Lilia to laugh some more, as the first course materialised in front of you all. Silence fell around the table, only the clanking of cutlery against plates.

“So,” Lilia started, with a smile that promised chaos blooming across his lips, “how are your escape attempts going, F/N? You never did say.” You shot him another glare, knowing exactly what he was trying to achieve and of course he was successful in it with the pandemonium that erupted around the table.

“You’re trying to escape?” Asked Malleus, his eyes widened in shock at this revelation, whilst Silver and Sebek sounded their own complaints across the table. “It’s true, she has it written all in her journal.” Lilia continued, and you quickly snatched your journal off of the table, sitting on top of it to keep it out of anyone’s reach. You ignored Malleus, leaning forward and offering a placating smile to the children, “Lilia is just teasing. I enjoy exploring the castle, is all.”

“I see...” Malleus hummed, before nodding, “then I shall take you on a tour of the castle.”

“What a lovely idea, Malleus!” Lilia cut in before you could turn him down, that same chaotic smile on his lips, “why not after dinner? It would be good exercise after a meal.” Before you know it, you found yourself signed up to an evening tour with Malleus, and could only glower at a smug Lilia in return.

After dinner, Lilia used the convenient excuse of taking the children home and to bed to escape before you could protest, although it took him some effort to get Sebek to follow along, who was insistent on coming along for Malleus’ castle tour. You sent both Silver and Sebek home with a kiss to the forehead, the latter’s cheeks blooming pink again and offering you an amusingly formal salute before his departure. Sooner than you would have liked, you were alone with Malleus. With no children around, you openly scowled at him, crossing your arms.

“You have some nerve! Offering me a tour of the castle when you’ve been avoiding me this whole time!” You rebuked, your scowl only deepening at the return of his surprised expression.

“But you said you enjoyed exploring the castle. A tour would enable you to see some beautiful spots.” Malleus reasoned, finding your flits in mood very difficult to keep up with. You, meanwhile, wanted to smack your palm to your forehead, for you found him impossible.

Before you could retort, Malleus had already turned and walked out the door, and you were left to chase after him. “Hey!” Grumbling about his behaviour, you fell into step next to him, with much struggle, “do you mind? We aren’t all gigantic, you know!”

“Oh. My apologies.” Malleus slowed his gait so you could walk beside him comfortably, a small smile crawling across his lips, “I’ve learned in my research that light fae are more diminutive than dark fae, I should have been more considerate.”

You bristled at his words, why did most things that came from his mouth appear so insulting?! “Excuse me?! I am not diminutive!” You hissed, with Malleus barely batting an eye, “I didn’t mean it as an insult, I find it cute.” Malleus replied honestly, continuing to lead the way.

“I have been deep in research about your kind, so I have been largely unavailable,” Malleus went on, oblivious to the astonished look you gave him, “I apologise. I hope you haven’t been lonely.” Malleus would feel no end of guilt if you’d become lonely due to his negligence, “I will rectify this, I will make time for you from now onward. It is unacceptable for me to have brought you here and left you unattended.”

Curse this fae and his ability to make you dumbfounded.

“Yes, yes!” You clung to whatever statement you could, “it is unacceptable that you brought me here! Ergo, you should take me back to the glade, and we can forget this ever happened.”

Malleus frowned at your words and shook his head, “But this is the safest place for you. Taking you back to the glade would put you in an immeasurable amount of danger.”

“I live by that glade! It’s never been dangerous for me!” You huffed out in frustration, wanting to shake the man by his horns again, “look, I’m not a princess! I was-- I was making fun of you when I said that! Because you said you were a dragon and, lets be honest, that’s ridiculous so--”

“But I am a dragon. A dragon fae.” Malleus corrected, his frown only deepening. “And mine and Lilia’s research has uncovered that there were potentially questionable movements amongst the light fae royalty during a certain period of the war. This information could very much reveal what happened to the light fae, where they disappeared to.” Malleus stated his research leisurely to you as if you were having an honest debate about it rather than arguing with him.

“But dragons are no-- wait, really?” He truly had been researching into your kind with a view to sending you back, like he said he would? That was surprising... You were convinced that was just an elaborate scheme he had created to placate you whilst he kept you here indefinitely.

“Yes. The light fae were peaceful during the war, but that did not stop them being the target of hunters,” Malleus’ tone took on a sorrowful edge, “finding reliable information on light fae is difficult normally, but locating such specific information has proven even more arduous than expected.”

With all your bickering and conversation, you’d completely forgotten that you were actually supposed to be touring the castle with Malleus. You were walking up another staircase when he pushed open a door, only for you to feel a breeze hit your cheeks.

“This is one of my favourite places to come in the castle.” Malleus held the door open for you as you stepped through the doorway, greeted by the cool night breeze, now standing on one of the castle’s large balconies. Your mouth fell open with awe, the balcony giving you the perfect view of the town below, illuminated in the darkness by dots of green flames. When you looked up, you were greeted by a perfectly clear night sky, decorated with endless amounts of twinkling stars. You found yourself breathless, silence stretching between you and Malleus as you took in your beautiful surroundings.

A thought did nag at the back of your brain however, slightly ruining the dazzling scenery before you. You were now outside! And the balcony railing wasn’t very high! Perhaps once you were alone, you could jump from here and float down. No point doing it now, Malleus would more than likely pursue you, you think you could remember him saying something about having wings, that did make sense with him being a fae after all...

You cursed internally, suddenly realising that you’d left your journal on your chair in the dining hall. Now you had no way of writing down the directions to this place. Perhaps on your way back down, you could memorise the route and write it down later... You were so deep in thought, that you didn’t even notice that Malleus had arrived beside you.

“Your wings look so beautiful in the moonlight... As if they absorb the very rays of the moon... How intriguing...” Malleus muttered softly, a hand reaching out for your wings. You jumped at his sudden voice, and frowned at the sight of his hand coming towards you. “Hey! I told you about this, you can’t just touch someone’s wings!”

Malleus blinked at you, looking fairly taken aback at your scolding of him. His eyes clouded in thought, his hand pulling back to press against his chin in thought. After a moment spent awkwardly in silence, to which you eyed him warily, Malleus simply nodded... Before beginning to undo the belt at his waist.

“... W-what are you doing?” You stuttered in alarm, your eyes blowing wide. At this point, you felt that his behaviour shouldn’t alarm you as much as it did, that you should be more used to it, but he always seemed to pull of another bizarre action that’d leave you speechless.

“I realise I have committed quite the error. Whilst I have been able to appreciate your wings on more than one occasion, I have not given you the opportunity to appreciate mine. I will rectify that now.” As he spoke, Malleus had already removed his coat, folding it over the balcony rail as his hands moved to begin on his robes next.

“I hardly thinks that’s appropriate! M-malleus, stop!” Your cheeks turned bright pink. How would you explain to anyone that the Crown Prince was stripping a mere foot in front of you, outside no less?! If someone happened upon you, you’d be executed on the spot! Or worse, Lilia would witness it and never let it go. “Malleus, put your clothes back on!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice down.

“It’ll take but a moment, please be patient.” Malleus continued to unravel his robes, not the least bit perturbed by your protests, and you ended up burying your face in your hands, not sure whose modesty you were protecting - his or your own.

“I am ready now, Princess. You may look.” You heard Malleus say, but you shook your head wildly, still covering your face with your hands, “I shan’t!” Silence stretched between you, before you heard him taking a step towards you, closing the gap between you in one. “Please don’t be afraid. I don’t want you to be frightened of me.”

Before you could open your mouth to retort, you felt a hand on your shoulder, holding you still before another hand wrapped gently around one of your wrists, tugging softly but firmly to coax it away from your face. You relented, but simply moving your remaining hand across your eyes, keeping them squeezed shut. You could only dread what he planned to do with your hand. He pulled your hand forward slowly, and you found yourself attempting to shrink back, but Malleus’ grip on you was strong, his hand on your shoulder giving you what you assumed was supposed to be a soothing squeeze.

Eventually your hand came in contact with something... Leathery? Oh, had he put his clothes back on? Well, good. Slowly, you moved your free hand from your eyes and opened them... Only to find most of your vision dominated by huge black... Wings?

“Oh. Oh! Are those your...?” You gripped it tentatively between your fingers, rubbing gently to get a feel for the strange texture. It felt smooth, but strong. If he flexed them, he could probably send you flying. “It’s... Very big.”

“Do you think so?”

“Mhmm... Are you sure you are actually a fae? These look nothing like mine...” Despite your words, you couldn’t help yourself from admiring them, they were quite wonderful in their peculiarity. Malleus was more than happy to allow you to survey him, his wings drawn around him so that you could reach them easily.

“These wings are common for dragon fae.” Malleus replied and you scoffed, biting your tongue only so you didn’t reignite your constant argument that dragons aren’t real, “right... Is that why you keep them hidden? They do seem quite bulky...”

“Hm, well my more draconic features tend to manifest more during certain periods, usually for convenience I’ll keep them hidden. But my wings are surprisingly lightweight. Here, let me show you.”

You wanted to enquire more about what he meant about certain periods, but you were distracted by the gust of wind that was brought around as he unfurled his wings from around himself, flexing them wide and proud for you to see. And what a sight it was. His wingspan was impressive, practically blocking out the sky behind him, and despite the size of them, he manoeuvred them with ease and dexterity. You were actually quite impressed...

... Until you realised his entire chest was bare.

“Malleus!” You squeaked, so distracted by his wings that you hadn’t registered that you were practically eye level with his naked chest, a very nice naked chest, thankfully his robes tied at the hips at least, “put your clothes back on!” You tried to step back, but his grip on your shoulder held fast.

“But I needed to undress to show you my wings,” Malleus stated, a frown marring his features. Suddenly, his hand that had gripped your shoulder moved to softly grab your chin, tipping it up so he could scrutinise your face, “Are you well? You are flushed.”

You hadn’t realised your cheeks had grown red at Malleus’ state of undress, and him grabbing your chin in a surprisingly tender gesture wasn’t helping. You felt more blood rush to your cheeks, and you tried to stutter out a response before Malleus released both your wrist and chin, reaching instead for his coat.

“Hm, it won’t do for you to become ill. Allow me.” Before you knew it, Malleus had draped his coat over your shoulders, and you imagined it must have looked comical hanging off of your wings, but the size of it still managed to cover over you appropriately. “Putting your clothes on didn’t mean for you to put them on me!” You protested, burying your face into the overlong sleeves at your hands, equal parts embarrassed and distraught at the other fae’s actions. Perhaps if you hid your face for long enough, he’d take the hint and redress himself. Hm, his coat did smell nice, though...

“I have a request to make of you.” Malleus added, continuing on the conversation as usual, as if you weren’t flustered by his current state, “actually, both me and Lilia had discussed that this could lead to us uncovering promising information regarding your origins.” He explained, seeming to derive contentment from discussing his research with you, “with your permission, we would like you to take us to your previous abode.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide at this sudden request. Go home? They wanted to go to your home? Your brain went blank, entirely taken off guard by this information. Malleus must have saw some hesitance in your eyes, so he continued on,

“Finding information regarding the light fae has been notoriously difficult. Currently, our best lead would be to seek out the last known residence of a light fae... Which would be you.”

If you allowed them to visit your home, that would mean you would get to go home... And once there, you could just refuse to go back with them! This might be your best chance to finally get home... Sure, you could wait until you were alone and jump from the balcony, but there was every chance Malleus or even Lilia would follow after you once they discovered you missing, out of this absurd misguided obsession for your safety...

Seeing the continued hesitancy in your eyes, Malleus leaned closer to you, wanting to assure you of his genuineness, “it is not our intention to disturb your memories, we want to help.”

You startled at his sudden closeness again, his form almost boxing you in with his posture. You felt fresh redness flush over your cheeks, and you were thankful that you were still covering half of your face with the oversized sleeves of his coat, “if I say yes, would you finally put some clothes on?!” You tried to sound outraged, but your voice ended up coming out high pitched and flustered.

“If that is what you desire, I can comply with that.” Malleus nodded, although thinking what strange bargains the light fae made, so mild in it’s demand, “however, please do keep my coat, it looks quite charming upon you.”

You huffed in exasperation, closing your eyes and shaking your head at his behaviour. Ironic that this fae was so keen on discovering the light fae and keeping you safe when you were sure he’d be the death of you. “Fine, fine! I’ll take you to my home. So please, put some clothes on before someone finds you like this!”

And with that, your escape route was ensured...

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x y/n #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x y/n #twst fic #malleus x reader #malleus x y/n

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offbeatcappuccino · 2 months

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the impossible heir episodes 1-4 ramblings

Last week was an eventful one for Lee Jae Wook, Hong Su Zu, and Lee Jun-young's The Impossible Heir. Not only was last week the premiere of the series, but Dispatch, the popular Korean tabloid, released "earth-shattering" news that Lee Jae Wook was dating aespa's Karina. This garnered controversy and scrutiny towards the show and could have contributed to its ratings. However, as a self-professed Lee Jae Wook fan, I tuned in to watch the show last week regardless of the news. The Impossible Heir is arguable Lee Jae Wook's first "adult" show. Much of his prior work involved dramas that catered to the YA audience and for the first time we see him essaying a far more mature and morally dubious character as Han Tae Oh. While the show is marketed as having three leads, in my opinion, Tae Oh steals the show.

In the first episode, we are introduced to a teenage Han Tae Oh. The son of a murderer, for the sake of his and his mother's safety, he's forced by himself to a small town. Unlike his peers, he has no legal guardian and rents a rundown house in the village. Before the first day of school, he manages to provoke the ire of Kang In Ha, the illegitimate son of the Kang-Oh chaebol family. While the two boys are initially at odds with each other and even end up having a dramatic fight in the school lunchroom, the episode ends with an unlikely partnership- Tae Oh offering to use his intelligence to help In Ha achieve the impossible- the opportunity to be the next heir of Kang Oh Group over his two legitimate half brothers.

Over the next three episodes, we see Tae Oh and In Ha grow up as college students and later employees at Kang Oh. During their college years, we see a blossoming friendship between the two as In Ha becomes Tae Oh's only companion during their time at Hankuk University. Alongside their internal scheming to take over Kang Oh, we see glimpses that their friendship is no different from any other peers. They have birthday meals, eat lunch together in the cafeteria, and drink late night beers from the convenience. In Ha constantly chides Tae Oh for working too many part time jobs, but remains the dutiful wealthy friend that is willing to book a tutoring gig for Tae Oh or drop him off at work to help him financially stay afloat. The dynamics between both men take a sharp turn with the introduction of Na Hye-Won, who both male leads end up falling for though she ultimately ends up dating In Ha, mainly because she views In Ha as her key to overcoming poverty and acquiring wealth and prestige.

Just as episode two ends, the show takes another five year time leap and both men are working for Kang Oh group. Hye-Won also becomes what appears to be a staff member for a political party. The three remain as co-conspirators in their efforts to take over Kang Oh Group. Of the three, perhaps the person who gets closest to the chairman, Kang Jun Mo, is Tae Oh, who ascends to the role of his personal secretary. Tae Oh becomes Jun Mo's greatest asset and trusted confidante. Through his role, he starts to move the game pieces that would create a clear path of succession for In Ha.

The weakest aspect of the The Impossible Heir 's writing has to be Na Hye Won's character arc. Nothing about her frankly makes any sense. During the second episode, we are introduced to Hye Won as both In Ha's and Tae Oh's classmate and Tae Oh's neighbor. While its obvious that Tae Oh may have developed feelings for Hye Won due to their chance encounters, In Ha's feelings arise out of nowhere- to the point that it almost feels like he only wants Hye Won because he wants to take a person Tae Oh cherishes from him. However, if this was the case, the intensity of love that In Ha develops for Hye Won makes no sense. Furthermore, its puzzling to see the two boys so readily accept a stranger as a partner in developing and implementing a plan they have spent years working on together. Exacerbating this poor placement of the female lead is her poor portrayal by Hong Su Zu. Hong Su Zu's acting has been widely criticized by the Korean audience since the airing of the second episode. While I could see others' complaints last week, it did not initially bother me as much. However, the poor acting has become glaringly apparent in this week's episodes. If Hye Won is supposed to be who she's written to be- a morally grey character who is willing to do whatever it takes, including playing with someone's feelings, to escape her present circumstances, I would expect her to be desperate, shrewd, cunning, manipulative, and charismatic. However, the version that is presented to us is so blasé, stoic, and mediocre. Hong Su Zu's expressions and delivery are extremely limited- it's hard to swallow the thought that she's supposed to be a crucial main character.

Conversely, Tae-Oh's arc is the strongest point in the writing. As audience members, we are gripped by the elusive question- what does Tae-Oh get from this partnership? Why is he fiercely loyal to In Ha? and Does he truly want the best for his friend or is he planning on throwing him under the bus? Lee Jae Wook excels in playing the ambitious yet guarded Tae Oh, who becomes the "catalyst" of the story. Without Tae Oh, there's no plot. While Hye Won is a disappointing female lead, I was surprised by the chemistry between Tae-Oh and Choi Hee Jin's Kang Huiju, the younger half sister of Kang In Ha. Huiju develops an obsessive never-ending one-sided crush on Tae Oh when he becomes her short-lived mathematics tutor. At first glance, it's easy to brush her off as a minor character, but the amount of screen time she receives on the show suggests otherwise and Choi Hee Jin excels in playing the "petulant spoiled brat who surprisingly may be the only person in her family with a conscience".

If Tae Oh is a volcano patiently waiting to erupt at the right time,Huiju is a raging forest fire traveling at 100 mph. Her love and desire for Tae Oh is all consuming and destructive- something she wholeheartedly embraces but Tae-Oh fears. When Huiju's spontaneity comes to a head with Tae Oh's restraint, we see an electrifying chemistry between the two and we see another dimension of Tae Oh. While he can be avoidant and harsh, he is also gentle, kind, and protective. Its this internal push and pull that makes their relationship worth exploring.

One of the highlights of the latest episode was when Huiji confronts Tae Oh in a parking garage adamantly professing that she will force her parents to agree to their marriage and that she "will protect" Tae-Oh. I found her confession interesting on many levels because so far, all of Tae-Oh's relationships are exploitative. The other characters including his closest friend In Ha are only concerned about what Tae Oh can do for them and this is the first time we see someone offering to do something for him with no reciprocity. It's unclear if Hui Ju is a red herring or someone who will grow to be an integral part of Tae-Oh's life. As a viewer, I have to say that this relationship is one of the main draws to the show and is something that the writers utilize appropriately.

Overall, Impossible Heir is a Malthusian and Machiavellian drama that wholeheartedly embraces the capitalistic jungle. It may not be a show that fans of prior Lee Jae Wook's dramas will love, but it still deserves to be given a chance.

Rating: ⭐️ ⭐️.75/5

#the impossible heir #lee jae wook #lee jun young #hong su zu #han tae oh #kdrama review #kdra #kdramas #kang in ha #na hye won #choi hee jin #kang huiju

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mvrtaiswriting · 11 months

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This is a REALLY specific request so you dont have to do ir if u dont wanna but im curious how this would play out:

The monster trio fall in love with male!reader and get together in the time skip and when the straw hats finally meet again they find out that their s/o is Nami’s ex(reader is also over nami) and they broke up bc nami didn’t want the reader to be put in danger bc of arlong or something(idk if I spelled it right)

And if you could could you make nami still have a little feelings for reader and monster trio find out?

Ty and have a lovely day 😖💝

Monster trio's s/o is Nami's ex.

hi, thanks for requesting this?? this was so fun to write and it took such a tooth-rotting turn towards the end? I'm sorry if those are not quite like what you were expecting but as you can imagine it is quite hard to make multi-characters work longer than this. Regardless, I hope these are okay, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did! hope you have a fab day too <33

intended for m!reader but it's mostly gender neutral :)

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more.

Luffy is not bothered by your past, everyone has one. But how could he predict that your past involved Nami? He finds the situation rather funny, and does not take it too seriously at first - he laughs about it, and grows even fonder of your relationship. He rants about how the two of you were meant to be together, and he adores the fact that you once loved one of his dearest crew mates. Once Luffy realises Nami might be uncomfortable for it, he makes sure all the three of you can talk about it and force you to cheer with a shot of sake.

"We both love you so much!"

Luffy squeaked, wrapping his stretching arms around you and Nami, forcing the three of you in a suffocating embrace.

"Platonically, of course." He giggled again.

It would take a while for Nami to adjust to this new situation, realising how much the relationship between the two of you has changed. Observing the two of you simply loving each other makes Nami realise there's nothing to fear now. You would always hold a very special place in her heart, she would always worry for you - but now, you were in the safest hands she knew. No one could protect you better than her captain, and at the end of the day, platonic or not, love is making sure the person you love is safe.

Zoro can't hide the fact that he is a bit bothered by your past relationship with Nami. He was never a man of many words, so he would never confront you or Nami about it. But he grumbles, and rants, and sighs whenever feels she stares at you for so long. He doesn't like how awkward this whole situation feels - he just wants to be left alone, loving you in private. Nami is the first one to make a move, sneaking in the nest crows to join you and Zoro. When you finally talk about it, your shoulders feel ten times lighter - after all this time, of course there was still some kind of love between you and Nami; there would always be a special bond between the two of you, but nothing more. The love you felt for Zoro was unconditional, fearless, a ready-to-risk-it-all kind of thing - it was the type of love only soulmates can share, and it would never compare for the affection and respect you held for Nami.

"Please don't let him die." Nami said, holding Zoro's hands into hers, her voice breaking just thinking about the idea of you getting hurt.

"You're in the hands of the greatest swordsman.. have some trust!"

Sanji finds it funny, it almost feels like a compliment to him. There is a tiny voice inside his head that feeds his ego, that realises how Nami really lost the treasure of all treasures. He truly felt like the luckiest man alive.

At fist, Sanji has the bad habit to tease Nami about it. He mentions how she really fumbled the bag, bragging about how proud he is of you. When he finally gets a reaction however, it was not like he expected. He had underestimate the importance your previous relationship with Nami had for her, he overlooked the reasons why you broke up - surely, he wasn't expecting it to be an open wound after all this time.

Once Sanji finally manages to apologise to Nami, he offers a listening ear to his fellow crew mate. Nami's reasons were more than valid and he would lie if he didn't admit he was just as scared as she was. Sanji loved you more than anything else and would sacrifice his life in an heartbeat to save you, the sole idea of you being in dangers feels like a dagger being planted directly into his heart.

"I love you."

Sanji whispers, slowly wrapping his arms around your torso, engulfing you into a tight embrace. Your shoulders are now lying against his chest, his cologne and the stinging smell of smoke inebriating your senses. He stays like that for a while, peppering your cheeks with kisses and just enjoying the moment. You were safe in his arms, giggling if his beard tickled your skin. Silently, he swore to himself he would do anything to protect that magical smile of yours.

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pablotorresgf · 1 year

Text

backseat rider- pablo gavi

in which you and gavi are childhood friends, but even all those years of friendship couldn’t stop you guys drifting apart.

warnings: angst w no happy ending! first time writing on tumblr so excuse the bad layout… (english isn’t my first language.)

Pablo and you have been best friends, ever since that day where you met him at the bus stop. You guys ended up sitting side by side, the whole bus ride consist of you guys introducing each other.

From that day on Pablo and you became inseparable. Wherever you were he was there; viceversa. You saw Pablo grow up and become the great player he was now. You vowed to him that you would always be there for him no matter the circumstances. He did the same for you, promising you that no matter how many people knew his name he would never forget the person that was there for him when no one knew who he was.

Today was the day Pablo would finally be getting his own car! He had been asking for rides from you and Pedri, ever since training would start but now he would finally be able to go wherever he pleased. Pablo had called you weeks ago letting you know that once you were back from your summer vacation you two would spend the day catching up. The day had finally arrived, you were finally back in Barcelona. You were beyond jet lagged just wanting to see Gavi and sleep. You waited outside the airport Gavi was taking longer than expected, just as you were about to text him to see where he was a car honked in front of you causing you to jump up in surprise. You looked up and saw Gavi’s face. “Hola nena, necesitáis ir a un lugar?” A smile appeared on your face as headed towards him but before heading to the other side of the vehicle you noticed an unknown blonde girl in the passenger seat. Gavi noticed your confused facial expression and looked beside him and a realization hit him. “Ah! t/n, esta es Dafne.” You gave Dafne a light smile heading towards the back seat.

Five weeks had passed since you were back in Barcelona. Ever since the awkward encounter at the airport, you thought you and gavi would spend more time together; just you both. But that didn’t happen every time you suggested something he either had training or Dafne would be there too, that was until today. You were currently sitting next to Gavi on your couch watching a movie, before Gavi broke the silence. “I’m bored do you want to go get ice cream?” You nodded in agreement and both of you went to go freshen up before heading outside. “Pablito open the door! It’s hot as hell outside.” Gavi turned towards you with an awkward chuckle. “Actually y/n can you uhm sit in the back, I’m going to pick up Dafne along the way.” You nodded your head not in the mood to reject his order. You were now in the backseat listening to Dafne and gavi laugh about a new movie that had just came out. You sighed and thought back at the times gavi and you would do the same. When you would drive him to his training and talk about the movie you two had watched the night prior, you missed those times now all you felt like was a third wheel. Dafne was stealing your best friend and you were tired of it. You couldn’t spend no time with him because Dafne this and Dafne that. Gavi was yours first, but now it felt like he wasn’t yours at all.

Gavi had dropped you off hours ago but you were here in your bed thinking about what went wrong. You guys were drifting apart so bad it physically hurt you. It hurt knowing your best friend was turning into just another person in your life. You tired so hard to talk to him about it but there just wasn’t any time where it would be you and him alone. Dafne was always in the picture now. Maybe all this was your fault. Yes it was your fault you could’ve tried so much more harder to talk to him during your summer break. Days would go by and you would forget that gavi even existed, now karmas biting your ass and doing the same to you. Gavi was forgetting your existence. You sighed and stood up. You looked around your room, you noticed that more than half of the things didn’t even belong to you. They were gavi’s belongings but now that gavi wasn’t yours anymore you took everything and shoved it into a box.

This was it it took you so long to realize the tears coming out of your eyes and you knew that you weren’t crying because you were drifting apart from your best friend. You were crying because boy you fell in love with, is in love with someone else. That night you cried so much,you cried because there was no more gavi and y/n, you cried because all those years would be lost in memory lane, you cried because you realized your feelings so so late.

The next morning you texted gavi to see if he had time to come over because you needed to talk to him. He replied with a “of course. Me and Dafne will be there:)!” You had to explain to him that it was a you and him thing and Dafne couldn’t be present. It pained you that he couldn’t even hang out with you without needing her presence. Hours passed by when you heard a knock on the front door. You opened the door to reveal gavi, he flashed his smile at me with a worried look on his face. “Perdón. I would’ve been here much earlier but uhm you know training.” Liar. Pedri had texted me earlier saying they had a day off. “Just come in Pablo.” You sighed not mentally ready for what was about to happen. “I’m not going to waste your time I know Dafne must be waiting for you to return home, so I’m just going to get this over with.” He look at me with a perplexed look. “It feels like your breaking up with me” he giggled. But seeing your serious face he became silent. “We can’t be friends anymore Pablo.” “Que? De donde viene esto?” He looked almost mad. You sighed and decided to let everything out. “Gavi we don’t even spend time together anymore without Dafne being there. At first I was fine with it I stayed quite but now I just can’t take it anymore, I feel like I’m third wheeling all the fucking time! And when we do hang out she’s all you talk about.”

“You’re jealous of her.” He stated with a scoff. “Yes I am I’m fucking jealous of her because she stole my best friend!” You yelled out. “Just because your jealous of her doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends just get over it and everything will go back to normal.” You looked at him in disbelief he couldn’t be bloody serious. “Gavi you don’t get it. I can’t stand seeing you being with her because I’m fucking in love with you! It hurts seeing you in love with someone else!” Suddenly everything went quiet, gavi looked at you with a surprised expression a gasp leaving his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me before.” “I tried to i really did but every time she was there 24/7. It pains me that you can’t live without her presence because before you used to be like that with me and seeing someone else fill in that part of your life hurts.” At this point you couldn’t help it, tears were streaming down your face. Gavi quickly towards you hugging you, he felt so bad he never wanted to make you feel like this. He promised you that he would protect you from people that made you feel this way but turns out he was the one making you feel this. His hands touched your face softly and turnt it upwards to meet each others eyes. “I’m so sorry y/n/n. I always promised to make you happy but recently I haven’t, we can work this out. Maybe it’s your emotions getting the best of you but you’re not in love with me. You just miss me! Yeah that’s what it is you have to understand that.” As those words left his mouth you sighed, in that moment you knew that she wouldn’t be leaving the picture and at the end of the day it would be you drowning in your own self pity.

You shook your head towards gavi not trusting your voice. “Don’t say no, you know I’m right cmon let’s just sleep on this. We don’t have to end our friendship. It’s us against the world y/n/n!” You hugged Pablo one last time knowing that after this he would choose her over you and it was the sad reality. “You don’t love me how I love you gavi and that’s okay. But I can’t do this I can’t lie to myself anymore. There is no us, there never was.”

And just like that all those years of memories, laughter, tears, awkwardness, love were long lost memories. He was never yours to begin with.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi x reader

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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year

Text

An Eventful Night (LU in Healthcare)

More Plot :D

Legend is an unwilling hero, Hyrule nearly has a breakdown when dispatch doesn't get the info right, and Twilight make s a new friend and begins Project Make Wild Like Puppers.

Just a fair warning, Hyrule's section is a little intense but not graphic and it has a good ending.

(AO3 link)

Legend winced as his lower back ached. If he stepped the wrong way, if he reached the wrong way, it would throb annoyingly. He hadn’t thought he’d done anything particularly strenuous at work last night, but he supposed it was all just catching up to him.

Grabbing a heating pad, he headed for the den where he could lay on the floor where the fuzzy carpet was. Enough cushioning to not make it worse, enough firmness to help his back alongside the heat.

Walking into the den, he froze and frowned. “You’re in my spot.”

“But this is the best spot on the floor!”

“Rav, that’s my spot.”

“You wouldn’t kick me out, would you, Mr. Hero? This area is so comfortable—”

Legend groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine, just scoot over a little.”

Ravio chirped happily, scooching as minimally as possible and barely leaving any room on the rug for Legend. Sighing heavily, the travel nurse slowly lowered himself down and situated the heating pad under his lower back. The pair laid down beside each other in comfortable silence before Ravio broke it.

"Have you ever thought about how insignificant we are in comparison to the rest of the world?”

“Rav, for heaven’s sake, just let me—”

Legend felt his phone vibrate and he bit back another grumble. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and saw that it was from Warriors. That was enough to make him plop it down on his stomach without reading it. He was already sore and growing steadily more annoyed, he didn’t need whatever sassy remark that irritating soldier could come up with adding to it.

“Well, what I was going to say is, we—you know, we’re so, so tiny in comparison to everything else happening in the world,” Ravio continued thoughtfully, gesturing towards the ceiling with a hand.

“We don’t matter, I get it,” Legend snapped.

Ravio glanced at him, looking concerned. “I wasn’t going to say that. What I was going to say was that despite how small we are, we still make a difference. You do every day, you know.”

Legend side eyed his roommate. “What in the world has gotten into you? Have you been off for a few days?”

Ravio nodded, smiling.

Legend rolled his eyes. “Of course you have. You get way too philosophical when you have time off.”

“Nothing wrong with contemplating things!”

“I’m not a hero, Rav.”

“Of course you are!! You, all the nurses and techs and doctors and physical therapists and respiratory therapists and everyone, you’re all heroes!”

“Is that why you sell my stuff?”

“One does have to make a living—”

“You have a job, Ravio.”

“B-but what if it isn’t enough, you know I need comforts and the world can be so unpredictable and scary—”

Legend’s phone buzzed again. Sighing even more heavily than last time, Legend snatched the blasted object to put it on do not disturb when his eyes caught some of the words in the texts.

—help and I don’t know what—

Furrowing his brow, the travel nurse unlocked his phone to read the messages fully.

hey need a a favor wellaact ually actually maybe more of yeah I need a favor look I might be a liytle tipsyandd cant drive ok hang on swearica n type ha stnadby Ok. Typing slow. Need a drive. Ride Whatever I can’t drive myself an I need help and I don’t know what else to do Don’t want Wind to see me like this pls

Legend stared at the mess of texts. He… what? Why was Warriors drunk texting him of all people? He typed, Can’t you call Time? Or Sky?

Time would fuss Sky would worry Pls Ledge?

Legend frowned. You think I won’t fuss?

You alwayssfuss

His ire flared. I do not!!

LEDGE RIDE PLS

This night couldn’t get any worse. UGH FINE YOU MORON JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE

As Warriors started typing, Legend sat up, hissing as his back protested. Ravio looked at him confusedly. “Where are you going?”

“I have to pick up an idiot,” he answered, heading for the front door where the jackets and shoes were. He could just go in his pajamas, it wasn’t like he was getting out of the car, anyway. When Warriors finally replied, he looked up the address…

…And grew steadily more confused. The bar was in the Seer District, where Warriors lived. Why couldn’t he just call a taxi, or maybe even walk?

Shaking his head, Legend hopped in the car and drove to the location. He texted Warriors and saw the door to the bar open.

His friend stumbled a little as he stepped out, but he steadied himself. Smiling at the car, he nearly fell into the door, making Legend jump, before he opened it and laughed. “Hey, Ledge!”

Legend tossed a few items into the back so the passenger seat was clear. “Get in, idiot.”

Warriors climbed in with as much grace as a newly born foal, hitting his head while doing so. It was honestly so sad it almost made Legend feel bad for him.

Almost.

“Thanks, man,” Wars slurred, slouching in the seat.

Legend waited a moment and then said, “Close the door.”

Warriors managed to latch his fingers around the handle by the third try and slammed it shut.

“Buckle up.”

The nurse spent another minute fumbling with the seat belt before Legend finally snatched it out of his hands and locked it in place.

“Now, where are we going? What’s your address?”

Warriors stared off into space, body language weary all of a sudden. “Anywhere.”

Legend grew even more bewildered. “What?”

“Anywhere,” Warriors repeated. “I don’t give a shit. Nowhere. The woods. A shelter. Anywhere.”

“Wars, your address—”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

Legend was about to argue, growing agitated, when Warriors rolled his head to the side to look at him. His drunken cheer from earlier was gone, and his exhaustion was more evident than ever. His eyes, usually sharp and analytical, were dark and dull.

“Ledge, I don’ wanna go home,” he said.

“What about Wind?” Legend asked hesitantly.

“I told’im I was working.”

Legend’s chest tightened. Warriors wouldn’t lie to Wind just to go out drinking. Something was genuinely wrong.

Sighing, he made a decision and put the car in drive, wordlessly getting back on the road as his mind went through different scenarios over what was happening. Warriors slouched more in the seat, staring ahead. When they finally slipped into a parking space, his friend looked around, disoriented. “Where…?”

“We’re at my place,” Legend answered. “Come on.”

Legend exited the car without any more explanation, taking a deep, steadying breath and heading for the door that led to the stairwell. He paused, reconsidered, and headed for the elevator instead just as Warriors stumbled out of the car. The travel nurse grabbed his hand and guided him into the elevator. Both were silent until Warriors gasped just as they reached Legend’s floor.

“You’re a real one,” Warriors giggled, leaning heavily on Legend and ruffling his hair. “Thanks.”

Legend snarled, shoving him off and then yelping and grabbing Warriors as he almost fell in the opposite direction. “Just shut up and walk, good grief.”

The pair reached Legend’s apartment, and he promptly dragged Warriors to the den. He gave Ravio a quick gruff, “Move,” and stomped across the room as his roommate squeaked and scurried out of the way. Warriors stumbled to the sofa and promptly collapsed onto it.

Sighing heavily, Legend went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a trash can. When he returned to the sofa Warriors was staring at the ceiling, his brow crinkled together.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as the travel nurse approached him.

Legend paused a moment, exasperation temporarily forgotten, and then slowly put the items down on the table beside the couch. “Just go to sleep, Wars. And… and if you want to talk about what caused this… you know, when you’re sober…”

Warriors squeezed his eyes closed and turned away.

“…Or not,” Legend muttered, unsure what else to say. This had never been his strong suit. “Well, either way. Get some sleep.”

Grabbing a blanket, Legend tossed it over Warriors, making sure his friend was warm, and then went to his bedroom, shrugging when Ravio threw him a curious glance.

XXX

Hyrule bit his lip to hold back his laughter as he watched an entertaining video on his phone. His legs swung out carelessly in front of him, blowing off what little nervous energy he had reserved in him, a byproduct of being on call waiting for dispatch to send them to an emergency. On either side of him, seated in chairs and working on the computers provided for reports, were Dawn and Aurora, while Mo relaxed in a chair by the doorway. Scooting a little farther onto the table he was sitting on, he finally let out a laugh as he got a text from Mo with an edited picture of Aurora making an exasperated face.

Before he could have a chance to explain his outburst to the girls, the tones dropped and dispatch blared overhead: “Rescue 18, Medic 1896 respond to 89 Kawa Circle for difficulty breathing.”

Hyrule playfully shoved Mo as they headed towards the ambulance. “You can’t just send me stuff like that when Aurora’s right there, you jerk.”

Mo laughed as he hopped into the driver’s seat. “It was worth it for the look on your face.”

Rolling his eyes, the paramedic grabbed the mic and keyed up. “ECC, Medic 1896 responding.”

“Medic 1896, you’re responding at 2329 for a 21-year-old male patient with a trach who is ventilator dependent – family stated they were swapping out trachs and were unable to place the new one and are now bagging the patient.”

Hyrule’s cheer immediately drained out of him as Mo muttered a curse under his breath. Well… that escalated quickly. He started going through different scenarios and wondering how in the world he was even supposed to handle this. A patient with a trach was a patient with a surgical airway, which already put them far out of his scope of practice. He knew how to suction such an airway, he knew how to make those airways, but that was about all he could do. Placing a new trach into the airway? That was not in his training.

But it was in the family’s training. If he could just guide them to put a new trach in then that should resolve the issue. The reason this patient was having difficulty breathing was because he lost his connection to the ventilator.

As Hyrule went through all of this in his mind, Mo managed to pull up to the house, catching the medic off guard. He supposed it hadn’t been too far from the station. The fire department had already arrived and were inside; neither Hyrule nor Mo had heard a peep from them after their initial radio traffic indicating they’d gotten there.

“Well, fire isn’t saying anything drastic so it can’t be that bad,” Mo remarked as the pair hopped out of the ambulance, not bothering to take in equipment since the fire department would have already done so.

Hyrule hummed in acknowledgement, pushing the front door open and immediately his eyes fell on a group of firefighters huddled around each other on the ground. Hyrule squinted, looking to see what they were doing, wondering why they were in a circle on the floor when there was clearly no young man lying in their midst.

And then he saw it.

They were huddled around a baby.

Hyrule’s heart and mind stopped together, the world freezing around him, and his veins filled with ice.

Dispatch had gotten the age wrong. This wasn’t a twenty-one-year-old.

It was a twenty-one-month-old baby.

Hyrule found himself floundering, struggling to reorient his mind, having expected something completely different and not prepared for this scenario. He leaned over the firefighters and tried to ask what was going on, but it was apparent they were mentally scrambling as much as he was, and they told him nothing. He heard them speaking to each other about the baby’s heart rate lowering, which was an extremely ominous sign that the baby was about to going into cardiac arrest.

Oh, fuck. We’re about to code a baby.

Hyrule turned and immediately headed for the ambulance to grab more supplies, his mind whirling as he tried to run the protocol of pediatric cardiac arrest, as he tried to accept the fact that this child was about to die because he couldn’t breathe.

By the time the medic got back to the house, however, one of the firefighters met him outside. “The parents got the trach back in and they’re putting him back on the ventilator.”

Immediate relief slammed into Hyrule. That was the treatment the baby needed, the one thing he couldn’t provide. He threw up a quick thank you to the sky and saw Mo coming outside carrying the baby while another firefighter carried the portable ventilator just beside him. Hyrule did a quick assessment, much happier with how the baby looked – the little one was perking up quickly, recovering from his hypoxia. The parents followed next, and Hyrule talked to them briefly to get a sense of what had happened while the others settled the infant into a pediatric harness on the stretcher.

Once the baby was secure, Hyrule and Mo got vital signs and were both satisfied with what they saw. Hyrule gave a thumbs up to his partner and everyone else except for the baby, Hyrule, and the father stepped out as they headed to the hospital.

The trip was blessedly uneventful, with Hyrule trying to reassure the panic stricken father and keeping a close eye on the baby. Once they reached the hospital and transferred care, however, Hyrule and Mo both entered the EMS room and waited for the door to close before immediately yelling at the same time.

“What the fuck!” Hyrule threw his hands on the air. “Dispatch said twenty-one-year-old—”

“That was not what I was expecting to walk into—”

“And fire was saying fucking nothing—”

“Oh my gosh that was a disaster—”

“Why were they even doing a trach swap at freaking midnight—”

“Why the hell couldn’t dispatch get the age right—”

The pair panted for air, staring at each other, and then sighed heavily, leaning against the wall.

“Drinks after the shift?” Mo asked.

“Drinks after the shift,” Hyrule agreed.

XXX

Twilight squirmed once more, twisting around in the bed to no avail. He had a day shift tomorrow but he’d only just gotten off night shifts with one day break in between to reset his sleep cycle and it wasn’t working. It was almost midnight; he’d have to wake up in five hours as it was, he had to get some sleep.

Good grief he missed EMS. At least with the squad he could self-schedule and just stick to a consistent routine.

The thought process cut itself off hastily as his mind wandered to other aspects of his former career and he twisted sharply in the bed once more. Wild was fast asleep in the bed across from him, snoring softly.

At least someone was going to be well rested before work.

A noise caught Twilight’s attention, making him stiffen. It sounded like someone was sifting through trash outside the room. Their motel wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town, and Twilight immediately stiffened, slowly reaching for the pocketknife on the nightstand. As the noise continued, he crept out of bed, peering between the blinds, unsure what he was going to see.

There was no silhouette of a person, and Twilight squinted, glancing downward, and then he gasped.

Hastening to the door, he opened it gently so as not to startle the source of the noise. As he poked his head out ever-so-slightly, the black puppy froze in place, ears peeling back as it grew anxious.

“Hi baby,” he said softly, crouching down so he was at eye level with the little ball of fluff. “Where’s your home?”

The puppy watched him uneasily, its tail swishing slightly in a hesitant greeting. It stumbled towards him with uncoordinated steps, sniffing with its wet little nose. Once it got close enough it started sniffing Twilight’s face and neck, making him giggle. His response excited the puppy, who only sniffed him more and started to lick his face as he outright laughed and fell onto the ground, overwhelmed with puppy kisses.

“Twi, what in the world…?” Wild blearily asked from his bed before growing silent.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you some food,” Twilight said as he scooped up the little puppy, who grew still in his hold. Closing the door and locking it once more, he turned to see Wild staring at him in bewilderment.

“You brought it inside?” Wild asked.

“Of course I brought him inside, he’s starving,” Twilight insisted. “Aren’t you, buddy?”

Wild sighed, laying back down and closing his eyes. “Just don’t put him on my bed, I don’t want him making a mess on me.”

Twilight nuzzled the puppy with his cheek. “That means I get all the puppy kisses to myself.”

“And the fleas, probably.”

Twilight paused in mid chuckle, his stomach squirming a little. Ah. Yes. There was that. Then he shook his head. “It’s okay. We’ll get him all cleaned up.” “We?”

Twilight rolled his eyes. “All right, all right, I’ll get him all cleaned up. Can’t sleep anyway. What are we gonna call you, little guy?”

Wild groaned. “We’re not actually keeping him, are we?”

“Of course we are! Where else would he go?”

“A shelter?”

“He’s a baby!”

“He’s a feral puppy. Might as well be a wolf, you don’t just adopt those—”

Twilight gasped in delight. “Wolfie! That’s great, thanks Wild.”

Wild’s mouth became a thin line and then he turned the other way with a defeated sigh. “You’re welcome. Good night.”

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deanwinchesterswitch · 1 year

Text

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas

Part One: A Bad Banana

Square: Advent Calendar ~ @spnchristmasbingo

Song: You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch ~ Pentatonix

Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC

Summary: Nic is not happy about Dean’s Grinchy behavior.

Warnings: Flangst, canon divergence

Word Count: 1,497

Beta: @princessmisery666 I'd be lost without you.

Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the gorgeous title card and divider

Series Master Post

“Dean Rupert Winchester!”

“What’d you do?” Sam chuckles, glancing at a confused-looking Dean sitting across from him.

“N- Nothing,” Dean scoffs, heart rate fluttering in wary fear.

“Dude, she made up a middle name for you. She doesn’t do that unless she’s super pissed.” Closing his laptop, Sam begins to stand. “I think I’ll just-”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean drops his feet to the floor and pushes up from his seat.

Both men freeze at the roar of her voice, “SIT!” and drop back into their respective chairs.

“Why?” she snaps, eyes narrowed and fixed on Dean like daggers pinning him in place.

Not sure what he’s done to provoke her ire, Dean attempts a little bravado even as he squirms in the chair. Giving her a cheeky grin, he jests, “Why does shower sex have to be so complicated? Why does Sam refuse to cut his hair? Why do I love you so much? Gonna need a little more clarification there, Nico.”

The resounding whack of the large booklet that lands on the table in front of him makes him jolt. She leans over, palms flat on the polished wood, bringing herself to eye-level with him. “Why was that in the garbage? Why are ALL of the windows open? Why is all of the candy gone?” Each staccato syllable is pronounced with fierce precision.

“It’s an Advent calendar,” he sneers. “Christianity …the coming of …Chuck. I’m not celebrating that douchebag’s birth.”

“Well, remember, it’s probably not his real birthday; it’s actually the winter sols-” Sam cuts himself off when Nic puffs her cheeks and expels a heavy sigh.

“It’s a Christmas countdown.” She softens her tone. “It’s meant to create excitement and anticipation for the upcoming celebration.”

“What’s to celebrate?” Before she can respond, Dean adds, “Don’t get any ideas about decorating or exchanging gifts either,” and flatly states, “There’s nothing special about it. It’s just another day. We don’t do Christmas. Right, Sammy?”

Sam smartly doesn’t reply, clearing his throat and tucking his chin. Dean frowns, giving his brother the stink eye for not backing him up.

“You agreed to help cut down a tree and decorate the bunker.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did.”

The cute smile that curls her lips momentarily distracts him, and he shakes his head to dislodge thoughts of where those pouty lips were last night and shoves the calendar back across the table in frustration.

Lifting her fingers just enough to stop the book’s forward motion, her eyes remain locked on Dean.

“A couple of months back. When Donna and Jody came by for game night, we started playing that drinking game that you were surprisingly awful at, and Donna kicked your ass. Sam,” she tilts her chin toward the bent head of her friend, “ended up completely wasted.”

Dean smirks when Sam shifts in his seat but continues to avoid eye contact with either of them. Clearly, his traitor of a brother is going to be of no help with the situation. “I remember, but what’s that-”

“I mentioned I wanted to go all-out for Christmas this year,” she cuts him off, “real tree, garland, lights, gifts, the whole shebang. Sam started whining about the hassle, pine needles, the environment, blah, blah, blah. You,” the Cheshire cat grin warns him that she’s going in for the kill, “agreed to everything I wanted to do. I’m pretty sure it was just to annoy Sam, but I have witnesses to your compliance.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “I changed my mind.” He knows he might be pushing back a bit too hard. The low growl she emits gives away her growing frustration. He also knows that he’s being unfair. The night in question, he’d been mesmerized listening to her explain how she wanted to transform the bunker into a winter wonderland. Excitement and hope had started to weave their way into his heart, and he began to believe they could have something normal or, at least, something close to it. Maybe he could have the apple pie life he’d always wished for but never believed he’d get.

In the days following, though, that hope started to dim. Sam seemed content with completing his goal of cataloging every single artifact in the bunker, digitizing all the paper files, and doing less hunting. Dean figured he’d found a new girl, too, as Sam’s thinly veiled excuses of three-day ‘healthy lifestyle’ seminars and serial killer movie theater marathons were lame. Now that Nic had more time to devote to jewelry making, her business had taken off, and she’d been occupied with creating pieces and running her online store.

Which meant Dean had a lot of empty time on his hands. Time to think about what he wanted to do with his life …the life he never thought he deserved or would get to live. What is his purpose now?

It left him feeling unsettled and lost—angry at himself. He doesn’t want to burden Nic with his issues. She’s dealt with them enough over the years, and now that things are going well for her, he doesn’t want to damper her happiness. Yet, here he is doing just that, and he can’t seem to stop himself or keep the anger in check.

“You were so excited when Mrs. Butters manifested Santa’s workshop in here. I thought that you might want to see the bunker decked out like that again.”

“Yeah, well, you know how that almost ended. So, no, I don’t want any reminders of it.”

Narrowing her eyes, she taps her fingers on the calendar as she straightens. A shift in her features indicates she’s going to try a different approach. “What about the beauty of the holiday? The wonder and excitement of it all.” Her smile is sweet and soft. “The spirit of giving. People coming together, helping one another.”

“They should do that every day,” he scoffs, taking a large gulp of his drink. “Not just one day a year.”

“I don’t disagree with that,” she nods, “but I thought that since this is our first year without an apoco-”

“Don’t say it!” he warns, pointing a finger. It’s probably a silly superstition, but it just doesn’t need to be put out there for the universe to hear.

She holds her hands up in surrender, “Okay, not saying it! I just thought we could make something of the holiday for a change.”

“Do what you want, but I won’t be participating.”

Nic jolts at the near-defiant stare Dean aims at her, anger rising to meet his. “You-” she huffs, chest heaving and hands clenching into fists, “you’re a- a …bad banana.”

“A what, now?” Dean asks, brows knitted together, and lips pursed.

“You know,” she sweeps a hand in the air between them, “a greasy black peel …heart an empty hole …seasick crocodile ...“

Sam snorts, and Dean swears the temperature in the room drops ten degrees as she turns a cold glare to his brother. “Are you calling him a Grinch?” Sam’s smirk is large until he raises his head to face her. Happy to have her anger diverted from him, if only briefly, Dean chokes down the laugh bubbling in his throat as Sam’s eyes widen and fear creeps into his features.

“You think this is funny? I’m trying to bring a little joy back into our lives.”

“Uh, well …it was kind of … “ Sam finally shuts up under the intensity of her stare.

Dean draws her attention, clearing his throat. “Remember the year you got poison ivy from that Christmas tree farm while tracking a pack of werewolves? Or the year you bought that cheap mangled tree hoping to liven up the crappy motel we were stuck in and it ended up being full of stick bugs? Or what about the year that Sam and I were almost ritualistically sacrificed? Nothing good happens for us at Christmas.”

Narrowing her eyes, Nic forcefully shoves the calendar back in his direction and declares, “We’ll see about that!” briskly walking away and leaving Dean to choose between saving his drink from being spilled or letting the book slide off the table. He chooses his drink, cringing when a stiff cardboard corner pokes him in the gut.

A distant door slams a few moments later, and Sam gives a low whistle. “You should go after her.”

“Nope. I learned my lesson a few years back. She needs time to cool down. You know that.”

“Would it really be so bad to have some kind of celebration? You know how much she loves this time of year,” Sam attempts to initiate a concession.

“You want to participate in all that commercialized crap? Go ahead, but the two of you can leave me out of it.” Dean snatches the half-empty bottle of whiskey and his glass from the table as he stands, letting the countdown calendar fall to the floor without a glance as he storms out of the room.

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @michellethetvaddict // @mvdeanw // @shawnie74 // @siospins2 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

#spnchristmasbingo #advent calendar #tgwrc: part one #a bad banana #122222

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loststarphounix · 8 months

Text

Soudam Week Day 2 - Even

A/N: I had a fic that fits this prompt that I was working on, so this is longer due to me using it for the prompt lol More of my ‘Kazuichi can too bake/cook” headcanon propaganda!

It all started because Kazuichi got cornered.

Apparently, he was still somehow obligated to give his “friends” from middle school free shit and unlimited access to his classmates when he got accepted into Hope’s Peak Academy. It didn’t matter to them if they had dumped him as a friend first - it was the principal of the matter.

More like bruised pride in his humble opinion, but who asked him?

He had already accepted his fate when he tried to lose them by making a mad dash out of the shopping center, panic lacing through his veins he heard the familiar, passive aggressive tone of his once best friend demand he come over to “talk”. Kazuichi lived with an abusive father longed enough to know that “talk” doesn’t actually mean a conversation.

It didn’t take them long to corner him in a back alley, and their ire and indignation wasn’t much a surprise when he continued to deny them of they thought was theirs.

What was surprising, though, was that someone stopped them when they started beating him.

Kazuichi didn’t know when or where Gundham came from, but one moment he was on the ground curled up as three guys circled overhead, and the next they were all pulled away and fighting the breeder. It was honestly so surreal that all he could do was watch as the taller teen moved and fought with the motions of someone who’s fought for years. And being bombarded by 6 foot something of rabid animosity wasn’t something his old “friends” weren’t prepared for.

They didn’t last long and by the time the mechanic struggled to get on his knees, the three were already running off, their half assed threats lingering in the stink filled air. Kazuichi watched as the other breathed harshly, took in the leather long coat that the other stupidly refused to take off but somehow didn’t even have a tear in, stretch with each haggard breath.

When the other turned towards him, he flinched at the dark look in his mismatched eyes and the bit of blood at the corner of his lip. The dark look fell away at his wince, being replaced with barely concealed concern.

“Mortal?” Gundham asked and fuck even his voice sounded like it went a couple rounds.

Kazuichi scrambled to get on his feet and the speed of which he did it made his feet away dangerously for a second, “Why did you do that!?” He hissed. “They could’ve beaten you to a pulp!”

“Such a queer way of giving thanks to your Overlord. If I had not intervened, you would have surely perished.”

“W-whatever!“ the blush that burned hot on the shorter teens cheeks distracted him from the weird fluttering the goth gave and he shakily stalked passed him and out the alley, ignoring the other’s indigent calls.

As he semi limped back to the academy, Kazuichi vowed to put it behind him. But now, almost two days later and it was all he could think about. It hung over his head like a dark cloud, circling back and forth between the start of the fight and the look of concern. Not many people were ever concerned for him. So few even showed it.

It…it made the fluttering in his stomach grow and he didn’t know how he felt about it.

So, to get the feelings of guilt to leave him alone, he decided to do something about it. He would make something as a sorta thanks sorta sorry gift that Gundham couldn’t refused!

And who would ever say no to homemade baked goods?

Kazuichi decided that his first step was talking to Sonia. She knew Gundham better than anyone in their class, and they’ve been having a sorta good relationship now. He knew he didn’t have a chance with her and she knew he was genuinely trying to be her friend. She wouldn’t fail him in his mission in making Gundham something!

The next day, he approached her after class and the princess was surprised he came up to her for anything other than the fake flirting they usually do, then became suspicious of his motives before declaring that she would oversee his baking to ensure that he wasn’t trying to poison the Dark Overlord.

Which, ok fair but also really fucking insulting because he wouldn’t just tamper with someone’s food. Tamper with the supply chain maybe - make sure it never arrives at the destination- but not full out tainting it. He’s not Hiyoko.

But at least she agreed to help and that had to mean something, didn’t it? He didn’t act clinging, didn’t break out into song or tap dancing down the halls. He just simply thanked her and set a time Friday evening when Teruteru wouldn’t be there and they parted ways. And it was pleasant too! They’ve come a long way from first year!

So he found it a bit rude to then be immediately ambushed and interrogated by his so called best friends, who demanded to know what he was doing bothering Sonia now.

Which, fair again but rude. And after pleading his case while ducking punches from a angry yakuza, the two decide that too will join in on this “baking” to ensure he doesn’t “fuck this up”.

And that’s how he found himself in the kitchen, kneading dough with Sonia sitting in a chair opposite him; Hajime hovering by his shoulder and Fuyuhiko leaning against a wall.

With a spread of options in front of him, Kazuichi decided to get down to business.

“A cake would be too much, so a dozen cookies will have to do. What about filling, though? Like - does his Iceness have a favorite flavor?” He asked Sonia, who seemed to take the question seriously as she hummed distractedly. “There’s chocolate - that’s always a popular one. Or vanilla or red bean? Maybe peaches and cream? If he likes bitter or tart stuff, maybe the matcha or citrus…”

“Gundham’s tastes are not all that different from yours - though his is much more moderate.” Sonia commented, “He is particularly fond of angel’s fruit!”

Kazuichi blinked.

“Angel’s fruit?”

“It’s another name for papaya.” Hajime piped up, looking up from his phone.

“Never done papaya filling before…” A contemplative look settles on the mechanic’s face, fingers tapping on the marble surface. “Shouldn’t be too hard though. You guys are gonna have to be my tasters, though.”

Sonia clapped her hands together in excitement. “Splendid! I’ll get the papayas!”

As she hurried over to the pantry, Kazuichi’s attention fixated on the recipe. The cookie base was simple enough, but the recipe for the filing was strawberry jame and he had no idea how to portion for the papaya. It’s gonna be a challenge.

Fuyuhiko saddled up beside him and he jumped. He forgot the other was even in there with them, he’d been unusually quiet since they first entered the kitchen. Turning to face the blond, he began to squirm under the scrutinizing gaze.

“W-what?” He muttered, ducking his head. Fuyuhiko shook his head, amazement coloring his tone.

“Nothing. Just can’t believe you were actually serious about this shit.”

Kazuichi huffed as he reached for the flour and mixing bowl. “You’re one to talk. You didn’t have shit about that mousse I made you last month!”

He watched somewhat amused as his friends eyes widen and he sputtered. “That was you!?? I had Peko help me look for the bakery you mentioned! Motherfucker you lead me on a goosechase!”

“You acted like I was lying about making Akane that cake once! Even after she said I did it, you still didn’t believe me!”

“Come on! I can’t see you being a mechanic and a fucking baker!”

“But I’m supposed to believe you can be yakuza and a nice guy and have the biggest sweet tooth I’ve ever seen!?”

“He’s gotcha there.” Hajime commented from his position by the pantry, a bag of sugar in his hands.

Opening his mouth as if to object, the yakuza heir froze. Turning away with he huff, he crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring their snickering.

“Both of you bastards shut the fuck up.”

“If we are quite done!” Sonia chirped, placing several oblong greenish fruit on the counter. “We are on a tight schedule.”

“You’re right.” Ignoring the amused look Hajime threw at him, Kazuichi grabbed an apron and tied it behind his back.

It was time to start baking.

——

Gundham opened his door and blinked.

After nearly three days of no contact, he found Kazuichi standing outside his realm, holding out a surprisingly well wrapped rectangle.

“Here.” The mechanic shoved the small box closer to his face. It made the taller reel back in surprise.

“What is the meaning of this!?” He demanded, his voice raising in surprise before he composed himself. “Have you decided to try to vanquish the great Gundham Tanaka? It will take more than mere tricks to fall a demon as powerful as I!”

The shorter teen sputtered and his affronted face made the breeder pause as he slammed the box into the others chest. The force behind it made him slightly breathless, but he tried to not show it. And if his cheeks tinted a bit at the contact, he tried to ignore it.

“There thanks for the other day!” Kazuichi replied, his face as bright as his hair as his eyes skittered away. “Now we’re even!”

And without another word, he scurried away, leaving Gundham holding the wrapped box against his chest. Looking down, he gently tugged the ribbon until it opened up and revealed small cookies, each filled with an orange yellow centered.

“Confectioneries?” He picked one up and examined it closely.

Scoffing, he placed it back into the box and returned to his dorm. How preposterous.

—-

Apparently, he had made them from scratch.

Sonia had explained that to him later in the afternoon, when she came for their daily demonic training. She proudly stated how she supervised the whole thing and even had took a few for herself and her girlfriends.

”Who knew Souda-Kun was such a wonderful baker!” Sonia exclaimed, taking a dainty bite from one she brought from her own dorm. “How have you found them? Is the papaya too much?”

Gundham shook his head. ”I have yet to consume them. I had assumed that the Tamer of Machines had done something untoward to them.”

He glanced at his desk where the box rested and Sonia hummed.

”Well, be sure to have some and tell me what you think!”

Once their training had concluded and she had left, Gundham decided to have just one of the small cookies. If Sonia, Hajime and Fuyuhiko all saw the mechanic make them, then surely they haven’t been tampered with.

‘What can one truly hurt?’

He took a bite and was surprised at how delicious it was. Flavorful, but not too overpowering, with just the right amount of crispness. And the jam was tart but sweet. A perfect melody of flavors.

Gundham was surprised how delicious the tiny cookie was and found himself grabbing one more, before going out to preform him duties at the academy’s farm.

—-

The cookies were gone in less than two days.

Gundham could not believe how much his cursed body enjoyed them - let alone to the point that they were consumed at such a rate. Usually he was very sparing in his intake of junk food - most went bad before he’d even make a dent to it.

He didn’t even notice that he ate almost the entire bag, until his fingers only grazed against one single treat. The lone survivor.

Now he was sitting at his desk, holding the small round cookie up to the light as if he held all the secrets in the universe.

Madness. That had to be the answer.

“What potion has the Mechanical Tamer drenched these treats to enthrall a demon? Surely he is more crafty a mortal than I previously suspected. I shall keep this one to examine it’s contents!”

The cookie soon joined its fallen brethren two hours later.

Gundham decided that he must have more of those demonic delicacies. He needed to know what components combined to ensure him so throughly. But how to acquire them?

He decided to interrogate the answers out of Hajime, the mechanic’s greatest companion, but was met with less than stellar results.

“You could probably just ask? Kaz usually has me taste test stuff a lot of the time.”

Preposterous!

Surely he could get them another way.

Luckily, an opportunity arose when Kazuichi had been transporting some kind of heavy machinery. And Nagito just so happened to be nearby and caused a blowback of bad luck.

He acted quickly and rescued the mechanic just before the machinery slammed against a wall. He held onto the other tightly, feeling the shorter hearts beat hard against his own chest. Hands gripped the back of his leather jacket and warmth spread from his chest up his neck.

“Holy shit!” Kazuichi cried out, pushing away slightly to look at the broken mangle of parts scattering the floor. “I could’ve been wall pizza!”

“What a vivid picture your mind conjures.” He murmured, making the pink hair teen look back up to him.

The surprise and wonder that shone in those rose colored eyes made his heart speed up.

“You just waiting in the wings to save my life or what?” The mechanic whispered and the tone made the warmth creep up Gundham’s neck.

“Hardly. However, I do expect some kind of compensation for sparing you such a gruesome fate.” Feeling brave, he made sure to keep eye contact with the other as he continued, “Perhaps another batch of your intoxicating confectioneries?”

Kazuichi looked slightly dazed, before a radiant smile split across his face. Gundham had to admit, that it was pleasant to gaze upon.

“It’s only fair. Maybe we can just skip you saving me next time?”

Years go by, and Gundham will find ways to get rewarded with Kazuichi’s papaya cookies, even if the other will gripe about how he’ll make them for him anyway. Whenever anyone asks how he and Gundham got together, Kazuichi’s face splits into a dopey ass grin before loudly proclaiming:

“Ya know, way to a guys heart is through his stomach. He liked my pies but stayed for my cakes!”

#soudam #soudam fic #Soudam week 2023 #soudam week #more of Kazuichi can bake #souda kazuichi #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda #gundham tanaka #danganronpa 2 #soudham

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cthulhu-calling · 2 years

Text

kill the lights and kiss my eyes : new beginnings

Natasha Romanoff x female!Reader

Summary : You never knew what love was, not until Natasha. But now that the King has his eye on you, will your perfect little world come crumbling down?

Warnings : medieval AU, smut, fluff, MISCARRIAGE, second marriages

Author's Note : Okaayy, the end is here! I wrote and rewrote it this so many times but honestly, I'm still not satisfied with how this turned out. I might revisit this on a later day and reedit the whole thing. This is not proofread so all mistakes are my own. I might do an epilogue if anyone is interested but for the time being, this series is over and if y'all are expecting some BuckyxReader smut than I'm sorry lol but this story ain't about him. Thank you to each and every one of you who stuck around and left comments and kudos, it made my day every time. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for reading this :))

Word Count : 3224

series masterlist

The next month goes by in a whirlwind of preparations and meetings, accords signed and dress fittings made. You felt like you hardly had a second to slow down, catch your breath. You never did have any rosy dreams about marriage, not after how you witnessed men treat their wives growing up. Your father, your brother, your brother-in-law, none of them could ever be able to spare an ounce of respect for their wives, forget about love.

But you keep on looking forward. You don’t let the ire and the snide comments of the other ladies get to you, beyond trying to prove your innocence in their so-called plot of ensnaring the King. All that matters is that Natasha knew the truth. You’d been seeing less and less of her as of lately. Your father had railed on you that night, asking how could you have given in so easy? He could have milked the King for so much more. You stayed silent, knowing nothing you say or do will quell his anger at you in the moment. As for the King, he was ever the same. Lecherous looks across the room, wandering hands and a nasty mouth. He showered you in gifts, little compensation for the disgust you felt every time he touched you. It made you wonder, was that all that you were truly worth, your body? He swore up and down that he loved you, but you were sure he once did the same to many before you, even Natasha, and look where you’ve all ended up?

The day of the wedding looms closer and it feels like a noose tightening around your neck. Your meetings with Natasha grow infrequent though not by your choice. She keeps her distance and you can no longer pretend that it doesn’t shatter your heart every time your eyes meet, only for her to swiftly avert hers. You take all that hurt and lock it in a box, deep in your heart. You can’t help but wonder though, if just like her husband, will her eye shift to someone new?

Your apathy towards Lord Rogers remains much the same and though you do catch his smouldering looks from time to time, he was the least of your concerns. You embellish your plain wedding vows to the King’s satisfaction. Everything is to the King’s tastes though you don’t mind, having no desire to make choices. Keep the ceremony as impersonal as possible. Most days you roamed the castle halls in a daze, following where the wedding planners would direct you, trying on dresses and updos. You were little more than a doll, dressing up and looking pretty was all you had to do. Your days had taken on a sort of monotone, the routine bringing you a much needed reprieve from the constant noise inside your mind. You find no reason to rejoice in your predicament knowing just how precarious your position is, existing on the periphery of one man’s ever shifting desires.

When you retire to your chambers for the night, separate from the other ladies now that you were to wed the King, you’re shocked to find Natasha awaiting your arrival. She looks as ravishing as ever though the bags under her eyes betray her true predicament.

“My Queen,” you eke out almost breathlessly, nervous all of a sudden. She was the last person you expected to see sitting there. She smiles gently as she walks to you, holding her hands out in front of her, quickly pulling you close.

“I missed you, my love,” she sighs into your hair, breathing in the familiar smell of you in.

You pull away from her but she doesn’t let your hands go, your eyes betraying the hurt you feel although your tone does not.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” You try to laugh it off, the way one would who’s trying to brush off the hurt they feel.

She sighs loudly, cupping your cheek in her palm, forcing you to look at her. “I couldn’t be as I’ve always been, it would be far too suspicious. The ladies are already speaking conspiratorially,” she says.

“But you could’ve told me before. Do you know how much it hurt? To have you always looking in the other direction, never once acknowledging my presence? Even behind closed doors?” You question tearfully.

“I know, my love. But I beg you, please, try to understand my reasons for it. I derive no pleasure in denying myself your company. But it had to be done,” she pleads with you.

You understand her reasoning now, of course you do, but it does little to do away the agony you carried in your chest for the past few weeks. You sniffle softly, nodding your head. “What are the ladies saying about me?” You wonder out loud and Natasha laughs softly before answering.

“They really seem to believe the only reason you were close to me was because you had your sights set on the King. They really do take their Queen for a fool, don’t they?” She laughs, pulling you besides her on the bed.

“I wouldn’t know, none of them will speak to me unless it’s to let me know how I’ve betrayed you, of how I’m the interloper,” you shrug.

Natasha clutches your hand tighter, making you look at her.

“Don’t believe their vitriolic words. As if they wouldn’t trade everything to be in your shoes.”

You suppose she is right. Who wouldn’t want to be Queen?

“We can talk about them all day but I have something more important to discuss,” she says, pulling you closer besides her, your hands in hers. You feel her slip something into your palm. You open it to find a beautiful silver anklet, bejewelled with tiny rubies. It’s vibrant red colour is exactly the colour that she so loves seeing on you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, holding the delicate piece in your hands.

“I want you to wear it everyday. Something to remind you of me,” she says and you nod, holding out your foot as she clasps it around your ankle. It catches the light, glistening with an insurmountable beauty.

She admires it, her hand slowly moving up your leg, rubbing slow circles on your knee, your long skirt pushed up. Before she can move any further, you push her hands away, standing up to undo the laced front of your gown, pulling it off and leaving you in just your shift. As if just shaken out of a daze, she does the same before she’s pulling you close, her lips hungry against yours. They slowly move down your neck as she avoids leaving marks on your neck, lavishing her attention on your nipples, licking one as her hand massages the other. She continues down your body, leaving little kisses down your stomach, her tongue poking into your navel before she moves on, sucking tiny dark marks on your hip bones. You can’t do much but close your eyes in bliss, your fingers cradling through her hair.

Her fingers slowly run up and down your folds, spreading the wetness. “You’re so wet for me, my love,” she says, a husky quality to her tone that has you clenching on nothing. “Please, I need you,” you whine and she chuckles, clicking her tongue.

“Patience, my love,” she says as she licks a stripe up your folds, circling your clit. You throw your head back, a needy whine erupting from your throat. When she feels satisfied that she’s made you needy enough, she slowly enters two of her fingers, the ring and the middle, into your tight, dripping hole, moving them in and out at an almost agonising pace, only increasing her pace when you whine. She’s never done something like this before. Her fingers stay inside of you as they’re moving up and down in an odd fashion, her mouth sucking your clit with a renewed vigour as you’re positively shaking. Your legs are quivering from her constant onslaught of pleasure and when her fingers hit a certain spot that has you seeing stars, you let out a loud shriek, as if prompting her to go faster and harder. She doubles down and you don’t even realise what’s happening when you cum all over her fingers, your whole body shaking in the afterglow. She pulls her fingers out of you slowly, lightly slapping your cunt with her other hand as she sucks her fingers into her mouth. You try to push her hand away, the feeling growing to be too much but she simply swats your hand away, continuing her ministrations. She quickly switches to rubbing your clit again and you cry out, trying to stop her by trapping her fingers in between your thighs but it doesn’t faze her. She simply bites your thigh, causing them to part as her mouth quickly replaces her hand. You’re drowning in pleasure, simultaneously pulling her closer to your cunt and pushing her away although you both know she's the one who’s truly in charge. You don’t let go of each other, not until she’s pulled another couple of orgasms from your prone body. The night ends with her riding your face, stopping only when her legs can no longer support her. She falls on her back besides you, both of you breathing heavy, the cool jewels around your anklet a contrast to your heated skin.

Natasha won’t say it out loud but to her, the bejewelled anklet is something that binds you to her, almost like shackles around your ankle. But she won’t admit it, ever.

It’s only a week to the wedding and the bride and groom are prohibited from seeing each other though you welcome this reprieve from his wandering hands and acid touch. You’re seeing less and less of Natasha too, much to your chagrin. You wore the ruby studded anklet still.

June, to your surprise, couldn’t be happier at the prospect of you getting married to her father. Wouldn’t that make you her mother of sorts? She made her feelings on the matter clear, that you were her choice over Lady Morwenna, or any other ladies at court for that matter. You were with her in the garden, weaving flower crowns. She wants you to wear one for the wedding and you oblige, obviously.

The comfortable quiet that cloaks you and June is disturbed by the clearing of a throat and you look up to find intent azure orbs gazing at you. You hold back a grimace, the pit in your stomach deepening at the sight of him.

“Your Majesty,” you rise to your feet. “It’s only a week until the wedding. We aren’t supposed to see each other,” you admonish and he waves you off with a scoff. He dismisses June with a wave of his hand and much to your chagrin, she obliges and runs off.

“The Queen and I kept every little tradition and look at where that got us. It’s not these things that make a happy marriage, it’s much more,” he whispers huskily as he pulls you close by the waist. You fight the urge to push him away, accepting his embrace with a straight face. The King might not believe in these little traditions but a little part of you always had. You weren’t naive enough to believe that these little things guaranteed a happy and long lasting marriage but the fact that they were still upheld for generations before you had to count for something, right?

“I suppose you are right,” you shrug as his hands shamelessly glide over your curves.

“I cannot wait for our wedding night. The day looms closer and you do tempt me so my love,” he whispers in your ear and a shiver of disgust rolls down your spine.

“I understand Your Majesty but we must wait. Now that’s one tradition I refuse to forgo of,” you admonish, hoping and praying to the Lord that he might accept it and let you go. You couldn’t stand to be alone with him any longer. Now that you were to be wed to this man, no one would bat an eye at the lack of a chaperone.

“I can respect that. It is only six days before you are completely mine,” he says with a final squeeze of your hip as he lets you go.

I’d nothing else, it brings you comfort to know that you will not be completely his. You can never be.

You sit motionless as the women flutter around you, fixing your makeup and making last minute arrangements to your veil. You decided on leaving your natural and open, a dainty flower crown of lavenders adorning your forehead. You wouldn’t remove the anklet Natasha gave you, much to the displeasure of your mother. But even you had to admit, you looked ethereal.

The ride in the carriage to the church was short, almost too short. It was odd. After weeks where you weren’t left alone for more than a few minutes, the sudden solitude of the coach was suffocating. It’s funny, you suppose, the women at your side as you readied to march to your doom but you’re undeniably alone when push comes to shove.

Natasha won’t be at the ceremony and you’re glad for it. You’re not sure you’d be able to stand there with her watching. Your mind would no doubt be overrun with the thought of how happy you would be if only Nat was in His Majesty’s place.

You walk down the aisle in a daze, not noticing the myriad of faces surrounding you. Your father’s proud gaze, your mother and sister already tearing up, the ladies that cannot disguise their contempt, Lord Rogers’ face a mix of misery and anger. You simply focus on walking towards the man who holds your life in his palms. You’re nothing but a mere puppet to his whims and fancies.

You go through your vows without noticing. You know you won’t mess up when they’ve been rehearsed and re-rehearsed to perfection. You kiss him when the minister allows you to but you don’t feel it. You don’t feel the hunger on his lips, the victory. You don’t even feel the butter sting of your defeat. Maybe you’ve just gone numb or maybe it’s the wine. By the smirk on his lips, you think he can tell.

You ride back to the palace together and you’re thankful that the ride is short enough that he can’t do more than just paw at your breasts like an animal. Your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t deter him.

Natasha’s handmaiden leads you to your former chambers for you to ready, much to your surprise. The jealousy and hatred of the ladies pretty much seals the fate on their arrival but you are thankful for their absence.

The handmaiden, Mina, ushers you in and shuts the door behind her, leaving you alone and confused. You sit at the vanity, wondering what to do when you hear the ruffling of skirts and soft footsteps behind you.

“Why do you look so confused, my love?” Natasha’s voice pierces through the silence and your breath hitches at the sight of her. She is dressed in a delicate pink gown, the one you suspect she wore at her wedding, her hair adorned with a beautiful mix of lavenders and daisies.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, confused but not averse to the idea of her being here.

“Why, I’m here to celebrate my wedding night with my lovely wife,” she says as she gently cups your cheek and you lean into her touch.

“I don’t understand,” you admit and she smiles, a genuine one, filled with love and adoration.

“James is bound in holy matrimony to the both of us so doesn’t that bind us in a way too? Am I wrong then, to call you my wife? To want to share this night with you, on our marital bed?” She asks and you can hear the vulnerability in her tone that brings tears to your eyes.

“I am yours, forever. I am bound to you just as I am to him. Maybe even more deeply,” you say as she sighs in relief and pulls you in for a kiss, leading you towards the bed. She starts kissing down your throat, pulling off your dress when you stop her, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What about His Majesty?” You frown.

She chuckles before continuing to make her way down your torso, stopping to gently bite your nipple. “I’ve made sure that he’ll be too drunk to do much. He always had a habit of imbibing far too much,” she says between kisses. You chuckle and pull her close for another kiss, flipping her on her back swiftly.

She gasps softly and you smirk. “And that’s why I love you,” you tell her.

“That’s the only reason?” She asks and you smile to yourself before kissing down her neck. “Yeah, and because of these beautiful breasts… Your soft stomach…. Your strong legs…and, this tight pussy,” you say as you kiss down her body before finally reaching her centre. She’s wearing nothing underneath the dress, granting you all the permission you need. You suck her clit into your mouth as she drapes her thighs over your shoulders and pulls you closer to her wet cunt. Two of your fingers slowly delve into her hole, softly looking for the spot and when she moans airily, you know you’ve found it. You rub her g-spot softly as you suck her clit in your mouth. She’s a mess above you, tugging on your hair with one hand as the other pinches at her own nipples. She’s cum thrice before you finally stop, sitting back to catch your breath as she lays there, panting. You can’t help but smile at the thought that she is your wife.

Nat gently tugs on your hand as you turn to look at her.

“Sit on my face,” she commands and you’re about to complain when she pinches your side.

“Just do what I say, this night is about the both of us,” she says as she pulls you closer, manoeuvring your knees onto either side of her face as her hands frame your lower back, pulling you lower onto her face. She laps at your folds slowly before sucking your clit into her mouth as your fingers find purchase in her scarlet locks. You ride her face until your legs are shaking and you can no longer support yourself, falling down besides her. You’re exhausted but still a woozy smile adorns your face just like it does her.

Natasha couldn’t leave marks on you no matter how much she wanted to but you made up for it by leaving more than enough marks on her, her pale skin littered with deep red and maroon bruises and crescent moons adoring her thighs where you’d gripped them a little too hard.

You couldn’t imagine sex with His Majesty would come even close to this but you knew it had to happen. So once Natasha is asleep, you slip away with a note left for her on the pillow :

I may walk alone in the night’s chill,

But the taste of you lingers on my lips still.

#soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #angst #fluff #bucky barnes #cheating #female reader #medieval au #tw miscarriage #steve rogers #sam wilson #smut #original female characters #second marriage

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manufactoredxbyxdesign · 7 months

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IMPRESSED (I’m back again, indulge me bby~)

IMPRESSED for a scene from my muse's past in which they tried to impress someone, successfully or not

Her laugh is distinctive from any other he has heard before - just a bit too long and breathy. When she gingerly leans to pluck the tiny card nestled beside the box he notices that her nail polish is the exact same hue as the roses someone else has left on the counter beside her. A fact that he has noted before of course, because he has watched her from just out of the corner of his peripheral every single day for the last three ways.

As she delicately tugs the ribbon, guiding the bow until it completely unravels, he sips from his coffee and pretends to gaze down at the notes spread across the desk in front of him.

Beneath the calm there is a thunderous heartbeat that quickens each time her head turns and he swears that she's looked his way. Never knowing that this moment had been meticiously and neatly curated months before. Processed over and over in his mind like the lines of a place.

Every detail was perfected. The box is blue because that was her favorite colour. The card has a swan printed across the corner because she loves birds. The carefully folded tissue paper nestled inside smells faintly of cinnamon and he imagines her inhaling it sweetly when she leans down and starts to push it aside.

"Oh, huh...." When her hand carefully wraps around it the scene deviates. He watches the smile fade from her fade and it is as if a pin has burst the moment like a balloon.

The necklace had been the source of jewelers ire for many months. Each new sketch to revise the design and the placement of the stones wearing the old mans brow down until every time he saw Albert it created a perfectly straight line. But it was perfect. A delicate gold swirl inspired by the movement of a dancer with tiny emeralds lining the center.

She blinks. Staring down at it for so longer that it feels like someone's got a hand squeezed around his throat.

Then she lets out a side, and he watches with a growing icy streaming through his veins as she sets it down and nudges the box to the corner of her desk. When one of their colleagues drifts by with a warm cup of tea he fleetingly steals a glimpse of bright red hair, his mouth drying as her delicate hand shoves the box towards the other woman.

"Here, you can have it. I don't wear that sort of stuff anyways."

#- - (ic)#- - [drabble]#[rip Albert]

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bunnakit · 8 months

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Hold Me (Like a Knife) Preview

my changun fic finally broke 3k words and i finished what i kinda consider the first act so here's what i've got so far, enjoy (or don't idk your life or preferences)

Chan swallows his nerves and his guilt as he approaches the compound. The guards nod, some even give him a small wave, as he passes through the halls. He keeps up the pretense of propriety; there are expectations for a main family guard and he means to uphold them. He’s still fairly new, only finished his training a year ago, and he tries his best to keep from stepping out of line. There’s just one vice he can’t resist.

He stops in front of the vibrant green door, shaking his head with a small smile at the gaudy color. His knuckle has barely tapped the wood twice before he hears an answering call.

“Come in.”

He shares a look with the guard posted outside who offers the smallest shake of his head in response to Chan’s lifted brow. A bad day then. That's fine, Chan is good at calming Gun’s ire and keeping him distracted.

He slips into the room quickly, shutting and locking the door behind him with a soft ‘click!’ that draws Gun’s gaze just the way he had hoped. He has that little wrinkle between his brow and his face is set into the scowl he makes when he’s ruminating over something that will inevitably piss him off. Chan takes a few large strides and sits in the armchair across from Gun’s. He doesn’t reach out to touch him, knows it wouldn’t be appreciated, so he sits with one leg crossed over the other and hands folded in his lap patiently.

“I thought you couldn’t get away.” Gun gestures with his chin towards the pager sitting at the corner of the coffee table.

“Khun Korn allowed me the rest of the evening off after a successful mission last night,” He explains, watching Gun’s jaw tick before his tongue rolls around in front of his teeth. If he’d had any doubts on what had soured Gun’s mood they were all now laid to rest.

“How generous of him.” Gun practically spits the words with all the venom in his body and Chan closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this again, doesn’t want their little time alone soured by a war of attrition between brothers and blood rights. He knows things aren’t easy for Gun, he’s had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of success he could eke out from under his brother, and Chan’s guilt grows each time his loyalty teeters perfectly in the center.

He remembers their conversation a year and a month ago, sat under the dim lights of a noodle shop at three in the morning.

Chan’s knuckles were bruised, a cut bisected his lips, and there was a distinct imprint of a boot outlined against his dark shirt. He pressed the frosty glass of beer to his cheek which was already swollen and mottled a rainbow of different colors. He glanced up as Gun returned from the pay phone outside, hating the concern he saw in his eyes.

“Don’t start.” He mumbled, lowering his glass to take a long drink before licking away the foam on his upper lip. Gun made a soft ‘tch’ sound as he sat back down, drinking his own beer and digging into the steaming bowl of noodles that had arrived in his absence.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, Chan. I think it’s time to consider my offer.” Gun gave him a pointed look before diving into his food.

Chan lifted his glass to his cheek again, watching the broth of his soup cool and separate. He watched the little globules of fat dance around on the surface before heaving a large sigh that irritated his bruised ribs.

“Fine.” He knew he sounded defeated but there really wasn’t any other way around it. If he continued fighting his brother’s debtors like this he’d end up dead in an alleyway somewhere. Who would miss him, anyway? He had no one left that would even know he was gone – no one except for Gun.

“Good. I’ll pick you up in a few days and we can get you settled in at the compound.” Gun had that pleased little upturn to the corner of his lip and suddenly Chan couldn’t remember why he’d been fighting this all so hard.

But Khun Korn had ruined that as well. Chan had been cornered the very next day and made an offer to join the latest batch of recruits for the main family. He hadn’t been in a position to decline if the gun held by the head of the guards was any indication. Gun had been apoplectic, storming the halls of the tower with teeth bared and accusations loaded. Chan hadn’t been there for it, but he’d heard the rumors and seen the way the other guards looked at him.

All his free time had then been monopolized by Khun Korn and the rigorous training planned for the new recruits. He’d excelled at firearms training but struggled with escaping his bonds underwater. His only skills were what he had learned in back alley brawls and schoolyard tousles, far removed from the ex-military and gang-born men that had been around him.

He blinks back into the present, watching as Gun anxiously rubs at his outgrown stubble and tosses a stack of papers onto the table. Chan decides to rise from his chair, feeling Gun’s eyes on him the entire way to the drink cart where he pours them each a few fingers of whiskey – the good stuff.

“He was pretty upset you managed to solidify that drug deal with the Italians.” It wasn’t leaking information if it was obvious, merely an olive branch. It is worth it when he hands Gun a drink and watches his lips curl into a smile.

“Come here.” He stops when Gun gently tugs at his wrist and guides him to sit beside him on the sofa. Little moments like this have a way of bringing a flutter to his chest and relaxing all his bones. He misses his best friend in the tower, misses these scarce days when they can shed their roles and settle back into what they were before they became entangled in the dichotomy of the major and minor families.

They clink their glasses and each takes a sip before settling against the cushions at the back of the couch. Gun’s hand falls to rest on his thigh and Chan hides a smile behind the rim of his glass at the sensation. It’s grounding; draws him back to the now, and pushes away his guilt and his worries.

He turns his head just in time to feel Gun’s lips press against his, his stubble scraping against the corners and the hand on his thigh tightening its grip until it almost feels like he’s extracting the tendon from his flesh. Kissing Gun is something like pouring gasoline on a house fire; explosive, volatile, untamed. He wishes he wouldn’t get swept away in it each time he feels the flames lick up the walls of his ribcage. He doesn’t think a tidal wave could cool the burning longing in his chest.

It’s sweet agony when Gun shoves him backward onto the sofa, glass tumbling from his hand and rolling across the floor. He can't remember if it had been empty but he knows he doesn’t care as Gun’s hands spread the flames across his hips, his waist, and his chest; fisting the lapel of his coat and almost tearing it from his shoulders. His arms are caught behind his back, chest forward and shoulders straining as his mind flickers back to hours of training to escape his bonds. He feels Gun’s tongue lick a molten stripe from his collar to his jaw and he can’t help the way his mouth falls open in a ragged groan.

He knows the guard outside the door can hear them, knows he can probably pick up the sound of his belt hitting the floor, but that’s just something else he can’t bring himself to care about at this moment. His eyes roll back and he arches into every touch on his bare skin, a moth to a flame that he knows will inevitably leave him a pile of ash.

“Good, you came prepared.” Gun’s voice is low, a deep timber that has Chan moving his shoulders, desperate to reach out and embrace him, but Gun seems disinclined to remove him from his makeshift bonds. He swallows the whimper rising in his throat at the feeling of long fingers crooking inside him, prodding and stroking and teasing until he’s panting open-mouthed and dappled in sweat.

It wasn’t always like this. They used to take their time to pull each other apart piece by piece. They used to lay in bed together after, teeth clicking as they tried to kiss through their smiles. They’d spent hours upon hours basking in the afterglow and tracing gentle patterns across flushed, sweat-soaked skin. He used to linger in bed, watching Gun dress in the fragile hours of the morning, before stealing a kiss and whispering goodbye.

Now, he pulls his belt off the floor and threads it through the loops of his trousers. Gun is pouring himself a drink, half a room away at the drink cart, and he knows he’s been all but dismissed. He smoothes out the wrinkles in his jacket and touches the raw skin of his neck. “You left marks.” He tries to keep his voice from sounding accusatory but he can’t tell if they’re bites, bruises, or beard burn. He presses his fingers into the sting just a little harder before dropping his hands back to his sides.

“You’ll figure something out,” Gun replies and returns to his seat on the couch. He picks up the papers again without a second look at Chan and he swallows down the disappointment. There’s no second glass offered, no invitation to stay, and Chan knows it’s time to leave. He’s fulfilled his purpose today and soaked up any attention he was allotted.

“I always do,” he mumbles under his breath, turning towards the door and stepping through without a goodbye. His mind digs up a memory of Gun pressing him to the very same door, refusing to let him leave before he’d pressed a kiss to his brow, his cheek, his nose, his jaw, and his lips. He clenches his hands in his pockets as he nods a farewell to the guards at the gate and climbs into his car.

He makes it two blocks before pulling over, tucking himself away down a residential street and pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. His hands are clenched in a white-knuckled grip and his stomach roils with self-loathing and guilt. He is a traitor in every sense of the word; to Gun, to Khun Korn, and lastly (always lastly) to himself.

His skin feels like it’s crawling and he tells himself it’s just the sensation of putting himself back together. Each time he grabs the pieces of his humanity from the ashes they fit together less and less; edges worn away and ill-fitting. He should be tempered to the flame by now but as with all things he files it away as a personal failing to ruminate on in the quiet hours of the night.

After a few more moments he pulls away from the curb, continuing his way to the tower and pulling into the parking lot beneath. He returns the keys to the peg board next to the elevator and steps inside, jamming the button for the dorm rooms a little too hard. He is grateful it's late, too late for many other recruits to be outside their rooms. He doesn't have to deal with the sideways looks and backhanded comments questioning his loyalty.

Chan counts the doors just like he used to the first few weeks here until he reaches the fourth door on the right. The key in the tumbler sounds overly loud to him, but he knows he’s just on edge. He strips out of his suit on the way to the bathroom and doesn’t pay attention to how hot he turns the dial. It will never be hot enough, anyway, not for what he wants to accomplish.

The constant spray turns his skin a mottled red but even still he stays leaning against the tiled wall. Chan keeps his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and arms braced despite the slight tremble throughout his frame. His skin feels dirty, tainted, and he can almost imagine a viscous ichor dripping from every pore. No amount of soap or scrubbing wipes it clean, no matter how hard he tries or how many layers of skin he digs away. The sensation lingers even as the water runs cold and trembling turns into shivering.

The tap squeaks as he turns it off and dries himself off with stilted, automatic movements. Chan doesn’t bother drying his hair as he walks to his bed and all but falls in, curling himself around his duvet and spare pillows. It didn’t used to feel like this and he doesn’t exactly know where it all began to go wrong, but he knows it’s peeling him apart piece by broken piece. He misses his best friend. He misses the lover that used to touch him gently and beg him to stay. He misses when his heart felt like a functioning organ, bursting with affection, and not a withering plant deprived of sunlight.

He falls asleep with damp eyelashes and memories of open-mouthed, laughing kisses by the river. He dreams someone is bandaging his hands and kissing his knuckles, asking him to be more careful next time.

The next time they meet is better; Gun’s eyes are bright and crinkle at the corners in the way Chan loves. They retreat into one of the sitting rooms, away from the pressures of Gun’s office, and settle in close. There are no immediate, demanding kisses or groping hands. They sit beside each other, sip their drinks and talk about their days (as much as they can.) Chan feels that familiar bubble of warmth in his chest and feels like he draws in a full breath for the first time in months. Maybe things aren’t irreparable, maybe they just needed time to settle into their new roles with one another.

They kiss, slow and languid in a way that says they still love each other and it slowly heals the cracks at the walls of Chan’s heart. Gun touches him so gently, so reverently, that he feels like he’s picking up the cracked porcelain pieces and slotting them together as if they’d never been broken in the first place. He shudders at the sensation of calloused palms sliding up and under his shirt, spanning across his ribs and shoulders and coaxing him into his lap. He swallows the words he wants to say and stifles the ‘I missed you’ he knows would only dampen the mood.

They take their time undressing each other like they have all the time in the world, and they each pepper kisses over every expanse of skin they uncover. Chan feels like molten metal when Gun finally ushers him to the bedroom and pours him against the sheets. He can’t remember the last time they’d taken enough time to make it here and he inhales deeply the scent of frankincense and jasmine.

He knows he’ll have stubble burn between his thighs but he can’t bring himself to care as his back arches tight like a bowstring. There’s that telltale pull in his stomach - a little trepidation and a little anticipation - and before long he’s exhaling all his passion and arousal in a low, drawn and breathy moan. Gun’s touch borders on too much, his skin humming with oversensitivity, but Gun knows exactly how long he can bear it before he draws his way back up and captures his lips in another slow kiss.

It takes a few moments before he feels the synapses in his brain connect again and he’s running his hands down Gun’s chest, his lips are traveling across his jaw, and his teeth are gently scraping against the shell of his ear. He takes a moment to spit into the palm of one hand; it’s inelegant and crass but it will do. He’s never been a selfish lover a day in his adult life and he’s not about to start now, not with how weightless and right he feels again. He strokes and twists his wrist the way he knows Gun likes, his thumb swiping and pressing in just the right spot. It doesn’t take long, a few gentle bites against his ear, a few more strokes with added pressure each time, and he feels the familiar bite of nails against his upper arms and warmth wash across his fingers and palm.

Chan wipes his hand on the sheets, knowing Gun will have someone change them later, and lays back against the pillows in liquid contentment. He can’t help the small smile that stretches the corner of his lips as he’s pulled over, head cradled against a strong shoulder and a stubbled chin resting against his hair. The words threaten to bubble up again, ‘I missed you,’ but he swallows and forces them down with the bob of his throat.

“We can’t linger long, I have a meeting soon.” Gun breaks the carefully crafted silence, but his hand is still stroking gently up and down Chan’s arm so he can’t bring himself to mind. Besides, he likes the way his voice rumbles beneath his ear.

“They’re expecting me back for some additional training later, anyway,” Chan replies and turns his head to press a feather-light kiss just above a dusky nipple. The sun is peeking through the shutters and casting scattered rays of light on their tangled bodies. He feels warm in a way he hasn’t in so long and he’s perfectly content to spend the few moments they have left silent and absorbing the attention he’s craved for months.

Chan sighs when their time comes to an end, as it always does, and he reluctantly extracts himself from Gun’s embrace to begin pulling on his shirt and redoing each button with a methodical patience he wouldn’t have previously had before joining the Family. Gun is an obstacle the entire way, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulders until Chan has to shrug him off, hands spreading across his thighs until he has to tug up his trousers. Getting dressed becomes something of a battle between them and by the end of it, Chan is laughing and pressing a quick kiss to Gun’s waiting lips.

He waits until Gun is dressed in his preferred florals and saturated colors that never cease to make him question everything about his lover’s fashion taste, but he supposes he isn’t much better in his grayscale wardrobe or the faded band shirts he'd once favored. Gun walks him to the door with a final kiss and a promise to reach out to him later. Chan lingers for a moment, stealing one more kiss, then two, before he seems to have withdrawn his limit and Gun is pushing him out the door.

Chan catches himself just before he runs into a figure taking long strides down the hall, but he can’t help the way his brow creases and his head tilts at the sight of them. He’s never seen her before, a petite woman with a figure that must be sculpted with the best of self-restraint and work. She peers up at him with large brown eyes and he feels it like a punch to his gut, the way her look is almost knowing, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s judging him.

Unconsciously, he smooths his palms down his suit and offers her a nod before taking a step away.

“There you are, dear.” He turns at Gun’s word, feeling his chest and his stomach bloom with affection and love. That warmth quickly turns to frigid tendrils of disbelief as he watches Gun place a hand on her waist and draw her close to press a kiss to her cheek. Once again, he feels it like a punch to his center and he nearly doubles over with it, only rigorous training and determination keeping him upright.

Gun spares him a parting glance and a raised brow over her shoulder and Chan can only duck his head and hurry his way down the hall, a hot wash of mortification turning the back of his neck and his ears an unmistakable shade of scarlet. He hopes he’s imagining the looks of pity some of the guards are giving him, but he’s sure at least a few of them are real. He wonders if they tell stories about him, the foolish street thug turned bodyguard reaching far beyond his station. He should have known better.

tagging my beloved cheering squad @porschesbabydaddy @haahka @bottomvegas

#changun #kp fic #kpts fic #kpts fanfic #kinnporsche fic #kinnporsche fanfic #kp fanfic #prism writes #teehee #sorry!!

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izzy-b-hands · 1 year

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I think Roach is probably better than he knows at conflict resolution

both with a cleaver or knife during a raid (it's still technically conflict resolution) and with the crew day to day

I've got this thing in my head that if asked, he wouldn't like. register? that he's good at this bc it's probably on autopilot after years at sea with a bunch of random assholes depending on the ship/port

Like some grumpy morning for everyone, one of those where everyone is already kinda pissed off and every little thing that happens after is a countdown to a migraine, outburst, crying fit, or some combination. They're in each other's way and the sea is stormy and god they all want to go the fuck back to bed

But instead Ed recommends a course towards a cove that won't magically keep them safe from the weather, but it's less intense near that spot for whatever reason (and does it matter when ppl are slipping on the wet deck, and then shouting wordlessly into the sky as if condemning the water cycle itself? If it helps, it helps enough)

Once that's settled Roach wanders into the galley and preps, aka preps for himself. Something to smoke, coffee and water, plus something to nibble on before he starts rolling out everyone else's breakfast options.

And there's a lot for this day. He maybe spent too much at the last set of market stalls, but they have variety for awhile again. That's worth it.

(this is where we hop off the historical accuracy train and Roach gets access to whatever foods he wants for this)

Frenchie and John are first in, still arguing over something to do with the weather (Roach honestly can't recall because EVERYONE is arguing today. He knows it had to do with some weather superstition at least.)

Wordlessly, he starts handing them jams and marmalades to open and help plate along the galley table, because he's going That Fancy. Big ass display to graze off of, to keep people in carbs and extra sweet or savoury little bites. It's really more of a brunch, in the end, but it's also four in the morning so also still breakfast?

Frenchie and John quiet into a conversation about the new spreads and if any of them might unseat Ed's favourite marmalade as the best one.

It's nice.

Jim and Olu aren't shouting, but they're also fuming enough to make the galley heat up just by their walking in.

So without thinking Roach hands them knives and loaves of fancy bread and points to the plates to present them on.

The room chills out. A conversation sparks up about seeing if they could budget for any of this food they really like, even just now and agai-

And there's Izzy, sopping wet and absolutely irate as he stomps into the room (though Roach notices seaweed on his clothes, and that's a clue enough that something probably happened to earn this ire)

As it happens, he finds out Izzy slipped overboard and scraped the fuck out of himself getting back onboard. When he got back up, everyone had already left and wandered off.

Roach finds him a towel and a cup of coffee bc he isn't going to let him get salt water in the goddamn prep space

once he's dried off, Roach mentions the need to brew more coffee and tea and Izzy is in the pantry looking for more before he finishes his sentence

The galley grows pleasantly warm as more of the crew stomp or cry or sigh their way in, each casually assigned something to do

Eventually, he realises there's not actually much for him to do. The space is full of people, plating and arranging and helping to make it look as good as if they were having guests over

He wanders out to the deck after telling them it'll only be a moment, wrapped in Ed's coat that he insisted he take, with a mug of warm tea in his hands that Izzy practically shoved at him oddly sweetly?, and a plate of the snacks they've been putting together

And he has a lovely, damp, very early but relaxing brunch in the rain

#text post #long post #at some point the rest of them will realise how hungry they are and that fancy display will be gone in a flash aksnfkgn #but that's the joy of it! sharing space and food and !!!!!!

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sentanixiv · 1 year

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Willowstead - A Sinful Mercy [AO3]

The most beautiful gift was given to me this morning by the very OG of Sadie, a lady I’ve had the honour of meeting through my story, A Sinful Mercy. No, it’s not Alex McKenna, but better! A lady graced with the name Sadie who personifies so much of the iron-willed, fiery woman that stands up and tells the Devil himself to keep his hands off Arthur Morgan, else he deal with her ire.

The image above is Willowstead, drawn by my dear friend Sadie, and it nails everything about their hideaway in ASM. The barn/stable with the loft, the trees, the cabin, the everything. This is Willowstead, to perfection.

I’ve not stopped squeaking since she shared it with me. ❤️💕❤️

Fic Excerpt - Arrival at Willowstead: Night hovered close to falling when, finally, they pushed aside the low-hanging curtain of branches that hid their ‘rented’ abode, noted on the map as Willowstead, from casual view. Almost missed the trail to it, covered well by the hanging boughs of the aged willow, the thickly grown brush and young trees clustered around it suggestive that there had been more, once, before it had been torn down and forced to grow anew. Arthur, mood foul since their unwanted reunion with Strauss, muttered a curse when they’d found that the trail ducked under the willow on the second time backtracking.

Sadie knew him to be tired. The curve of his back and the angle of his shoulders were not far from collapse, strained by days of riding and then dealing with history best left to hindsight drew his reserves thin. She didn’t comment to it then, dropping down from Zeus and drawing her revolver, just to be safe.

There were a couple of sheds, a well, a small barn, and a central cabin that served as the main house. “I’ll clear the barn,” she said, moving ahead as her mare started nosing at the grasses. Trees surrounded the property, larger willows grown thick in the back of the clearing a contrast to the younger growth that crowded the small access trail, and on the whole it looked that like the name were about as accurate as one could get for a place.

Arthur dismounted a few moments after, bearing the iron key and his gaze turned to the cabin, where a thick metal padlock barred access. “Holler if you see something off,” he said. Damn did his voice come out rough and when he dragged a hand over his face to wake himself up, it took a second pass before he started towards the building.

Cautious they were, but weren’t needed once they completed the sweep. Barn was empty, four stalls standing bare and feed loft empty of bodies and grains. Sadie walked the treeline to be certain before she called her clear, hearing it echoed from the house. Door hung open, padlock dropped on the ground after it fell from the latch; she picked it up and carried it in. Light were starting to fade out, but she could see sensible enough accommodation contained within. A bed tucked off to one corner, stone-and-mortar fireplace set further along, then shelves and cupboards stretching into the next corner, a tub sink set for a kitchen, a small door to a side room propped open, washing tub tucked in there. Other than that, a few chairs and a table that she dropped the padlock onto, looked up to see a loft with a wooden ladder not far from the door, like as not where supplies were best kept away from vermin.

“You go get them horses set up,” Arthur said, toeing his boot through the ashes of the fireplace. “I’ll get the fire going.”

Sadie left him to that, come back out to see Zeus sedately munching the long grass and Eceni looking with interest at the corral that stretched out from the barn, tall flowers and sweet grasses overgrown there. She led them both into the barn and they settled in easy, bribed with oatcakes and the promise of grazing in the corral’s buffet of overgrowth come morning. Sadie hauled them fresh water, pulled their tack, and brushed them down before she felt comfortable leaving them each in a stall for the night.

Darkness’d full fallen by the time she’d done that, the moon some days shy of full giving off enough light to make her way to the well. Saddlebags and bedrolls she rested on the ground a moment, drawing a fresh bucket of water for inside, then balanced the load as she made her way back into the cabin proper. Orange glowed faint in the window, promise of heat and light radiated out from the stone fireplace.

Inside, she dropped their gear on the table and brought the bucket over to the counters, set it there to sort out, boil clean later. “We’ll need feed for the horses,” she said, looking about at two separate and simply paned windows, a match for simple basic fixtures and furnishings. Plenty of hides and furs were spaced about, tribute to the owner’s traplines, and not much seemed amiss. Arthur were crouched down at the far end of the cabinets, digging through and hauling out a few cans of food.

“Not much,” came his assessment. “Figure we settle a few days. Then we’ll know what all we need. Figure an order down at the Rhodes store, see if they won’t lend us a cart to haul it all back.” Unsaid, the chance to let Strauss and the Hoffmans get significant distance towards Blackwater.

Sound were the concepts to his plan, but his voice weren’t quite rich with surety. His domain’d been enforcement, running jobs and keeping folk in line; Pearson and Grimshaw’d handled the logistics of living. Arthur came off closer to lost, but part of that were how tired he must feel, so she let him keep barreling through the ideas, moving to the next problem to sort.

“Only one bed,” he said, an awkward nod to it. “Loft’s clear though.” He looked ready to make a call on it, but she spoke up faster.

“I’ll take that loft,” she said, quick and unwavering. “No point hauling you up and down that ladder if you hit a day you ain’t feeling well for. ’Sides, privacy’s something I ain’t enjoyed much in camp. It’ll be nice not sharing with other women for once.” She’d reasoned it clear, left him no choice but to agree, and the set of his jaw said his pleasure on that weren’t high.

Sadie frowned, pointed at the bed, and tossed his bedroll at him. “You,” she said, firm and clear, “need rest. Argue how we ought do the accommodating when you ain’t looking ready to drop.”

#kichi speaks #art: sadie #a sinful mercy #rdr2

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ainyan · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday

[This is the second chapter of my University AU. Whereas the first chapter focused on Kal'istae, this chapter focuses on Thancred. Here is the first section.]

He’d almost made it to class; the door to the lecture hall was within view when a pair of slim arms slid around his waist, fetching him up short. He hissed a curse under his breath as he heard her warm laughter and felt her lips against the back of his neck. “There you are.”

If he had to be brutally honest, her voice still sent shivers down his spine - and not necessarily in a negative way. One of Sharlayan’s foremost vocal students, he had a feeling that when she finally hit her prime, she would give F’lhaminn a run for her money. Years of training had honed a gods-given gift into a powerful weapon - one she wielded as deftly as any surgeon might his scalpel.

It had taken years to work out from beneath the snare of that voice - and, he admitted, her frank sexuality - but he’d managed. He’d be damned if he’d let her reel him right back in. aReaching down, he gently unhooked her hands and stepped out of her embrace, turning to see her pouting down at him.

She was an undeniably pretty girl who had turned into a beautiful woman. Had she been more subtle, more clever, she might have managed to sink her hooks in him too deeply for him to escape. Thank all of the gods that subtlety was not a part of her internal makeup. “Hello, Varienne,” he replied politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m expected in class.”

“Come on, Thancred,” she sulked, wrapping her arm through his and clinging tightly. “I’ve been gone for a whole semester - surely you can miss one class to… catch up with an old friend.” Her smile left him with no illusions as to how she wanted to ‘catch up’.

Deftly he snaked his arm from her grasp and stepped back, one step closer to his goal and safety. When she would have approached, he retreated further and she stopped, brow furrowing in perplexity. “Varienne, I have class,” he repeated, “and I have no intention of skipping it. Welcome back, I hope you had fun in Ishgard, but we’ve been over this a million times. There’s nothing between us but the past.”

She stared at him. “Why are you being this way, Thancred? We’ve always been each other’s plus one, and I’m certainly not seeing anyone. I know you’re not.”

Stung, he scowled. “How do you know I’m not?”

Her pale blue eyes laughed at him. “Have you ever had a girlfriend, Thancred?” At his grunt, she shrugged. “You don’t date. You fuck. You fuck really well,” she added slyly, “as I have plenty of reason to know. And while someday you may get tired of visiting all the flowers like the busy little bee you are, I doubt that day has come yet.” There was an odd bite at the edges of her voice.

“Much to your chagrin,” he murmured, and her quick glare told him his shot had hit home. “And there you are, Vai. I’m not interested in leading you on - or being led around by you. We had a great deal of fun, but it’s time we - and by we, I mean you - moved on.”

Her pale eyes grew flinty. “I don’t recall you being so rude or uncouth before, Thancred.”

The hells of it was, he generally wasn’t, and acting so towards her now was taking all of his theatrical ability. “We were friends once, before we were lovers. We could be again. But I’m not interested in rehashing old times with you, Vai, and I’m definitely not interested in being tied to you or anyone else.”

Her lips tightened, eyes growing even harder if possible. “Now why don’t I entirely believe you?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with steel.

“Believe me or not, ‘tis the truth,” Thancred replied, his own ire plain. “I’m happy being a free agent, same as I have been since the first time I discovered all the wondrous things about women.”

The glint in her eyes was mostly anger, but there was hurt, too - genuine enough, he imagined, and felt a twinge of guilt. Only a twinge, though. She’d brought it on herself. “And does that extend to your best friend’s girlfriend?” she asked snidely.

Ah. As he’d suspected. “Kali and Jacke are very happy together,” he replied evenly, “and I doubt even were I so inclined, I could give her what she wants or deserves. But that is neither here nor there,” he added, cutting her off even as she opened her mouth, “because she’s my friend, and that’s all.”

She backed up a step. “So you say,” she muttered sullenly. “Go on then, before you’re late. Be responsible,” she sneered, drawling the word as if it were an epithet. “If you change your mind, you know how to find me. Just don’t wait too long,” she added as a parting shot over her shoulder. “You’re not the only one who knows how best to scratch my itch.”

“Then go find one of them,” he muttered under his breath, quickly retreating to the lecture hall where most of his classmates had already gathered, taking their seats. He ducked into the crowd and took the first available desk he could find that had several others sitting nearby. He wouldn’t put it past her to sneak in and try to start something, if only to get him in trouble.

Petty did not begin to describe Varienne Lavereux. And he was of no mind to play her twisted games this time around.

As the professor stood up and began to speak, he shoved her from his mind and turned his attention to class, pulling a notebook from his satchel and setting it on his desk. Pen poised above the table, he listened to the lecture with half-lidded eyes and lost himself in the learning.

His first true love.

#wip wednesday #wip #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #university au #thancred waters

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