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fablesrose · 10 months

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Ch 8 - The Three Days of the Hunter Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team is vying to steal a man's reputation back after a so called reporter ruins it. Plus you and Eliot team up a bit this time around ;)

Words: 4132

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“Now we’ve stolen a lot of odd things before, but how do we steal back a man’s reputation?” Hardison asked after the situation was explained to us. A man in a tragic school bus crash that killed two children had a slanderous story written about him and showed on air. It ruined this man’s reputation unfairly, and the news anchor is to blame for making it all up.

“We get the network to issue a complete apology and utterly disavow Monica Hunter’s story,” Sophie answered.

We all glanced at Nate to see if he was going to add anything, to direct us in some way, but he didn’t. He just said, “Uh, Sophie’s gonna be doing this one.”

“What?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Sophie echoed, “I’m gonna be Nate on this one, only, you know, nicer.”

“But, if you’re gonna be Nate, then who’s gonna be you?” Parker asked.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I don’t mean to obsess about the last time Sophie ran a con, but…” Eliot cut in, “I’m sorry, where we had to blow up the offices.”

“I don’t think you guys told me about that one…” I commented.

“Really? Because I don’t remember that,” Sophie defended.

“I do,” Hardison replied before turning to me, “It’s a sore spot… for all of us.”

I nodded, raising my hands with understanding.

“Um, Hardison, just run it,” Sophie tried to move on.

“Look, if you don’t mind,” Nate leaned over and whispered to Sophie, “I thought I would still do the ‘Hardison, run it’ thing so… Hardison, run it.”

We all looked at each other and at Nate with a look that said, ‘seriously?’ It took a moment before Hardison started the slides. He started explaining Monica Hunter’s show Hunt for the Truth and her little formula behind it, turning innocent people into the boogeyman. Any attempts at suing get buried in lawyers. I added in a few details from my own research on her as well.

“Yeah, she demonizes perfectly innocent people for ratings, and then stands behind the network thinking they’re gonna protect her,” Sophie summarizes, “We’re gonna sever that relationship.”

“How?” I asked.

“We’re gonna get her to go on air with a fake story that just destroys her reputation,” Sophie explained.

“Like when you find a crooked cop,” Eliot adds, “you know, all his cases go right out the window.”

“Exactly,” Sophie stands at the front of the room, “And then to protect themselves, they issue an apology to Mr. Pennington, and then they throw Monica Hunter into the jaws of the very media machine that she bent to her own malicious will.”

“Wow,” Parker comments, “I gotta say, Sophie’s briefings are much more dramatic.”

“And poetic,” Eliot adds.

“You see, what we need to do though,” Nate said, finding it hard to leave things alone, “what we need is, we gotta sell her a fake news story that she can’t refuse.” He walked to the front of the room, overtaking Sophie, “That’s what we gotta do, because what does she have? She has fame, she has money, what does she need?”

Sophie cleared her throat, setting him back on track to apologize and sit on the couch.

Sophie continued, “what does she have? She has fame, she has money, what does she need?”

I rolled my eyes with a huff before actually contemplating the question. Once I did, I quickly came to a conclusion, “Respect. Anyone with two eyes and a working brain thinks she’s a joke, an absolute dumpster fire. Let alone serious journalists.”

Hardison pointed at me in agreement, “Right. Look, these are emails from her agent and internal memos from the network.” He pulled them up on the screen, “See, everytime her contract’s up, she tries to go and get a job on a serious news show, but she gets laughed out of the room every time.”

“We can’t sell her respect,” Nate said.

“But we can sell her a story that commands respect,” Sophie remedied. “A story that she’s gonna chase to get the respect she craves. Pack your bags everyone. We’re going to D.C. to make news.”

We all watched her, inspired, but not sure what to do next.

“That’s when you wanna…” Nate gestured to walk away dramatically like he always does.

“Let me do that bit again,” Sophie said, “Pack your bags everyone. We’re going to D.C. to make news.” She then walked out of the living room.

“She’s walking into the closet,” Nate pointed out.

We shrugged, but figured that was our cue to get a move on.

After we arrived in D.C. Parker was sent in to make the first contact with the mark.

“I got the pass. Easy.”

“Parker, we went over this,” Sophie told her over comms, “You’re not supposed to take it. You’re supposed to get caught with it.”

“I don’t know how to get caught.”

“Yeah, I know it’s difficult to steal badly, just… just try.”

“Why isn’t y/n doing this part?”

“Because,” I answered, “I have about the same amount of confidence in acting and conning as you do Parker, if not less, and I don’t know how to steal at all. It’s easier to teach one skill at a time.”

“Fine.”

After some rustling and loud noises, Parker was finally ‘caught.’ After being confronted by Monica, Parker fled out of the building, of which she followed. Parker strung her along for a minute before disclosing what story she had, and why she needed Monica’s press credentials.

“I have a story that will bring down… the president of the United States.”

I was waiting with Eliot for our cue to intimidate Monica and lead her to believe that something serious was going on. We stood in suits around the corner from our apartment that Hardison was waiting in with his conspiracy theory. I kept fidgeting with my suit as we waited for Parker to arrive with Monica.

“Quit messing with it,” Eliot told me after I pulled at my sleeve again.

I looked over at him to see him messing with his tie, “Hypocrite.” I swatted his hands away and straightened it myself, avoiding his eyes that I could feel on me.

“Are you nervous? We have a five second part, you don’t even have to say anything,” He said after I pulled away.

“Well the goal is to be intimidating, and I don’t think I am very intimidating,” I paused and deliberately straightened my coat, “and I’ve never been much of a blazer person.”

He chuckled, “okay, give me your intimidating look, let me judge it.”

I groaned, “It’s gonna be so bad, especially compared to yours.”

He nodded, urging me to do it.

“Fine,” I gave him my best glare, trying to be intimidating.

“That’s good,” he said, “but looks very intentional and almost forced, you want it to look effortless.”

I sighed, “how do I do that?”

“Give me a deadpan, annoyed look.”

My face relaxed as I obeyed him.

He gently straightened my head as it had tilted to the side and directed my sight directly at him and his eyes. “Okay, now clench your jaw a bit and give me a tiny squint,” he looked at me for a moment while I adjusted my expression, “well, you look pretty intimidating right now, but I don’t know if it’d work on anyone with taste…”

I furrowed my brow at him before he finished.

“I think you look too good.”

That left me speechless and blushing.

He smirked at me a bit before we heard Nate through the comms, “Eliot are you-”

“I have to warn you about my source,” Parker cut in, talking to Monica, “He doesn’t like strangers.”

That cued us to get closer so we could reveal ourselves when Monica was about to leave. We heard her dismiss Hardison and Parker, so we started our walk down the hallway. I positioned myself on the corner facing Monica directly when she opened the door leaving Eliot to walk past me, make eye contact with her and slowly turn around. She looked between the both of us before all three of us retreated to where we came from.

We listened as Hardison and Parker sold Monica the story and then she left, talking to her coworker about stealing the story right from under Parker’s nose. Eliot and I smiled at each other as we walked into the apartment.

“Hunter’s hooked,” Eliot said as we walked in, joining the others.

“Our mark has a story and a source. We halfway home,” Hardison said.

“Now for the hard part,” Sophie said, “We need to steal a general.”

“No,” Nate corrected, “it's ‘let’s go steal a general.’ You know, it's a rallying cry.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“‘We need to steal a general,’ it’s a little naggy. It’s kinda like ‘we need eggs,’ you know? ‘We need eggs.’” He repeated, emphasizing how low energy it was, “‘We need eggs!’ You know?”

Sophie just rolled her eyes and walked away.

“No, I’m just trying to give you a little…”

“You see what you did,” Hardison told Nate, following Sophie.

“Eliot, these conspiracies aren’t real right?” Parker asked.

“What do you mean?” He asked back.

“Like the one over there that says all the major wars of the past fifty years were ordered by members of The Council.”

I looked over at the wall and back at them, suddenly intrigued by his answer.

“Parker, I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you,” he answered before walking away and following the other two.

“You’re not a member of The Council are you?” Parker asked humorously before becoming more serious, “Eliot?” She turned towards me and Nate, “Is he?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, following the others.

I quickly followed, before Parker could pry even more.

Nate quickly turned towards me when I caught up, “By the way, was Eliot flirting with you before?” He didn’t let me answer before walking after him, “Eliot!”

Parker was still chasing after us, “Wait, is he?”

Later, I watched from a distance as Eliot distracted a general and lifted his badge, allowing Nate to take his place for a little while.

“Alright, you guys have got to teach me some of this thievery thing,” I whined quietly, “How’d you lift that so smoothly Eliot?”

I could hear the smirk in his voice, “It’s all about practice sweetheart.”

“Eliot, don’t call my niece that,” Nate remarked through the comms.

“He can call me what he likes, Nate. We’re all friendly here,” I replied, sending a playful eye roll at Eliot as he approached me.

“I don’t care, get ready for the walk by you two. Parker, what’s your 20?”

“Seconds away.”

Parker was asking Monica questions as they walked up the steps towards Nate’s newly acquired office. As they reached the top, Eliot and I walked somewhat near them, deliberately making eye contact with Monica. We walked a little ways apart and at a slightly different trajectory to suggest we weren’t there together, but close enough for Monica to get the picture that we were both there for her. I walked almost directly towards her and gently bumped her shoulder as I walked by, to send a bit of a message.

“I knew it,” Monica said to Parker once I had passed out of earshot, “We’ve got a shadow.”

I smiled as the pass was successful, then left to prepare for the next phase, listening as Monica half interviewed Nate as a general and found incriminating evidence in his office.

What we didn’t expect was Monica blowing off the story due to her ratings. She said that she sold fear to her viewers, to give them “a reason to lock their doors.” And this story didn’t do that.

This prompted Sophie to up her game, “Alright, she wants fear…” Sophie concludes, “that’s what we’ll give her.”

This made me nervously look at Nate and Eliot who sat in the apartment with us.

“This is how it starts,” Nate commented, which didn’t make me feel better.

The next ploy was to hit Parker with a car. This task was given to me.

“Is there any trick to this where I don’t actually kill Parker?” I asked Eliot who was in the passenger seat.

“Just drive straight at her, she’ll do the rest,” he answered simply.

“Alright, if you say so,” I proceeded to drive at her and cringed as she jumped and rolled over the hood to make it look like I hit her. I threw the car in park and stepped out of the car, watching our surroundings, making sure my expression was stoic.

Eliot got out and checked Parker making it look like he was looking for something. He eventually found a red folder, grabbed it, and returned to the car. We both got back in and I drove off quickly.

“Was she okay?” I asked him.

He nodded, “Yeah, she seemed fine. Parker, check in once you’re clear.”

I listened as Hardison spoke to Monica, and led her away from Parker’s “dead” body. He hooked her on this even bigger development, and led her to meet with Nate.

After that she responded, “I’m good, let’s go.”

I drove around the block and picked her up on a corner away from the crowd, Hardison, and Monica.

She got in the back seat and grabbed Eliot and I’s shoulders, “that was great! We should do that more often.”

Eliot looked over at me as I smiled a bit in relief, “See? Told ya, she’s fine.”

We rendezvoused at the apartment and listened as Nate spun Monica a story about nerve agents in the water, and how what used to be secret prisons, were actually safehouses for the rich and powerful. Nate gave her a call to action and let her loose.

We observed as she tried to contact her sources, all of which Hardison artfully manipulated technologically to seem like they confirmed Monica’s fears about the story, even if not directly. It got to the point that we were watching her on the station’s security cameras and she was running around, clearly paranoid out of her mind.

“Now that’s what I call control,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, we might’ve, uh, pushed too hard,” Nate commented.

Sophie scoffed, “please.”

Then there was a knock at the door. And that knock belonged to Monica Hunter. We all dashed into the other room before Hardison answered the door. We listened as Monica insisted on getting video footage of the bunkers and took Hardison with her to help get it.

Once they were gone we exited the side room.

“Too much,” Parker commented.

“A little bit,” Eliot added sarcastically, taking a large swig of his beer.

Nate raced after them to meet them at something that could look like a bunker at the army reserve base. The rest of us monitored from the apartment. Where things took a turn for the worst was when Monica went as far as climbing over the fence into a restricted area and Hardison followed her. This led to both of them being captured.

“Glass half full,” Sophie said once we looked at her, “she really buys the bunker story…”

We listened as Monica and Hardison were separated into interrogation rooms. Hardison tried to talk himself out of it by saying that Monica was taking him back to her place and he was just along for the ride. We heard the officer say hold on before Hardison started speaking to us.

“Get me out of here,” Hardison demanded.

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Sophie replied.

“I’m on it,” Parker said, walking out of the side room.

Sophie jumped up to stop her, “No, no, no, you cannot go. You’re dead,” she reminded, “Monica Hunter sees you and the whole con is blown.”

“Right,” she conceded.

“Damn the con,” Hardison said, “I am a black man caught on an army base with a video camera. I am going to jail forever,” he finished with a squeak.

“Yeah, look, Nate’s the only one close enough to get you,” Sophie explained.

“But Nate’s five minutes away and still trying to figure out how he’s gonna walk two prisoners off an army base using an ID that’s already been reported stolen. No, you guys, we’re gonna have to stall,” Nate added.

“Stall?” Hardison asks in disbelief, before asking, “Y/n, Eliot, get me everything you can on a Lieutenant Abbot. Just do what I taught you.”

I pulled the computer close to me to start typing while Eliot reminded me what to do. Eliot also started to aggravate Hardison in the process.

“Now the http thing comes before the w-w-w dot, right?”

“Eliot!” Hardison whisper-yelled.

“And which one’s the forward slash?” I asked helpfully, typing away easily.

“It ain’t the time, you two, it ain’t the time.”

“See?” Eliot replied, “It’s not fun when you’re hanging out there in the wind and there’s a dude behind a laptop cracking jokes, is there?”

“I like it when we switch jobs,” Parker comments, happily playing with a gas mask, “It’s exciting.”

We all looked over at her skeptically before I turned back to the laptop to continue my research, with the help of some of Hardison’s software. Eliot and I relayed what we found to Hardison and let him loose to do what he saw fit with the info.

“Sir, I need to know why you’re on this base,” we heard the officer say.

“Yes.” Hardison replied, “Why am I on this base?”

“I’m asking you.”

“No, I’m asking you,” Hardison insisted, “Why am I on this base? Why am I in this room?”

“So I can ask you questions.”

“Or maybe, it's so I can ask you questions, Lieutenant Kyle Abbot, Social Security 823-24-6270?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“Maybe you’re not cleared to know. Two disciplinary actions? That one in Germany?” Hardison tsked, “Maybe you’re just too much of a security risk.” There was a moment before Hardison slammed the table, making me jump in my seat, “Did I say you could leave?”

It seemed he had it under some control. Now onto getting Nate in there.

“Not gonna work,” Nate said.

“It’s all in the salute, man,” Eliot replied.

“Just work the stars and bars,” Sophie added, “Nobody wants to look a general in the eye.”

Nate must have come to the checkpoint as he said in his gruff general voice, “Uh, good form soldier, as you were.”

We heard a distant, “clear,” which had me sigh in relief. He was in. There was a minute or two of silence as he made his way to the base before we heard someone speak.

“Mine appears to be insane.”

“No, not insane,” Nate cut in, “just a reporter. Well congratulations, gentlemen. This base has passed with, uh, flying colors. Well done.”

“Uh, passed what, sir?”

“Have you not been briefed? You were supposed to be briefed. The Department of Defense has decided to, uh, reassure the American people about, uh, the safety of their military bases. So we’ve agreed to cooperate with the network and make a television special, you know, to show off just how effective our security is.”

“They were pretty easy to catch, sir.”

“Well, for you. But in Camp Monroe in Idaho, those two were signing their names on nukes with shiny silver pens.” He chuckled, “turn ‘em loose now and I’ll get ‘em out of your hair.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Alright, let’s go. Sorry to waste your time gentlemen. Very well done there.”

I held my breath, they were so close to getting out. I heard a shake of a pill bottle.

“Oh, trimethylxanthine, thank you,” we heard Monica say.

“That just slows down the effect of the toxin. Hopefully long enough for you to get the truth out.”

“How did you find us?”

“Are you kidding me? Famous reporter shows up at one of the bunkers, sets off alarms all over the city. We’re gonna be lucky if we get out in one piece, I’ll tell you that.”

“We’ll split up,” Hardison suggests.

“No,” Monica insisted, but Nate overruled her.

“Yes, your car’s still parked over by the fence. You pick it up and we’ll meet back at the apartment.”

“We’ll gather the evidence and we’ll meet at the studio,” Monica added.

We listened as they sped off, but it sounded like they got free.

“Whoo!” I cheered, slapping Eliot’s shoulder who still sat next to me in front of the computer. “Nate I know you can’t talk right now with her there, but I don’t know how you just lied out of your ass so well. In an Army base no less!”

“Ah, he was fine,” Eliot said.

“Well, if it’s a family trait, I don’t think I inherited it.”

“Like I said, it’s just practice.”

“You’ll learn y/n,” Sophie told me, “We’ll teach you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Don’t have to, you’ve already improved over the last few jobs we’ve done. You’ll be out there grifting in no time,” she insisted.

I smiled at her thankfully. There wasn’t much time to celebrate though as they were making their way back to the apartment. We packed up everything, our supplies, the photo wall, everything. It left an astonishingly bare apartment, just in time for Monica’s arrival.

“Where did it go? The photos. The maps,” we heard Monica say through Nate’s comm, “Where’s Wade Perkins?” She asked, referring to Hardison. “Thank God, the red file,” she found the only thing left in the room.

That was Eliot and I’s cue to walk in from the side room, dressed in heavy aprons and heavy duty gloves.

“Pardon me,” Eliot said to Monica softly, but it had an edge to it.

“We were just cleaning up,” I explained, trying to match his tone.

“We hunt for the truth,” Nate said, bringing the attention to him, “through many dark places. I am a patriot, Ms. Hunter. I’m sorry.” He turned to Eliot, “Earl.”

Monica then sprayed Nate with pepper spray and ran off. I followed her for a few steps before turning back to Nate as he yelled in pain.

Eliot laughed a bit as he patted his back, “good thing Parker switched that with water.”

“Didn’t. Didn’t switch,” Nate choked out.

“Oh, oh no,” I cringed, starting to smell the spray. “Let’s get that washed out, it's gonna hurt for a bit…”

Once we got Nate as cleaned up as possible, we turned on the TV to watch as Monica humiliated herself on live television. Hardison was there at the station making sure it all went through. She looked psychotic as she told her story and it was a welcome surprise when the police arrived and arrested her. The anchor immediately broke the story of Monica Hunter’s psychotic break as she was being dragged off the set behind her.

It wasn’t too long after the story aired that we were back in my apartment. We had a laptop propped on the counter showing an interview of our client, happy to have his good name back after Monica Hunter’s fall from grace. I was helping Eliot prep dinner, the whole team there to celebrate.

“See, Ray was the beginning,” Nate said after the interview ended, “I’m telling you, every person that Hunter slandered is going to get a second chance.”

“Loch Ness Monster,” Parker held up the infamous photo, grilling Eliot on other conspiracy theories.

“Loch Ness submarine,” Hardison replied.

“No!”

“Scottish waters are cold and deep. It’s the perfect place to test,” Eliot replied, barely looking up from his cutting board.

“Area 51.”

Hardison and Eliot contradicted each other on that one with Hardison saying no and Eliot, yes.

“She said Area 51, 51,” Hardison insisted.

“I’m sorry,” Eliot corrected, “False. Area 52.”

“Been there,” Hardison commented.

“Yup.”

I laughed softly to myself from my own cutting board.

Eliot heard me, “What, you got an opinion over there, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call her that,” Nate said before sitting next to Sophie.

I ignored him, replying to Eliot, “No, you would know better than me. Now tell me if these veggies are okay.”

He turned from his cutting board to peer over my shoulder, “cut them just a little bit smaller, then they’ll be perfect.”

And just like that he was gone, but I could still feel his breath brush my cheek. I blushed and my mind went blank, trying to decipher what he said for a moment before it caught up to the instructions. I shook my head, trying not to think about how it would feel to have him closer.

I took a deep breath before doing as he asked, because that was something I could do, something I could focus on.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle @technikerin23

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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autumnshighlady · 2 years

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I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 5)

NESTA ARCHERON X FEMALE!READER (future Neris x reader)

summary: You arrive in the Spring Court, and things take a drastic turn

warnings: inner circle slander, sorta pro-Tamlin pls don’t kill me

word count: 8.5k (y’all said you liked long chapters)

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: please do not come at me for defending Tamlin. He is not one of my favourite characters or anything BUT I do think that he gets treated unfairly so this fic is meant to address that and see things from his perspective. i hope you enjoy this chapter regardless, it took me forever haha

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

read on ao3

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“I expect a regular report once a week, and any important updates as soon as they come up.” The High Lord’s voice droned on and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. The meeting had been going on for half an hour, which was half an hour too long in your opinion. The Inner Circle had gathered to discuss your working in the Spring Court. A few months ago, you’d have squirmed under their gaze, like a lamb surrounded by lions. Little did they know that this time you were the lion, and they were the lambs.

You hoped they all suffered at the end of it in some way.

“And you remember how to reach us?” Feyre said, snapping you out of your trance.

“I do,” You said through gritted teeth. “Because Azriel and I have gone over it a million times, as well as what to do if it doesn’t work. Can we move on?”

“I hope you’re taking this seriously, girl.” Amren spoke up from her chair in the corner. Her silver eyes glared at you with distaste, so you glared back.

“Why are you even here?” You challenged the tiny female. “You apparently don’t have any powers anymore so what do you contribute other than just being a cunt?”

“Enough, (Y/N).” Rhysand spoke up before Amren could fire back. “Amren has earned her seat at this court and you will show her respect.”

“I’m the one risking my ass for you guys,” You snapped. “I’ll respect her when she stops glaring at me from the corner and making snide remarks.”

“I thought you trained her properly, Azriel.” Amren quipped, ignoring you. “She should know when to hold her tongue.”

Azriel audibly sighed, “We covered just about everything except that.” He mumbled.

“But she is ready for this, is she not?” Feyre asked the Spymaster.

“As she’ll ever be.” He grumbled in response.

“Then it’s settled.” Rhysand said, clasping his hands together. “Azriel will winnow (Y/N) to the border of the Spring Court. From there, she will make her journey to the manor. Our reports say Tamlin hasn’t even bothered to check on her village since it was attacked, so it will be easy for him to believe that she survived and has been laying low the past while. She will offer him her services, and keep us updated on the High Lord. His movements, any mention of working with anyone outside his own court, the likes. Any questions?”

“I have one.” You piped up. The inner circle turned to look at you – Mor’s eyebrows were raised, and Azriel’s were pleading as if begging you to not start anything else.

“Go ahead.” Feyre said hesitantly.

You resisted the urge to grin at how the rulers of the Night Court tensed in anticipation. “So my salary,” You continued. “How is that gonna work? Do you guys pay monthly or?”

Azriel rubbed his face with his hands, and Amren rolled her eyes. You found it funny how the richest fae you knew groaned at the idea of paying someone for their work – granted it was a more than fair wage, but given how much wealth they possessed, you knew their accounts wouldn’t feel its impact.

“You will be compensated upon your return to our Court.” Rhysand said, violet eyes glaring at you.

“Which will be?” You asked, meeting his stare.

“When we are satisfied that Tamlin is no longer an additional threat. Once we have taken care of other matters, you will be relieved of your duties and can return here so we can deal with him on our own.”

“Right. But that could be months, years even. I’m not waiting that long to get paid, especially since I have no money. I’ll need it anyway to get by in Spring Court since Tamlin probably won’t have much to pay me.”

You could feel the annoyance simmering off the High Lord as he spoke. “Fine, we’ll get it sorted out. Just do what you have to do and we’ll take care of the rest, ok?”

You nod, shuffling on your feet. To them, the action may have appeared nervous, but you were excited. You finally got to go home, but it was more than that, you finally got to give the Inner Circle a taste of their own medicine. Granted, you felt a bit guilty – Cassian was kind enough, and Nesta did care for him in some way. And as annoying as Azriel was during training, he hadn’t really done anything wrong either.

But you remembered what Mor had said to Nesta, that she’d fit right in with the Court of Nightmares. Nesta had filled you in on the Morrigan’s past, how her family sold her into marriage with Eris, only to dump her at the Autumn Court border with a note nailed into her womb saying she was Eris’ problem. Apparently it was Azriel who found her after Eris supposedly left her there, and thus her rise to power under Rhysand’s protection.

Mor, who had endured the cruelest of horrors in the Court of Nightmares that you would not wish upon anyone, had told Nesta that she belonged there. In a place that sold women like cattle and tortured them if they did not obey their fathers or husbands. It disgusted you how Mor could survive that only to tell a suffering female that she would deserve such a fate, not counting the fact that she herself had done nothing you know of to help other females like her who didn’t have a High Lord as a best friend.

Then there was Amren. You were underwhelmed upon meeting her – since losing her powers in the war, the mighty creature was just a bad-tempered High Fae female who did nothing but make rude comments to people. You honestly couldn’t figure out why she was even feared anymore.

You didn’t like Mor and Amren, but they were not the true targets of your revenge. Feyre had destroyed your court and was never held accountable for it. While Rhysand didn’t have any part of it, you still saw him as a controlling dick – he made no effort to help those in his court who weren’t part of his precious circle, and clearly did not care about the fates of innocents if he praised his mate for ruining their lives. Yes, Feyre and Rhysand would be hit hardest by your plan, and you were glad for it.

“Good luck,” Feyre said, nodding at you. “And thank you for doing this.”

“I’m not doing this for you.” Was all you replied with before following Azriel out of the room.

I’m doing this for me and Nesta. You added in your head.

*********************

Azriel winnowed you to the edge of the Spring Court border, as promised. You were clad in a Spring Court attire designed to look like one of your old dresses, since you obviously couldn’t appear in any clothes from the Night Court. You had been given a small sack with a few coins, stale bread, and a canteen of water – again, designed specifically to look like you had salvaged it from your village’s wreckage.

As the sweet air of the Spring Court filled your senses, you swallowed nervously. For the first time in a while it hit you what you were actually doing. You pushed aside your doubts before they could form, reminding yourself of why you were doing this.

Nesta and I need to get away from the Night Court. It’s suffocating us both and we need a way out, which may be through Eris. I just have to get to Eris and convince him to help us, then we’ll be free.

You thought of Nesta again and your last interaction with her. You had to consciously make an effort not to touch the star that was magically inked onto your sternum, remembering the kiss you shared with her after the spell. Your lips still tingled with the taste of her mouth, how soft yet passionate it was–

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” Azriel’s deep voice snapped you out of your trance.

“No, sorry.” You mumbled, earning a huff.

“As I was saying,” He continued irritably. “You should reach the manor in less than a day from here. Take that path–”

“I know my way around my own court.”

“Yet you have spent several months in Night so I am simply reminding you.”

“Reminder taken.”

You felt a hand grip your shoulder, turning you around and forcing you to look at him. Azriel’s hazel eyes bore into yours. “Are you sure about this?” He said, eyes scanning your face as if he was searching for something. “If not, that’s ok. We can take you back and figure something else out–”

“No.” You cut him off, almost too quickly. The spymaster did not show any reaction to your interjection, but you’d be stupid to think that he wasn’t analyzing and calculating your every move. “I can do this. I just don’t like lying to Tamlin.”

Azriel blinked, and you weren’t sure if he believed you or not so you continued. “I’ve known him since I was a child. I worry he’ll see right through me.”

The spymaster nodded slowly before answering. “Remember what I taught you. And just do your best – Tamlin knows you, use that to your advantage. He’s not himself, and he won’t be doing what’s in the best interest for his court. Perhaps you can nudge him in the right direction, but if he’s doing anything that threatens the Night Court of Prythian we need to know. I hope you understand that.”

You froze at his last words. I hope you understand that. A pit of dread formed in your stomach as one of your worst fears began to crawl into your mind. Azriel was not entirely fooled by you, and you knew it. Your mouth went dry as you met his gaze. He stared at you no differently than he had before, but you knew that as a spy those shadows were always whispering to him, always picking up on details that you may have missed….

No, You assured yourself. If he knew about my plan with Nesta I wouldn’t be here. No way. He may suspect something, but he can’t have any evidence to act on yet. I have more time.

“I do understand.” You said as calmly as you could. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Ever so slightly, Azriel’s gaze softened. “Those of us in this line of work rarely do.” He said.

“Then let’s hope I don’t have to be in it for long.” You said, silently adding, for many reasons.

“We shall.” Azriel said, before straightening up and stretching his wings slightly. “Well in that case, good luck (Y/N).”

You gave him a small smile before turning away from the shadowsinger, heading down the path through the forest. You knew Azriel was gone by now, but felt his shadows linger as if they were watching you.

*********************

After a day, you reached Tamlin’s manor. It was an unnerving journey to say the least – the normally buzzing forest was quiet, as if all happiness had been drained from it. The birds rarely sang, the flowers looked sad and withered. There were no happy cries of children playing in the streams – the whole Spring Court had gone quiet. The manor was overgrown with vines, stretching across cracks in the once pristine walls. There were few guards, most hardly noticed you as you walked through the gate. Daeron, a sentry friend of your father’s, only glanced up at you as you walked by, a hollow look in his eyes. He said nothing, just looked at you like you were a ghost.

The fact you were able to get to and enter the manor with no resistance was worrying. Tamlin must be in even worse shape than you thought to let it get like this. Even the inside of the manor was overgrown in many places, thorns and vines creeping into the spaces.

“My Lord?” You called out, not wanting to startle Tamlin if he even was home. Carefully, you set your bag on the table, noting how tendrils of dust skimmed the air as you did so.

The manor was a ghost of its former glory. Paintings on the wall were broken, some gone entirely. The shiny floors were dull, pieces of splintered wood littering across it threatening to pierce the bare feet or anyone who dares tread here. The windows were dusty, the room devoid of any life. If Tamlin was living here, it was hard to tell.

You wandered over to the end of the table that didn’t have dust on it. A kettle sat there, along with a singular cup that hadn’t been washed yet. Gingerly, you reached out your hand to touch it, and the metal was still slightly warm against your skin.

Well, at least you knew somebody was home.

“Tamlin?” You called out once again.

A heavy set of footsteps sounded from the stairwell in response. You turned to face them, and watched as the High Lord of the Spring Court descended.

His blonde hair was shaggy and as lifeless as the room around him, and a layer of scruff had grown around his face. The green eyes that had shone with kindness when you last saw them were haunted, looking at you like Daeron had – as if you were a ghost. Not that he looked much better than one himself.

“High Lord.” You greeted him, bowing your head. No matter what state his manor was in, he still remained the leader of your court, and you would at least try and show him respect.

“(Y/N)?” Tamlin rasped as if he hadn’t used his voice in weeks. The bags under his eyes were accentuated in the dusty light of the room.

“It’s me.” You said quietly. Tamlin only blinked.

“I thought you were dead.” He said in a monotone voice. “Your village burned.”

You sucked in a breath. “Did you come looking for me?” Maybe the Night Court’s reports were wrong, and he did come looking. Part of you hoped he had, that the strong High Lord you had known was still in there. But your plan rested upon Tamlin not caring enough to go to the massacred villages.

Tamlin laughed heartlessly in response. “No, I didn’t.” He said. “Everyone’s dead. Or gone. Too hard to keep track, there’s no point.”

Part of you was angry at him for not caring, but the other part was sad. The male you admired growing up, had always thought would protect you, didn’t care enough to see if you were dead or alive. Feyre’s damage to the Spring Court was more extensive than you realized, and it filled you with rage.

“So you’ve just given up then, is that it?” You questioned. Rhysand had warned you that Tamlin was unstable and violent, but all you saw now was a broken male who had lost his desire to fight. “You knew me well, and when you heard my village was slaughtered you didn’t even come to see for yourself?”

“My reports said there were no survivors, what else would I have done?” Tamlin snapped, gazing at something in the distance that wasn’t there. “Clearly they were wrong. How did you get out, (Y/N)? And why are you here after all this time?”

“My family is gone.” You said quietly, causing Tamlin’s gaze to return to you. “Everyone is gone. I barely got out, and it took me a while to heal on my own. I could have healed faster if you had come, but I laid low for a while. I wasn’t sure if Hybern was gone, but yesterday I gathered what I could and came here.”

There were a few minutes of silence, both of you staring at each other. Whether or not he knew you were lying, you couldn’t tell – or even if he cared. Tamlin simply looked empty, a husk of his former self.

“I am sorry.” He muttered before turning to go.

“I have nowhere else to go.” You pleaded, hoping he’d let you stay. The High Lord didn’t even spare you a glance.

“Make yourself at home, there’s plenty of space.” Was all he said before retreating back up the staircase.

If Rhysand really thinks he’s a threat, he’s insecure or just plain stupid. You thought bitterly. Yes, Tamlin had made major mistakes that made you lose respect for him – locking up Feyre was beyond wrong, and you knew it. Letting Hybern in was wrong, although Nesta told you that Feyre had sent Tamlin a letter saying to stop trying to get her back, yet as far as Tamlin knew, Feyre was still illiterate. Therefore, it wouldn’t be hard for him to assume that Rhysand was behind the letter.

The High Lord of Spring wasn’t perfect, he had let his trauma from Under the Mountain cloud his judgment and Feyre paid the price for it. But he did not deserve this, he did not need to have his court wiped out from under him to learn his lesson.

You would make Feyre pay, if only to see the look on the Inner Circle’s faces when they realized what you had done.

*********************

You had chosen a room a few doors down from Tamlin’s, right next to Lucien’s chambers. With the help of a few remaining servants, you had dusted and cleaned the room, changing the old sheets to fresh ones. It would be your first night back in the Spring Court in almost six months, you realized. It made your chest ache as you thought of your friends and family. There would be no more river picnics with them or afternoon teas, no more lounging in the fields with your mother…

A tear found its way down your cheek, but you quickly swept it away and opted to get ready for bed. After changing into a nightgown, you laid on the soft mattress, gently resting your fingers on the tattoo on your chest. It was warm to the touch, as if begging to have its magic used.

Nesta? You thought, not quite sure of how to reach her.

(Y/N?) Her reply came into your head after a few seconds. Can you hear me?

I can hear you. The spell worked.

Clearly. Are you okay? Did you make it to Spring?

Yes. It’s a mess here. Tamlin isn’t even trying to keep it together. I don’t think he’ll be a problem. The hardest part will be getting Eris on our side.

No, the hardest part was getting you out of Night. And you did it.

I wish I could have taken you with me.

I do too. But it’s not so bad here with just Cassian and the priestesses in the library. I made a friend, Emerie. She’s Illyrian, you’d love her. We’re all training together.

As happy as you were Nesta was getting along well in Night and was having extra support, you couldn’t help the twinge in your chest.

Hey, none of that. Came Nesta’s voice. I still miss you, and I still want to get the hell out of here.

It’s not that, You assured her. I want you to be getting along as best you can be. I’m happy for you, I just wish I was there joining the fun. Wait, you could feel what I felt?

Oh it’s not all fun, trust me. And yes, I could. Apparently the spell does that too. Also Cassian was talking today about how good it was you agreed to do this for them. He was completely clueless.

I don’t think Azriel is clueless, You admitted, tracing the lines of the star. I think he’s onto us in some way. Has he said anything that you know of?

No, not to Cassian at least. But he’s Azriel, it’s his job to be suspicious. If he knew what your intentions were, you wouldn’t be in Spring right now.

True. I feel bad, he hasn’t done anything wrong really. His constant brooding is insufferable, but I got used to him. But I know he’ll probably go running to Rhys the second he gets a crumb of evidence against me.

Probably. Cassian’s genuinely trying to help, he thinks it’s for the best. I wish he would understand and take off the Rhysand blindfold, but unlikely.

I get what you mean. They’ve been friends for centuries, Nesta. I don’t think we’ll be the ones to change that. It’s been a really long day and I have lots of work to do tomorrow so I should probably sleep.

Okay. Goodnight. We’ll talk soon.

The warm light that caressed your chest as you communicated with Nesta faded as the line of communication was cut, and you were left with what felt like a hole in your chest. You missed her more than you wanted to admit, but it gave you all the more reason to get your shit together and start your plan.

*********************

The next few days were spent cleaning up the manor with the servants. You assured them that you didn’t need their help, but they did anyway – clearly wanting something to do other than making tea. Slowly, the manor living room began to come back to life. The broken paintings were taken down, and replaced with hanging flower pots. The dust was mostly gone, a process which left you all sneezing for hours. You didn’t see Tamlin once in the three days you worked on the living room.

“He spends all his time upstairs,” One of the servants told you when you asked about him. “We bring him food, and he’ll eat it sometimes in his room then leave the tray outside. But that’s it.”

After trimming the thorns away and preparing a hot meal with the chef, one of the servants came with a tray.

“It’s ok,” You assured him. “We’ll put it on the table.”

“But, miss,” The servant boy stammered. “The High Lord eats in his room every day.”

You snorted. “He’s the High Lord of the Spring Court and he has work to do, he’s going to dine at the table like a normal lord.” The boy looked pale, frightened at the idea of disrupting his Lord’s routine so you bent down and grabbed the tray from him. “It’s okay, you can go home. I will deal with Tamlin and be fully responsible for dinner, ok?”

The boy nodded with relief, scampering off into the kitchens. Sighing, you grabbed the dishes from the counter and lugged them to the table. You and the chef, Mairon, had prepared a harvest salad for dinner with a side of roasted potatoes, chicken, and freshly baked bread. Your mouth watered as you resisted the urge to bite into it, using great self control to place it on the dining room table and leave it there.

You trudged up the stairs to Tamlin’s room, knocking once on the heavy door. No sound came from inside, so you knocked again. “Tamlin!” You yelled, pounding your first on the wood.

The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing the still haggard-looking High Lord. “You can leave the tray outside the door.”

“No.” You said stubbornly, sticking your foot in the doorway as he attempted to close it. “You’re High Lord of the Spring Court and you’re going to act like it and come eat dinner with me. Now get a move on, I’ll see you down there.”

You did not wait to see his stunned face as you turned on your heel to head back downstairs. If younger you knew you’d spoken to your High Lord that way, she’d probably faint on the spot. You knew that no amount of gentle coaxing would pull Tamlin out of this place he was in, you just prayed he wouldn’t take your head for your approach.

Entering the dining room once again, you took a seat a few feet down from the head of the table. Worry began to eat away at you – what if Tamlin just stayed in his room and completely ignored you? He can’t protect his court in this state, and he clearly won’t even try. You needed to get him back on track, so he could go back to doing his job. As you began piling food onto your plate, you contemplated how your report to Rhysand and Feyre would go. You decided not to tell them that you were actively trying to help Tamlin regain his strength – they’d see it as a threat. Therefore, you concluded that you would have to make things up in your reports. If all the Night Court received was claims of nothing happening, they’d get suspicious and perhaps investigate themselves and that could not happen. If they figured out you were not only helping Tamlin, but actively trying to find a way out of the Night Court’s grasp, you were dead.

Heavy footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts a few minutes later. To your surprise, the High Lord wordlessly took a seat at the head of the table. He still looked a mess and did not glance at you once, but nonetheless reached forth and began to add food onto his plate.

“You could have at least combed your hair.” You remarked after he took a few bites of salad.

“I came down,” Tamlin mumbled between bites. “Is that not enough for you?”

“No.” You said firmly.

The High Lord paused, turning his emerald gaze towards you in a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Your court fell apart,” Your breath tried not to shake at the boldness with which you spoke to the powerful male. “So what? Move on. Not everyone is gone or dead, some of us are still here. And we are not safe, not without your protection.”

“Thanks to Feyre.” Tamlin hissed, bitterness laced in his voice.

“Yes, and I hate her for it. Whatever happened between you two doesn’t matter, she took her revenge out on the rest of us. I don’t care that you’re upset right now, we are the ones who suffered more. The innocent people of YOUR court who never asked to be dragged into any of this.”

Instead of lashing out at you, either with his words or with those talons that hid beneath his skin, Tamlin simply stared at the table.

“Feyre leaving you does not relieve you of your responsibilities as High Lord,” You continued. “You have a duty to your people to protect them no matter what. There are others like me out there who have had their villages destroyed and everything lost. You need to help them and strengthen your court.”

“And this is the part where you tell me that you can help me with that, I assume?” His laugh was empty, as if he didn’t quite believe you.

“I can.” You promised.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I remember those three days when I was a young girl that you looked after me while my father was sick. And I’m hoping the compassionate High Lord I knew back then is still in there somewhere.”

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the candles at the table. After a few seconds, Tamlin simply turned back to his plate and shoved food in his mouth. Your heart sank a little at his lack of answer, but you cursed yourself for thinking he would even listen to you in the first place. Angrily, you stabbed a potato with your fork, wondering how the hell you were going to help get the Spring Court back on track before you attempted to leave with Eris.

When the High Lord finished his plate, he gulped down the glass of wine in front of him before standing up. He stood up, looking down at you. “Your help would be appreciated,” He said. “But I cannot promise it will do much good. You are, however, welcome to try as you see fit. We have nothing to lose anyways.”

Without waiting for a response, Tamlin left you in the dining room, mind whirling. He had not seemed as enthusiastic as you had hoped, but at least it was something. You were going to help the Spring Court as best you could, with or without Tamlin.

*********************

You ran yourself ragged the next few days, hiring more servants and sentries to help clean the place up. After almost an hour of pestering, you convinced Tamlin to go with some guards to nearby villages to check up on them, offering any aid. Your biggest accomplishment, however, was your idea to turn the manor into a sanctuary. It had dozens of empty rooms, and with many citizens displaced by the recent events, you convinced Tamlin to use this space as a shelter for them. Therefore, when he traveled to the villages again next week, he could offer those who were suffering a place to stay.

The manor’s preparation took a ton of work. Tamlin hardly helped, still preferring to just sulk in his room, but he had given you authority to run the minor things in the manor in his stead. The gardens were being replenished to provide more produce, the windows repaired and skylights fixed, and the floors were polished and finally cleaned. By the third day, it looked less like a haunted house and more like the beautiful manor you had known growing up.

It was on the evening of the third day when you composed your first report to the Night Court. Azriel had provided you with a special set of ink and parchment that you would write on, and the ink would disappear after 15 seconds and the message would be received by the Spymaster. You had spent all of dinner planning exactly what you wanted to say, and decided on a mix of truth and lies. The letter had read:

I arrived at the manor on Sunday – there were almost no guards, and the ones who were there did not care. Tamlin greeted me, he was a bit suspicious but didn’t seem to care much. I have not seen him leave the manor since. He has let me stay here. I surveyed the whole place like you taught me and aside from a few beds in the servants quarters, the manor shows no signs of anyone else being here. I will keep you updated if anything changes.

When the ink disappeared, you had let out a breath. You had left out everything about the manor turning into a sanctuary, an attempt at rebuilding the trust between the citizens and their High Lord. You had just prayed Azriel wasn’t also spying on the Spring Court and would see you were lying.

The next day, you decided to help wash all the sheets in the manor. Taking the basket of wet material from the servant, you lugged it outside where you had set up clotheslines. It was peaceful, with everyone else mostly at the other end of the manor organizing the dining hall, you were mostly alone in the gardens.

Sighing, you gently shook the soft sheets and placed them over the line to dry. It was methodical, a simple mundane task that brought you peace. At the House of Wind, servants had done everything for you, no doubt also acting as spies meant to keep an eye on you and Nesta. You missed the freedom, the autonomy of something as simple as doing your own laundry.

Halfway through the basket, a sudden wave of dread made your entire body go cold, despite the warm sunlight.

“What the…” You gasped, heart racing all of a sudden. Dropping the sheet in your hands, you stared down as a white glow began to peek through your lilac dress. “No, no no no!”

Frantically, you pressed your hands against it, whipping your head back and forth to see if anyone could see you. You cried out as your entire body went ice cold, as if submerged underwater. Your ankle burned like it was being grasped tightly, and whatever it was would not let go.

You remembered what Nesta said when you asked her if the tattoo from your bond would always glow: No. Only when the other is in danger.

Nesta was in danger, you realized. And you were feeling what she was feeling at that moment. Your lungs ached, and you realized the sensation you were experiencing was drowning.

Where is she that she’s drowning? You wracked your brain trying to think of bodies of water in the Night Court that she may be in. But nothing came up, you could only sit there hyperventilating, glowing from your sternum as the magic between you and the eldest Archeron sister consumed you.

“Nesta!” You cried out, gagging before throwing up thick, sludgy water. It splattered on the ground before you like black ink, unforgiving against the soft green grass.

And then it stopped, and the light faded. Everything was quiet, and you felt an eerie calmness washing over you. The air flooded back into your lungs, but your panic was gone – everything was. You stood up, but didn’t feel it – it was like you were not in control of your own body, like someone was pulling the strings for you. But still you felt no panic, no pain, simply nothing. You remained standing in the gardens of the Spring Court, staring into the nothingness. And then the emptiness subsided, and everything came rushing back. You cried out, collapsing into the grass as everything faded to black.

*********************

A soft light crept into your vision as you cracked open your eyelids. Everything was hazy, and your body ached. You looked around as your vision cleared up – you were no longer in the gardens, but in a bed in the healing ward of the manor. The room was empty, save for a table littered with ointments and medicines, and a chair across from you that currently sat a bulking, blonde male.

“Tamlin?” You croaked, voice raw as if you had been screaming.

“(Y/N),” The High Lord sat up, green eyes boring into you. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. What happened?”

Tamlin leaned forward, not blinking once as he stared down at you. “I heard you scream, so I came out just in time to see you collapse. I brought you in here, but not before I saw the black water on the ground in front of you. Water which definitely does not come from Spring Court.”

You froze, blood running cold as you tried to remember Azriel’s training about what to do if you got confronted. “I…” You stammered nervously before Tamlin interrupted.

“Spare me any lies, they will do you no good.” He growled. “I know where that water comes from, what dark magic and curses it holds. It magically appears right in front of where you collapsed, after you so miraculously waltzed back in here after months and generously offered to help me.”

“I know how this probably looks-”

“Then you have one chance to tell me what the hell is going on here, (Y/N), or I will get it out of you myself.”

You fiddled with your fingers, debating what to do. Either you could come up with the most miraculous lie of your life and somehow sell it to Tamlin, like Azriel taught you, or you could just say to hell with it and tell him the truth. If you told him the truth, he may not believe you and just lock you up – either way, that could end up with him confronting the Night Court about them sending in a spy. Whether or not you told him you had your own agenda it did not matter, either you betrayed the Inner Circle now to save your own skin, or still pretend to side with them and risk them feigning innocence and abandoning you to face Tamlin’s wrath.

So you decided with the truthful option. “Everything I am about to tell you is the whole truth,” You began slowly, sitting up stiffly. “I swear on my life. Please, hear me out fully.”

Tamlin said nothing, still glaring, but nodded. Taking a deep breath, you began your story. “When my village was destroyed, Lucien found me barely alive. He brought me to the Night Court, since that’s where he was staying. They healed me, but kept me locked up because I was from the Spring Court and they were worried I was sent as revenge for Feyre’s destruction. My first interaction with the High Lord and Lady was…unpleasant. I hated them both, especially Feyre, because they were the reason I lost everything. Feyre may not have killed my family, but she destroyed our court enough to let Hybern do the rest for her. I called them out on it, and they sent me to the House of Wind. I was not allowed to leave, I don’t think they knew what to do with me.

“I met Nesta Archeron there. They had locked her there too, Tamlin. They did the same thing to her that you did to Feyre. We were trapped with no way out unless we wanted to comply with the Night Court’s wishes. After a few weeks we started to speak to each other, and eventually we….. we became friends. She defended me when the Inner Circle arrived for dinner and tried to persuade me to spy on you in return for them saving me. I refused, and Nesta and I became closer after that. We agreed that we needed to get out of the Night Court, so we formed a plan. We staged a fight so that the Inner Circle would think we had grown distant, and I eventually agreed to train with Azriel, and she with Cassian. I agreed to come to Spring under the guise of spying on you, but I swear that is not what I intend. I’ve only sent them one report so far, and all I said was that nothing was happening.”

Tamlin narrowed his eyes. “So you’re admitting to spying on me, then.”

“No, you fool,” You snapped. “Were you not listening? I was lying to them. I would never betray Spring for Night, not after what they did to us. I’m feeding them misinformation to keep them off your back as best I can, at least until it’s time for the rest of the plan.”

“The plan which you better start explaining right now.” Tamlin growled. “Because I don’t see how any of this fits together.”

“Nesta had mentioned that Cassian met with Eris by the border just inside the Spring Court. Which you would know if you cared enough to actually monitor it. I’ve known Eris a long time, and have reason to believe that he could help Nesta and I be free from the Night Court. He hates the Inner Circle almost as much as we do, and would gladly take us in, even if only to rub it in their faces. The plan was that I would agree to pretend to be a spy in the Spring Court so I could get to Eris, since he seems to be here regularly without you knowing. Then I will convince him to help us out, and we can finally be free.”

“So let me get this straight,” Tamlin said, brows furrowed. “You’re double crossing the Night Court for revenge, and trusting you’ll be able to get Eris Vanserra of all people to help you out? What makes you think he won’t just sell you back to them? He’s a cruel, sadistic bastard who shouldn’t be trusted.”

“I know the risks, Tamlin.” You replied, taking another deep breath. “But I don’t care. I will do anything to be free from the Night Court.”

“But you are here. You’re home. You got out already, is that not good enough?”

“I am not leaving Nesta there alone. I have to go back for her.”

A few moments of silence encompassed the room. Your heart raced – you had no idea if Tamlin even believed you. Admittedly, your story was outrageous, even to you. So much had happened within the past few months, you didn’t even know if you would believe yourself if you heard this story. So you sat there, fiddling with the corner of the bedsheet as Tamlin’s immovable gaze stared you down.

“You care about Nesta.” He said quietly.

“I lo…” You stammered. “I care about her a lot. She helped me through literal hell and I cannot just leave her there to end up as another pawn in Rhysand’s games. Nesta deserves better than that, and so do I.”

“And how do I know that you are not making this up?” Tamlin asked. “Granted, it would be an impressive lie. But Rhysand is known to play cruel mind games and mess with one’s memory. And with Feyre apparently having that same ability, I want to believe you (Y/N) but I have to be sure.”

You took another shaky breath. “Nesta and I did a spell,” You began. “An old spell that she found in a book. It gave us a daemati-like line of communication to each other, and was binded by a tattoo on our chests. It glows when the other is in danger, and that’s what happened earlier. We think that in some ways, we can feel what the other is feeling through it. I felt Nesta drowning earlier, and I think I collapsed when she lost consciousness.”

Tamlin frowned. “So is she dead then?”

“No,” You almost shouted. “No, she’s not. I can’t explain it, but I can feel that she’s alive.”

“Interesting, it’s almost as if…” Tamlin muttered, shaking his head before trailing off. “Never mind that. This magic spell, this tattoo…. show me.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and searching for that string that bound you to Nesta. Within a void of darkness you felt it call out to you like the sweetest song, leading you towards its light. So you followed, reaching out your mind to that cord before grabbing onto it and letting its warmth consume you.

Opening your eyes, you were met with a glow peeking through your dress. Tamlin’s face went white as he stared at the mark, visible through the thin fabric of the gown. “Impossible…” He muttered.

“Do you believe me now?” You asked before whispering the disappearing phrase. “Evanescere.”

The glow faded, leaving Tamlin stunned. “I believe you,” He said softly. “I just don’t know what to do now, or what this means for my court. If Rhysand is spying on me, I have every right to confront him about it. But then that puts you at risk, and I am not willing to do that.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, relieved. “I know this is a tough spot for you. You have every right to be angry with them and confront them right now, but I promise it will be worth the wait. I fully intend on letting them know everything I’ve done when I am free, and I will leave you out of it. They do not know that I am helping you now, so when they realize that your court is strong again thanks to me, it will be the cherry on top of everything else we have planned.”

“There’s more to the plan?” Tamlin sighed, exasperated.

“Yes, but it is solely my and Nesta’s own vengeance we will carry out,” You assured him. “You need not know what it is, and I promise you it will not bring harm to the Spring Court. You have my word.”

“You hate them that much?”

“Yes, but not just because of what they did to us. I see the Inner Circle on a mountain of wealth while their people suffer and starve if they do not live in Rhysand’s favourite city, building castle after castle. I hear stories of women being sold and tortured by their families in the Court of Nightmares while their High Lord does nothing to help them, even though his Third in command is a survivor from that very court. I know that the High Lady flies around flaunting her Illyrian wings she shapeshifts into while hundreds and thousands of Illyrian females get their own wings clipped and are kept for breeding while the High Lord and Lady do nothing to stop it because they prefer keeping their pigheaded military leaders happy over the safety and lives of all the females in their court. I look at the Inner Circle and see a group who could do so much good for their Court, but refuse not to because they want to live in their own special bubble, rest of their court be damned. I see a High Lady who is not qualified for the job and only has it because she is mated to Rhysand. I see a High Lord who loves his found family so much he would let the rest of his court burn to keep them happy. Qualities which make for a romantic story, but a shitty leader. That, Tamlin, is why I hate them. And why I cannot wait to see their faces when they realize not everyone wants to bow to Rhysand.”

After your ramble, you took a shaky breath, sipping the cup of water from the nightstand beside you. Your anger you had suppressed for the past week was fired up, a rage that you had burned with for months now and thought you had pushed down enough in the peacefulness of home. But you knew that it would not go away, at least not until you had gotten your revenge.

“I understand your anger, and agree with you completely.” Tamlin said after a few moments before standing up. “The Night Court needs to be humbled. But I will take no part in your plan other than turning a blind eye to whatever you need to do. I have my own bone to pick with the High Lord and Lady, but I will not drag you into it. For now, rest. We will figure this shit out later.”

He left you in the room to sleep, but it would not come. Letting Tamlin in on everything was not part of the plan, but strangely enough it pulled a weight off your chest. You didn’t need to sneak around him anymore. Maybe he could even help you, if you needed it. At least he knew of your plans now and wouldn’t think you were betraying or abandoning him when the time came for you to leave.

Rearranging the pillow, you tossed and turned, desperately trying to reach Nesta.

Nesta? Are you okay?

Nothing. No response, no feeling from the other end of your connection. You knew she was still alive – something deep inside of you knew that you’d be able to tell if she was dead, but her presence lingered somehow. Perhaps she’s just busy. You tried to assure yourself. Eventually, exhaustion overcame you, and you fell into a haunted sleep, plagued by images of dark water and something golden glowing beneath it.

*********************

It had been two days since your conversation with Tamlin, and two days of not hearing from Nesta. You tried to push your worries aside, comforted by the fact that nothing in your chest had snapped indicating she was dead. Wherever she was, you would find her. Even if you had to go to the ends of the earth to do it.

To your delight, the manor’s progress had continued splendidly. More guards were in training, sentries roamed the grounds once again, and servants bustled about. Tamlin had even combed his hair and shaved, which you thanked the Mother for. A few lesser fae from the nearby towns wandered into the manor grounds escorted by sentries. You could tell they were nervous, eyes wide as they saw the High Lord waiting to greet them by the gates. But Tamlin simply smiled, welcoming them warmly and leading them into the manor. After settling in one of the guest rooms, which had been converted to accommodating four people, the first group of citizens joined you for lunch. They practically gasped when they saw that the High Lord would be dining with them, but Tamlin simply gestured for them to sit down and enjoy the vast array of food the cooks had prepared. You could tell his cheer was still more forced than natural, but you were happy that he was making the effort. It was a step in the right direction.

With Tamlin’s guidance, you wrote another report to Azriel a few days later. It said that nothing had changed, except that Tamlin had begun making more appearances to prepare for the Spring Equinox in a few weeks. You sent it off, smirking at yourself.

“I need a break,” You said after the ink disappeared on the parchment. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll come with you.” Tamlin offered as you grabbed your shawl.

“Absolutely not,” You argued. “You have guests to host. You just patrolled the forest so I know it’s safe. I’ll be fine.”

The High Lord opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and simply nodded. You organized your papers before closing the door to your room and heading out in the direction of the forest.

You wandered through the paths, lost in your own thoughts. No word from Nesta still, but you clung onto the fact you knew she was alive. It was all you had keeping you together, thankfully, and you would not fall apart. So you distracted yourself with mentally planning tomorrow’s schedule – what documents needed to be signed and sent out, inventory of supplies, and organizing a meeting to discuss using funds collected from that year’s Tithe to build secure shelters across the Court for those who had lost their homes to Hybern’s armies. It was a brilliant plan, you gave yourself credit. One of the best parts of your revenge was knowing that Feyre had not destroyed the Spring Court, and you longed to see the look on her face when she realized that not only was it coming back stronger than ever, but that it was the perfect example of how leaders should help their people.

Suddenly, a twig snapped a few feet ahead of you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blinked, taking in your surroundings – you were at the old oak tree several miles near the Autumn Court border, not realizing you wandered so far. Reaching under your dress, you slid out the dagger you kept strapped to your thigh as footsteps approached. Your heart raced, praying it wasn’t one of Amarantha’s lingering beasts – while Azriel taught you a lot, you were still no match for a monster.

Instead of a lurking monster, a slender and beautiful figure emerged from the shadows of the tree, red hair elegantly tied back and lips stretched into a smirk you’d recognize from anywhere.

“Why hello there, darling.” Came the velvety voice of Eris Vanserra. “This is quite a surprise, isn’t it?”

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

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974

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just-some-common-bitch · 2 years

Text

I just want to add something to the Try Guys conversation we’ve all been collectively having for well over a month now. I’ve seen these points iterated several times but I am your local Loud Greek™️ and will be sharing my opinion.

for those of you who haven’t seen the SNL Try Guys sketch, don’t bother wasting your brain cells on it. it’s truly awful. every part of it was horrible. condensed into a few sentences, they greatly exaggerate the reactions of Eugene, Zach, and Keith, and greatly downplay Ned’s affair. I’ll get more into detail further down the post. look for this emoji: 🖕🏻

now, Ned has a direct connection to the SNL writer’s room. he went to Yale alongside and is admittedly friends with Will Stephen, who wrote/helped write that insanely tone-deaf Try Guys sketch. (proof in this tiktok here). he allegedly has up to three friends in the SNL writer’s room, but I was unable to find any sort of solid proof of the other two.

there are two possible scenarios behind this incredible play by SNL. 1. Ned contacted Will and threw a tanty about how he’s the victim and he’s being treated so unfairly and Will agreed and pitched/wrote the sketch 2. Ned did not contact Will but Will on his own thinks/thought that Ned is the victim and was being treated unfairly so he pitched/wrote the sketch - in both of these scenarios, Saturday Night Lame decides that, since the Try Guys news has turned the entire internet upside down, the sketch needs to air in order to get some of that sweet Gen Z attention. which is the single funny thing about this, since the only reactions I’ve seen (save a handful of fuckheads) have been every flavour of pissed about this. either way this sketch came to life, it looks really bad for Ned and hurts literally everyone involved way more.

🖕🏻 alrighty! time to deep dive into the absolute fuckery of this sketch. trigger warning (tw) for infidelity, homophobia, and trauma. - they turn Ned’s full-blown affair - let’s not forget, he called it a relationship and the guys confirmed it had been occurring for a while - into a single kiss. they verbatim call it a ‘consensual kiss’. this is not only a blatant lie on SNL’s part, but it completely eradicates the inherently problematic nature of Ned sleeping with a subordinate for several months. even if we take Ariel and Will (Alex’s ex-fiancé) out of it, sleeping with an employee is quite literally illegal. - the other guys dropped Ned because he did something very illegal with his power as a boss. they also admit that he was dropped because of his betrayal to their brand and image and trust as friends, but they had no choice but to remove him from the company because of his misconduct. he was not let go because he cheated on his wife. he was let go because he caused a giant HR and legal mess in their company and 2nd Try LLC would have been in big trouble had they kept him on. SNL jokes that Ned only kissed his subordinate and didn’t tell his friends and how heinous and awful and sdfajklgrjfsdb and that’s why he was fired which is. A COMPLETE FUCKING LIE. - SNL make a joke out of the fact that the guys call it trauma. the audience laughs every time the Zach character says the word trauma. how completely devoid of human decency do you have to be to find humour in the life-altering fuckshit these men went through? yes, it’s not the kind of trauma that victims of abuse or SA or natural disasters go through, but they had their trust violated and had to cut off a dear friend of theirs. the entire world has been talking about this since it dropped. that kind of attention is fun for nobody. let’s not forget, Zach, Keith, and Eugene are in charge of an entire company in the middle of all of this. they had to remove one of their best friends, a co-creator, from their staff, and figure out a way to buy him out in order to keep their company (their LIFE’S WORK) afloat through all of this. the stress of that alone is enough to cause trauma. dealing with HR and lawyers and keeping the internet’s information pool in check atop all that must have been torture. THAT is trauma, point blank period. - SNL has a history of sexual misconduct allegations that have not been handled. I’d link articles, but there are literally too many to sort through. just google ‘SNL sexual misconduct’ and you’ll find some. the fact that SNL’s history matches up better with their sketch of Ned’s out of control penis than Ned’s actual out of control penis is very telling and very gross. - they make an INSANE caricature of Eugene Lee Yang. for those of you who don’t know, Eugene Lee Yang is a Korean-American actor and filmmaker and one of the 4 original Try Guys and owners/co-creators of 2nd Try LLC. he is also openly gay. in the sketch, Eugene is played by Bowen Yang, who is also an openly gay Asian actor. however, Bowen’s take is... not great. he really plays up the true, genuine anger and pain and exhaustion on Eugene’s face in the original video and turns this Eugene character into the hostile, angry, aggressive POC character. not only that, but they give ‘Eugene’ a very stereotypical gay accent. it’s very harmful and very problematic, considering neither of the white guys are made fun of in nearly the same way at all. - the sketch makes NO mention of Ariel (Ned’s wife) or Will (Alex’s ex-fiance). they also keep referring to Alex as a Food Baby, and not Ned’s employee. if you are unfamiliar with the Try Guys and viewed this sketch, you would be inclined to believe that SNL was not exaggerating that much and you’d assume both Ned and Alex are/were single during their affair and that Alex was not Ned’s subordinate. this is extremely disrespectful to the victim most hurt by all of this, Ariel and Will. AND! Ned has two fucking children with Ariel. for the sake of rubbing salt in the wound for a failed funny haha, Ned’s entire family has been erased. I cannot even express to you how angry that makes me. poor Ariel and Will have done absolutely nothing wrong and are being punished over and over and over again.

Ned Fulmer is a piece of garbage human and whoever greenlit that SNL sketch is too. justice for Ariel, Will, and everyone at 2nd Try LLC.

I hope I got everything I needed to say with this. I’ll reblog this and add more if new information comes out or I come up with more opinion blurbs.

#ned fulmer #SNL #snl try guys #try guys #try guys ned #ned fulmer is a cheater

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 11 months

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You're forgetting that Eraser is an enabler. Yes, Bakugo should be held fully accountable for his own actions, I completely agree with you there. But Eraser is his homeroom teacher. It's his job to discipline Bakugo when he does something wrong and not allow him to continue that behavior. Instead he does nothing as Bakugo repeatedly attacks a fellow classmate. He assumes that Midoriya is just as responsible for them not being able to get along. He has CONSISTENTLY treated Midoriya unfairly, especially as opposed to Bakugo.

Who's the one always defending Bakugo? Eraser. Who's the one who paired them together for the final despite Bakugo repeatedly being violent toward Midoriya? Eraser. Who's the one who did nothing to correct Bakugo's behavior despite promising to? Eraser.

Either Eraser is an idiot who genuinely doesn't believe that there's a power imbalance between Midoriya and Bakugo, or he's aware of it and sees no problem with it and doesn't deign to do anything about it. You can understand how neither of these options do him any favors

I'm not saying he isn't an enabler.

I'll acknowledge that my preferred version of Aizawa is mostly fanon because I like him better when he's a good man and a good father figure to the kids. But I know that he enabled Bakugou.

It's why in every five I write the backstory is that Aizawa doesn't read teacher comments and he assumes based on Bakugou’s attitude that he was treated like a villain. Because it gives us a reason why Aizawa does defend Bakugou. As for Izuku: I think Nezu never included the activation date or even Izuku kept it quiet out of fear. He never tells ANYONE when he got his Quirk for a long time. So I can actually understand why Aizawa would think Izuku is lazy in that situation. I think Aizawa is a fucking idiot for not looking into it further, but that's me.

However I can't remember Aizawa ever blaming Izuku for the fights with Bakugou. I literally can't. He blames them BOTH for the after curfew fight which is highly unfair but it's not solely Izuku. I've rewritten enough of the series that I can see how unfair Aizawa is BUT with his personality I can't understand why. It feels incredibly out of character to me that a guy who hates when people coast on their Quirks and acts like a bunch of entitled dicks would give Bakugou a pass. Hence my headcanon.

Aizawa does enable Bakugou: and it's WILDLY out of character even early on. This is why I think Horikoshi either: a) wants Bakuhou around the most and will make everyone OOC to do it or b) is being forced to keep the guy in due to popularity.

But to say he ONLY blames Izuku is wrong. He's just never punishing Bakugou which isn't good. I won't deny Aizawa is a dick the first while before becoming more open. However: he's not the one at fault for Bakugou’s actions. Bakugou would have figured a way out to bully Izuku no matter what. He'd have gotten sneaker and meaner over time. That's what abusers do. He'd have hit Izuku in places people can't see and he'd have done things to mess with him.

Aizawa did enable Bakugou. But to have him receive a horrible punishment when Bakugou gets off Scott free is my issue. If Aizawa is fired for not doing anything, Bakugou should be expelled. If Bakugou just needs anger management, Aizawa just needs therapy.

To me, Aizawa honestly thought Bakugou just needed guidance. He never threatens Izuku with expelling him after the first day. He pulls logical ruses, does train Shinsou over them and isn't a great teacher but NO teacher at UA is a good one. Vlad King certainly the hell isn't given he hasn't cracked down on Kendo or Monoma for their shit. Power Loader isn't for not stopping Mei from her antics. Present Mic and Midnight could have done something to. All Might isn't a great teacher either.

Aizawa is an idiot who got blinded by his own beliefs. Bakugou is a child who was hurt by society and needs guidence while Izuku is the old version of Kirishima: a well meaning guy who pushes to much. That's what Aizawa thinks I believe. That's what he is to me. Someone who honestly has the best intentions but fucks up.

But again: the issue will always be the unequal punishment for Bakugou when he is the sole person at fault. He didn't need an enabler the very first day: he attacked Izuku no matter what. His actions are his own.

#bnha #bnha critical #bakugou critical #anti bakugou #aizawa critical

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obihiro-division · 1 month

Text

Hisoka’s Thoughts on Aoyama Division

Tomi Chōten

“Ah… Chōten-san. He owns a couple horses at the property. They’re what you would expect for thoroughbreds. He’s been talking about wanting to win some of the races held in Sapporo, so the boss has put me in charge of their care a few months ago. Truthfully, Chōten-san would be better off breeding his favorite horse with another, but arranging that can take some time…”

“Wait, is he the first opponent who I actually work for? That’s… Alright, I guess. Chōten-san isn’t a bad person at all. A little uppity, but that’s expected of the people that come around the ranch. Daiki-kun is the one anomaly when it comes to horse owners…”

Karada Kessaku

“Ugh, a bodybuilder… Sorry, something about huge muscled guys like Karada gives me this uncomfortable feeling in my gut. Probably just unfairly associating him with that monster. I-I’m sure Karada is an okay guy.”

Luis Kōkyū

“Wish I could eat at a place like that… S-Sorry! Just getting a little hungry. I don’t think I know Luis, but I’ve heard of his restaurant. I mean, Toshiko-san is a huge fan of his business. I remember her bringing a bottle of wine after a long trip, mentioning it was from his family, the Kōkyū? She seemed to be close to someone in the family and would brag about how delicious the food was. That old woman just loved to bully me for being stuck in bed. At least it softened my attitude about the healing process. Not to mention that wine helped ease the pain.”

Jet Set Trio

“I can’t help but feel like maybe To- I mean Chōten-san might have had a hand in just about everything in regards to this team. No offense to either of them, but the two of them seem like pushovers in comparison to someone like Chōten-san. He’s… Really imposing for someone who looks like a baby. Can’t say I’m worried about them being a challenge though. Hate to say this since it might make him fire me… T-Tomi doesn’t look like much of a challenge. I’m pretty sure I can handle someone like him.”

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #obihiro division #veiled vanguard #hisoka tetsumasu #aoyama division #jet set trio #tomi chōten #karada kessaku #luis kōkyū

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halky-on · 1 year

Text

Hi. Me 11 years ago.

18/05/23

I cant help but keep vaguely remembered one single image that my 12yo self keep thinking and drool for:

It's a room, that filled with 27 inch iMac and Canon 5D Mark II, both are gadgets of his dream and he was rlly aspiring to be a photo/videographer,

but this specific setup and table is what always come to his mind, very specific, the gadgets sit on a table, with a golden morning settings with sunrise hitting in.

I, i, i accidentally achieved that.

What was thought impossible due to prices etc, now i have it kinda in front of me with a different circumstances: i managed to have an online secondhand store for selling cameras and macs, but in the meantime i'd use all that gadgets.

H, is this what you want? I could imagine you'll be all jolly trying things inside my house hahahaha. Sometimes part of you leaking to me as i getting too attached(?) To these things, knowing i will say bye to these beautiful things i provide for other people.

H, i was so hard to you back then at Nov 2022, i could imagine you'd be dissapointed by me, how late i am, how a failure i am, im a disgrace and fail to secure your future, oh, you, hard to understand full of dreams and wild imaginations filled boy.

I know you understand a bit of things i went through, you grew too fast afterall. H, if i sit with you here today. As you listen to my stories a-z, will you forgive me? Will you smile and think that i deserve a chance to do better? I keep fucking it up, but i still am lucky having friends that could counter/shield me from my mean mind that keep scorn me to a point of me shutting myself in bcs i was ensured that i am a burden to everyone..

H, i managed to be balanced and level headed in situation i'll predict my 2020 me could go rampant or wreak havoc, either thinking im a complete failure, or a flawless arrogant douche. It seems now, i able to see which part of me was right, and which was wrong.

This week is hard for me, H.

Sometimes i wish i can surrender my mind then live my life the way you are. Free of things. Able to completely happy and digest everything happens around you without skepticism or suspicion.

I did a lot this 5 months.

Since 1st January 2023, i did a lot..

I think i am tired.

But even resting a full day like today doing nothing except sleep and games, my mean mind already scorn me that i dont do enough, well, i trained myself to be rapid fire full of effort kinda person, sleeping this long making me feel guilty, but part of me think this day much deserved knowinf whqt happened since last week.

H, i will be your shield.

So you and your brothers, knowing you guys get treated so unfairly with life, will have a platform to stand on your own

Yes this also meant for you, last week H

I will be your shield.

Lend me wisdom and strength okay?

Nobody know me better than you,

Nobody truly know what i went through better than you,

Nobody know which mistakes i did, other than you

So let be that act as a benchmark and insurance.

That i'm capable of doing something right for myself😊

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

CEO! Min Yoongi- My Favorite Secretary

Why hello there!

ANON ASKS

Hi! Want to make a nasty petition pls. I want CEO Yoongi but he is so mean and strict with y/n he discharges all his frustrations and stress on her until he gets to fuck with her. I want a hard smut plsss

With these :

3, 15, 21, 60, 66

OOOOH FUN!!! LET’S GET INTO IT I was not too proud of this one...but here you go! Yo this one was LOOONNGGG, like shit.

3- I said FUCKING BEG!

15- Whose gonna stop us? I own this fucking place, baby.

21- That’s right, you fucking worship me don’t you? Look up at me like I’m your god.

60- I found that little journal you made about me. I think it’s so cute how you fantasize about me, darling.

66- I’m gonna corrupt your mind. I love to play with you like you’re a fucking violin.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!

leggo!!

... (Monday)

“You’ll have to redo these reports.” a stack of papers was thrown onto your desk. You stared up at your boss in disbelief.

“And just what’s wrong with them?” you raised an eyebrow.

“There are exactly 15 typos in these reports and since I don’t care enough to go through them with you, I want them redone.”

Min Fucking Yoongi. CEO of Bangtan Enterprises. You of course were a humble secretary who wrote reports on every idol and client that walked through the damn door.

“I spent hours on those!” you tried to defend. “I already deleted the stupid file to save space on my computer!”

“You have until the end of the week.” he walked away without another word.

“Sora didn’t even turn in her reports because she stayed up playing fucking Doki Doki Handsome Husband Haven and you gave her an extension!”

Yoongi didn’t respond as he turned the corner.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” you seethed.

... (Thursday Afternoon)

“Y/N!” you heard the horribly scary voice.

“What now?” you whimpered. You turned around in your chair to see your boss fuming. “Yes, Mr. Min?”

“YOUR REPORTS ON MY CLIENT ARE LATE!”

“No they aren’t! They aren’t due for another three days!” you tried to defend. Everyone else was starting to stare. They all knew how they treated you and they all felt super bad that he chose you to bully.

“I SENT AN EMAIL YESTERDAY SAYING I WANTED IT TODAY AT 10:00 IT’S NOW 2:00!”

“No you didn’t! I would have seen it-” you tried to speak.

“YOU HAVE TWENTY MINUTES TO HAVE IT DONE OR YOU CAN SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR JOB.”

“Y/N, don’t cry...you’re doing that thing you do when you’re about to cry.” your friend came over to your side. “Don’t waste your tears on that asshole.”

You inhaled dramatically, starting to type furiously through your blurry vision. You felt the tear slip down your cheek and you went to furiously wipe it.

...(Lunchtime: Thursday Afternoon)

Sobbing in the bathroom was a thing right?

Your two friends, Dahyun and Sana stood outside the bathroom stall as you sobbed into your hands. They were convincing you to not quit.

“Y/N, You know this is the only job that will let you live comfortably in this city. Other than being a teacher...and who’d want that?” Sana shuddered. “He’s done this more than TWICE now.” (...I’M NOT SORRY)

“I HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE HIM.” You cried. “WHY IS HE ALWAYS MEAN TO ME!” You furiously wiped your eyes.

“Y/N, Open the door.” Dahyun sighed. “Let us in.”

The stall door slowly open and your two friends were met by a totally distraught woman. Your hands were stained with your eyeliner that you hand managed to completely wipe off leaving your tired face.

“Y/N, he’s working you to the bone. You don’t even smile anymore.” Sana kneeled in front of you, taking your dirty hands into hers. “Why do you let him bully you?”

“Because if I don’t, I won’t have a job.” you sniffed.

“Is someone dying in here?” you heard Miss. Hyuna, another boss walk in. “Aw honey, did a boyfriend break up with you...do you want me to ‘accidentally’ get his car towed?”

Miss Hyuna was both Sana’s and Dahyun’s boss, you guys just liked to have lunch together.

“It’s Mr. Min.” Dahyun spoke for you. “He’s working Y/N to the bone. He only ever bullies her and no one else. I’ve seen it personally.”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow, looking less than happy. “Is that true Miss. L/N. Is Mr. Min treating you unfairly?”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded.

“All he does is yell at and belittle her every chance he gets.” Sana looked at Miss. Hyuna.

“Hm, I’ll go talk to him, right now. If he fires you, he’ll answer to me.” was all she said before she walked away. She ignored Sana trying to hold you back from stopping her.

Hyuna walked out of the bathroom with fire in her eyes. She walked by your desk only to see what looked like an open notebook with the words ‘The Min Yoongi Files’ written in permanent marker on the first page.

“This must be her case.” she shut the notebook, ignoring the childish looking anime stickers on the inside page. “I should take this for evidence, I hope she won’t mind.”

“Yoongi!” Hyuna stormed into his office, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey Hyuna, what’s up?” Yoongi looked up from his lunch. “What can I do for you?”

“What’s this I hear about you mistreating a worker? One of YOUR workers?”

“Pardon me?” he raised an eyebrow. “Mistreating?”

“Two of MY workers are busy consoling Y/N L/N in the ladies restroom on their lunch break of all times because according to all three of them, you’ve been unfairly treating her!!” she glared. She slammed the notebook down on his desk. “This should speak for itself.” she sighed.

“I don’t mistreat Y/N L/N, She’s insolent! She needs discipline.”

“SHE’S YOUNG.” Was Hyuna’s comeback. “You can’t treat her like she’s a piece of garbage just because she makes one typo!”

“Her typos cost us time.”

“So does your shameless reprimanding her for missing a semicolon.” she rebutted. “Think about it! Are men always this stupid.” she looked him up and down before walking out of his office.

Yoongi watched dumbfounded. He took at look at the notebook she left behind.

“Property of Y/N L/N.” he read aloud. He flipped it open to the first page to see a bunch of shiny and matte stickers all over the inside cover. “The Min Yoongi Files? Speak for itself, huh?” (read more below the break)

...

(The Next Morning) (Smut Warning)

You begrudgingly trudged into the office. Not only were you tired, but you were dreading. You had multiple deadlines.

“L/N, MY OFFICE.”

“Shit...” you seethed. You walked past your desk into Yoongi’s office. He was sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a very familiar looking book. “You wanted to see me sir?”

“Yes, I did.” he shut the book and slid it over to you. “Care to explain?”

“Holy fu- ” You had forgotten you left your diary on your desk. How did he get a hold of that?

“ I found that little journal you made about me. I think it’s so cute how you fantasize about me, darling. Hyuna gave it to me thinking it was a list of every terrible thing I’ve done to you. I didn’t know it would be a list of every terrible thing you wanted me to do to you.” his face spread into a smirk.

“You read my property-”

“My name is on it, which means it’s company property by association.” he was still smirking. “Y/N, Y/N Y/N...I didn’t know you were such a needy little girl. On my desk, in the breakroom? The elevator of all places?? I didn’t even know you enjoyed when I raised my voice.“ he raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I could have you fired for writing about me in such a way.”

“Yes sir.” you whimpered. “I’ll have all my sh-..stuff off my desk by-”

“Y/N what on earth are you talking about?” he raised an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t think you are fired.”

“I’m sorry?” you raised an eyebrow, becoming very confused.

“Even though I’m an asshole, a big jerk, and the bane of your existence, you still want me?” he raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you have more of a backbone than I thought. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to miss a chance to break that spirit of yours.” he rose to his feet and walked around his desk to face you. “Get over here.” he urged.

He grabbed you by the hand and yanked you to his chest. He crashed his hot mouth over yours, capturing you in a kiss. He held both sides of your face gingerly. In a shock, you held onto his blazer jacket to stop from falling over.

“Hmm.” he moaned.

“Mr. Min!” you gasped. “We can’t- I’m your secretary!! And I don’t know if you’re aware of this but you hate me.”

“ Whose gonna stop us? I own this fucking place, baby. “ he laughed manically. “And who the hell said I hated you? Plus you want this. I know you do because you wouldn’t have written about me throwing you on my desk and eating that little pussy...fuck that was my favorite story to date.” he spoke in a babyish voice. “Shit I’ve always loved what that ass does to me.”

You felt yourself melt in every way. The thought that someone would storm in didn’t even cross your mind. He back you up against the table, sitting you on the desk. Yoongi tore off his blazer and hastily undid his necktie.

He broke away from you, allowing you to suck in air. You took a deep breath as you felt your lips. He practically tore his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere to reveal that body. To say you were taken aback was the understatement of the century.

“ That’s right, you fucking worship me don’t you?” he smirked as you stared him down “ Look up at me like I’m your god” he quoted the exact words from the entry you had written just 5 days ago.

“Oh, you read the whole thing.” you squeaked. “I am so fucked.” you whimpered.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve been needing a good way to unleash my stress.” he shrugged. “This is perfect..” he motioned, tugging the hem of your shirt, playing with and unfastening each button. “I can take out my stress and you get to feel the real thing instead of writing shameless fan fiction.” he laughed. “Don’t make any mistakes,” he drank in your body. “I want this to be more than sex.”

Before you could say another word, Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist again. He leaned down and softly kissed your lips. You just prayed he didn’t taste the bacon, egg, and, cream cheese bagel you ate this morning. You didn’t know what to do, so you shyly returned his affections.

“Come on, act like how you write about. Moan for me, grab my hair-” he mumbled through kisses. “Kiss me like you hate me.” he grunted. “Unless-...”

He abruptly yanked down your skirt along with your panties. “Maybe we should do this right. Spread em, secretary.”

He wasted no time in hooking your legs around his shoulders.

“Mr. M-min.” you whimpered, feeling something wet trailed up your slit.

“Shit...you taste so fucking good.” he moaned. “Damnit Y/N, you coulda told me you wanted me earlier.” he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Maybe if you had a good fuck, your reports would be more punctual.”

“That report wasn’t due and you know it.” you found it in you to reply. You tilted your head back, feeling his fingers be introduced into your tightness. “F-fuh”

“Come on, you love this shit.” he laughed, lashing his tongue against you. “Beg for me, beg for my mouth, beg for me to make you cum.” he moaned into your heat. “I said FUCKING BEG! ” he thrust his fingers even deeper. “Come on, scream my name.”

“M. Min, I- we- you....”

“Not that...my first name...fucking say it I wanna hear it. I wanna hear if its as cute in my mind when I read how I made you squirt all over my fucking desk.” he kept moving his mouth and fingers against you.

“Y-yoongi.” you obeyed. This only encouraged him.

“I’m gonna corrupt your mind. I love to play with you like you’re a fucking violin.” he giggled.

(3 days later... )

You were sitting at your desk when a stack of papers was thrown on your desk.

“There are 8 typos, fix them.” was all he said before he walked off.

“Not again.” your work friend, seethed “what is it this time.“ She didn’t look up from her computer as you flipped through the pages.

My office, now secretary ;). Followed by a whole bunch of gibberish that lasted several pages.

“I’ll go talk to him” you rolled your eyes, taking the pile with you. You walked into his office. “Okay sir-” you began, walking through the door. You closed it behind you. “What seems to be the-”

Before you could talk any more, you felt his hand trail under your skirt. You felt his breathy laugh on the back of your neck.

“I was hoping...we could go over your reports last week. I don’t think we got enough done, do you?”

(I was on a deadline....BUT I DID IT, my head is POUNDING)

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blazehedgehog · 2 years

Note

Yuji Naka allegedly planned on firing a majority of the (non-Japanese) staff of the cancelled Geist Force, and then utilize GF's engine for his own Sonic Team projects. And he stated his plan within earshot of said staff to his advisor, assuming they didn't speak Japanese... but they did, and they subsequently quit en masse in protest hearing this, resulting in GF's cancellation. And this was JUST A FEW YEARS after his (rather ironic) tantrum over the X-Treme staff using his NiGHTS engine.

What I'm saying is that stating Naka was "[not] the nicest, most caring guy" seems like a MASSIVE fucking understatement at this point.

At the same time, a lot of this was a very long time ago. People tend to mellow out when they get older. If you're throwing yourself in to fights a lot, you're going to get tired of fighting eventually.

Regarding yesterday's post, some have pointed out that, in some companies, HR is involved with firings in general. Human resources deals with all employee affairs, not just rudeness complaints. It is entirely possible that no matter what Yuji Naka did or did not do, HR would have always gotten involved as part of his removal process. It's a red flag, but it's not ironclad.

Which is a good way to treat all of this, I think. We have a lot of anecdotal accounts of Yuji Naka allegedly acting a certain way, but only a very small percentage is verifiable, identifiable proof. A lot of it is "My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Yuji Naka pass out at 31 Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious."

It's also worth mentioning that if Yuji Naka went so far as to enter a costly legal proceeding about what happened to him, and used that as a platform to talk about this, that suggests judgment might have been in his favor. In other words, he might have actually been unfairly removed from the project according to whatever court heard his case in Japan.

There are many angles to view this situation from and its important not to rush to grabbing pitchforks and torches just yet. It's just weird, that's all. Like I said originally, this could just be Yuji Naka's past catching up with him.

#questions #Anonymous #yuji naka #square-enix #prope #balan wonderworld #arzest #artoon #legal

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darkandstormyart · 4 years

Text

Xicheng fic recs

(figured i might make a list of my own)

(to be expanded as i dig out more treasure/remember stuff)

in no particular order:

Deep as the Yearning Night by FreckledStarKnight

“At first, it was pure chance. The second time was accidental. And the third time? Well, they say the third time’s the charm, after all. Lan Xichen discovers that Jiang Wanyin sings beautifully and is immediately enamored by it. His pursuit of Jiang Wanyin’s secret talent leads to a discovery and a series of events that he did not anticipate at all. Not that he’s complaining, of course. He got what he came for and more. Or, how two sect leaders get together through the song called love. CQL-verse.“

post-seclusion lxc

trying to get jc to sing

bonus lxc & jin ling feels i hadn’t considered before

cute

Always use protection by hesselives

“In which Lan Wangji attempts to hire a new bodyguard for his older brother, a well-known traveling exorcist. Jiang Wanyin doesn’t even make his carefully considered list of Top Ten Candidates, and yet here he is.

Lots of wandering in the countryside, distant yelling, and mildly inconvenient spirits.”

bodyguard au

honestly just really intersting worldbuilding

Rewrite the stars by Arashii

“Five great kingdoms have been fighting for years and when the kingdom of Yunmeng is destroyed, the Crown Prince Jiang Cheng vanishes.In Gusu, Lan Xichen makes an offer impossible for Jiang Cheng to refuse. His life or revenge? There’s only one option and Jiang Cheng swears loyalty to the man he hated the most his whole life, the Crown Prince of Gusu, Lan Xichen himself.Written for XiChengFest2020 - Day 4“

ROYALTY AU ROYALTY AU

enemies to lovers!

flashbacks! i love flashbacks so much ohmygod

No paths are bound by Arashii

“In seclusion, Lan Huan has the support of a ghost no one has seen since the massacre of Yunmeng Jiang. His feelings start changing with the often visits and conversations they share. Before Lan Huan can confess though, he ascends, leaving everything and everyone behind him.

Two hundred years later, back to the Human Realm and without powers, the Martial God Zewu-Jun has a mission to uphold. His Heavenly Calamity started. The clues are little and the support comes in the most unexpected form, the current Ghost King: Sandu Shengshou. Now they need to stick together to contain a menace that is slowly growing.“

TGCF AU TGCF AU

ghost king jiang cheng come on

doesn’t follow tgcf plot, just the setup so no spoilers

jiang cheng gets the dogs and the xichen he deserves

once upon a dream by cafedeolla

“Xicheng soulmate AU

An au where your dreams are small snippets of your soulmate’s day. They’d show small things like buying coffee, reading a book, or hanging out with people from their perspective.

The problem was that people always have expectations and Jiang Cheng knows he always falls short of them. Time and time again.“

soulmate au, but being soulmates is more a problem than a solution

misunderstandingssss all over the place

now with a squel (in progress?)

Lan Furen series by jagaimocchi

“Jiang Cheng leaves Lotus Pier before the Wen Internment Camp and before the destruction of his home. When he meets Lan Xichen on the run from the Wens after the burning of Cloud Recesses, his plan to live a peaceful life away from cultivation sects is quickly derailed. Now, free to make his own choices, he cannot find it in himself to leave the other man's side.

With love, patience and time, Jiang Cheng finds his own happiness and peace with his past.“

have you ever wanted a fic where jiang cheng peaces out from home in search for a better life, bc he’s Had Enough??? jags got you covered

adorable xicheng

good uncle-dad-figure Lan Qiren

ongoing <3

Just around the riverbend by JungleJelly

“One day.

Jiang Cheng just wanted one day of peace and quiet, away from home, away from his responsibilities, away from his idiot brother and his nutcases of a mother and father. Just a few hours alone — him and a boat and nothing else.

Clearly, that was too much to ask for.”

now with a new story in the series which is adorable too!!!

mermaid!lxc need i say more?

Bad ideas (where they lead) by JungleJelly

“Jiang Cheng is a busy man. Fortunately, he is also a huge pushover when it comes to his sister, so when she recommends that he start doing yoga, he agrees pretty easily.Featuring Lan Xichen in yoga pants, Jiang Cheng’s inability to handle a crush, and, perhaps most importantly, a big fluffy dog.“

done for 2020 MXTX MiniBang

yoga instructor Lan Xichen

Jiang Cheng is: struggling with a crush on the yoga guy from youtube & very angry about that

If there’s a price for rotten judgement by TheWanderingHeart

“All Jiang Cheng wants to do is, well... his job, really. Other than that? Keep the city safe, keep his nephew alive, keep his sanity intact (if possible).

So when his brother calls with unexpected news, he knows all of that is about to fly out of the window.

***

[Every instinct is telling him don’t ask, you don’t want to know. By this point, Nie HuaiSang has scooted closer to listen. Jiang Cheng takes a steadying breath and pulls out his antacids. “What did you do?”]”

superhero au, come on

jc just trying to do his job in peace

(he can’t)

i love it so much oh my god *sobs*

The Form of Boneless Ice by TheWanderingHeart

“Mythical beasts have long ago been driven to extinction by the gentry — hunted for sport, but more importantly for their magical cores. Since then, there remains only one creature that has never been caught. The Jiang’s retreated a long time ago. Abandoning land altogether, they sought safety where the humans could not reach.It all comes to a head though, purely by chance. (Or is it by fate that a spontaneous decision allows for them to meet? If fate were a rock!) Jiang Cheng suddenly finds his whole life balanced on the head of a pin — on the flimsy promise of a human boy. In his opinion, things cannot possibly get worse!(But then they do when the Wens decide it’s finally time to search for the elusive merpeople, and suddenly nowhere is safe.)“

there she goes again, with another beautiful xicheng story full of awwww and mythology

actually one of the first xicheng fics i read

i chose it because there were mermaids

painfully accurate takes on Jiang family dynamics

kids! lots of kids!

Let me Slytherin to Your Heart by TheWanderingHeart

“Jiang Cheng never thought he'd return to Hogwarts, but in hindsight, he probably should have known that someday he would.With his nephew about to start school, he reluctantly takes his good friend's bad parenting? career? advice and ends up tumbling head-first back into the madness that he hoped he'd left behind... and rediscovering some feelings he thought he'd left behind too.“

Harry Potter au!

just really fecking cute

lots of snakes

[I am not going to link all of Jo’s fics, though I probably could, just my 3 favourites. UOSB is there by default]

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities by oh_fudgecakes

“Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.“

done for 2019 MXTX Big Bang

uuuuuuuuuuh i might have cried maybe

heartwarming? painful at times? lots of family love?

slowburn xicheng being lovely

The Provenence of Hope series by velithya

“A chance meeting on a night hunt sets a course of events into motion that will change everything. Featuring Xicheng getting together, recovery for Lan Xichen, healing for Jiang Cheng, and always, always, hope.“

got everything. feels. hope. love. ~~healing~~

A Small Measure of Peace by Sandstone112

“With his brother in seclusion, Lan Xichen finds himself in temporary custody of his nephew with little to no expertise in the child-raising department. Uncertain and alone, Zewu-Jun is willing to do everything to be the person Yuan needs—even if it means inviting Sandu Shengshou to a playdate.“

a loooot of adorable family times with jc and lxc taking care of their nephews

good grandpa lqr!

canon but fixed and less painful

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋if you wish to avoid scurvy:🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

Some day I’m gonna make you mine series by locketofyourhair

xicheng getting together through the years

friends with benefits but the real benefits are the friends we made along the way

Take me over (take me tonight) by velithya

jiang cheng has a tattoo and lan xichen doesn’t stand a chance

i'd be the sweet feeling of release (mankind now dreams of) by piyo13

two bros, chilling in a cave, no feet apart because they don’t want to lose their cultivation powers what are you gonna do

haven’t read yet and shame on me, but AM GONNA:

Upon Our Silver Bridge by TheWanderingHeart obviously

““When the path ignites a soul, there's no remaining in place. The foot touches ground, but not for long.” ― Hakim Sanai

Lan Xichen's sorrows have caught the attention of something. Unlike the adventures and foes they have faced before, there is no obvious enemy here to defeat. If this is the same thing they thought had taken Nie Mingjue's life, then he believes it is fated for him to die as well. Nothing can stop the black fire when it wants to burn.Jiang Cheng is sure his part in this is over. Wei Wuxian is back, his grand adventure concluded, and he'd never been at the centre of it anyway. So what does it matter what happens to him in the end? Slowly, he will come to realise that there will always be a battle to fight, a story to tell, a choice to make, and there is no such thing as an end to anything.“

it was difficult to do things in 2020 and few i regret not doing more than not reading uosb yet :’(

i will tho

Emergency Help Wanted by piyo13

“EMERGENCY HELP WANTED I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.“

Running Our Hands Through Embers by MarvelousMar

“If asked, Jiang Cheng would compare falling in love with Lan Xichen to a moth inevitably drawn to a flame.It burned.***In which Jiang Cheng discovers that even death can't help him escape from his trauma, so he embarks on a quest to save the people he loves, fix what he can, make the love of his life fall for him, and maybe, somewhere along the way, do a little bit of healing.”

The Beginner’s Guide to Moving On by InvincibleMel

gone from ao3, but i think there’s a link with a pdf going around

#xicheng #fic rec #Jiang Cheng #lan xichen #mdzs #the untamed #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo dao zu shi

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

Note

Ok hi again, I may be over doing it......idgaf I like ur shit! Good shit grade A writing. Aha

Aftercare, does it happen? What do they do?

Also....are these guys aware of their s/o limit if so do they stop😈

Pressing X for doubt

yandere ! BNHA thirsty headcannons

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncom/dubcon, abuse, manipulation, mind control

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He’ll at least ask. He’s always careful to ask. The actual response isn’t too important. Protest that are drowned out in a moan can’t be seen as an actual protest anyway, and he always makes sure that her words are chocked in her throat. Bakugo knows his worth, he knows that each and every thing he does to her in that bed, it’s guarantied she likes it. Her pride makes her a liar, she can’t be trusted with her own pleasure, not when he knows and has proven time and time again that he knows her body and her limits better than what she does. When he has her bent over his lap, that cute little ass that he knows belongs to him, aiming to make sure that she knows it too, each time his hand comes in harsh contact with the soft flesh, feeling it up like putty in his hand as she winces and cries for him to stop. Her protests can’t be taken seriously, not when two fingers gliding up her pussy tells him all he needs to know, feeling how soaked she already is for him, all warm and velvety and ready. That’s all the answer he needs to keep going.

As far as aftercare goes… it can vary. Sometimes he’ll draw a bath with bubbles and lavender oil and light scented candles. Other times he’ll make food, where he’ll bake desserts more than anything. But there are days he won’t do much more than keep a painfully suffocating grip on her as he drifts rather quickly off to sleep. Exchanging no words except for those growls of good night and I love you. Leaving the rest for after they wake up, having an early morning where he’ll never let her sleep in, dragging her with him to shower before he has to leave, where afterwards he’ll treat her to more tender care on the bed with his face buried between her thighs in a way of apologizing for having to leave her alone all day.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

She shouldn’t worry her pretty little head about anything. Dabi might look like your worst nightmare, but you’d be surprised how soft the darkness really is. He can be persuasive and disarming if and when he wants to be, or he can be foul… He likes finding a mix between the two though, they work better together anyway. Make her feel safe, but only if she obeys, and make her feel fear if she doesn’t. He won’t bite… at least not for any longer than to make her cry for him, for those precious little water-works to bubble up to the surface. Making a chew toy out of that pretty swan-neck of hers, paint it with purple, resembling what hue of mulberry-wine found on his marred skin. Nibbling on that cute button between her legs, feel her tremble in his hold and hear her gasp out his name. Or grinding those perfect little nipples between the rows of his teeth, watching her blubber out her pleas when the pressure he applies threatens to bite the flimsy nib off, feel her pussy clench around his shaft upon the anticipation and fear. Fear does such peculiar things to people, especially in the form of threats, especially when walking hand in hand with pleasure. His darling doesn’t know what to make of herself, left completely like putty in his hands, all for him to toy with and tamper and tease. Where she doesn’t dare try and make him stop, she doesn’t dare allow herself to enjoy what he’s doing either, because only mad people run into things they already know to be a trap.

He’ll hush and coo at her to stop crying afterwards, her little mind on the verge of breaking and her pitter patter heart standing on the cliff’s edge ready to jump with nothing but Dabi to hold onto, the knot in her lower abdomen already having exploded time and time again because of him. She’s such a mess, such a cross-eyed wet hot mess, his little mess and that always manages to bring a smile to his face.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

If Tomura’s in a mood, as in a childish fit, she can expect no rest, because the wicked as we know get no rest, and the unfortunate sweet thing kidnapped by the wicked get no rest either. Tomura’s mood, quite like his morals, change like tidewater. Sometimes he’ll behold her precious beautiful body as though she’s made up of fine porcelain, meant to be touched and worshipped softly, where the fact of her wanting the worship or not is irrelevant. He’ll still touch and touch and let himself get carried away by how insanely soft her skin is as opposed to him. He’ll fuck her slowly, each hump meaningful and hauled out to the max as so to feel every single inch of him filling her up… Then there’s his other mood… The feeling of opposition is no less there, how unfairly gorgeous she is in contrast to how appalling he is, however… instead of it evoking worship… it evokes humorous triumph. Gut-wrenching nasty despicable satisfaction, where it brings him such inane pleasure to think that someone as disgusting as him has the power and the will to corrupt something so pure, something so pretty, and how there is quite literally nothing she can do to stop him, nothing at all… it gets his blood rushing in sadistic glee when he pushes her down on her stomach, fisting her hair while jutting into her from behind, every little salacious depraved thought growled into her ear, with no regard to her choked screams except for a wild grin, spiked to go even faster.

Not much tender aftercare here I’m afraid, he thinks it’s best to leave her alone, getting in his chair to game, taking one long last look at his cum seeping from her hole, his handprint red across her ass, still looking so pretty even with all those bruises… maybe even inspired to go for another round.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Aww. Little kitty is at her breaking point? The collar is too tight for Master’s precious pretty pet? Pussy-cat wants a break? But good kittens deserve good toe-curling eye-crossing world-shattering rewards, and bad kittens will be punished however Master chooses, won’t they? If she screams no, he’ll hear yes. If she screams stop, he’ll hear more. If she screams please, well… he’ll still hear please… It’s so unbearably cute to see her stutter and frustrate over how her words come out all wrong, as if someone’s picked her brain, pulled on her strings as though she were a puppet, changed what she wants to say, to what he wants to hear. What’s even cuter is when those large eyes of hers go all ditzy, crossing paths, that crinkle between her brows furrowing, with her tongue falling over her lips. But, the cutest thing is when her tail wraps around his thigh and leg, holding onto him in such a soft embrace when her bliss strides over her body, reaching all the way to the tip of her plushy soft tail, when her wrists and ankles are too busy being kept tied snug and firm together, as he continues to slam himself fast-forwardly into her.

He’ll erase his mind-tricks afterwards, careful to restore anything he might have disturbed or broken during their playtime. Her fluffy tail still slithered around his thigh as he pets her over her soft ears, telling her what a good little kitten she is and how proud she’s made him, feeling her shiver and jolt against him, small little spasms followed by short acute hiccups, proof of how bendable those so-called limits are when Hitoshi takes control. Proof of how good he can make her feel, so good she loses track of where she is, so good she loses contact with her mind, so good the only thing she’s still able to do is purr.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Oh… She can’t blame him when his rut rolls around the corner. He can’t control those urges. Not when she’s there, so plain and defenseless and a perfect fit for him to take all that cooped up frustration out on. He just needs to fill her each and every crevice up with his seed, make sure she’s well bred, pump her full of his cum until his balls no longer have anything left to give. He’ll hump like a frenzied pup, hands gripping her hips so tight her feet don’t even touch the ground. He’ll pound until he’s exhausted, until she’s left a swollen sweat-slicked mess, no longer able to stand straight without her weak and wobbly knees giving out beneath her. She wishes his rut and her heat could line up, so she doesn’t have to go through the same thing twice, but she isn’t that lucky, and Keigo is. He’ll be counting down the days until finally picking up those sweet tones in the air, that aroma that makes him go feral. She does him a favor by acting so shy, so ashamed, it makes it that much more fun when she’s struggling against both him and herself. All it takes is for him to put his thumb in her mouth… how she’ll begin to drool at the very first taste, her eyes losing that feral fight and falling prey to the feeling of her nerves being set on fire. He gladly indulges her needs, his heart fluttering at how clingy she becomes, how sweet, blubbering out gibberish, shapeless words that are such a good replacement for what vile things she’ll yell at him most other times.

He’ll be so hungry in the mornings after, disappointed for the lack of food in the house, but he can’t blame his darling for not cooking, not when he’s rendered her lame, she can’t very well cook if she can’t stand. He’ll order so much take-out the smell of sweat and juices soon gets coated and overwhelmed by the smell of spice and broth. Eating, regaining all his strength… that was only day one of two weeks… the rut is only just beginning.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Don’t worry, Izuku knows how much to give and how much to take, just as he knows when to give it and when to take it, and how to give and how to take. He knows what punishment is due for what crime as well as he knows when rewards are in order. And if he so happens to need to punish her… he’ll make sure she does something in need of punishment. It’s not often he needs to act on those sadistic carnal vulgar yearnings, but a bad day gets a whole lot better if he can come home and take it out on someone, especially when he gets to play with her beforehand, poke and prod until she slips up, allowing him to pounce on her the second she fucks up like a fox finally done playing with his food, his little bunny. The ends justify the means after all. He knows that it’s unfair to take his frustration out on his little darling… but… it being wrong… somehow makes it feel better. Having her blubbering on choked sobs and quaking beneath him, under his blood-soaked scarred hands, her little hole serving as such a snug and no doubt painful fit for his cock to abuse. Hearing her apologize for doing absolutely nothing at all, just to satiate his craze, all because he decided he wanted to exercise his dominance.

One thing that’s good about Izuku is that once is enough, and though that one time might feel like a million times stretching over a million days, where she’s left unable to walk properly… once he’s done, she can be sure he’s done… at least until the next day. If she hasn’t passed-out, he’ll let her cry it off when he’s done, offering no words but still comforting her by stroking her back or fiddling with her hair, twirling it about his fingers as she rests on his chest, her tears making his bicep itch with irritation, but he’ll allow her that much.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

He tries being sweet, he tries being gentle, he tries mimicking the same type of softness as his darling bestows upon him, yet… although she’s sweet, she’s also so aggravatingly reluctant, and Kai doesn’t have the time nor the patience to second-guess every single little thing he wants to do. It’s impractical, it’s wasteful, it’s stupid, and stupidity as we know is a disease he can’t risk being infected with. No, better then, for him to just take the lead, for him to make the decisions for her, for him to decide her limits, up to him to decide when she’s ready to take his cock, how fast and hard he can thrust into her, how tight he can grip her wrists when she starts pushing at him, how many bruises are too many, how many times she can cum. Besides, if things go too far… he knows how to piece her together again. He hasn’t studied every single detail of her just to let all that valuable information go to waste. He’ll see to it that she’s as good as new once their done, if not, maybe even better, maybe even less reluctant to give into what he wants next time, maybe a bit more respectful of the rules, maybe a bit more understanding of who there is the boss and who there is the brittle brainless little toy.

Pain is a good cleanser anyway, despite it being bloody and gory and mixed in with tears and drool and snot and whatever else may occur once the need for his quirk arrives after his aggression causes something to bruise or break. She might think that it’s cruel that healing her has to hurt more than the wound itself, but what she needs to learn is that prosperity always comes at a price, a price that he’s all too willing to pay when she fails to live up to her potential.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Limits are made to be broken, to be conquered, in order for us to prosper. She should be grateful she at least gets the liberty to be with the one she loves, the one who loves her. She should at least be grateful that it’s not just anyone who’s breaking her limits, but him. Him and his hands and his tongue and his cock and his frostbite and his flames and his smile and his biting laughter. She knows by now that there is no stopping him when he starts, she knows that her only hope is to wait for herself to achieve that opium-blown ecstasy and ride that insanity where her skin feels like fire and her insides like ice and every touch, no matter how feather-light or how brutish and bruising, is god’s touch.

Shoto is unprecedentedly thorough and dreadfully talented at aftercare. While his darling is lying all limp and numbed-down, holding onto the prickling feeling dancing like fire-ants on her skin, she can barely even capture the feeling of Shoto wrapping her up in a fuzzy robe. His cold lips pressing onto her forehead and by the time she comes to, when she finally and woefully breaches the surface and gets reeled back into reality, right when she’s at the verge of collapsing from having all her hormones crash, her adrenaline fizzing out into nothing and she’s left feeling all cold and so dreadfully sad, Shoto’s right there, making her feel warm and appreciated and safe. He’ll light candles, scented with rosehip, he’ll already have picked out a movie, he’ll have the chocolate ready, the tea brewing in their matching cups, swiftly braiding her hair into a neat loose setup to keep it from falling into her face as he knows she’s much too drained to lift her hand, resting between his legs, her head using his chest as a headrest. If he’s being honest, he isn’t quite sure what he loves more, the play-session or the aftercare, all he knows is that one is impossible without the other… yet again proving the importance of balance.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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I am once more begging people, BEGGING, to at least READ Batman #416 if you’re going to cite every moment of Dick meeting Jason and then blowing up at Bruce, except in a totally ‘that’s not at all how it happened’ kinda way.

If I have to read ONE MORE sizzling hot take about how Dick blew up at Bruce and stormed off at the end of that encounter, when THIS is how it ACTUALLY ended....

Ah yes, the famous Dick Grayson temper, better described as ‘someone else loses their shit at Dick and fandom twists it into the exact opposite so he’s actually the bad guy all along.’

Was Dick heated before that point? Yup. Did he have reason to be? Also yup. Did Bruce, however, have reason to be heated that Dick had the gall to be coming back to his childhood home to confront him about the fact that after eighteen months of not speaking, when Bruce is the one who CHOSE to not even say goodbye to Dick or make any effort to still make a place for Dick in his life after firing him, with the only possible indication in all that time through which Dick was expected to come up with even an INKLING that Bruce missed him was discovering from reading the paper that Bruce had given his old mantle to a new, even younger partner? Its gonna be a big fat NOPE from me, guys.

There’s an exchange between them a few pages before this that always resonated with me....

Bruce: The truth is, I taught you everything I could. It was time for you to step out on your own.

Dick: So you figured the best thing for you to do was drive me out of your life, right? That’s exactly what you do to anyone who gets too close. Always hurt them before they have a chance to hurt you. It didn’t matter to you that I didn’t have any life other than the one we shared.

Like, I can not express any more clearly why it drives me so B-A-N-A-N-A-S to see people spin this so that it was Bruce that was somehow the victim of his son’s tempestuous, nomadic ways. Like he was somehow left behind, that Dick outgrew him or moved on, and everything Dick felt about Robin after the fact was him throwing spoiled temper tantrums that someone dared pick up something he no longer wanted. Umm. No times infinity and beyond.

Bruce was the one with all the power. Bruce was the one making all the choices. All Dick had, at most, was the choice to either stay somewhere Bruce seemed intent on driving him away from, or go somewhere else. This issue clearly expressed that like. Bruce wasn’t open to talking. Not when he fired Dick as Robin, there was no negotiating that, and even throughout this whole encounter here, where Dick comes here and says “I think you owe me some explanations” because based on everything Bruce was doing and how radically opposed those actions are to the last interactions he and Bruce had, which had a HUGE impact on Dick’s life, yes, he WAS owed explanations here, make no mistake....even here, Bruce spends the whole encounter acting like he’s being unfairly interrogated, like its trying his patience to even have to deal with Dick being there at all....

Phones work two ways, Bruce. There’s two people in this dynamic. If you haven’t heard from Dick in eighteen months, its equally true that he hasn’t heard from you in eighteen months. And if you missed him so damn much, you know what was always a perfectly valid way to express that, which DIDN’T involve anyone else? Picking up the damn phone and calling Dick and telling him that.

Bruce acts like that was never even an option, like HE was the one stuck with limited choices based on Dick’s behavior throughout all this time, and that’s just flat out, unconditionally, one hundred percent, NOT TRUE. Bruce was the one in charge. The one calling the shots. The one with the resources, the power, the authority. Dick was ALWAYS the one who had more to lose, of the two of them.

And Bruce knew all this when he took Dick in. He knew all this when he took Robin away from Dick while the latter was still a teenager, still living at home. And he was the one who failed to even so much as OFFER Dick an alternative take on how he could still be there, still be in Bruce’s life, part of his family, still share in being part of his life, the life the two of them had shared, now that Bruce had made the choice that Dick no longer had the option of living out his part of that life in the manner they’d BOTH built up for him originally.

And yet for so many years, fandom has added insult to injury by acting like the cherry on top here, Bruce giving away the very mantle he took from Dick, like this was somehow completely reasonable because in comparison, Dick is the one being unreasonable. People completely gloss over that little act of Bruce’s to focus instead on how Dick reacted, instead of giving that betrayal of trust its own fair due and focus, and the problem is....they don’t even actually focus on how Dick actually acted! Again, notice it was Dick who approached Bruce, and Bruce who told Dick to leave. It was Dick who had actual cause to be angry, but Bruce who blew up and broke shit because Dick dared demand answers.

And this is the way Dick leaves things with Jason, btw. I know people know this part by now, mostly at least, about the phone number and such, but how many people have actually SEEN how that played out rather than just heard it summarized in a dry recitation of events that underplays just how that interaction went?

Like, that wasn’t just Dick acting like this was being FORCED upon him and bleeding reluctance at every turn. He went above and fucking beyond to make Jason feel welcomed and secure in his position as Robin. But that’s not how the narrative goes in fandom, is it? Even when acknowledging this part, people act like Dick was at most doing the bare minimum, instead of acknowledging that Dick didn’t owe anyone this at all. No, it wasn’t Jason’s fault he became Robin, but NONE of this was Dick’s fault, Dick’s choice, or Dick’s RESPONSIBILITY. He wasn’t living at home, in Bruce’s life, and he wasn’t adopted yet let alone even still Bruce’s ward at this point. He’d aged out at eighteen. Dick had NO actual ties to Bruce and by extension Jason at this particular moment in time, and thus no ACTUAL obligations to either of them, no matter how much fandom harps on him having failed Jason as a brother back during this time when more accurately, Bruce was actively failing Dick as a father - as in not even being one, but Dick’s responsibilities towards a family he didn’t have at the moment are supposed to be still intact? NOPE. Don’t think so.

But Dick, INSTEAD, puts Jason FIRST, puts him OVER his obviously hurt and bitter feelings to focus on what’s best for Jason here, and gives him literally everything he CAN to do right by Jason here. He gives Jason his own old costume and clear approval, cementing Jason’s place as Robin in a way not even Bruce could when giving it to Jason, because it was never Bruce’s to actually pass on. Jason even wonders earlier in the issue if Dick might want his old role back, and Dick puts that fear to rest, without any hesitation or doubt.

In addition, Dick offers up support and solidarity he doesn’t owe Jason, doesn’t owe anyone, because its HIS time, HIS support, its not something someone can take for granted and yet too many people do....especially considering that in the hyper-fixation on how much support and time Dick supposedly DIDN’T offer or grant Jason, most people pay next to no attention to the fact that it wasn’t like Dick was being given time or support by Bruce, ie Dick is going out of his way to offer stuff he’s not even getting himself, because he RECOGNIZES from that what its like not to have it. Basically what I mean is all that talk about Dick being a hypocrite for doing to others what he complains about Bruce not doing for him? Patently untrue, as we see here, because this is Dick actively acting upon what he’s missing out on by making sure that others don’t miss out on it because of Bruce’s failings or emotional repression.

And look at the end result.....Jason’s enjoying his teamup with Dick, these aren’t two people who look pained at being forced into proximity or acting like the other is a burden to be around or thinking the other doesn’t really want to be here. They were comfortable from practically the word go, because Dick knows how to make people uncomfortable but he also knows how to make people comfortable, and he made the CHOICE, the INTENT to make sure he was someone Jason felt WANTED to be there with him, the complete opposite of someone who is taking out their bitterness or resentment on their replacement or at least not trying to hide it very well.

So my question is.....what the hell else is it people wanted Dick to do? When they cite this issue specifically, at least, when they talk about the time Dick went to Gotham to confront Bruce about Robin, when they talk about the phone number or the costume or the teamup or the things that so often get mentioned in passing like they’re insignificant or the bare minimum or mere formalities that do nothing to take away from all the supposed OTHER asshole behavior that Dick allegedly heaped on Jason despite never actually happening anywhere, even a little bit, and thus that some people claim is just an extrapolation of how Dick PROBABLY acted off the page, given his clear resentment and jealousy....umm. Huh? Based off THIS? Seriously, I mean it. What ELSE was Dick supposed to have done, to counter that take, what else could he POSSIBLY have done to do right by Jason here, that he didn’t actually already do? What exactly did people want from this character, in order to not hold this eternal grudge they have against him for what a big old jerk he was to Jason, who did nothing to deserve it - with that part being true at least, and literally WHY Dick made the point to recognize that and not take out his feelings on Jason?

Like, this will never not be an axe for me to grind because like. The SPIN fandom always gives all this, when look at the last page of this issue......Bruce is watching from a distance, and even he’s like thanks Dick, and that honestly bugs me so much. Because in the end, the only one of these three characters who DIDN’T get what he wanted here, was Dick. Jason got the validation and security as Robin he was looking for, the approval of his predecessor, and words of advice and an offer to listen and be there should he ever want to talk. Bruce got Dick’s validation of the actions Bruce took that he had no right to take when giving his old mantle to Jason, but that Dick ratified all the same, even if it was for Jason’s sake and not Bruce’s. Bruce still got the closure on that particular mistake of his, with the evidence that Dick was willing to see past it for Jason’s sake rather than drag it out....like. Dick is the only one who didn’t get what he was looking for there, he didn’t even get an apology from Bruce for overstepping when he passed on Dick’s mantle, an acknowledgment that this was WRONG, the most Dick got was Bruce admitting for a single panel that he missed him.....before telling Dick to leave and get out and effectively taking back anything Dick could have possibly taken away from that admittance. Because what the fuck does it matter if someone misses you if even though they finally have you right there in front of them, they still tell you to leave again anyway?

In conclusion, I hate this issue, lol, because everybody seems to know what’s in it and yet practically nobody ever seems interested in referencing what’s ACTUALLY in it. Instead just forever playing telephone with the most bad faith interpretation of Dick’s actions possible.

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imaginationjunkie · 3 years

Text

Dancing with our hands tied

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda soft

Thought of these songs while writing, so give them a listen while reading!

Note: Jason’s 25 and the reader is 21

I was always a fan of the over the top charity galas Bruce Wayne threw. The elitists in their flashy riches, extravagant decorations and endless varieties of food, and a certain Wayne brother in a suit. It was all very amusing to witness.

I felt like a princess walking down the stairs with Tim every time, who refused to ever get an actual date. So I’d been stuck being his unofficial date for the 5 years that I’d known him. Not that I minded much; he was my best friend after all.

I chose a simple flowy dress tonight, blood red in color, silky like water. The subtle eyes that followed me through the evening didn’t go unnoticed.

But my eyes followed just one sight. A sight that erupted the unwanted greenness of jealousy as I sulked in a corner, celebrating turning 21 recently with a champagne flute in hand.

I felt him before I saw him. Warmth soothed my skin at his presence, despite the fact that I was unfairly mad at him. It wasn’t like he was my boyfriend.

Easier to say than do, and thus all the salt in the world seemed to be in my tone as I spoke first.

“Where’s your date?”

Jason Todd’s eyes might’ve been cool blue, but the feel of them didn’t match the description. The side of my head felt like it would burst into golden flames under the intensity of his stare.

But they were the good kind of flames, the best kind of flames. It was almost miraculous, the way I managed to keep my calm.

“She bailed, something about her sick grandma,” was his soft response.

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the tone?” He leaned closer, hot breath teasing my cheek. Jason had gotten awfully bold since the first time we met, when he couldn’t even look into my eyes straight.

“Is it jealousy I sense?”

I tried to be subtle about my sharp inhale. Judging by the stutter of his lips as he suppressed a smirk, I failed.

But why hide anymore? I was never one to hold back anyway. “Yes, it is.”

It was my turn to take his breath away. I turned my head, challenging him with my stare. But I was too tangled in his game to play in charge. He had me, and he knew it. Right?

A smile filled with swirls of mischief and satisfaction designed his lips. Yes, he definitely knew it.

It caught me off guard, the unfiltered beauty of it. Of him. Watching Jason Todd smile, really smile, was not for the weak hearted.

“Then I think you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t a date. Just a friend.”

Eyes the color of a swirling blue sea, a face handsome enough to cause heartache. Why’d it take me so long to realize that I could never resist him? Not even in a million years. Not even if Ryan Gosling came offering himself to me.

A little too far?

Maybe, but it’s true. What to do?

I was just about to walk away from him, refill the empty flute of champagne to bring back sparkle to my uneventful evening. A large hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me.

“Let’s dance,” he said with the softness of tulle, pulling my frame closer to his larger one. Close enough to smell his cologne. Like a creep in the street, I subtly took a slow sniff of it.

It’d never stop amusing me, how a man who seemed as rough and rugged around the edges as he did had so much softness in him.

And smelled so. damn. good.

“M’kay,” I agreed, following as he led the way to the ballroom. Or so I thought.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” I inquired, looking back at the flashing dance floor full of people we left behind.

“I do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at me, still walking to God knows where with my hand in his.

“We literally just crossed the dance floor, where else on earth do you plan on taking me dancing?”

“Who said anything about a dance floor?” Jason smirked, coming to a stop in the garden behind the manor.

Even though it was off limits to Bruce’s guests tonight, the garden looked particularly beautiful. Strings of fairy lights decorated the flawlessly kept greens and flowers, courtesy of Alfred. The pool lights were on, and a surreal soft blue glow lit up the water.

It matched Jason’s eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Long fingers tilted my chin up, and a gasp reverberated the air as my eyes met the mystical view. Stars glittered the midnight canvas endlessly, and in the center of it all sat the full moon like a queen.

She was regal tonight.

My mouth was slightly open in awe, and Jason’s fingers on my chin softly closed it as he chuckled.

“I’m guessing you like the view?”

“Like it? I might as well marry it!” I exclaimed, eyes wide with glee as I gripped his shoulders.

“Dick used to bring his, ahem, lady companions to charm them back when I was Robin. I’d always barge in and interrupt to interrogate about the last woman I saw with him,” he laughed while recalling the memory.

“Did it work?” I smiled back and stood closer to him, the fronts of our bodies slightly touching. My hands had come down to rest on his chest now, and while my eyes were up roaming the sky, my soul’s attention was solely on him.

He shuffled with something in his suit pocket. “Did what work?”

“Dick’s method of charming the ladies?”

“Judging by the walks of shame Alfred and I had to witness every morning after each Wayne gala, yes. It very much did.”

I felt Jason put something in my ear, and finally looked down from the stars to his eyes in confusion. It was an airpod, and I watched silently as he put the other one in his ear.

“I promise I’m not a creep or anything, but I stalked your Spotify playlists and found one titled ‘dancing under the stars’.” He confessed. In a very un-Jason like manner, he looked almost sheepish.

He didn’t look at me as he pressed play and pocketed his phone. Almost immediately ‘Dancing with our hands tied’ by Taylor Swift came on, and he took my hand in his.

Tingles shot up the pit of my stomach as his free arm wrapped around my waist, fingers resting on my hip. We swayed in beat to the music in our ears, eyes on eyes.

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know,

The lords, and anyone who knew me actually, knew how big of a swiftie I was. The fact that he had put in the effort to pick the absolute perfect song to dance to had to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.

I was completely mesmerized. Guys like this only existed in the encasement of my stash of romance novels; but time and time Jason Todd had proved that idea wrong. Every one of his gestures, one after the other, seemed to catch me off guard more than the previous one.

“Wanted to do this since I was 17,” I breathed the fresh air in, craning my neck to rest my chin on his shoulder. This right here was all I needed to relax. This was my very own customized form of peace.

“Yeah, Tim let it slip when he got drunk on your birthday and started blabbing about how you’re growing up in front of his eyes,” he laughed and pulled back to twirl me.

I crashed back into his chest softly, grinning at his revelation.

“It’s so hard to believe you guys are best friends, that Timmy’s actually capable of having normal human conversations other than his usual nerdy blabber,” Jason continued, pulling me even closer to him while dancing.

No objections were made from my side as I obliged (obviously), staring up at his eyes.

They were like an oceanic maze, too easy to get lost in. Too dangerous to get lost in.

“He’s a good friend. Awfully robot-like at times though, and he always smells of coffee.” I breathed with a chuckle as the air around us got intense.

The gold of the fairy lights hit his eyes, making them shine brighter than the stars above I let my hands grip the hairs on his neck, watching carefully as he took a sharp breath in response.

If there was something Jason and my relationship, whatever that it was, didn’t lack, it was moments like these. Moments where we had a conversation with our eyes, expressing how much we wanted to kiss each other, how much we wanted to stay frozen in the present and relish in the feel of our undeniable chemistry.

It had been going on for way too long, and even Tim was getting tired of us not taking the leap of faith.

Initially he was pretty against it, but when he saw exactly how much I felt for his brother, his blessings for us suddenly started pouring in.

“Uhuh,” Jason hummed. An electric sensation buzzed the air around us as the chorus hit, and all the space between our bodies vanished. Butterflies went haywire in the places of my body he touched. He was everywhere.

But we were dancing Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied Yeah, we were dancing Like it was the first time, first time

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he harshly whispered, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with desire as he tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I do,” I whispered in response, knowing exactly what he meant.

His breath hit my lips, forehead fell against mine in a moment of desire and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

It was needy and rushed and a thousand other adjectives, but it was my most perfect kiss. It would always be my most perfect kiss.

Jason’s muscular arms encircled my waist as he pressed me up against him, gripping my sides and lifting me to stand on his feet. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and a sneaky stutter of a moan escaped my lips, earning me a groan from him.

Passion burned us under the cool night air as we kissed and kissed and kissed, all thoughts of oxygen forgotten in our haze of need.

But even our passion couldn’t defy nature. We pulled back to breathe in as much air as we could, but instead of diving back in towards each other’s lips like I expected us to, Jason simply stared at me with eyes that now looked navy from being hooded.

It was a stare of a few seconds that seemed like hours as his thumbs brushed the side of my face. The fire of need from a while back was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

We both tried to calm ourselves, but an unstoppable part of me leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“Wanted to do that since you were 17,” he said cheekily, hands tracing my back as we now let ‘Wonderland’ by Taylor amuse our ears.

“Liar,” I grinned. “You couldn’t even look at me back then.”

“Yeah, because I’d do this if I looked at you for more than 5 seconds. I had no plans of going to jail for getting handsy with a minor,” he replied, leading us to the wooden benches Bruce had installed in the garden a few weeks earlier.

I lifted a teasing brow, masking my shock at the fact that he wanted to kiss me even back then.

“And how’re you so sure I would’ve let you get handsy with me? For all you know I could have kicked you in the balls myself.”

“Don’t act coy, you could never stop staring at me when you were over,” he smirked, sitting down on the bench and pulling me to his lap.

I hesitated for a second, my brain getting lost in the fact that after months of banters and unbelievable tension, interruptions and two sided pining, I was finally in this position. Where we were able to be open about our want for each other.

Sensing my hesitation, his smirk dropped. “This is okay right?”

I snapped back to reality, taking his nervous expression in. Yes, this was real. And I wouldn’t waste a second of the time God gave me with Jason. I smirked and ran my fingers through his dark locks, making him close his eyes.

“Of course it is, just thinking about how long it took for you to man up and kiss me,”

“Excuse me, you could’ve-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. He responded almost immediately, putting his hand on my hip as I sat sideways on his lap. Unlike the first one, this kiss was sweet and slow. We were cherishing the night with it.

“About damn time, I thought all my teeth were gonna fall out due to old age before Todd here grew some balls,” the sudden voice of a certain sass filled Wayne interrupted us.

My magical night with Jason ended with him running after his kid brother Damian, teasing him about kicking his ass.

But that was okay, because I was happy. Jason was happy. The long wait for him, for us, was worth it.

Even though he gave off the impression that he couldn’t care less, I knew that the reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wanted Tim to be completely fine with us being a thing.

Alongside being friends with Tim, I became friends with his brothers and Alfred over the years. I knew of their nightlife, and everything that went on behind the polished doors of the Wayne Manor. I knew Jason well enough to know that his tough posterior and damn care attitude was just a facade.

Being with Jason wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I knew that too. He was reckless and intense, impulsive and careless.

But he was also sweet and passionate, and his love would brand you like a tattoo with it’s depth. I was willing to give my 110% to make it work with him.

Because even fairy tales take sacrifice and effort to get a happy ending. And I’d do about anything to make sure I earned mine.

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