#chapter 4: bottom of the river

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(Ft. @dailyashleighraichu 's Taima for the one panel!)

[httpsserene]

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

dnf therapy — 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 #1 | #4 | #16 | #44 | #55 | #81 x fem!reader blurbs. requested! explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort. sexual propositions. depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, angry sex, shower sex (all light or implied).

synopsis: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me!

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𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos used in header are from pinterest. divider from @cafekitsune.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 25th

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1. I’m looking for a fic - it’s post canon and two chapters. In the first chapter - the juniors talk about how Wei wuxian is attractive especially after he got soaked saving them. The second chapter has a maid sneaking into his room and the whole troop barges in to save him. @misscrazytastemaker

FOUND? 🔒 A Lure and Catches not Intended by mondengel (T, 3k, WangXian, WIP, Humor)

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2. Hello—

Looking for a modern fic where lwj chases off any male that shows interest wwx & all their friends assume they are together. But then it comes out that they are not together, or wwx is a virgin?

FOUND? envy by quillifer (E, 5k, WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, A/B/O, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Modern, College/University, Misunderstandings, Jealousy)

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3. Alrighty, I got another request and I can't seem to find it. Wei Ying offers Lan Zhan a heart as a courting gift and Lan Zhan, horrified by the heart and not knowing it was a courting gift, drops it. Not knowing that it signifies rejection at the harshest level. Wei Ying is devastated and ignores Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan has no idea what he has done. It ends with a happy ending. @marietsy40-blog

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4. Hi! I’m looking for a specific fic that I’m kind of shocked I can’t find by myself. It’s a vampire au where lwj is a vampire prince that picks wwx as a companion. The setup is that the vampires go around to different villages and see everyone of a certain age, and the day lwj comes is wwx’s birthday so it seemed like it’d be unlikely he’d be picked. But then he is! I thought the word they used was “blood singer” but couldn’t find it just on ao3 :/ also checked “vampire au” but to no avail.

FOUND? red likes roses, red like blood by bubble_t (lokwacious) (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, Dark LWJ, Vampire, Royalty, Mild Blood, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Morally Questionable LWJ, Shameless Smut, Everyday is everyday)

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5. Hello!

I'm searching for a fic where yllz!Wei Wuxian teaches kids how to read& write by writing on mud while their mothers are washing their clothes in the river. I think it leads to wwx being a real teacher to them? I read it last year but can't find it again.

Thank you for your help! @kaptainkoalaoshiz

FOUND? Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, WangXian, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Mojo’s bookmark)

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6. hi. Can you help me find a fic where Wei ying is old omega wolf from different clan. It’s like hunger game style but they all finding mates. And alpha lan zhan from different clan found wei ying on top of the mountain. Not sure if they’re both wolves or not.

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7. Can you help me find a fic where

• Each pack/clan sends one alpha and one omega into a forest,

• Omegas go first and run,

• Alphas follow a day later to find their mates,

• All shapeshifters are the same animal species (not necessarily wolves), I don’t remember

• It’s a pack-based hunting ritual or competition for soulmates/mates,

• Modern setting, WangXian characters.

Thank you so much

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8. Hi again, little by little I remember past fics. Tnx for always finding them :)

So this fic is about little wwx who grew up alone and not with any sect. I remember him mastering demonic cultivation and then solving the nie saber issue while nie mingjue's father was alive thus creating a good relationship with them. Nobody knows him tho except ppl whom he helped before. And lwj heard of him but nie huasang never told him that he knew him personally or that they were friends. I'm not sure but it might be time travel considering the events of the fic @raven-hale

FOUND? Practical Mythology by metisket (T, 17k, WangXian, Time Travel, YLLZ WWX, myths and legends, apparently the burial mounds has to fix everything itself, zombie farm collective, accidental deities, Families of Choice)

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9. Hii I'm looking for a fic where it's A/B/O and alpha Lan Zhan and Omega Wei Ying are gonna share Wei Ying Heat and Lan Qiren has Lan Zhan locked in the hospital and it almost kills Wei Ying due to it looking like Lan Zhan didn't want to be with him and Lan Qiren saw Wei Ying coming to the hospital due to it

It's a one shot and is canon dynamic

FOUND?🔒mistaken measures by cherishthespark (M, 4k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, (though the comfort is a bit limited in this fic), Themes of Coercement, Separation Anxiety, Non-consensual Hospitalization, Modern AU, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX)

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10. Hi! I'm looking for a fic in AO3. It was an Among Us AU but I can't seem to find it in the tag. It was where both Wangxian were the alpha imposters/alien monsters but normally there is only one alpha that can be on a ship at a time. They skirt around each other not sure if they have one of their kind there but the signs are there. In the end, LWJ wifes up WWX and they eat everyone in the ship. It had a horroresque vibe to it. I've been looking so hard for it but I can't seem to find it. Thanks a bunch if you do! @theninziparadox

FOUND? Two Alphas, One Ship by fenaly (E, 6k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, A/B/O, Bitching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-consensual sex, Non-Consensual Bitching, Aliens, Non-Human Genitalia, Blood and Gore, Murder Husbands, Feminizing genitalia terms, Among Us AU, Sci-Fi, Explicit Smut, Tentacles, Shapeshifting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Monsterfucking, Violence, Alpha/Alpha becomes Alpha/Omega, Breeding Kink) might not be this one but it's somewhat similar

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11. Hii mods!! It's my first time submitting for someone else, so i will just put here what they writed word by word:

"Hi, I need help finding a fic I read a few months ago. It’s an MDZS fic where JZX and JYL don’t die, but WWX still dies and then is resurrected via MXY. WWX, JC, JZX and LWJ go to follow the ghost hand tgt and JC knows about the Phoenix Mountain kiss, cuz LWJ got drunk and told him about it, so he forces LWJ to tell WWX the truth. That’s all I can remember pls pls help me find it I’ve been looking for weeks 😭😭(I just want JZX and WWX to be brothers in law 😭😭 they’re hilarious in every fic where they’re frienemies)"

Hope someone can find it. As always thank u in advance!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

NOT FOUND! A Bell That Tells Us to Rise and Fight by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (T, 120k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Needs A Hug, Women Being Awesome, BAMF Women, Minor Character Death)

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12. Hi, me again. i wanted to find the fic where Jiang cheng is owns bakery shop and mia mian wrks for him but wen chao wanted revenge thus kidnapping Jc. lan xichen is a judge, lan wanji a lawyer and wei ying a detective that has put wen behind the bar.here they torture jc for 7 days something like that.. pls help me @jiangcheng1709

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13. Hello, my lovely! This is my very first ask, it's a long shot: Is it possible to find such a fic, in which Wei Ying is pregnant with Lan Zhan's baby. And they (the whole clan) are under attack (by another clan, not sure exactly who). Wei Ying wants to carry on fighting with Lan Zhan side by side, but Lan Zhan desperately doesn't want him to, because he's carrying their baby. I don't know how it ends. I'm really sorry for such a vague description, please help pretty! Thank you so much! @kalevala568b

FOUND? Stealing the sun by danegen (M, 97k, WangXian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Minor XiYao, POV Alternating, Canon Era, Sexism, Pregnancy, brief attempted sexual assault, still 98 percent fluff)

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14. Okay so I found this fic sometime between 2020-2022 (incomplete at the time) and it was an arranged marriage between Wangxian but Wei Wuxian had to wear the silver mask the whole time for an unknown reason (although it’s heavily hinted Lan Wangji is cursed by something). Lan Wangji is very cold to him during their marriage and then takes Wen Qing as a concubine (although not because he likes her but because he needs her medical skills without anyone asking questions). Wei Wuxian doesn’t know that though and runs off meeting A-Yuan’s parents and living with them for a while. It’s implied that when Lan Wangji finds him he think Wei Wuxian fathered A-Yuan with the mother (he didn’t) which Wen Chao mocks him about during the Indoctrination. They kiss in the Xuanwu Cave and LWJ calls WWX ‘airen’. But then his chest starts hurting and he calls out for Wen Qing - WWX misunderstands.

WWX sends a baby A-Yuan and Jingyi to Cloud Recesses before the Sunshot Campaign to keep them safe and has them adopted under the Lan Family name.

Later on WQ mentions something about a “vine” to do with LWJ’s curse. After WWX does demonic cultivation, the Qishan Wens are taken in by Cloud Recesses as long as WWX agrees to have the resentful energy purified. WWX knows that this will kill him since the resentful energy is keeping his Burial Mounds’ wounds from reopening but goes through with it because he wants the Wens to be safe and he thinks Cloud Recesses want him dead anyway. His mask falls off mid-cleansing and he collapses coughing blood.

When he wakes up, the Jiang family including Madame Yu are pissed at Cloud Recesses for nearly killing him and have begun divorce proceedings. WWX doesn’t want to get divorced by LWJ does. But because A-Yuan and Jingyi are on the Lan family register WWX is furious he can’t take them with him.

The fic hadn’t updated after that the last time I read it. I read it before 2023 so it would have been started before then. It was implied LWJ did love WAX but because of some curses (that weren’t fully disclosed at that point) he couldn’t commit to their relationship.

FOUND! The deleted "A Price to Pay" by wangxianist. Not avaiable on the Wayback Machine but in this Google Drive folder

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15. Looking for a fic I read pre-2023. Complete.

Lan Wangji hears that the Lan elders are trying to arrange a marriage for him but then he suddenly turns into a fox. Everyone thinks he’s cursed because (I think his mother) tells everyone it can only be broken when finds his true love.

So the Lan Clan calls in various people but no one seems to be able to break it. The WWX shows up and immediately starts teasing Fox!ji. He works out immediately that LWJ isn’t cursed, he’s a fox shifter and is refusing to turn back to avoid having to get married. LWJ later finds out that WWX is also a fox shifter after chasing an unknown black fox away.

LXC sees the two foxes and then panics because what if LWJ’s true love is a fox. So he starts trying to shove human Wei Wuxian at LWJ because he’s the only person he’s seen Fox!Ji tolerate.

LWJ does eventually turn back into a human for WWX and I’m pretty sure they banged afterwards. LXC was thrilled when he saw LWJ back to being a human.

FOUND!🔒 A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) by Eudoxia (E, 33k, wangxian, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Huli Jing LWJ, Huli Jing WWX, Everyone Lives, Curses, Case Fic, Animal Transformation, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, No Sunshot Campaign, No Yīn Iron, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, LXC is a good brother!, He tries so hard!!, Mentions of Ace LXC, Mentions of Ace WN, Knotting, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Size Kink, 69 (Sex Position), Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Male Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Squirting, wangxian Have a Non-Con/Rape Kink, but no actual CNC/rape play occurs in this fic. It’s only discussed. there is also discussions of monster fucking but no actual monster fucking)

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16. i'm looking for a fic about wei ying getting cursed by the lan olders by being a perfect lan while lan zhan is away. The cursed is broken when jiang cheng uses lan sizhui as bait. Anyone know what is fic is called?

FOUND? Perfect to Me by theearlymorningmist (T, 12k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LXC & LWJ, JL & WWX, JC & WWX, Protective LWJ, Good Uncle LQR, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Location: Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan Elders Bashing, Curses, WWX is Loved, protect wei ying squad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Good Nephew JL, Protective JL)

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17. hello! i am looking for a fic where wen qing (after circumstances i cant remember) travels back in time, and eventually realizes she's travelled back MUCH further in time than she thought. she's there to see the great clans form (i think wen mao or lan an or both mightve been in the fic?) and eventually she decides to retreat from society and live on a mountain. the end of the fic is the realization that she is baoshan sanren, as she catches up to her present and sees cangse come and go. thank you! @summerwoodsmoke

FOUND! The Immortal Wen Qing by Nillegible (G, 1k, Time Travel, Canon Compliant)

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18. Hi! I’m looking for a fic I read where after WWX and LWJ move back to Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren leaves some students with WWX to supervise temporarily while he finds a teacher for them. When Lan Qiren takes too long, WWX ends up teaching them by taking them to practice wind (I think) talismans by having a snowball fight. When Lan Qiren realises that WWX has been teaching the students the whole time he freaks out but when he sees WWX help the youngest kid he decides to offer WWX a permanent job as a teacher.

FOUND? 🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff) (various podfics available)

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19. You’re doing incredible work! Hope you can help me :D

I read a fic back in like 2021 and for the life of me I can’t seem to find it again. Its wasn’t complete at the time so I’d love to know if it is now!

It’s post canon and Wangxian are living at Cloud Recesses happily. Then someone breaks into WWX’s workshop - where the Lan Clan gave him permission to work on some of his stuff - but nothing seems to have been taken. WWX is quite touched that even Lan Qiren seems pretty upset on his behalf. There’s a few more weird incidents including WWX finding a paper left for him that’s dosed with some kind of drug (he catches it though and doesn’t get affected).

Later on, he’s talking to LXC (I think) and gets a brief glimpse of a financial report and finds out that all of his inventions are so good that he essentially brought in a fortune to the Lan Clan that could even rival the Jin Clan by this point.

WWX realises that someone might be targeting him rather than his work so he decides to disguise himself as a Lan disciple and investigate. His disguise is so good that when he leaves the jingshi, Lan Sizhui briefly points a sword at him because he doesn’t recognise him for a moment. WWX then goes to one of LWJ’s meetings/classes (can’t remember exactly what) and after everyone leaves, the two get very flirty with one another. Someone walks in and then quickly leaves but it’s implied that they don’t recognise WWX either.

Because then a rumour seems to go around that LWJ is secretly seeing another disciple. WWX did bump into someone while disguised who was acting very weird but didn’t confirm whether or not that was who was after him.

I’d love to find this fic again!

FOUND? How Odd by bedheadrat (M, 35k, WIP, WangXian, Case Fic, Fluff and Smut, BAMF WWX, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Rich LWJ, Genius WWX, Separation Anxiety, Demonic Cultivation, Evil Plans, Touch-Starved, lwj’s white robes kink, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Seduction, Misunderstandings, Not Cheating, Threats, Vandalism, Stealing, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon) I’m pretty sure the no.19 on this week’s fic finder is ‘How Odd’ by bedheadrat. It’s incomplete but it has some of the details the anon mentioned.

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20. for fic finder

it was a series w/ immortal wangxian in modern era

started out with lwj going to uni (to be a vet if i remember right) and becoming the campus heartthrob

main pov is an OC whos friends with an OC Yu character

JC runs a car company @whatifijustnifeyou

FOUND! ridiculous future bullshit by sami (M, 190k, WangXian, WQ/JC/LXC, WWX & LSZ, LSZ/Other, JYL/OMC, Future Fic, in theory it follows on from an au specifically, The Same Moon Shines Series, the rewriting of history, if the past was different the future is different, But still ridiculous, Humour, the evolution of fashion, immortals through history, LWJ visits other cultures and judges them, Modern AU, a centuries-long game of telephone, best boy LSZ, Pride Parades, Cats, the legend of WQ, Academia, Border Crossings, biosecurity, Paperwork, Family, Parents and Children, Uncles and nephews, the mortifying ordeal of your family seeing how you really live, Social Media, Chaos Gremlin WWX, University, outsider pov, Movie Stars, Fluff, Weddings, Adventures) original poster is looking for this series. The first story with LWJ going to University is part 25 "Lan Zhan's University Days (JAFFY)". Jiang Cheng and the car company is scattered throughout the series.

~*~

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 19

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth @0chemicalwaste0 @silvercobra @thesunschild777 @atlanticowe @whore-of-many-hot-men @whiteladyofithilien @vintagelizziesblog @synx-h

The corridors up on this level were so much brighter, almost as if the sun itself was shining in through a window somewhere above your head, but you could not see any way out no matter how far or fast you walked. No matter which direction you went in. There was not a window in sight so where was all this light coming from?

The corridor stretched ahead, winding with the shape of the fortress, multiple closed doors lining the hall. You hadn't been sure if you should waste time looking in the rooms but maybe there would be something useful in one of them.

A weapon or a window, a way out, something.

None had had any windows so far, which struck you as very odd, especially with how bright it seemed. You didn't need to squint through the dark at all like you had in the rest of the building. There was one final door right at the end of the hallway, though a feeling of anxiety grew in the pit of your stomach as you stood before it.

Something was wrong... wasn't it? It was so wrong.

Don't go in, some part of your mind tried to tell you, but it was overshadowed by the desire to find an escape. If you didn't look you could miss your only way out.

Ignoring your inner voice and pushing the door, you stepped inside, closing it behind you in case she had already started following - you didn't want to make it too obvious where exactly you were.

Windows!

You walked further into what turned out to be a very pretty room. Vines stretched across the walls and the ceiling. A large bed sat in the centre, pushed up against the wall by a huge window. Someone's bedroom. The Enchantress's? You didn't know, nor did you care. There were no bars on the window, either, and you couldn't quite believe your luck!

Rushing towards them, you had to sort of push some of the vines out of your way, moving your hands to the window, immediately trying to pull or push it open.

The damn thing wouldn't budge but you would not be deterred. It had to open! It was... quite high up but you would rather jump to your death, quite frankly, than be caught by the Enchantress again. Than be put into some eternal slumber.

Tugging with all your might at the bottom, you thought you felt something budge but it could easily have been your imagination with how desperate you were. Or your poor nails about to give way.

After a moment, you took a short pause to look out of the window, down at the land beyond. A horse was coming up the hill and, as you peered closer, you could see the long white hair of its rider.

Thranduil.

Thranduil had ridden his poor horse into the ground but to the beast's credit it did not falter, carrying him through the trees towards the old fortress at Amon Lanc.

Once, this had been the capital of the Woodland Realm. Before his father was forced to abandon these lands and flee further north, which was close to happening again of course. He himself was now planning to move his people across the river, further away from the growing darkness.

Though, right now this was the furthest thing from his mind.

The fortress was tall. Dark. And he knew Luithien was in there... but did she have you with her? Did you know what was happening? The danger you were in? How, if you were here, had she managed to get you away from his halls in the first place?

He eased his horse off to the side, wanting to make a plan and stay relatively hidden from the enemies within as he did so.

Soon enough he noticed the window and then, peering down trying to get his attention as discreetly as possible, you!

Thranduil's heart lifted a little and he brightened, urging his horse further on. "Lothíriel!" He called softly, and the sight of your smile made him feel light even from all the way down here. Brought up a flurry of memories - a baby in a cradle, dancing in the clearing. I am meant to love you.

"Stay there!" He called again, a little louder this time. "I will come to you!"

Thranduil!

He was here! He had found you! He was going to save you!

Not bothering to think about the how right now, you relaxed just a little and turned from the window as Thranduil disappeared from view, heading towards what you assumed was the entrance to the fortress. He'd get past the Enchantress, wouldn't he? He was strong, surely much stronger than you... he'd get in here, find you, and everything would be just fine.

The seconds felt like hours even as you stood there, your back to the window now, peering around this room. Something still felt a little off. There was something... what was it?

It was a feeling that overtook you, similar to the feeling that you'd felt back in Thranduil's palace... when you'd been drawn to that door, the one that had inexplicably led you to the clearing where the Enchantress had been waiting for you.

Some magic, right? It could not be a portal. It had been tampered with. But how?

And what was it... here? What was the feeling? That distant... sound? Some sort of humming?

Turning with a frown, you walked across the room, feeling almost pulled in the direction of another door in the corner. In the back of your mind, you were telling yourself to stop, telling yourself not to listen, to stay away... but it was as if it was destiny... as if you could not change course no matter what.

A tug at the handle revealed a grand staircase. Finally, one leading down instead of up... a great light shone up the stairs from below and, without much thought at all, you started to descend, following the light, following the feeling, that pull...

The door closed behind you with a click.

Thranduil had not gotten as far as he'd hoped before the Enchantress swept into his presence, one of her signature cocky smirks in place as she paced the marble floor in front of him.

"Well, well, well." She trilled. "What do we have here?"

Thranduil narrowed his gaze, eyeing her as his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword.

She continued, undeterred by the violence in his gaze. "Here I laid a trap for a princess and I catch a king! Two royals for the price of one." Luithien's eyes seemed to flash as she came to a stop in front of the Elvenking, lifting her chin, her mouth twisting in a slight sneer. "Your mother would be so proud."

She was baiting him.

Thranduil would not rise to it.

"Let her go, Luithien." He said, his voice firm, unwavering. "It is over, it is done. Just release her."

The Enchantress's smirk seemed only to widen as she regarded the Elvenking. "Oh, but Thranduil. Do you not feel it?"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed to slits.

"It is too late." She continued, her gaze flickering across his face, trying to ignore the fury she felt at the memories his presence brought up every single time. She ought to kill him too, perhaps, for the fun of it.

"Your precious princess had already entered the dungeon..."

[chiefdirector]

Bottom of the River Masterlist

Tim Bradford was known to be many things. Hardass, stickler for rules, vengeful, angry. Words like these had been tossed around tirelessly to describe him. If anyone met him today, they would think he was born stuck in his ways, a man destined to be encompassed by the negatives in life. 

But, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't always like he is now. He wasn't like this when he still had his wife.

Tim Bradford x Reader

Act One - Rebirth

Chapter One - Missing

Chapter Two - Searching

Chapter Three - Preparing

Chapter Four - Discovering

Chapter Five - Shooting

Chapter Six - Questioning

Chapter Seven - Waiting

Chapter Eight - Hurting

Chapter Nine - Bargaining

Chapter Ten - Returning

Chapter Eleven - Remembering

Chapter Twelve - Breaking and Entering

Chapter Thirteen - Risking

Chapter Fourteen - Storing

Chapter Fifteen - Realising

Act Two - Revolutions

Chapter Sixteen - Adjusting

Chapter Seventeen - Talking

Chapter Eighteen - Noticing

Chapter Nineteen - Conversing

Chapter Twenty - Hostage Taking

Chapter Twenty One - Photographing

Chapter Twenty Two - Looking

Chapter Twenty Three - Briefing

Chapter Twenty Four - Conspiring

Chapter Twenty Five - Beginning

Chapter Twenty Six - Listening

Chapter Twenty Seven - Playing

Chapter Twenty Eight - Mirroring

Chapter Twenty Nine - Planning

Act Three - Reaping

Chapter Thirty - Drinking

Chapter Thirty One - Conferring

Chapter Thirty Two - Bartering

Chapter Thirty Three - Skiving

Chapter Thirty Four- Hiding

Chapter Thirty Five - Staging

Chapter Thirty Six - Predicting

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @rookietrek @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon @alessiamargaux @rexit-mo @ladespedidas @wonderland2425 @niktwazny303 @the-dino-geek

tags are open, just message or reply to this post

[xxnghtclls]

Flickering Lights

Chapter 4 - Fate

Chapter 3 I Chapter 5

True Form Sukuna x Reader

NSFW I Explicit I Slow Burn

Infos and tags on Masterpost

Used music is linked in text.

-

801, 801, 801, 801

Like a mantra, you repeat the number in your head.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

Your lungs burn like fire, as you swing yourself around the next corner, taking the next pair of stairs. 

Up! Up! Up!

Time grows little and your legs weak. 

801, 801, 801, 801

The thoughts of what will happen next are stinging in your heart, like a spear, as you try to push them to the back of your head. 

Step. Step. Step. Step.

The ground starts shaking, heavily. Parts of the walls are crumbling. 

Dust is coming down and blinding your sight, itching in your eyes and throat, making you grab tightly onto the rails with every step.

Suddenly, you feel creatures stare into your back, snarling and hissing.

Run!

You run impossibly faster, quicker, all those steps up. 

Like prey that‘s running from a predator. 

801, 801, 801, 801

Your thighs start to cramp, as you look around the corner of the next stairs with wide eyes. 

Panic swells up in your chest as you realise, that you‘ve lost track of which story you’re in. 

There’s no time.

No time.

Not enough time.

The ground rumbles harder. 

Your feet lose balance, making you trip, 

as something heavy hits your neck and you fall-

A sharp pain stings through your heart, as you jump forward with a sharp inhale. You rip your eyes open and you feel that your sheets are drenched in cold sweat. Panting with a sore throat, you stare at the upper corner of your window at the end of your feet. Light shines against the shutters from outside, painting shadows and figures upon the plastic.

Not again.

You inhale deeply and slowly exhale.

“I’m home.” you reassure yourself.

The punches of your beating heart are harsh against your ribcage. With your left hand, you tap inside the darkness for your phone. 

03:06 a.m.

The screens brightness hurts your eyes. You click your tongue and switch it off again. Burying your face in your hands, you sigh loudly, before shifting your weight.

Sliding forward, your feet reach the end of your bed. Letting them dangle off the edge, you carefully crawl down the ladder, until your toes are met by the soft carpet on the ground. You take two steps and reach into the dark corner next to your window, turning on the lamp. It has a warm, white light, that gently meets the backs and bindings of your mangas and books in the tall shelf on the left wall, as well as the little Maneki-Neko, that is shining exceptionally bright in this light. You like how it fills the whole room with a calming atmosphere. Two steps towards the kitchenette on the opposite side and you reach for the metal handle of the fridge in order to take out a bottle of water.

Sip.

The cold fluid reaches the back of your throat, crawls down your oesophagus like a river carves its way through dry soil.

It hurts.

You smack your lips and groan at the sting, before you put the lid back on the bottle and leave it on the counter, before you walk past the fridge to grab a towel from the drawer that’s sitting right next to it.

It’s quiet in your little flat, as you head into the bathroom and turn the faucet on. While you wait for the water to warm up, you avoid looking at the mirror, tapping your fingers gently against the sink. 

It’s been six months…  Why did it feel more real this time?

Your throat starts to tighten and your bottom lip starts to quiver, along with a cramp in your stomach. A second later, your face is buried in the toilet next to you, puking out the stress this nightmare gives you. It’s disgusting and you spit a few times to get rid of the taste. After rinsing your mouth, you undress your sweaty shirt and throw it into the hallway. You wet the cloth and start to clean yourself, before you put a new shirt on.

Shuffling back to your window, you pierce two fingers inside the shutters to take a brief look outside. 

It’s quiet.

Only a few lights from the skyscrapers offices adorn the night sky. Like always. The shutters plastic scrapes harshly against your skin, as you pull them out and reach for the lamp to shut it off.

So real… Was it because of -

Your heart picks up a beat, as you remember what happened in your office just a few hours ago. Turning back, you spread the shutters once again- Still quiet. No creatures. No Stranger.

Your eyes wander, something inside you makes you wonder where he might be, where he came from and what he wants, before you decide to crawl back up into your loft. 

The brightness of your phone stings in your eyes, as you open Mio’s last message, her reply for the situation with Itō-san.

[ Mio ] 🤷‍♀️

And you frown and smile. She definitely has a sixth sense for men.

[ Y/N ] Witch.

You reply and change the app to scroll through your social media. Trying to distract yourself, to read and like some posts here and there. You always do this, when this dream haunted your night and woke you up.

Food. Food. Cat. Actor. News. Food. Cat-

However tonight, your thoughts don’t drift back to your nightmare, but instead to your encounter. Back to him.

This Stranger. 

And you can’t help to like this change of habit. It distracts you from your usual madness.

You recall what he looked like, how intimidating and tall he was. The tattoos, the mask and what he sounded like, his four arms and eyes. How they pierced into your soul, as if he could see the misery that you believe you to be. Almost a bit like… sorcery.

03:59 a.m.

You blink and open your photo gallery. Hesitantly, you tap on the the last picture you’ve taken, the nightly view of the broken window of your office. You adjust the brightness, all the way up and scan the whole picture with your eyes. Disgust shivers across your face, as you see the cat-sized fly. You spread your fingers across the display to zoom in, squinting your eyes. The creature is barely visible, almost as if it’s merging with the background, yet you can clearly see it. You clench your jaw, before you zoom out a little and drag the picture over to the dark hole that’s left in the office window. And you zoom in again.

Closer. 

As close as you can. 

And there, right there in the shadows of your office, you can make out four dimmed red spots, more like a bunch of pixels. Small, barely visible and you’re not even sure if your brain is making them up. You try to zoom in further, but it always jumps back. Holding the zoom with your fingers, you see a hint of a boney mask, maybe also the outline of a chin.

His face?

You stare. 

“What am I doing?” you sigh, before you close the app and reach with your right hand into the darkness in front of you and search for your headphones. “Ah shit!” you curse under your breath, as you remember that you left them as trash on the kitchentable.

Giving up, you decide to continue to listen to your Ghibli Playlist on speakers and roll on your back. You close your eyes, as the music quietly plays into your ears and fills the room. And you can’t help it. Those feelings this dangerous Stranger awoke in you, this danger and adrenaline, fascination and curiosity…

Those feelings… They make you want to see him again.

And after a while, the music stops. End of playlist.

Silence.

And with this Stranger on your mind, you fall asleep.

.

.

.

Brrrr Brrrr

You wake up. With one heavy eye, you peek at the message on your phone.

[ Mio ] Morning Peanut. Akihabara later? 🧙‍♀️

You focus on the clock.

10:32 a.m.

A loud sigh shatters through your throat and you close your eye again. 

Nooo… Wait. Yes.

You try to open your eyes again and text back.

[ Y/N ] Yea, need nee headpjones

[ Mio ] Ohhh sleepy ❤️ Text me when you’re ready

You force yourself to get up, brush your teeth and comb your hair. A little bit of skincare goes on your cheeks and a little more than that on your eye bags, before you get dressed in yesterdays outfit. Then you grab your keys, bag and cap and slide your phone into your pocket. 

[ Y/N ] Gonna get some breakfast then I’ll be there. About 40 mins.

[ Mio ] Oki doki 👌

Clck.

You close your front door and tipple through the corridor to the elevator.

Doa ga shimarimasu, you mouth along, as the doors close in front of you.

La Familia. pork-mayonnaise Onigiri. Tea. 

Another day, the same routine.

As you enter the station, the tech store at the corner catches your eye, thinking that you just could buy new headphones here and go home again and call off Mio, because yesterday was-

Wait.

Something you didn’t consider until now pops up in your mind. On Monday, you’ll have to face the aftermath of your encounter with the Stranger in your office.

Hirose-san is going to fire me.

You swallow and your stomach drops.

Fuck. Distraction it is.

You walk past the shop and down the stairs. This time you follow the signs to get to the Ginza line. 

Scan. Platform. Queue. Waiting. 

Suspiciously, you watch your environment, as you breathe the familiar thick, warm air. And no unusual things start to occur.

No creatures. No Stranger.

You enter the train and during your ride, you stare out of the window across from you. Listen to the railway and see the lights bouncing and dancing against the wall of the tunnel passing by. Some red dots flicker up inbetween. 

One. Two. Three. Four.

You blink, before you pull out your phone and open the photo of last night. In the light of the train, you don’t see as much as you saw in the darkness of your room. With a disappointed sigh you lock your phone again and continue to look out the window, thinking it’s too strange to even consider talking about the whole situation to Mio.

“Excuse me, is everything alright?” an elderly woman that’s sitting right next to you throws you a concerned look. You must’ve zoned out.

“Uh, yes! Sorry.” you force a smile on your lips-

>< The next station is: Akihabara ><

The announcement rips you out of this uncomfortable conversation and you’re quick to get up and text Mio to meet at the tech store.

“Oy, peanut!” Mio’s voice comes up behind you moments later, making you turn around and nudge your head to her, shooting her a look.

“What’s up?” you greet her, trying to act cool, while spreading your arms.

She smiles and goes in for a tight hug. 

“What happened to lil peanut?” you ask, while she squeezes you.

“Didn’t know you’re a rapper.” she replies with a grin, before flicking her fingers against the hood of your cap. “You wear a cap, but you’re not a baddie. Especially not with those eye bags.” she continues, waving you to come after her. “Let’s go!”

You met Mio in the nightlife of Tokyo. Met her in a phase of your life when this feeling inside your soul would start to knock on your mind almost every day. Mio was fun, distracting and you kept going out with her. She would take you to lots of different clubs, even the ones in the underground. 

And you needed it. Despite having Mio and Kobayashi-san, you needed distraction from this strange feeling of loneliness and emptiness that was creeping up inside of you. You felt ashamed for it and you would do anything, for every weekend, in order to suffocate what was growing in your mind and soul. For months, you would try going from music and dancing, to sex and more sex, then booze and sometimes even other drugs. Slowly at first, but then more and more frequently, until everything changed. 

You lost Kobayashi-san and those creatures started to creep inside your vision. Like a crack in the desert, your soul carved itself into the ground and deeper. You slowly came to realise, that the highs those nights gave you didn’t last, that they couldn’t satisfy this longing in your heart and that, in fact, nothing could. Everything started to feel worthless and grey and you stopped going out, never having the courage to tell Mio the reason why, never telling her about this hole inside your soul, the nightmares or the creatures. But, she stayed with you and you stayed with Mio. She was the one who was able to pull some parts of you out of the ground again. No matter how exhausted you feel, she often manages to distract you from the empty weight inside your heart, makes you feel normal somehow, makes you cherish small things. That’s what you love her the most for.

And you feel selfish for it.

“How do you like this one?” she asks, holding a phone case under your nose. Huge, pink and with little glittery stones and charms. You purse your lips, making her glare at you.

“What?” she squeaks. “You’re the one who walked around with a Hello Kitty phone for the longest time!”

“Buy it then!” you chuckle, as you shuffle to another aisle, looking for headphones. “Madame Discoball.” 

“It’s cute!” she complains. “I’ll take it.”

You gently smile at her remark, before you finally find the headphones you were looking for and head to the cash registers. 

“What do you want with this cheap trash?” Mio eyes your choice, while standing in line behind you. “Will you ever treat yourself some proper ones?”

“No.” you smile, before a cashier waves at you.

On your way out, Mio tipples after you, fishing out her new phone case out of the plastic bag.

“Why not?” she asks.

“Because they’re cheap.” you grin at her confidently. “Obviously.”

And she doesn’t reply, just shakes her head in disbelief. You two walk down the street, dip into a merch store here and then, poke the plushies that are displayed outside of shops, before arriving at a booth that sells Taiyaki. Mio gets you one with custard filling, while taking one with chocolate herself. As you two bite into it, she hums.

“I gotta leave for a work trip to Gifu tomorrow.” she chews, making you frown.

“Gifu? Tomorrow? It’s Sunday.” 

Another bite.

“Yea I know.” she nods. “They want to include team-building activities, like… hiking.” 

You snort and she rolls her eyes. Mio is a colourful, glittery party girl, not a hiking girl. It doesn’t suit her.

“And apparently this Sunday is the day they thought is perfect for a hike!” she continues in an annoyed tone, before taking another bite. “I’ll be there for a few days.”

“I hope you have proper shoes.” you tease, knowing exactly that her wardrobe only contains sneakers and high heels.

“Shut up.”

“It’ll be fine.” you stuff the remaining Taiyaki in your mouth. “Take care though!” 

“I will!” she nods, after swallowing her last bite. “The Taiyaki is on me by the way.”

You look at her with your stuffed mouth and a smile spreads on your face.

”Thank you!” your eyes are glowing in gratitude. “What brings me the honour?”

”It’s our anniversary!” she grins. “Today it’s been a year!”

A year since you and her met. A year since you promised each other to hang up an Ema at the Meiji Shrine as an anniversary gift to your friendship. Drunk.

“Already?”

“Yep!” she grins widely and hooks her arm into yours, before she pulls you down the street towards Akihabara Station. “Maybe we should go out again sometime… you know, for old times sake.”

“Yeah maybe.” you smile, trying to sound genuine.

“Maybe tonight?” she carefully asks in a sweet tone, making you helplessly chuckle and chew your lip, as you search for an excuse, before she continues. “You know, it’s fine. I just hope to see you having fun again. You grew so quiet after Kobayashi-san.“

“I know.” you sigh, making her sigh, too. 

A pause.

“Maybe I do need dick though.” you joke quietly to distract from the topic, making her gasp and snort. “It’s been months!”

“Yes, you do! But that’s not what I want to say!” she exclaims. “You just look exhausted lately. Maybe going out will give you some energy? Distract you a bit?”

You smile and nod slowly, while listening to her words, pondering.

“I need to get up early tomorrow so it won’t get late either. Just for a drink or two to kiss me goodbye, before I need to leave for my hiking trip.” she continues. “Pretty please?” she looks at you with big eyes, making you snort.

“You’re so annoying.” you shake your head at her, knowing you won’t be able to dodge this situation forever. Not, without telling her the truth.

It’s just for her…

“Alright. One drink only!” 

“That’s my girl!” she grins brightly and squeezes your arm, as you both enter Akihabara Station.

>< The next station is: Yoyogi ><

After a short walk, Mio and you arrive at the entrance of the shrine. It’s busy, like always. Tourists and locals everywhere. But, as soon as you walk through the Torii and the trees start to seal off the noises of the streets, it grows surprisingly quiet. As quiet it can be at least. The sheer mass of people still makes you uncomfortable. You inhale, breathing in the fresh air from below the trees.

Maybe I just need a vacation.

After a ten minute walk through the beautiful area, through the trees and nature, you arrive at the entrance of Meiji Shrine. You head to the Chōzuya to clean your hands and mouth, before you walk inside, straight towards the camphor trees, where people hang up their Emas. Mio steps closer, reading some of the wishes that are already hung up, while you go and purchase two of the little wooden plates. Handing one of it to Mio, you tipple back to one of the desks and start writing.

For my lovely Mio.

Now it’s been a year with you at my side and I hope for many more.

Wish you all the best, good food and a roof above your head.

Also, please have the safest travel to Gifu, a good hike and a lot of fun.

Your Y/N.

You draw a little deer in the corner, since that’s her favourite animal, before you hang it up. Mio steps into the corner of your eyes and reads it with a soft smile in her eyes, before hanging her own plate right next to yours.

For my lovely y/n.

Please let her have the most fun, good sleep and good food. 

Let fate have a little big adventure in store for her.

She deserves it. So much.

Your Mio.

You smile and your heart warms up, reading her wish for you. However, you can’t help to frown at her choice of words.

“Fate?”

“Yea! Just like fate brought us together.” she smiles back and you snort.

“At least one good thing fate had in store for me, I guess.” you sigh, before you point at the plate. “You forgot to draw a cat.”

“I cannot draw a cat.”

“Idiot.” you huff and hook your arm into hers, before you turn around and see- him.

The Stranger. Just a few steps ahead of you.

You freeze in your spot, as you see his pink spiky hair and his black coated back turned to you. 

“What’s up?” Mio asks, as she notices how tense you are and tugs at your sleeve, but you can’t speak. Your heart starts racing in your chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

You watch him and how he walks towards the stairs of the praying area, before Mio snips her fingers in front of your eyes to pull you out of your trance.

Snip snip

“Helloo!” she chimes, making you shake your head and blink. 

“Sorry.” you mumble, but your gaze immediately fixates back on the Stranger, causing Mio to catch focus on him as well.

“Who’s that?“

“I don’t know.” you breathe, while you watch how he walks up the stairs.

In the corner of your eyes, you see other people walking around him, peeking and staring and mumbling about his unusual appearance and tall height. Arriving at the top of the stairs, he suddenly reaches out and shoves a praying, middle aged woman out of his way. She tipples, looses balance and-

Bam!

falls down the stairs, while he’s stepping in front of the Saisen-bako that’s sitting between the huge doors. You flinch and an appalled gasp is heard from the by-standing people. Some of them rush forward to help the woman.

“Disrespectful asshole!” Mio exclaims in disgust and wants to go forward too, but you grab her sleeve, holding her back.

“Stay!” you warn her with an anxious tone. Confusion paints on her face, but she complies.

You look back to the scene and watch him lay his right hand on the wooden surface of the Saisen-bako, while he keeps his other hands hidden behind the fabric. The crowd becomes uneasy, it gets louder. People start to talk to him, try to get his attention, but he’s ignoring them, concentrating on doing whatever he came to do. But, your eyes stay fixated on his hand, how it lays flat on the surface under its palm, how it’s tensing and relaxing.

The bystanders grow louder and louder, but the sound grows mute in your ears. Mio notices your trance and calls you, but you hear without hearing. Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you watch how the wooden surface starts to vibrate, how the lines between his hand and the wood start to blur. Something in you wants to step closer, wants to see, wants to know.

What is he-

A deep humming vibrates in your ear, just like last night and whatever he’s doing, it has you in his grip. Mio calls you again, louder and snips her fingers again to wake you, but you keep being fixated on his hand until-

“Hey!” another man shouts and tugs on his Haori to get his attention. Without even looking, the pink haired man raises his left hand and flicks two of his fingers. 

A bone chilling cry echoes across the place, as the throat of the other man suddenly bursts with blood, before his head falls from his shoulders-

Pap.. Pap… pap!

Down the stairs it falls and rolls. Your heart drops and your eyes widen in horror, as Mio and more people start to scream. Blood splatters everywhere, as the head rolls and comes to a halt next to the feet of another woman, coating the holy grounds with red essence. And your blood starts boiling with adrenaline, making you feel the fear in your chest and legs and arms.

“Y/N!!” Mio calls your name again, now very loud and clear. You meet her eyes and she grabs your wrist.

“Run!” you shout, before you move. 

Both of you run towards the entrance, already seeing security guards run into the opposite direction. The other people run in panic and scream, shoving you out of their way, almost making you stumble and fall, before you finally reach the gate.

Sirens are already howling in the distance, as Mio and you and other visitors run through the park in order to get back to the street. Suddenly a gust of wind rushes through the trees and the birds start flying and screaming. Your heart is pounding in your throat and your throat is as dry as sand, as you finally reach the exit. A glance to Mio and she nods back at you, before you both hurry to her little house in Shibuya.

Bam!

Zschk Zing!

She locks the front door, as you sigh loudly, slumping down on one of her kitchen chairs. 

“Fuck.” she sighs under your breath, her hands still lingering on the door-lock, while you just stare into nothing and focus on the restless pumping of your heart.

“Gonna make tea.” Mio says, before she walks to the open kitchen and fills the cattle. “The police will get him right?”

“Yeah…” you say absentmindedly, hoping the image of that rolling head won’t give you another dose of nightmares. “Maybe they shot him on sight.”

She hums and the kettle starts to whistle.

Louder and louder.

Louder and louder.

Mio takes it from the stove and fills two cups with water and teabags. You take a sip and the warmth flows through your body, making you feel better in an instant.

“Let’s just wait a bit. It’ll be safe in a few hours.” she mumbles into her cup.

You nod and quietly drink your tea and so does she. Inbetween you check your phone and so does she. However, unlike her, you don’t receive any messages. You listen to how she types her replies to other people, before you lay your phone back on the table. Looking out the window, you notice how it’s slowly growing dark outside. The streetlights turn on and paint shadows on the streets and houses. Here, in this neighbourhood, it seems calm. Safe.

And you start ask yourself, if he’s still out there, alive… wonder how you survived your previous encounter with him. 

What is he doing here?

“You think he would have slashed that man, if he let him do his thing in peace?” you sip and she glances over to you. “…whatever he was doing, I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” she responds, visibly annoyed. “Nothing can justify what he’s done.”

“Yeah.” you gently blow on your tea. “You’re right.”

A pause.

“How did he do it anyway? I didn’t see a knife.” you question quietly.

“Probably hid it in his sleeve?” she frowns, her tone growing upset. “Doesn’t matter now, they probably shot him.”

Your eyebrows twitch at the thought. Somehow, you don’t feel like it’s true. 

It’s bizarre how curiosity works sometimes. How it grabs you by your scalp and forces you to look and see. How it forces you to want to know more…

“What is it?” Mio suddenly asks, making you feel caught.

“Nothing.” you lie, while she looks at you as if you lost your mind. “Isn’t it just… Isn’t it like a movie?”-

“Yes.” she interrupts you, before you continue to speak at the same time.

“A horror movie.”-

“Extraordinary.”

“What?” she scoffs.

“Don’t get me wrong!” you’re quick to continue, gesturing your hands in a calming manner. “I pissed my pants. I saw the horrors unfold in front of me and it grabbed my soul. But, it made me feel so alive… I never felt like this before. It was extraordinary.”

“Do you want me to slap you now or later?” she spits, before crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her words makes you chuckle, but you quickly stop, as you see that Mio doesn’t even flinch. Instead she seriously glares at you.

“Sorry.” you mumble, before biting on your lip to not let your mouth escape another grin. And after another second Mio scoffs again. 

“Too bad that fucker hijacked our plans for tonight. You do need dick.” 

You look back at her and she stares back you.

“Yes.“ you reply, as serious as you can. “Extraordinary dick.” 

A pause, before she finally breaks and a grin cracks onto her lips, making you both burst into laughter at the same time.

“Idiot.” she mumbles with a grin, as her phone pings, making you tap on your phone as well.

23:30 p.m.

“I should go now.” you grab your headphones. “The last train goes at 23:45 p.m.”

“What?” she exclaims. “No! You’re gonna stay here!”

“Nah, you need to get up early tomorrow and I don’t wanna bother you.” you lie.

Usually, you lie because of the nightmares, but tonight there’s something else.

Bizarre curiosity.

“There’s no way, you’re gonna go home alone right now.”

“Please, it’s fine.” you smile gently. “Police will be everywhere.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and clenches her jaw, mustering you.

“Alright.” she mumbles through her teeth. “You’re a grown woman.” she stands up and walks you to her door. “If you loose your head, don’t blame it on me.”

“Wow…” you comment, while putting your shoes on. “You mean if fate grabs me by my hands?”

She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue.

“Now be careful and text me when you’re at the station, ok?”

“Ok, mama.” you mock, as you lean in for a tight hug. 

“Gonna miss you.” she sincerely whispers into your ear.

“Gonna miss you, too!” you mumble back, fighting tears, as you press her against you, before you separate. 

This day was a lot. For both of you.

However, it’s not over yet. Not for you at least.

“We’ll make up for the drink when you’re back from Gifu, yes?” you wave at her, while putting on your headphones. She nods and you notice how her eyes grew wet, too.

“Text me!” she yells after you, as you walk down the street, before you wave at her a second time and walk out into the night. 

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Finally, slowly getting to the new story of this. “Creator” that old cringe one has been moved to my Ao3, and this one? Is going to be true. I remember stating somewhere in March-April 2024? That I was going to create them anew, and well… here’s the start of it.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Death, Violence.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| {Chapter I}

His nose crinkles up in disgust beneath his helmet at the plains around him. His form simply standing in the middle of the wheat fields that extends a couple of acres as they shutter at the slight, midnight breeze this… soil of this plant he finds himself on. Its moon shining proudly in the sky, sending a bright shimmer over the grays and silvers of his armor.

It wasn’t that he was revolted by the planet itself, it looked like a healthy, prosperous one: a paradise planet perhaps, but it was just the baselines on it. The smell of sin and chaos that’s coats the crust and mantle of the planet, the core yet untouched. He can smell and sense, strange, whisking scents of… others. Other Astartes of many kinds within the current of the rivers, winds and the warp. He can feel the chaos at play! The grace of The Emperor has set him on a solo conquest! To rid of the filth that plagues this infringed planet.

He moves, the weight of himself and his armor crunching the stems of wheat beneath him. Creating astartes-like tracks that he does nought care of. If anything, he’s up to the challenge of anything that dares to defy him: A knight of the Emperor. An executioner to those who provoke the resolve of the Emperors grace, and this planet? Would be no stranger for him to finish off like the many others he has with his brethren.

Particularly, he heads for the little home at the bottom of the wheat hill. Warm lights coming from the few windows it has. A small, human-like shadow moving from between them, and it almost amuses him of how oblivious some creatures can be when he has gotten so close to the home, that his own frame blocks a whole window of the building. The bright, ice of his visors peeking through the glass before disappearing into the dark.

He hears the slight shift in their heart, and how their mind thinks. Their subconscious telling them something is off, yet they continue to ignore the instinctual warning, further amusing him. This planet was riddled with chaos, but these baselines have no clue about it? Do they ignore it? Is their faith set on something? Someone? Was their faith set upon the chaos gods? Is that why this one moves as if they have no atrocities to worry about? Sure, it’s a paradise-looking planet, but one would be foolish to look so… comfortable as wars are fought beyond the exosphere, and the system of the planet. Having yet to swarm to this one.

He studies this baseline for a moment. Feeling the blandness of this human with his psychic, meaning they were definitely not a Psyker themselves. His helmet moving between windows to get a good look at the baseline that doesn’t cower to its own instincts. Something that it should have done the moment their subconscious was telling them to book it out of the home, not they would get that far…

There is nothing, not a detail that is special about this common human, however. Only their complete obliviousness or ignorance stirring within them. Avoiding what dangers it was- is in. Trying to live the life of peace at the cost of being unsuspecting; lonely- He hears the baselines’ breath hitch before they let out a terror filled screech that goes through the poor quality of the home.

Well, almost lonely.

He moves again, around the house. Going to stand where the baseline has moved to protect them from hidden dangers like a child. Their figure hunched in a corner of a certain room that he has rather good access to despite being outside. His right gauntlet flexing slightly as he listens to the fearful, rambling thoughts of the human. ‘Oh god, oh god, oh god… W-what happened to my marine? Should I call this up? What would have…’

‘My marine’ He mentally repeats to himself, musing at the words. No one owns a marine but this little baseline was the only thing on that chaos marines mind while struggling in his grasp. His Nemesis Force Sword slowly piercing through their chest piece. Playing with his food, not that he doesn’t it many times, but it has got him a lot more information out of the Marine than usual. It was no wonder the Marine had turned to chaos. They were too weak: physically and mentally. They couldn’t keep their mind off their… what did the Marine think of? Bond? Ah, yes… bonded. Couldn’t keep their mind off their bonded.

It was unfortunate, really. Was the chaos weakened on this planet? So feasible the marine wanted a life with a baseline? It almost makes him laugh at the absurdity of it. A marine, having a relationship with a baseline. No less a chaos one, but it does beg the question… what made that chaos marine so low? He knows the marine hasn’t prayed to the symbols of chaos in a while with how… calm and vulnerable the Marine looked before he places his body somewhere within the home of the baseline. A… nest? He recalls the marine thinking before he finalized his breaths.

‘P-Please, whatever gods are o-out there…’ His mind goes back to the now pleading baseline that curls around themselves just beyond the exterior wall. A quiet hum leaving him as he tilts his helmet at their prayers to some random gods, not The Emperor. That could mean trouble if, he wasn’t looking for it. The Emperor had sent him on a mission of his own. He shall finish it with the faith of him within him. Not with whoever the baseline was praying for. Though, he won’t be apposed of finishing things off a lot quicker with their repeated summons of their dead marine back. Maybe that will bring in more chaos for him to conquer for the Emperor?

He moves his arm back before launching in forward. His gauntlets penetrating through the poor building with ease. Splinters flying everywhere and bouncing off his armor while a choked scream greets his ears. His armored fingers squishing around something fleshy. A loud crack sounding out, and he waits a second before slowly pulling out. His fingers still grasped around the fleshy mass. Digging out yet another body he has slain for the Emperors’ grace.

He hums again, feeling rather… pleased with his work. His eyes looking over the mauled body in his hands: a young male it looks like… Yet he still throws the carcass to the side, disregarding of it. His helmet once more tilting to the left then to the right, trying to make out a… another voice? Was he wrong of just one person being in the house? No, he is not that foolish… Was it a decoy then? No… this one feels… warm. Why did it feel warm?

“You really want me to play “Power Washing simulator™,” huh? What's so exiting about that game? Don’t you just… wash stuff? Like in its title?”

Your voice… it brings a certain feeling over him. It makes him pause, stutter in his duty. Something he hadn’t thought possible… Were… were you some chaos for him to overcome? Is this what the Emperor sent him here for? To rid you of the galaxy? Where you the test to his faith that he needs to overthrow? Wait, he doesn’t like to think of you that way, to slay you. No! He must! That is not the faith of The Emperor! Y-You were a testament of his faith to him!

“Fine, fine! You win; I’ll play this simulator that you speak so highly of. Don’t be offended if i get bored of it and switch it up.”

He finds himself inside of the home. Pushing through the hole he made from killing off that another baseline and looking down at some bright box connected to the wall. You speak like… compliance… You backed down upon something. A daemon doesn’t do that often… No… you were his testament. You were something he needs to conquer. You restrict him of so…

“Alright, let's do this… shoe house. This honestly doesn’t look like a good house to live in, nor does it look stable, chat. Maybe a witch lives here?”

Oh, but your voice. The way you talk. The way you look. How you dress. It… It strangely pleases him more than what a battle to the Emperor could. His eyes beneath his helmet ranking over your digital figure over and over again, gaining any detail shown possible to him. You would make a good serf, but it also seems like you are a person of certain power with the way you are talking to other… people from somewhere. Were you a noble? An entertainer?

He blinks, and suddenly the video of you is over. Did he really just- He shakes his helmet. He cannot be enraptured with you. You test his faith like a sinner, something that was not easy for one to do to a being like him. Especially since you were a baseline or perceived yourself to be one. You- you were something that he needs to vanquish for he knows that he doesn’t? He will be under your influence.

In the meantime, he shall continue his duties to the Emperor. Restore his repentance; faith… That is if he can escape your popularity, and the shadows that follow you.

[vanfleeter]

My Love: Chapter 1

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Sara Warnings: 18+ || Language. Gore. Blood. Drinking blood. Angst. Yelling. Anger. Slight physical violence. Self doubt. Brief allusions to murder. Smut. Foreplay. Fingering. Oral sex (f & m receiving). Penetrative sex.

A/N: Welcome (finally) to the first installment of Jaketober! We are beginning early as to not rush through this series within the 4-4 1/2 weeks of October.

I can hear the pumping of her blood as I near the mansion. Slow and calm, she must be asleep already. Parking the car, I slide out and into the cold, October air, wrapping my coat tighter around my body. Stalking up the walkway to the steps, I climb each one delicately and slowly as I listen to her heart still beating. It beats like a drum in my ear and her blood rushes through like a river flowing rapidly by. I clench my fists, willing the urge to go away.

I’ve been craving her all day, needing relief so I wouldn’t tear into an innocent person’s throat. She is my source, my lifeline and I seek to drink from her and her only. Unlocking the door, I push it wide open before stepping inside the large foyer and closing the door behind me. The candles that line the staircase are the only things giving the slightest illumination as I slip out of my shoes and shrug off my coat before placing it all inside the closet closest to the stairs.

I make the trek up the stairs to the second floor, her heart beat growing increasingly louder the closer that I get to our shared bedroom. I can feel my fangs piercing the inside of my bottom lip. The urge to not drink her blood growing increasingly harder with each step that I take getting closer and closer to her.

Gripping the door handle, I quietly push the door open and peer into the room. More candles are lit, the flames casting a warm glow. Her body is stretched over top the covers, the sheer nightgown leaving little to the imagination.

Quietly I move through the room and undress as I go, unhooking my necklaces and placing them delicately inside the jewelry box on my dresser and sliding off my rings and placing them neatly beside the chains. Next I work on sliding off my blazer and tossing it into the red, velvet chair placed strategically in the corner of the room, followed shortly by my trousers leaving me in only my briefs. My semi hard cock protruding ever so slightly beneath the fabric as I continue watching her sleeping reflection in the mirror. The way her chest rises with each breath she takes and falls gently as she exhales.

I have an inkling that she did this on purpose.

Looking away from the mirror for only a brief moment to close the jewelry box, I feel her hands slide over my hips and across the front of my abdomen. For a mere human, she’s quick and stealthy. I can feel her body radiating through the thin fabric of her nightgown. There’s a stark contrast between our bodies. Mine always being cold and hers always being warm. Warm and delicious.

“I thought you were asleep..” I say, keeping my head facing forward.

I hear her hum before she presses her lips to the back of my shoulder. “You and I both know that I was not asleep.”

“Your pulse said otherwise.”

“Hmph, guess I just got better at controlling it.”

My lips curl upwards and I place my hand over hers. “I see that I’ve taught you well..”

Grabbing her hands, I tug her back towards the bed. She straddles my waist when I sit down. She purposely moved her nightgown upwards around her hips, allowing her warm and soaked core to rub against the fabric of my boxers as she grinds against me. The friction is adding to the pleasure that’s building within me, making my cock grow impossibly hard.

“I’ve been so lonely here, waiting for you to come home.”

“Aw, did my baby miss me?” I say as I rub the pads of my thumbs into the skin of her inner thigh.

“Very..” She breathes.

Smiling, I stretch my neck upwards so I can press my lips to hers. Pulling her off of my hips, I turn her and plop her back down, pressing her back against my chest. Ever so slowly, I run my hands down her thigh and spread her legs. Our reflection in the floor length mirror does nothing but spur me on more.

“Is this all for me?” I say as I tease my fingertips over her center.

Her head falls back against my shoulder, fully exposing her neck. I lick my tongue over the protruding fangs, my eyes dialing in on the movement of her pulse beneath her skin. The sound of her blood rushing fills my head and the urge to sink my teeth into her skin is overwhelming once more.

“Do it..” I hear her breathe. “I trust you.”

Trust me, she does.

Sinking my teeth into her skin, the first few drops of her blood makes contact and the need inside of me is finally satisfied. One of her hands is wrapped around the arm that clutches her tightly to my chest. I must have abandoned her needy friend when I felt her own hand slither beside mine. Pulling away from her neck, I take in a breath before licking up the small amount of blood that escaped down her throat.

“Are we a little impatient?” I inquire as I guide her hand away.

She turned her head to look at me with a wicked look in her eyes. I chuckle and slowly drag my fingers through her folds and up to her cunt where I gently press against. She moans, her eyes fluttering closed as she lays her head back once again on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry, my love, I will always satisfy you while you satisfy me.”

Sinking my teeth back into her neck, I use the timing of it to plunge my fingers inside of her. Her throat vibrates as she moans and she grips tighter to my arm. 

“Jake..” She moans.

I continue pumping my fingers at a delicious pace, her breathing becoming quick as her breasts brush against my upper arm. I glance out of the corner of my eyes towards the mirror, the sight before me utterly beautiful. I retract my teeth again and lick up the excess blood. Leaning away slightly, I watch her face with careful eyes as I bring her closer to her climax. Her bottom lip is tucked in beneath her teeth. Her eyebrows are so tightly drawn together, I can just tell that she’s closer.

“That’s it, love,” I say as I kiss her neck. “Come for me..”

“Jake, I–” But she cuts herself off with a loud moan, her body shaking within my arms. I can feel her release cover my fingers and sliding down to fill the palm of my hand.

“You did so good for me..” I whisper against the side of her face.

Removing my hand from between her legs, I bring it up to my mouth and I lick my hand clean of her release.

“It’s a good thing vampires require blood to survive..” I say as I tilt her head forehead. She looks at me with hooded eyelids, her pupils are blown. “Because if I had to live off of your release, I could have you coming over and over again.”

She smiles lazily and hums as he rests her head once more on my shoulder. “You already do..” She softly speaks.

I help her to her feet and guide her nightgown off of her shoulders. “Every little piece of you is so elegantly carved. Molds perfectly aligned with every piece of me.. As if you were made for me.”

Sliding the nightgown further down her arms, she pulls them free allowing the fabric to flow down her body and pool on the ground around her feet. I kiss down her neck and her shoulder and leave a trail down her collarbone and chest. I fondle her breasts, one in each hand as I slowly make my way down her torso. Her hands softly caress my forearms and slither down to my shoulders.

I move down to my knees in front of her and leave kisses around her now sensitive area. I peer up at her and she’s already watching me with lust filled eyes.

“One more for me?” I ask. She nods her head before she’s lowering herself down on the bed and spreading her legs once more.

If I weren’t already dead, this would definitely be the cause of my death. Oh what a way to go out it would be.

Shuffling closer to bed, I guide her legs over my shoulders and reach for her hips to pull her closer to me. I kiss the inside of her thigh and grow closer to her sensitive bundle of nerves.

I flick my tongue over her clit, the softest moan escaping her lips. I play around a little with it, licking it and sucking on it before thrusting my tongue inside of her. Her fingers find their place within my hair and tangle themselves in the locks. I love having my face between her thighs. Besides drinking her blood, this is the best meal that I have so far.

I don’t go easy on her as I fuck her with my tongue, her favorite thing that I do. So why not go a step further? Sliding my hand between her legs, I slowly insert a finger.

“Fuck.. Jake..” She moans above me. Her body moves and I glance up to see her body arching, her back lifting off of the bed.

Removing myself from between her legs, I continue pumping my finger inside and adding a second one to increase her pleasure. Her walls are already so slick but that doesn’t stop me from dragging my fingers down them ever so slowly. I know where her sweet spot is, and I know that she knows that I do. The fire in her eyes as she lifts her head to look at me. I simply smirk at her before thrusting my fingers back inside.

“Don’t tease me…” She whines. “Please…”

“But it’s just so much fun,” I say as I finally give her the need she’s been craving. The satisfaction that visibly takes over her body as I touch her sweet spot.

“Jacob, please..” Her hands claw at my arms, not having the same hold as she did on my hair.

I feel her coming close to her end as her walls clench around my fingers. I tease her some more by dragging my fingers down her walls again. My dick is throbbing, begging to be relieved but I’m determined to bring her to her second orgasm. I do just that.

“Jake.. I’m gonna..”

Retracting my fingers, I fall once again to my knees between her legs and she cries out as her orgasm finally washes over her. Her sweet release drains from within her and onto my tongue as I lap up every last drop she has to offer. Once I lick her completely clean, I stand back to my feet and snap my fingers. I point to the space between us and she rises up to a sitting position before lowering herself to the floor in front of me.

I soon feel her mouth wrap around me and take me full into her mouth. “Oh fuck..” I moan as I massage my fingers in her hair. My tip touches the back of her throat and she swallows me down, taking me further. She begins to bob her head, licking her tongue over every inch that she can touch. I can’t help but to start thrusting myself into her mouth and pushing down her throat again. I feel her gag and clench around me, causing my eyes to roll.

“Baby, I need to..”

Her hands hold tightly to the backs of my thighs as she continues her relentless assault on my dick. Soon she has me releasing inside of her, her throat constricting and loosening with every gulp she makes to swallow all that I can give.

She pulls off of me and stands to her feet. “You never fucked my mouth before,” She smirks. “Bet that felt good.”

“So, so good..” I breathe as I hold her face in my hands and draw her in for a kiss. The feel of her warm folds pressing against my dick makes me slowly start to grow hard again, the need for her is unbearable. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“You do, but I don’t know if it’s for my blood, sex, or if you really do love me.”

I chuckle and kiss her again. “Of course I love you.” I go to kiss her again but she presses her index finger to my lips preventing me from kissing her.

Her eyebrows rise and she cocks her head. “Do you really?”

“Do you not believe me?” I run my hands down her sides and to her hips where I grip them. “Do you not know how much I love you when I’m buried so deep inside of you?” I see the pink hue color on her cheeks. “You’re not just my blood supply, even if your blood does taste so good..” Bringing my hand up to her head, I tilt it to the side and start to leave kisses down her throat. “I have loved you before I tasted any part of you,” Abruptly I move her head back up and look her in the eyes. “Don’t you ever question how I feel the way I do for you. My heart may not beat like yours does, and my blood may run colder than yours, but my emotions are still the same as they once were when I was human–just…heightened.”

I pull her back into me and press my hardened dick against her body.

“This is just the cherry on top.” I whisper against her lips.

In a split second, I have her laid out on the bed on her back and I’m resting in between her legs.

“Though sometimes I question if you love me..” I say. “How could you ever love a monster like me? I drink human blood to survive… I have killed, and yet you still stay with me, you still let me love you–even if I do have the capability of killing you.. I have not forced you to stay, yet you do. Why?”

I feel her fingers trace the length of my upper body. “I love you.. And I trust you.”

“I could kill you..”

“But you haven’t..” She brings a hand up to caress my cheek. “And you won’t..”

“And even though I can’t give you a family, you still choose to stay with me?”

“You have given me a family,” She says as she traces her finger over my lips. “You and your brothers.. I don’t need a baby to have a family.” I feel her hand travel to my hair and she yanks my head to the side. I hiss at the slight pain.

When did she become so strong?

I like it.

Her eyes stare back into mine with the same intensity. “Don’t ever question how I feel the way I do for you..” She repeats the same words I uttered to her just moments ago before releasing my hair.

I move my head back and suck in my bottom lip. Fuck.. If I wasn’t so turned on already, I would be by now.

Reaching my hand in between us, I line myself up with her entrance and slowly push inwards. Her light gasp fills my ear as I watch myself plunge deep inside. Her arms wrap around my body, holding me closely as I make the most tender love that I have to give her. Each thrust is filled with passion and love, a love that I have not been able to give for fifty years. I have not been able to love another like I have loved her, and continue to do so.

She thrusts her hips up to meet mine, pressing our bodies together as if wishing they could meld together like molten gold. A fine and rich gold that is so rare that you can only find it within the walls of this room.

“Why did you stop?” She asks, her chest quickly rising and falling as she tries to calm her body down.

“I just want this to last..” I say as I rake my eyes over her body.

She shakes her head and reaches her hands out towards me. “Do not torture me, Jacob.” She moves to sit up and wraps her arms around my neck before dragging me back to the bed. “Must I always beg? Do you enjoy it when I do?”

“Very..” I say as I nip at her bottom lip. I draw a bit of blood and I suck at it, slowly running my tongue over the wound. “Though you don’t have to beg, because you know that I will give you everything it is that you ask for.”

I ease myself back inside of her and find that rhythm again. “Tell me you love me,” She says in a breathless tone.

“I love you,” I say as I bring my face close to hers, my nose brushing lightly against the skin of her cheek.

“Say it again..”

“I love you.”

“One more time..”

I chuckle and press my lips into the backside of her earlobe. “I love you.. I love you.. I love you..” I hit the sweet spot inside of her, making her head fall back into the pillows as her back arches off the bed. “I will continue telling you that I love you until my last dying breath.”

I feel her cheek rise against my face, that sweet laugh she emits. “Death does not touch you..” Her limbs tighten around me, her feet pushing against my ass and driving me deeper inside of her. “Death is you.”

A loud moan escapes her as she throws her head back again against the pillows. Her fingers claw deep into the skin of my back, no doubt leaving those marks. I ride it out with her until we’re both a sweaty and panting mess.

Pulling out of her, I pushed my body off of her and I lay on the bed beside her, my eyes fixated on the vaulted ceiling.

Death is you.

Her words ring true in my head. Death simply cannot touch one, if one is death itself. Death has touched me once in life, and that was what it took to seal me in this death trap for all of eternity. I am to live as this creature, in a human shell, while she will grow old and die a rightful death. A rightful death that I was not granted.

I would give her anything she would ask of me, except for the death that was bestowed upon me. I love her, I love her with every fiber that still lives within this body; but I cannot take away the very thing that I so wish to have again. I cannot sentence her to an eternal life that will never end. She has asked me once before if I would change her, but I never gave her an answer. Since then, she hasn’t asked again for she knows the answer that lies before her.

She is my love, the love that I have searched for again for fifty years, but I cannot–and will not–subject her to the same agony that I deal with every day. I will love her for as long as I can. This will be the love that I will freely give away and not one that is taken from me. At least then the pain won’t hurt as much as it did the first time.

“Jake..” I hear her say. Turning my head to the side to look at her, I see her propped up on one of her elbows, her hair draped delicately over her chest. “What are you thinking about?”

I hum with a smile and reach my hand over to her face and gently rub my thumb over her cheek. “I’m only thinking about how much I love you.” I turn over onto my side to face her and prop myself on my own arm. “You say that you want nothing more in this life–that what I can’t give you doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,” She says.

“But why?” I ask. “You know that I will not–”

“I know–”

“So why do you still want to stay with me? When you will grow old and die a human death, I will still be stuck like this, and never growing old.”

“I love you, Jake, and I will continue to do so with whatever time that I have left with you–because I know you will willingly give me up so I can live a human life.” She shifts her body and moves to sit on her knees. “But how many times must I tell you that I don’t want that?”

I shake my head and climb out of the bed. “I told you, I will not do that to you.”

“But Jake–”

“No! I will subject you to this horrid life!” I go over to the velvet chair and grab my clothes. “I have told you once and this time will be the last.” I drag on my pants and begin to button them. “I will not be selfish and create a monster like me–”

“You are not a monster..” I am in front of her in a blink of an eye, my hand tightly wound around her neck. My eyes are piercing into hers, my jaw clenched. “You have no idea what I am capable of.. Do not assume that I am not a monster, because I am.. That is what I am. A monster.” I feel her pulse quicken, the fear overtaking her body. I release her from my grasp, her body dropping to the bed as she gasps for air. “If I didn’t love you the way that I do, so hopelessly in love with you, I would have killed you a long time ago.” Turning back around I grab my shirt and throw it on before sliding on my jacket and leaving the room, the door closing harsher than it ever has before.

______________________________________________________________

if i have missed you and you would like to added to the taglist for this, please do not hesitate to comment or message me!

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @i-love-gvf @katuschka @josh-iamyour-mama (more tags in comments)

[disappearinginq]

I really wish I could be convinced that more people would be interested in non-ship stuff for fandoms I'm in.

Look, we all know we write for ourselves. I get it. I do. But my desire (ability) to finish things is hinged on feedback. My two longest fics that I wrote the fastest were because of audience engagement. And because I knew I had people I respected and liked reading, and I wanted them to enjoy the read, I wrote better.

Now I feel like I'm just stuck in No Man's Land of fandom, and while I have like a dozen things half finished, they never seem to actually BE finished because if the audience is me, then I know how it ends. There's not much point writing it down.

So this is basically my To Do List.

The Rookie - I just don't care about what 90% of the fandom cares about

1. Series of one shots that establish Angela and Tim's BFF status that may or may not lean Tim aspec because I'm me.

2. Pre series flashbacks to Tim in his time in service when he survives an airstrike that kills two of his friends and almost kills him.

3. Trauma Tim post season 6, because in rapid succession, he loses his job on metro, he witnesses his old team die in a way eerily similar to the way he was almost killed in the airstrike, had a friend commit suicide in front of him after confessing to being dirty, gets accused of being dirty himself, and is again almost killed in close quarter combat (among other things that will remain unmentioned here)

Slow Horses

1. Do not ask me why but I love the idea that Lamb potentially met River was he was a kid because he had to work closely with David Cartwright and River is always where he's not supposed to be

2. River goes missing, and for once, not his fault. Lamb has to come to terms that just because he pretends not to care, doesn't mean anyone buys it

3. Post season 4, somebody finds out that River is the last remaining son of Frank's assassin cult, and it goes about as well as can be expected. I fully intend to have Lamb use this line: "trying to detain you is like trying to nail jello to a tree".

Magnum PI (yes, I still work on these)

1. Finish Wrong Side. I actually have like another 10-15k words on it, but it's not in order or complete scenes, but it does include Thomas’s recovery and discovery that Hannah is the one who sold them out

2. I have like 6 other chapters to Bad Things Happen that I half wrote but then retired the card

3. Crossover with MacGyver because I thought Mac could use some down time in Hawaii after season 4 and the last half of season 3

Tracker 1. Colter goes missing during one of his cases, and I borrow heavily from an episode of Lethal Weapon wherein Colter will be held hostage in an illegal drug trial that he stumbled into and now finds himself an unwilling participant, and I drag Russell into it because that is how big brothers work

Hudson & Rex - honestly, I have the most written for this fandom, even though the fandom itself is pretty quiet, but it's most of a bingo card 1. Finish Oh The Weather Outside is Frightful because damn son it's been years

2. In no particular order, I have Bad Things Happen Bingo It's Not My Blood, Stitches, Caught in a Snare, Falls Through the Ice and three others that fit other prompts - a boating accident, Charlie finally finds himself at the bottom of a well (sort of) and completes his "Timmy and Lassie Scenario" bingo card, and where Charlie realizes he's developed claustrophobia after having a mine collapse on him, being locked in a freezer storage, almost crushed by a shipping container, buried alive, etc and gets stuck in an elevator with Jesse

[molivierposts]

He still holds her head, palms covering her cheeks as his fingertips stretch into her curls. His head tilts one way as hers goes the other, and his mouth opens, capturing her bottom lip in between. The shock of it dizzies her head, though it might be the taste of him after she’d been without for so long. It kicks loose soil, propelling her in dégringolade and dragging her down. Her lips part, tongue sliding out, debased and diving to trace his. Whatever this is—sweet, rare, a delicacy—she wants more. She closes the gap, moves to wrap her arms around his neck.

Chapter 4 of river bones by molivier on AO3.

Read from the start.

[ask-neontiger]

(@askanoddpikachu) Lux@Journey: you said that you two knew each other from before. How did you two meet and get to know each other?

"So, obviously we got to see one another whenever our trainers met up. We've been friends since Ads was fifteen and I was seventeen! Don't let her grumpy reaction fool you, haha!"

( @askanoddpikachu )

(Welcome Back y'all :3c)

[Previous / Beginning / Next]

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Escape Artist - Chapter 7

Masterlist

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6

Tag list: @moonmaiden1996 @theskytraveler @acrackintheteacup @succulentthief

He'd left her behind. 

Aside from the fear of not knowing where Clover was, she felt completely betrayed. 

She paced around the office like a caged dog, snarling at every comment Shirley and Louisa made until Lamb’s pounding on the ceiling above summoned her.

“Stop taking it out on Thelma and Louise down there, they’re trying to help.” He demanded harshly. She looked at her feet and mumbled an apology. “I don’t want your sorrys, they do. Now fuck off and wait for Cartwright to call.” She apologised, and then took up residence hovering over Ho’s shoulder as he tracked River’s phone.

“You know where they’re going?”

“I do.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Nope,” he popped his ‘p’ loudly, half a packet of Hubba Bubba visible in his open mouth. 

“Ho, please?”

“Cole, no. Strict instructions from Cartknob.”

“Since when do you do anything he asks?”

“Since he’s tryin’ to save your kid.” She sighed and dropped into the chair next to his. She watched the screen with her chin in her hands. “Stop huffin’ and puffin’ will ya?”

“Sorry.” On the map, the red dot of River’s car came to a stop. “Are there any cam-” Ho looked at her with a withering stare. “I’ll let you just… do your thing, shall I?”

“Please do. Go and get Guy and Dander.”

“But -”

“Cole, fuck off a minute will you?” Though his tone was irate, there was a softness in his eyes. 

He wanted to check the camera alone before letting her take a look. Her shoulders slumped in defeat but she did as she was told, taking her time up the stairs. She gave him five minutes and then followed Louisa down the stairs. “It’s alright,” he told them without looking up. “She can look.”

Ella went back to her previous spot on his shoulder and watched the camera. 

She saw River’s car and an open warehouse door and very little else. 

Ho wound the footage back and she watched as the car spun into the yard at speed and came to an abrupt halt. Coe and Cartwright were out of the car quickly. The footage was grainy but she could see the tension in their faces and the way they held their bodies. 

Silent hand gestures and head nods passed for conversation until they were out of sight and inside the building.

“Where is it?”

“Can’t tell you til he tells me I can.”

“What if he can’t tell you?”

“Coe then. Either one of ‘em.”

“And if we hear nothing?” At that, Ho clearly hesitated. 

“If we hear nothing, then Shirley goes to check it out.” Lamb told them from the bottom of the stairs.

“What he said.” Ho mumbled. Shirley got up from the edge of the desk and went to speak quietly to Lamb who only nodded in response. 

Ella stared at the camera footage, willing something to happen.

Nothing did.

On the desk, Ho’s phone buzzed angrily. Coe’s name was on the caller I.D.

“Back up.” He said simply. 

“Please?” Ella begged Lamb. “Please let me go.”

“Come on,” Shirley pushed her towards the door. “Send me the pin, Ho.” 

Lamb eyed her carefully.

“Dander,” he called after her, “don’t fuck this up.” He put a hand on Ella’s shoulder with a light squeeze. “Just so you know, I’m not fucking happy about this.” Ella nodded gratefully and followed Shirley out of the door.

“Why’d you let Cole go?” Louisa asked.

“Dander was taking her regardless. Pick your battles, Guy.” He told her. “And let’s hope they’re more competent than the bloody Chuckle brothers.” 

*

Ella read out directions from Shirley’s phone, the location wasn’t remotely familiar and in the now fully dark yard, they nearly collided with River’s car as they turned in. Ella was considering her options, conscious that they hadn’t come up with any kind of plan.

“Right, Coe probably called ‘cos they’re in trouble, yeah?” Shirley asked quietly. She reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and pushed a small object into Ella’s hand. “Put this in your pocket.” She told her. The door they’d seen River and Coe use was still swinging open.

“So we should go in.” Ella concluded. A few metres from the door, Shirley jumped a mile as Coe bundled though with Clover in his arms. “Clover!” Ella launched herself towards them, peeling Clover from him.

Clover’s legs wrapped around her waist as Ella struggled to carry the girl who got closer to her mother’s height with every new growth spurt. Ella let Clover hang onto her as she used a free hand to pat along Coe’s arm and back to check for injuries.

“It’s from earlier,” he explained, grimacing. “I’m sorry, El.”

“Don’t be. JK, I’m so sorry he got to you.”

“Let’s not hang around, eh?” Shirley looked worryingly at the door.

“Cartwright’s got him distracted.” Coe explained.

“I’ve got to go in there,” Ella started, trying to pass Clover back to Coe.

“Mum, no!”

“My lovey, I need you to go with Shirl and JK, ok?”

“Come with me, mummy,” Clover begged.

“I need to go and help River. I can’t leave him here alone, sweetheart.”

Shirley got back into the car while Coe opened the back door.

Clover fought against him, trying to get back to Ella.

As the girl pulled free of Coe’s timid grip, she wrapped herself around Ella who fell to her knees.

She held Clover tightly, breathing her in. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” She whispered fiercely, remembering the day Eddie had turned up and taken Clover away. “I need to go in there and save River, I need to stop your dad.” She explained, her voice calm and reasoned in Clover’s ear, though she had no idea how.

“Mummy,” Clover sobbed into the crook of her neck.

“I’ll see you at Slough House, ok? I need you to do me a very special job, I need you to take care of JK and Shirley. Help them tell Lou and Lamb what’s happening, and ask Ho if you can help him look on the map for us?” Clover nodded sadly.

“Ok,” she whispered.

“That’s my brave girl. I love you, I’ll see you soon.”

Clover still squealed as Coe took her hand and pulled her back to the car. Ella heard the sobs and cries even with the door shut, until the sound of the engine overpowered them and Shirley peeled out of the yard. 

*

Ella roughly brushed her tears away and took a deep breath to steady herself. 

The first shot rang out as she set foot into the warehouse, making her jump. She was half wondering whether the shot had been aimed at her when the second shot sounded. 

She ran to follow the noise, a dim light not too far ahead of her. 

"Come on then, pretty boy," She heard Eddie jeer as he loomed over River who was crumpled on the floor.

"Over my dead body," she snarled. Without thinking, she threw herself at Eddie and tried to knock the gun from his hand.

He pushed her away with ease, leaving her standing defiantly in front of him. She used her body to shield River from the path of the gun.

"You little bitch -" Eddie started. She’d never seen him so angry, his rage terrified her but her own wrath was far greater.

His hand clenched around the gun.

"You'll pay for this, all of you," he spat, raising the handle of the gun to Ella.

With a horrifying scream, she ran at him again, her much smaller frame darting behind him. He spun on the spot as she jumped onto his back and wrapped her forearms around his throat. He shook her off, flinging her to the floor. As she fell, she aimed a kick at his hand and sent the gun flying across the room.

Eddie laughed.

“You think I need that? I can fuck you up without a gun, darls.” Ella scrambled to her feet as he stalked towards her. “You're pathetic,” he sneered. “A mess. I saved you - do you remember? So bored of your sad little life and your parents. You wanted me, you wanted to run away -”

“Yeah, because I was seventeen, god, you're sick! Hanging round the school gates with flowers and gifts, you groomed me, Eddie. I was just too young to see it then.”

“Nah, you wanted it. You were gagging for it. Proper little slut she was, y'know?” He said to River. “Not anymore, christ, she's fucking frigid now. But when she goes mate…” Eddie whistled as he stepped towards Ella, a hand raised to her throat. 

He pushed her until her back bent over the crate, holding her down with one hand. “Shall I show you?” He looked over at River again, “Show you how she likes it?” With his free hand, he pushed her top up, exposing the sheer lace of her bra. Then he roughly unbuttoned her jeans and started dragging them down her hips. 

Ella clamped her legs together and tried to twist her body away from him. His calloused hands pawed at the soft skin of her thighs. River tried weakly to get to his feet.

“Let her go,” he growled, his voice faint. 

“No, no, get the fuck off me,” she gasped. Her hands flew as she scratched and fought against Eddie. With her jeans undone, he moved onto his own. 

“C'mon, darls, I want to show him how a real man fucks his wife,” he leaned down to kiss her as she turned her face away. 

She caught River's gaze. 

He stared so intensely, holding her attention as if he were trying to take the pain and fear away from her. 

Feeling nothing but shame, she closed her eyes and tried to hide as much from him as she was Eddie. 

Lay back and think of England Eddie's mother had said to her once. As if she knew the kind of man her son was, as if she'd already lived through the same. 

Like father, like son. 

Like mother, like daughter. 

No. Not this time. 

Ella knew she had to stop the cycle. With Eddie's face buried in her neck and his fingers digging into her thighs, trying to prise her legs apart, her sweat slicked hand reached for her pocket. Her jeans past her hips, they were nearly entirely out of her grasp. 

Her hand gripped the small item Shirley had handed her in the car, feeling for the sharp end. She felt the cool metal blade catch her palm, blood pooling. 

She used his distraction to her advantage, her thighs burned from pressing them together so tightly, denying him access.

“Aghhhh!” she screamed as she quickly plunged the knife into the soft juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

He didn't make a sound, she wasn't sure she'd even hit her mark until she felt a warm drip down her wrist to her elbow. 

She removed the knife and plunged it into his neck again and again and again until the drip became a steady flow down her arm and into the limited space between their bodies. 

River's eyes widened as Eddie's body slumped onto Ella's, his full weight on her. The hand on her throat fell limply to the crate. 

The knife dropped from her grip and she pushed his body firmly off hers with both hands. He slipped to the ground with a thump. 

Ella rose up onto her elbows, panting. Blood covered her torso and neck, it had flowed into her hair and bra. 

She pulled her top back down to cover herself and with shaking hands, tried to pull her jeans up to her waist. 

She heard River heave and pushed herself fully upright, rushing to his side. Hands still sticky with blood, she wiped them on her jeans before she tried to feel for a pulse. She felt his hand move, finding the bare skin on her hip where she'd not managed to pull her jeans fully closed. 

Her skin burned under his touch and she bit back a sob as his pulse fluttered wildly under her fingertips. 

“His body -” River muttered. “Get rid.”

“No, no I need to get you to hospital.” She tugged off her jacket and held it against his wound. 

“El, get rid,” he groaned insistently. 

“Fucking hell, River. I do not have time for this. Just let me fucking save you for once.”

“Keep the knife.” 

“You'll be the death of me, Cartwright. Swear to fucking god,” she scrambled to her feet and did the button on her jeans. 

She looked frantically around the storage unit and spotted a fire exit on the opposite wall. She launched herself at it and dragged the cold evening air into her lungs. 

They were right by the riverside. 

She hadn't paid any attention when Shirley had been driving, careful to follow Ho's instructions. She hadn't realised that they'd ended up so close to the edge of the Thames. 

Quickly propping the door open, she grabbed Eddie's body by the ankles and pulled. 

She took a step back, braced her heels into the ground and pulled again, repeating the process until she was at the water's edge. 

“Fuck you, Eddie.” She spat, rolling his body straight into the water. He bobbed on the current for a few metres before he began to sink to the depths.

On her way back to River, she picked up the knife as instructed. 

His breathing had become more shallow in the time she'd been gone, and his pulse fainter and more erratic. 

“Oh, fuck you, Cartwright,” she grumbled, trying to pull him into a position where she could get him on his feet and support him to the exit.

“I heard that,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against her neck as she anchored her arms around his waist and lifted to no avail. 

“Good. Do I look like I can carry a bloody six foot dickhead like you?”

“Six one.”

“I'm going to kill you myself. C'mon, help me, please.” Her voice broke as she prepared to lift him again. 

“Trying,” he promised, weakly. As she lifted, he positioned his feet better and stayed upright, though slumped against her. 

“That's it, we got it now.” She said breathlessly. 

She stood still for a minute to get her breath, her arms still tight around his waist and his forehead resting in the crook of her neck. 

“Can walk,” he whispered, his lips grazing her collarbone. 

“No you fucking can't. I've got you, let's go.” She twisted in his arms and moved to the side he'd been shot on. “Walk with me, babe, yeah?” 

It took a few steps to find a rhythm, his bad side leaning heavily into her, followed by his good, as if they were in a three-legged race. 

“Sports day next year,” he suggested cheekily. 

“Will you stop wasting your energy!” She chastised without much force. Grateful, actually, that he was still talking. 

The closer they got to the exit, the quieter he became. His sentences grew shorter and she supported most of his body weight. 

Outside, only his car remained. 

She pushed away the memory of forcing Coe and Clover into Shirley’s banged up car as Clover squealed in terror.

“Keys?” She asked, hoping he was still conscious enough to reply. 

“Pocket,” he breathed shakily. 

She brushed her hand across each of his pockets to find the right one and reached in to grab them. 

“I buy you dinner first next time,” he huffed a little laugh.

“Don't fucking die on me and I'll buy you dinner,” she told him sternly, opening the door wide enough to shove him into the passenger seat. 

Once they were moving, she used the touchscreen of the car and River's bluetooth connected phone to call ahead.

“I hope everyone still has a pulse, Cartwright?” Lamb answered. The tinny echo told her she was on speakerphone.

“Two of us at least, one barely though. Meet me at Guy's hospital?”

“Fuck, what happened?” Louisa asked desperately. 

“Eddie shot River, I killed Eddie. I can't go into the hospital, I'm covered in blood.”

“I'll go in, leave the car at the door and meet Lamb round the side.” She instructed. Ella heard Lamb grumbling in response.

“OK. The others?”

“They got back a little while ago. Clover’s calmed down, she's playing Super Mario with Ho.” Ella felt hot tears fill her eyes.

“See you in a few,” she managed to mumble before hanging up. As her left hand went to change gear, River's hand limply covered it. 

Ella pulled up outside the hospital. She looked across at River, now fully unconscious, his lips blue.

“Do not die you dick, I will kill you myself. Don't you dare die.” She muttered furiously. She spotted Louisa in the bright lights of the doorway and hopped out of the car without a backwards glance. As soon as she’d moved around the side of the hospital, Louisa stepped forward and flung open the passenger door, calling loudly for help. 

“She's got it now, Cole. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. You look like a sodding murder victim yourself. Don't get blood on my seats,” Lamb warned, holding the door open for her. 

*

With Lamb at her side giving her a running commentary of the evening at Slough House, Ella felt every ounce of strength drain from her body as she absorbed the sound of his voice. 

“... very excited at the prospect of a sleepover with Standish, fuck only knows why, poor kid.” 

Ella slumped forward in the seat with her head in her hands, barely registering his words. 

“... have your work cut out for you trying to get her to talk to you. Your little spitfire was very angry with you.” 

Tears filled her eyes, Ella fought to hold them back but she was just too exhausted. A sob escaped her mouth as Lamb pulled the car up outside the safe house. He waited patiently as she cried, her shoulders shaking under the hand he'd attempted to comfort her with. 

“‘m sorry,” she hiccupped, her voice thick with tears and snot.

“Enough now, get cleaned up and I'll take you to the kiddo.” He followed her into the dark house, offering the Range Rover across the road a brief salute. “Do I feign ignorance when the relevant authorities come knocking?” He asked as Ella poured them both a large whisky. Her hands shook as she raised the glass to her lips. At her feet, Eugene seemed to understand the sombre conversation and settled for resting a sleepy head on the tops of her trainers. 

“He's dead.”

“So you said.”

“I stabbed him.”

“So I see,” he eyed her blood-covered clothing. 

“Then I pushed him in the river.”

“And the knife?”

Ella pulled it from her pocket and placed it on the table. 

“What do I do?”

“Keep your trap shut, wait and see how long it takes for his body to wash up. Hang on to the knife.”

“He shot River.”

“He'll live, unfortunately. Nasty habit of his, he's like a cockroach.”

“You're not worried?” She asked. His eyes bored into hers, she could see the unspoken concern. 

“Get a shower, hurry up.” He reached for the bottle and poured another measure. Eugene looked like he was considering following her, but decided that Lamb's feet were more comfortable. 

It took forever to wash the blood off. It had been there so long it had stained her skin. Scrubbing made her skin raw, which made it even harder to tell whether the blood was coming off, or whether she was just extremely well exfoliated.

Her hair was matted with congealed blood, it caught in her fingers as she tried to weave them through the curls to separate and clean them. 

Finally, she scrubbed her face. 

The bottom of the bathtub was filthy with splatters of dust, dirt and blood. She held the shower head so that it all washed away down the plug hole.

She patted her tender skin dry, trying not to scrub it any harder. She checked the mirror for any glaring bits she'd missed, and found herself pink and puffy but fortunately, cleansed.

She wasn't sure she could say the same about her conscience. 

Lamb had fallen asleep on her sofa, head tilted back and mouth wide open with Eugene tucked up next to him, both of them snoring. 

If she hadn't been so desperate to see Clover, she'd have happily curled up at the end and joined them. 

She nudged Lamb’s foot with her own and he startled awake.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Can we go to the hospital after I’ve seen Clo?”

“Fuck no. I’m taking you to Standish’s for a kip. We’ll work out the rest tomorrow, tonight you need to sleep.”

“What about River?”

“Guy’s text me, he’s stable for now. They’ve pumped him full of some more blood and done a few scans. Nothing more now til the morning.”

“I should be there.”

“He’d tell you to piss off back to the kid and you know it.” Ella couldn’t argue, she knew he was right. 

Standish waited for them on the landing outside her flat with a pale, tired Clover half hidden behind her.

“You look awful,” she sighed with relief.

“I feel worse. Hey sweetheart,” she whispered to Clover.

“Come on, I’ve made the spare room up for you both. Good night, Jackson.”

“Night, Standish, Cole.” He turned on the stairs and headed back down. 

“Thank you,” Ella called after him. He waved a hand without turning around.

Catherine’s flat was a warm, cosy respite from the evening she’d had. She was guided to the sofa where she curled up in the corner. 

Clover looked warily from the kitchen door until Catherine nudged her gently. At Catherine’s suggestion, the young girl crept towards Ella and climbed into her mother’s lap. 

“Thank you,” Ella mouthed over Clover’s shoulder. 

Catherine left them alone as Ella and Clover’s soft cries filled the flat.

They fell asleep on the sofa, entwined together and cheeks still wet with tears.

*

“I want to come too,” she demanded. 

Ella sighed. She’d spent days being put off visiting River - Lamb didn’t want her drawing attention, Louisa said he wasn’t well enough. She’d finally put her foot down and told them that she would be visiting the hospital and they would not be stopping her. Until Clover decided that she also wanted to go.

“It’s a hospital, babe. It’s full of machines and poorly people and it’s not a nice place for kids to have to visit.”

“But I want to see him, I got him some stickers?” Clover waved a page of Barbie stickers in Ella’s face.

“Ok. Ok, fine. But you have to be super quiet and no racing around.”

“Yessss, thanks mum!” Clover held Eugene’s soft head in her hands, “I’ll tell him you miss him too.” She told the dog sagely.

Lamb was already at the hospital, in the visitor chair reading the newspaper.

“He’s asleep,” he explained unnecessarily.

“Ugh, I wanted to give him some stickers.”

“He’ll be awake in a bit, kid. Want to come and get some chocolate?” He shook the pocket of his trousers to check for change.

“Can I mum?”

“Course you can, stay with Lamb please. No running off.”

“I can give you five minutes, Cole. Beyond that, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep a 9 year old occupied.”

“Cheers, Lamb.”

She waited for the door to close before taking in her surroundings. Some cheap supermarket flowers were on a table next to the bed, along with an open bag of grapes that Lamb had clearly been eating on River’s behalf. 

He was pale against the bedsheets, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair had fallen across his forehead so she brushed it out of the way.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, but,” she murmured, “you look half dead so that’s not entirely true.” She sat in the seat Lamb had vacated and took his hand. He was still attached to a drip so she was careful not to disturb the cannula. “You should have let me come with you,” she complained. “I’ve been so worried. They haven’t let me visit til now.” 

Her voice wavered. 

“You’re such an idiot, River. I told you he was dangerous, I told you and you wouldn’t listen. You’re so fucking reckless, always putting yourself in danger. What if I hadn’t turned up?” 

She sighed, picking at a stray thread on the bedcovers. 

“You’ve been so good to me,” her voice softened. “To both of us. I think you saved me. God, this is so messed up but, I think I’m in love with you. I never thought I was capable of feeling like this, I think Eddie broke something in me. I know I’m not exactly the picture of stability.” 

Fat tears splashed from her cheek to the bed as she talked. “I’m no good for you.” 

She sniffed, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “Maybe one day, eh? If I’m ever less of a fuck up.”

She heard the squeak of Clover’s trainers in the corridor outside and cleared her throat, hoping her red-rimmed eyes weren’t as obvious as they felt.

“Hey babe, did you get any good snacks?”

CHAPTER 8

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

June 6th

~*~

1. your favourite top!lwj fics? thanks! <3

~*~

2. Hi!!! For itmf I was wondering if anyone has seen fics where someone or wwx points out that lwj hasn’t shown that he likes wwx. Like he’s genuinely confused because lwj is mean.

Alternatively if you guys have anything similar to One Summer Evening by Radistears. Preferably where wwx doesn’t forgive lwj easily. I honestly want lwj to be sad :)

Thank you!!! @monojadi

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, College/University) It's not a 1:1 match but might scratch the itch for #2. It features a lwj who needs to do serious groveling.

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

~*~

3. Hii so I don't even know if books like this exist but if they do please share. What I'm looking for is books where it's wwx sending his child or children to the cloud recesses lectures. It can be Sizhui or some other child/ren that he has but yeah it's just him sending the child to the sect lectures. @thatperson0-0

The Murder of Crows by cerbykerby (M, 101k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Pining, Yiling Wei Sect AU, Everybody Lives but also not really, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX adopts kids and talks to birds for 13 years, expanded demonic cultivation skills, Angst, Fluff, Dark, but also Light, Eventual Romance, Humor, Family, Hijinks & Shenanigans, ridiculously powerful WWX, almost-enemies to almost-friends to almost-lovers then back to almost-enemies then finally to lovers, because we all know it's gonna take lives being threatened to make these two confess)

~*~

4. Hi i have a request for intm. Do you guys have any recs for a jealous LWJ…specifically fics in which Lwj starts dating, distancing himself from wwx and wwx gets jealous but then wwx gets attention from others and Lwj gets jealous and chases wwx? Thank you!!

~*~

5. itmf your favorite fics featuring yiling siblings dynamics specially when they are being protective and ride or die; it's also lovely when they are just being soft and intimate with each other. wangxian is always a bonus <3 the only thing i detest is chengqing ship

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, canon divergence, necromancy, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, Fix-it of sorts, yilingwei sect au)

💖 do not envy the roots that hold you down by eccentrick for rianitida (T, 12k, WangXian, Reincarnation, WQ is a Lan, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

With Surgical Precision by metisket (T, 20k, WQ & WN, WQ & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel, Families of Choice, sibling bonding through murder)

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn't kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

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6. any fics were wen qing ends up marrying one of the nie brothers? especially if it's huaisang? i read a fic where he asks permission to wei wuxian to court her (in which he awnsers that it's her choice, and if she wants itnhe will support her)

The Hand is a Voice (that can sing what the voice will not) by captain_apostrophe (E, 124k, WQ/NMJ, NHS & NMJ, WQ & WN, NHS & WN, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Non-Canon Relationship, WQ Lives, and is awesome, it's not Beauty & The Beast okay, NHS Being A Little Shit, Marriage of Convenience, arguing as a love language, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Minor Original Character(s), Everybody Lives, Slow Burn, only a little bit of smut, Childbirth)

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7. any fics were wei wuxian is a good politician? or a community or sect leader, but without the resources, contacts and support from the other sects, but with the civilians

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

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8. itmf fics that have some sort of court and legal drama, like in kizukatana's the truth will out (when caught in video); it can be either modern or canon setting, but in a wwx vs the sects kinda of deal with some real consequences for the antagonists besides just proving wei wuxian innocent or letting him live when he proves himself useful

~*~

9. im interested in fics with in depth and interesting characterizations for wen ruohan, wen xu and wen zhuliu, with them interacting with wwx if possible <3 thank you

Loneliness Knows My Name by Jaywalker_Holmes, Treef (T, 208k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, mutual idiots) although it only features Wen Ruohan with Wei Wuxian.

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 41k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) WWX, WRH, WN and WQ return to the past and WRH decides to adopt WWX to repay him for taking care of the remnants.

I'm sorry, Good bye by NHaraki (M, 35k, WWX/WRH, WIP, Jiang Family Bashing, Time Travel Fix-It, YZY Bashing) It's in Indonesian, it focuses on WWX, WRH, WC, WX. Zhulio is there too, but I think he hasn't been focused on yet. CW: Attempted suicide though. I translated it via Google Chrome and that was passable

~*~

10. itmf the most unique time travel fics.

preferable, but not necessary: wwx focusing on himself instead shrugging his trauma and grief off, does have wwx keep using his gui dao, cultivation sect critical, not jiang sect nor jiang vheng friendly

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) Not sure about cultivation world critical, but has everything else you asked for, & definitely unique

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, wangxian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, WIP)

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

The Darkness Before Dawn by PsycheStellata707 (M, 113k, wangxian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Attempt at Humor, PTSD, Oblivious WWX, WWX-centric, Blind WWX, Sentient Burial Mounds, Everyone Lives AU, Except Those Who Deserves to Die, Oblivious Pining, Not Canon Compliant, WIP)

We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

~*~

11. itmf a/b/o modern au fluff fics like “insert coin now for extra fife” by TriviasFolly? thank you!!

Train Rides Change Everything by Seriana (E, 385k, WangXian, NHS/WX, JC/NMJ, JYL/LXC, WIP, A/B/O, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Abusive Jiang Family, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slut Shaming,bFluff and Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Feelings,bAbusive YZY, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Beta JC, Omega JYL, Modern, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Beta NHS, WC Being an Asshole, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, Forced Marriage, First Time, Forced Bitching, Alpha WX, Minor Character Death, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, drug overdose, Sexual Tension, Omega JC) It's a long one with pretty much everything - romance, comedy, drama, murder, mystery, smut, conspiracies, hurt/comfort...

~*~

12. An ITMF request, but a specific one: has anyone done a fusion/riff on the old movie "Three Men and a Baby"? (I know there are a lot of "accidental baby acquisition" stories but I specifically mean an AU of 3MaaB)

~*~

13. Any fics where Lan Zhan or Wei Ying turn into like an animal and then the other takes care of them, not knowing who it is (they know eachother normally, they just dont realize they are the animal)? Bonus points if before the animal thing, Lan Zhan is still acting cold to Wei Ying

🔒💖 blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, modern, shapeshifting, supernatural elements, fluff & humor)

in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Minor pining, major shenanigans, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar, and getting subsequently rescued by your crush, there were in fact two beds, but LWJ knows what he's about, Blowjobs,bFrottages, witch rights, Scent Kink, Like a lot of scent kink, mildly telepathic sex, courtship via kittens)

🔒 and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Professors, Shapeshifter LWJ, Not Quite Necromancer WWX, Mutual Pining, WWX being an oblivious idiot, Fluff, Love Confessions, yunmeng trio, Family Feels,bget JC therapy 2020, Kissing, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

love & longing, rabbit edition. by jaws_3 (G, 18k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Mutual Pining, Fluff, two dumbass teenagers in love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Rabbit LWJ, Spanish Translation Available)

Kitty-cat by canis_lupus (E, 98k, WangXian, WIP, Cat WWX, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, dom LWJ, Sub WWX, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jiang Family Dynamics, Abusive Jiang Family, POV Multiple, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Masturbation) is a great one, it's not finished but gets updated fairly often 🙂

~*~

14. heyo this is for itmf! are there any fics which go like handler/ serial killer? basically anything w wangxian being badass and/or killing people

no wips pls! they give me anxiety TT @bunnycoffeeumcat

~*~

15. Hello, for the next ITMF, I would like to ask for fics where when no one was there with wei ying, lan zhan was. Not burial mounds wen settlement days, but uk...

Wanna read about Wei Ying going through the darkest lowest time of his life and lan zhan is there with him.....

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 95k, WangXian, WIP, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, which is an anachronistic term for this fic but it fits, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, WWX gets all the appreciation he deserves, even if he's a bit confused about it at first, warprize au with a twist, in that everyone thinks WWX is a warprize, but LWJ has only platonic and honourable intentions, at first, Eventual Smut)

~*~

16. hello, itmf fics where dragonji hoards wwx as his treasure (like "These Mortal Treasures" by ChilianXianzi). thx!

💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, Fantasy, But still in the Cultivation World, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, Fluff, Humor, Eventual mpreg, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Boy A-Yuan)

~*~

17. I am in the mood for wangxian fics that are like...the opposite of pining while fucking. I want something where the romantic realization/confessions happen fast or early in the story, but for whatever reason, the physical side of their relationship is the slow burn part. Like, that could be because it's long-distance, or strict chaperoning during a betrothal, or anything really that keeps them from being able to indulge in the more physical part of their relationship. Just want to see these two burn for each other for a long time before the pay off. Thank you!

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[howdyjourney]

Sing Your Body Electric

- chapter 4 -

who: William H. Bonney x Original Female Character

genre: western romance longfic (multiple chapters)

this chapter: adventure • implied sexual activities • protective Billy • possessive Billy • horny Billy • sexual tension • body worship •

(lmk if you want to be tagged)

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Chapter four

High noon pressed its flat, white palm over the prairie, squeezing every scent of sage and scorched grass one last time before autumn claimed the land for frost. Billy and Eva crested a knuckled rise where buffalo grass surrendered to baked clay. Below them, La Junta sprawled in a tidy grid, clapboard fronts facing the single main drag like teeth in an ill-kept grin. A weather-split sign arched over the road, letters flaking: POP 327. A tumbleweed cartwheeled beneath it, thumped a post, and pirouetted on down the ruts as if chased by the simmering wind.

Billy reined the mare to a halt, resting one forearm across the saddle horn. Heat shimmer lifted from her black mane; flies worried her tail. He scanned the town—two-story hotel with a sagging balcony, a brick bank new enough to shine, and farther south a sawmill whose thin steam plume bent east under the relentless breeze. But it was the white-washed chapel near the river that snagged Eva’s attention.

She straightened in the saddle, pushing the brim of Billy’s spare hat up with two fingertips. “Look,” she breathed, the single syllable full of a hope she tried—and failed—to disguise. A simple steeple, clapboard siding bright as bone, and a bell that winked in the sunlight. It might have been Eden for how her shoulders eased.

“Preacher’s place,” Billy said. The words came slow, weighed against father-memory and pastor’s lies in every border town he’d ever drifted through. But he kept judgment from his voice. If she needed to believe in a kind parson before the world proved otherwise, he could spare her the snarl—at least for a mile or two.

Below, a freight wagon rattled past the livery; men in shirt-sleeves heaved sacks while two children chased the dust kicked by the wheels. La Junta looked tidy, law-abiding, small enough that gossip carried on clean laundry lines. The kind of place folks named kittens after Biblical queens and stored pickles by the dozen. A place, maybe, that would shelter a lost dove with good manners and a willing heart.

Billy unhooked his canteen, drank, then passed it back. Eva swallowed two careful gulps, wiped her mouth with the inside of her wrist, and handed it over. Their fingers brushed—brief, familiar—and Billy felt the echo of that accidental touch in places he wished it wouldn’t settle. Goddamn it. It’d been a while—a month or two, maybe—since he last had a woman underneath him. Or on top—as he’d sometimes preferred, if the view proved worthy.

She hoisted an optimistic smile. “Reverend first, you figure?”

“Reckon so.” He corked the canteen. “Man of God oughta know charity.”

“Charity,” she repeated, half tasting the word. “Feels strange, askin’ for it.”

“You ain’t askin’. I am.” Billy tightened the cinch one notch, keeping his gaze on the distant chapel windows. “Besides, folks with roofs can spare a corner for someone willin’ to sew and read Scripture to children.”

She glanced sideways, lips curving. “You volunteering me already?”

“Only sellin’ what’s true,” he said, nudging her boot with the toe of his spur. “Come on, peach. Let’s get you indoors ‘fore that wind skins us.”

They nudged their mounts downslope. Dust rose in little corkscrew columns ahead, dancing across the wagon road like restless spirits. As they passed beneath the sagging POP 327 sign, Billy flicked its bottom with the brim of his hat—half salute, half test of luck. The weathered board thunked, held fast, as though warning them to mind the arithmetic of bodies and intentions inside the limits it guarded.

Eva drew a quiet breath, sitting tall despite the travel stiffness in her spine. Billy caught the hope riding her posture and felt an unnameable twist in his gut—equal parts protectiveness and some darker, selfish curl of heat. He cleared his throat, glancing away toward the storefront awnings that rustled like tired flags.

“Keep your eyes up,” he murmured. “Town’s small but men’s tongues ain’t.”

“Yours included?” she teased, managing a flick of sass that softened the worry drawn fine around her eyes.

He smirked despite himself. “Mine’s watchin’ your back. Reverend Brackett’s house is just past the mill road. Let’s see if he walks the verses he preaches.”

They rode on—hooves muffled now by compacted clay—carrying dust, hope, and the first electric threads of a lesson neither yet knew: charity offered often hides a price, and sometimes the outlaw trail is the safer sanctuary after all. But that truth, and the fire it would spark in Billy’s chest, was a mile and a preacher’s grin away.

**

The road to Reverend Brackett’s parsonage curled past the river like a dry snake, ironweed sprouting in the wheel ruts. White clapboard walls peeked through dust-silvered cottonwoods, and a hand-painted sign—Grace Fellowship of the New Covenant—leaned sideways, nailed to a stump. Beside the house stretched a once-proud garden: hollyhocks drooping on broken stakes, roses gone to brittle hips. The air smelled of river mud and oversteeped tea.

Billy swung down first, boots thudding on the packed earth. He offered Eva a hand; she slid from the saddle with practiced quiet. Dust billowed around her hem, a faded calico blue that made her skin look sun-kissed and softer than it had any right to be. He felt, rather than saw, the curtain in the parlor twitch.

Door squeaked open. Out stepped Reverend Philemon Brackett—a man of medium height and over-oiled hair, collar too tight for the heat. His smile stretched wide but never touched the watery eyes that changed from Billy’s face to Eva’s figure and back, as though tallying coins.

“Brother Bonney,” he greeted, voice syrup-sweet and damp. The handshake he offered came slick with perspiration. Billy gripped once, firm, then freed his hand to wipe subtly on his trouser seam.

“Reverend,” he returned, neutral. He tipped his hat Eva’s direction. “This here’s Miss Eva. She’s in need of righteous roof and honest company till we track kin.”

Brackett’s gaze slid to Eva—first her face, then the length of her braid, then lower. He plastered on a look of grave concern. “Lost lamb,” he murmured. “My heart aches to see gentle souls adrift.” The way he said aches made Billy’s knuckles itch.

Eva folded her hands at her waist, offering a polite nod. “Thank you for seein’ us, Reverend.”

“Of course, child.” He angled sideways, ushering them toward a narrow porch cluttered with empty crates and a cracked washtub. “Come, come—shade’s better under the eave.”

Billy climbed the three steps; floorboards groaned. The reverend produced a ledger the size of a family Bible from a side table and opened it to a blank page already stained with sweat rings. “For accountability,” he explained. “The bishop appreciates orderly records.”

Billy accepted the stub of a pencil. “Name. Date. Donation if able,” Brackett prompted, voice a shade too eager.

While Billy bent to scrawl, Brackett eased closer—close enough Billy felt humid breath at his ear. The preacher’s words slid out soft and slick: “Checked your little bird inside for disease?”

Billy’s pencil stalled mid-stroke.

“Would be a shame,” Brackett continued, “to stable spoiled goods.” A chuckle buzzed. “Pretty white dove like her will sweeten the house for my… personal devotions.”

Time stuttered. Billy’s jaw flexed so hard a muscle jumped near his ear. He set the pencil down with deliberate care, thumb flattening the wood until the lead snapped.

Slowly, he straightened. Turned. Reverend Brackett’s smile tried to hold, but something in Billy’s eyes turned it waxy. The outlaw’s voice came low, measured. “Beg your pardon?”

The reverend lifted both palms, faux-pious. “Only meanin’ the Lord guides shepherds to tend vulnerable ewes.” His gaze switched again to Eva’s bodice. “Some need… closer tending.”

Billy’s hand shot out, fists a knot in the man’s neatly pressed lapel, jerking him forward so their noses nearly touched. “You lay shepherd hands on that girl,” he growled, “and you’ll meet your savior inside a pine crate before sunset.”

The parson’s breath hitched. “Brother—violence under a church roof—”

“Ain’t inside yet,” Billy hissed. He released the lapel with a shove that rattled ledger pages. Brackett staggered, shoes scraping dirt.

Eva stepped up, concern knitting her brow, but Billy lifted one calming finger—stay. She obeyed, though confusion showed in her eyes.

Billy swept the ledger shut with a palm-slap that echoed. “Appreciate your time, Reverend. Found we’d rather trust the sky.”

Brackett sputtered, smoothing his collar. “You reject sanctuary?”

“Sanctuary’s only holy if the walls are clean.” Billy tipped his hat mock-politely, pivoted on a heel, and strode to Eva. “Come on, peach. Man’s house is full of maids already.”

Eva blinked. “Full of… maids?”

“Enough to start a choir,” he muttered, guiding her down the steps. “And ain’t none of ’em singing hymns.”

Behind them Brackett called, falsetto cracking, “The Lord will judge!” A crate skittered off the porch as his foot caught it.

Billy looked back. He tipped his hat back, pinning Brackett with a gaze that made the man swallow his next excuse whole. Then, with deliberate contempt, he turned his head and hawked a long rope of dust-thick spit over the porch rail. It hit a cracked hollyhock leaf with a wet thwack.

“That’s my tithe,” he said, and pivoted on his heel.

He helped Eva into the saddle, swung up behind her, and clicked the mare into a trot, dust pluming. Only when the parsonage dipped from view did his shoulders ease.

Eva twisted slightly to peer at him over her shoulder. “Billy? What did he say?”

He kept his gaze forward, expression iron. “Asked if you could cook enough pies for a houseful of greedy men.” A grim half-smile appeared on his face. “Told him you were plum outta dough.”

Her brow knit, sensing the lie, but she let it rest. The wind tugged a loose strand of hair across his cheek; he tucked it behind her ear with a gentleness that surprised them both.

“Let’s find honest ground,” he said, voice still tight. “Town’s bigger than one crooked pulpit.”

They rode on, hollyhocks wilting behind them, the preacher’s sanctimony shrinking to a speck in the shimmering heat. In Billy’s chest, anger coiled with something fiercer: the raw need to keep that white dove far from any man whose hands looked more like claws than wings.

**

Sun balanced high and relentless when they reached Mrs. Mayhew’s establishment at the corner of Main and Willow—two stories of prim white siding, shutters painted a shade of blue that had once been cheerful but now showed sun-cracked wrinkles like an old debutante’s smile. Lace curtains fluttered in every window, and the stiff brass welcome mat on the porch declared PEACE TO ALL WHO ENTER in letters nearly rubbed smooth. The smell wafting through the open door was equal parts lilac water and yesterday’s boiled cabbage.

Billy tied the mare at the hitch rail, pocketed the reins, and offered Eva a hand up the shallow steps. The boards had been scrubbed so hard they squeaked beneath their boots; a bouquet of wilting asters guarded the threshold.

The door creaked inward before they could knock. Mrs. Mayhew herself materialised—a stout woman corseted to immobility, gray hair pinned in a tight crown of braids. Half-moon spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She gave Billy a brisk up-and-down—taking in trail dust, Colt at the hip—then let her gaze slide to Eva. It snagged on the gentle flare of her hips beneath the calico. Spectacles dipped lower, magnifying watery eyes that lingered a beat too long.

“Afternoon,” Billy said, tipping his hat with cordial restraint. “Looking for a room—short stint. The lady needs respectable lodging.”

Mrs. Mayhew’s lips puckered in something near a smile. “Respectable is my specialty.” She stepped back, motioning them into a dim foyer lined with crocheted runners and a smell of starch. “However”—she clasped soft, doughy hands at her waist—“sadly we are full to the rafters.”

Billy’s jaw worked. “Surely you’ve a spare cot.”

She peered over the rims of her glasses again, this time openly assessing Eva from braid to boot tips, then moving her gaze to Billy as though tallying profit margins. “Perhaps,” she allowed, voice sugar-coated but grainy underneath, “the young miss could sleep in the kitchen loft.” Her smile sharpened. “Separate fee for… laundry services.”

The pause after laundry hung thick as hardtack. Eva blinked, uncertain. Billy felt the shift—heat rising from his collar to the roots of his hair. He forced a polite edge into his tone. “She’d be washing clothes only,” he said, stressing each word.

Mrs. Mayhew adjusted her spectacles. “Oh, I’m sure she’s adept with—stains.” The double meaning landed with a moist thump. Her tongue clicked roof-ward in faux sympathy. “Traveling puts a girl in need of male oversight.”

Billy’s smile iced over. He removed his hat, smoothed the brim once—slow—then settled it back. “Ma’am,” he said, voice low, “she doesn’t boil for swine.”

Color mottled the matron’s cheeks. “I beg your—”

“Good day.” He caught Eva’s elbow—gentle, but firm as a reins pull—and pivoted for the door. Boards squeaked protest as he guided her down the steps. Behind them, the lace curtains fluttered indignantly in Mrs. Mayhew’s drafty gasp.

Outside, heat hit like a forge. Billy breathed it in, tamping fury. Eva kept pace, skirts swishing. At the hitch rail he released her arm, rubbed a thumb over the spot he’d gripped.

“Billy?” she asked, voice soft but steadier than hours ago. “That wasn’t just about laundry, was it?”

He angled a half grin he didn’t feel. “Woman’s got more dirt under her rug than in her whole washhouse. No loss.”

Eva studied him, suspicion and gratitude braided in her eyes, yet she let it go. She reached to scratch the mare’s forelock instead, whispering something soothing in Spanish she’d picked up from ranch hands down the trail.

Billy exhaled through his nose; the breath tasted like hot iron. Two strikes in one day—preacher and matron both. Town was making a point: decent roofs cost more than coin when a girl was soft-skinned and alone. He shoved that revelation deep but it burned anyway, simmering alongside the unwanted image of Mrs. Mayhew’s greedy look crawling over Eva’s delicate curves. He knew of women who had different tastes, if one could’ve called them that.

“C’mon, peach,” he muttered, swinging into the saddle. “This burg’s got one more door to knock before I call it rotten.” He held out a hand. She took it, trusting, and he hoisted her up behind. Her arms circled his waist automatically, warm through trail-dust cloth.

As they turned back toward Main Street, Billy spat dust into the road—another tithe, salty and hard—and felt the mare gather under him. If La Junta had any honest corners left, they’d best show themselves quick, else he’d carry this girl clear to the sunset before letting another soul weigh her like meat on a hook.

**

La Junta’s general store squatted at the crossroads like a fat toad, green shutters propped open to spill the warm, sugary perfume of molasses and cured meats into the dust-swirled street. A dingy bell jangled overhead as Billy nudged the door with a boot and steered Eva inside.

The interior was dim after the glare outside, lit only by sunbeams slicing through clerestory panes. Wooden barrels stood in ranks—flour, coffee, soda crackers—while shelves sagged beneath calico bolts and tins of axle grease. Somewhere in back, a fly‐specked canary warbled inside its cage. The place smelled of rawhide, brown sugar… and opportunity, if you were the kind who tilted profit off travelers.

The clerk—barely twenty, hair slicked to a gleam with too much tonic—looked up from balancing a slate. He pasted on a salesman’s smile as bright as the nickel buttons on his vest. “Afternoon, folks,” he chirped. “Top o’ the heat to you.”

“Bulk oats,” Billy said, tipping his hat back and scanning the bins. “And a cotton bandage roll.”

“Certainly, sir. Oats by the pound.” The clerk bustled forward, but halfway stopped when Eva stepped from Billy’s shadow, surveying the glass jars of peppermint sticks. The young man’s eyes snagged on the delicate curve of her bodice like a burr on wool.

“Well now,” he breathed, forgetting the oats. “Ain’t you the rose this desert’s been missin’?”

Eva startled slightly, then managed a polite smile. “Just road-dust and freckles, sir.”

“Freckles can be charmin’,” he replied, leaning an elbow on the counter. “In fact—” With a flourish he lifted a sample platter: bite-size wedges of candied yam, sugared and glossy. “Seasonal treat from Mississippi plantations—thought maybe your delicate palate might fancy a taste.” His gaze never left her chest.

Billy shifted, blocking the line of sight like a shutter slamming. “She’s got teeth enough to chew, but you’re lookin’ too low to worry about her palate.”

The clerk blinked up at Billy—forced a laugh. “No offense, mister. Just thought the young lady might earn a dollar handin’ these samples to stagecoach passengers. Pretty thing draws crowds, you understand.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed, flint-grey. “She ain’t bait on a hook.”

The clerk’s grin wilted. “Didn’t mean—”

“Meanin’s clear.” Billy’s voice stayed smooth but steely as the Colt riding his hip. He plucked a yam cube from the tray with thumb and forefinger, popped it in his mouth, chewed once. Then reached again—palmed five more specimens, rolling them like dice along his knuckles. “Consider these payment for the insult.”

Clerk sputtered, “Sir, those samples—”

“Now they’re tuition.” Billy flicked a sardonic half-grin, pocketing the sweets. “Lesson is: eyes stay north of the Mason-Dixon line of a lady’s collar.”

Eva’s cheeks flamed, equal parts mortification and gratitude. Billy gathered bandages, tossed a coin onto the counter with a clink. “Oats delivered to the horse trough out front, if you don’t mind.” He tipped his hat again—gesture curt but polite enough to leave no legal bruise—and steered Eva toward the door.

As they exited, the bell jangled protest. Sunlight slapped them fresh; wind tugged at Eva’s skirts. She walked two steps before she spoke, voice pitched low. “I could��ve handled that.”

Billy unwrapped one candied yam cube, held it to her lips. “Know you could. Just quicker my way.”

She bit the yam, caramel glaze catching at the corner of her mouth. “You stole that.”

“Compensation for ocular trespass,” he said, popping a second piece between his own teeth. “Besides, preacher said I should tithe.”

Eva huffed a sound half laugh, half sigh. Sticky syrup shone on her lower lip; without thinking, Billy thumbed it away. The tiny touch pulled both their gazes together for a heartbeat too long.

He cleared his throat, turned for the hitch rail. “This town’s fresh outta honest doors, peach. We ride soon as that oat sack hits the ground.”

“Where to?” she asked, trailing after, still tasting sweet yam and maybe something warmer.

“South,” he said, slinging the bandage roll into the saddlebag. “Edge of nowhere’s safer than the middle of so-called civil.”

Their eyes met again—hers thoughtful, his resolved. The mare stomped once, as though impatient with human follies. Billy mounted, offered a gloved hand down. Eva placed her palm in his, let him swing her up behind. As they turned toward the end of Main, sun cut across the storefront glass, throwing a glint like a drawn knife. Billy flicked the reins, pocketed the rest of sugared yam cubes, and together they rode beyond the town that weighed virtue by the ounce and beauty by the pound.

**

Dusk slid down the sky like a bruise, turning the high desert purple at the edges. An abandoned sheep shed crouched on the lee side of a knuckled hill—gray boards warped, half the roof missing, but three standing walls still kept the wind off. Billy led the mare under the sagging lintel, where cracked troughs and trampled wool ghosts told of better seasons. He unsaddled by feel, muscles running on habit more than thought, while Eva knelt at a pocket hearth of fieldstones someone long gone had piled against the south wall.

She coaxed a sliver of flame from dry sage stems, set the blackened skillet, and unwrapped the clerk’s purloined treasure. More of the candied yam wedges had melted together into a glossy amber brick. She sliced it into rough hunks, arranged them like sunrise fragments, and the sugar hissed as it met heat. The smell—caramel and earth—filled the shed, twining with the sharper scent of sheep lanolin baked into old boards.

Billy finished looping the lead rope, grabbed two tin plates from his bedroll, and squatted opposite the fire. Orange light slicked across his jaw, highlighting the dust caked in day-old stubble. Eva spooned one glistening chunk onto each plate, then sat back on her heels, skirt pooling in the straw.

They ate in silence for a minute, the only sound the wind fingering the roof slats and the distant bark of a coyote testing the dark.

Eva licked syrup from her thumb, smiled faint. “That clerk seemed nice enough,” she ventured. “Offered me work, after all.”

Billy’s spoon halted midway to his mouth. He lowered it, tapped the rim of the tin twice before answering. “Nice don’t stare holes in a woman’s bodice.”

She frowned, startled. “Stare?”

“Whole time I haggled oats,” he said, voice low. “His eyes never left your chest. Job wasn’t samples—it was you, trussed up for gawkers.”

She glanced down at the calico buttons that rose and fell with her breath, cheeks coloring in the fire-glow. “I… I didn’t notice.”

“That’s the trouble.” He forced the spoon back to his lips, chewed the sweet flesh without tasting it. “Men count on you not noticein’.”

Silence spread, broken only by the pop of sap in the fire. Eva’s gaze fixed on the embers, shoulders drawing up as if a cold draft had found her despite the heat. After a long moment she reached across, laid her fingertips on the sleeve of Billy’s coat. The touch was feather-light, but he felt it in every limb.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For seeing what I didn’t.”

He only nodded, not trusting the roughness in his throat. Her hand lingered, then slipped away.

**

If wolves prowl every clapboard door, he thought, then the safest den for her is my own shadow.

The idea settled like a brand on wet hide—hiss, steam, permanence. He watched lamplight flit across her cheek, turning the fine down at her jaw to pale gold. In that glow she looked both too young for the blood on her past and too woman for his peace: the gentle slope of shoulder revealed where her shawl had slipped, the curve beneath her corset that men kept measuring with their eyes. He pictured Mrs. Mayhew’s greedy stare, the clerk’s slick smirk, Brackett’s salivating whisper—and felt a coil of anger knot with something darker, hotter. Desire was a dumb animal; duty a razor-edged halter. Both tightened on him now.

He scooped the last of the yam, swallowed. She trusts me, he reminded himself. Don’t you dare cheapen that. But the memory of her bent over the fire, skirt kilted, still moved behind his lids like a sin-stoked lantern slide. He exhaled slow, banked the fire of it as best he could.

**

Eva packed the tins away, doused the tiny flame with a whisper of water. Stars climbed through the roof’s missing boards—pinpricks at first, then swaths of milky dust. She spread their blankets over sweet, crushed straw and crawled into hers fully clothed, boots to the wall. Billy settled a foot away, Colt within reach, legs complaining.

She turned on one elbow, voice barely a breath. “Will we try another town tomorrow?”

He stared up at splintered rafters, reading constellations through gaps. “No,” he said at last. “We ride at dawn. South trail’s empty this time of year.”

“Empty sounds safe,” she murmured, though uncertainty trembled under the words.

“Safer than four walls hunted by men who want what ain’t theirs.” He shifted. “Long as you’re under my coat, nobody touches you.”

Moonlight knifed through a crack, caught her face. She studied him—maybe weighing what kind of promise that was. Then, quietly: “Under your coat’s kept me warm before.”

He grunted—agreement, gratitude, something. Outside, the coyote barked again, farther off now. Eva curled down, trusting. Billy watched until her breaths evened, then let his gaze roam the sky.

Desire and duty, he thought, two bullets loaded in the same chamber. He cocked an ear to the wind, feeling both weights press against his ribs, and made a vow to the stars peeking through the roof: any man who tried to claim the soft-skinned girl beside him would meet the Kid first.

That vow rode shotgun in his thoughts as the night deepened, and he did not quite notice when vigilance blurred into sleepless dreaming—of cotton dresses, silver rivers, and a peach-curved silhouette that no wolf or preacher, clerk or matron would ever touch so long as Billy Bonney had breath in his body.

**

Billy propped one shoulder against the lone juniper that shaded their makeshift camp and told himself—again—not to look.

Didn’t help worth a damn.

There she was, ten paces off near the creek-edge, sleeves pinned above her elbows, skirt kilted to mid-calf while she scrubbed his shirts on a flat rock. Tiny thing. All bird-bones and big eyes, so jittery she near jumped out of her skin whenever a grasshopper popped. And yet she’d insisted on “earning her keep,” whatever that meant, bustling about camp with more eagerness than sense. Washing clothes no one asked her to wash. Humming hymns so quiet they were practically apologies. Acting like scrub-water and lye were gentler company than him.

Probably were.

Billy spat dust, folded his arms, and kept watching.

Fool girl, he thought, irritated as a burr in his boot. Shoulda left her with some nuns back in La Junta. She’d be tucked safe behind clapboard walls by now, instead of kneeling out here where any stray coyote—or worse—could wander past.

She wrung a shirt, shoulders straining against cotton thin as Bible paper. A single braid, dark and glossy, swung down the small of her back. When she leaned forward to dunk the cloth again, that braid brushed the rise of her backside—round and high, perfect as a peach. He felt something in his gut tighten, coil, turn near painful.

Lord save me, he cursed inwardly. Look at the size of her. A breeze’d blow her cross Kansas. Whole of her’d fit between my hands—‘cept maybe that damned rump.

God but that caboose was a torment: heart-shaped curve outlined by the plain muslin of her petticoat, hips flaring just enough to make a man think sinful, sleepless thoughts. No matter how many times he told himself he wasn’t interested—not in silly, skittish, cling-eyed things—she’d turn to fetch more water and he’d lose every stitch of good sense he owned. Nights, he’d lie awake in the tent, listening to her breathe soft on the other bedroll, staring holes in the canvas while need crawled under his skin like fire ants.

He shifted, folding his arms tighter, pressing them low over the belt buckle suddenly too snug. Ain’t right, he scolded himself. She trusts you. Looks at you like you’re some white-hat hero when you’re nothing but a gunslick outlaw with his neck in a noose every sunrise. He sniffed. And what does she do? Thanks you with laundry and jittery smiles. God help us both.

Eva sat back on her heels, brushing a stray curl from her cheek with the back of a sudsy wrist. The sun caught her profile: up-tilted nose, lips soft as rose petals, smudge of freckles arching over a timid smile as she studied a tiny tear in his shirt sleeve. Suddenly she looked so earnest Billy’s annoyance pancaked into something strange—tender, helpless, like a fist unclenching.

Why’s she gotta be so… gentle? he wondered, half resentful. World’s mean. Folks are meaner. Soft things get trampled. He remembered her weeping that first night, curled under his coat, whispering thank you like it hurt. The memory loosened feelings in his chest he’d rather stayed knotted.

She shifted again, turning to rinse the shirt. Skirt hem slid higher over her calves, revealing white stockings and the delicate notch behind her knee. Billy’s breath hitched. Sweet mercy. His palms prickled, itching to palm the curve where thigh met hip, haul her backward till that ass of hers pressed flush to him, till she squeaked like a startled wren—then went boneless when she realized he wouldn’t hurt her, only hold, only—

He swore under his breath, yanked his hat low to hide the flush creeping up his neck. Indecent, he warned himself. Ungrateful, too. She ain’t here for you to stare holes through. Yet his mind kept wandering: to how small her waist would feel encircled by his hands; to how those shy lips might part on a whisper if he ever dared kiss her softly or hard enough to draw blood; to the sight of that backside presented in the lamplight of the tent, nightgown rucked high while he—

His jaw clenched hard enough to ache. He pushed away from the juniper, paced a few steps, kicked a pebble into the dust. Wanted to blame her for the heat pooling low in his belly, the pulse beating rough beneath his belt, but it wasn’t her fault he was a man too long on the trail with nothing soft but saddle leather for company. Still, the aggravation felt safer than the yearning, so he clung to it.

Look at her—jumping if a cricket sings, eyes wide as saucers when I so much as cough. Silly’s what she is. Cowardly, too. He remembered how she’d trembled when thunder cracked two nights back, burrowing into her blanket like a prairie dog. No grit from the whorehouse left in her, none at all. Needs walls and parlors and chaperones, not tents and gunfire.

He glanced over—just in time to see her rise, straighten, stretch her back with arms overhead. Sunlight painted her through cotton: the soft slope of belly, the delicate rib curve, the sweet indention of navel. But it was the rear view that robbed him clean. Petticoat hitched on the swell of that sweet rump, shadow etching perfect lines that tightened his throat and left his thoughts mud-thick.

Christ alive, he groaned internally. All irritation melted into raw want. Wanted to stride over, haul her against a tree, mouth at her throat till she clutched his shoulders and gasped his name. Wanted to tip her against the tent pole at dusk, skirt fisted round his wrist while he pressed hot kisses down the column of her spine. Wanted—God help him—to sink palm-deep into that heart-shaped curve, feel her tremble, hear her startled moan when he squeezed just so.

Desire throbbed between his thighs, fierce, insistent, shaming. He dragged a hand down his face, breathing dust and frustration. You’re losing your mind, William. He forced his gaze skyward, counting clouds, anything to anchor himself. Get her to the nearest town, drop her at the mission, ride on. End of story. Yet even while he vowed it, another image stabbed at him: Eva in the nearest town, surrounded by clean-shaven boys her own age, some store clerk handing her peppermint sticks, maybe asking for a stroll after Sunday service. She’d smile—shy, sweet—and that curve of hers would sway beneath a brand-new calico. And those boys would notice. Oh, they’d notice.

A growl rumbled low in his chest. Jealousy—jagged and ridiculous—flared brighter than any campfire. None of your doggone business who she smiles at, he reminded himself. But the thought of her walking away, vanishing into some neat clapboard life, left his gut hollow.

Fine, he conceded inwardly, maybe I keep eyes on her ‘til she’s squared away proper. ‘Til she’s safe. He glanced again: she’d bent to lift the washbasin, backside rounding like a sunrise. Heat shot through him. Safe from outlaws, he amended grimly, and safe from fools like me.

At that moment she looked over, caught him watching. Big brown eyes blinked, startled. A flush rose to her cheeks. She offered the smallest smile—nervous, grateful, trusting. Something in Billy cracked clean through.

He cleared his throat, tugged the brim of his hat. “Water’s cold upstream,” he called gruffly. “Best rinse there. Less silt.”

“Oh—thank you,” she stammered, gathering the basin. She hurried past him, skirts swishing. He kept his stance, jaw tight, tracking every sway of her hips until she vanished behind willows. Only then did he sag against the juniper, exhale hard, and mutter a curse that hung in the hot air.

God help me, he thought, half-plea, half-promise. Get this girl where she belongs before I do something devil-stupid. And if You can’t do that—at least give me strength not to dream about humping that damned rump tonight.

But he already knew he would.

[ameliathornromance]

The Manor House: A Vampire Romance: Chapter 4

A white trail of petals guided you downstairs the next evening. The same petals of the flowers you gave the Lord.

You followed them, down the hall and to the imperial staircase, where they drifted down the steps and ended in the front room.

The sky outside hadn’t changed since you went to bed, the curtains had stayed open and billowed as cold night air washed in the Manor in its icy freshness.

The fridgidness made you slow, sensing something… new in the air.

It wasn’t the old stuffy feeling that the constantly drawn curtains blocked in or the endless halls of void that suffocated anyone who dared gazed into its endlessness.

As you reached the bottom of the staircase, you turned into the front room and found the source of your unease.

Petals led your eyes up to Lord Baal. He sat in an armchair by the fireplace. The fire crackled menacingly, spitting embers as you locked eyes with the man in the chair.

His legs were crossed, his fingernails dug into plush red leather arms of the chair. In his lap, laid the bouquet of flowers. Nearly all the heads of the plants had been plucked free of their colour, only leaving the yellow pollen at the centre of the stem.

Heart in your throat, you and the Lord locked eyes, his dark gaze narrowed at you in the firelight.

Neither of you said anything.

“Why did you-“

“When I said ‘clean the Manor’, I didn’t mean do the bare minimum.” The Lord interrupted. Picking up one of the flower stems, he twirled it in his fingers, admiring his massacre of the greenery. “I checked everywhere, you missed the kitchen.”

“But-“ you started.

The Lord hurled the stem into the fireplace. Embers burst from underneath the stem, before it clambered on top of its fuel and robbed it of its life.

You stopped mid sentence as the Lord spoke again, “I had no idea that commoners were so incompetent, a monkey could do a better job here.”

Lord Baal got to his feet, tossing the rest of the flowers into the fire. The flames lapped at them as if they were parched dogs.

He approached you, his degradation continued, “maybe I should have employed one instead of a commoner I picked up from the bank of a river.” He chuckled, “I mean, what did I expect?”

You bit your tongue. Let him get his malice out of his system, it won’t last long.

“I picked you up from a river bank. You looked horrendous, just like I expected any peasant to look. I don’t even know why I trusted you with such an easy task.”

Endure it.

“I mean, you fell off your own horse and into a river. You can’t even swim. I thought that peasants were experienced in that, since, y’know, they have nothing else better to do than swim in dirty lakes and rivers.”

That night flashed through your mind. Your chest tightened, feeling the chilly air seep into your lungs, into your very soul as the villagers searched for you like Fox hunters chasing down their already injured rodent prey.

The water of the churning rapids licked your legs again, threatening to take you if you didn’t jump in yourself. 

A twig snapped, somewhere in the distance. Just close enough for you to hear, you might have mistaken it for the cackling fire.

“I finally know why you’re alone.” Your voice echoed, strong, loud through the air.

Even the fire dared not make a sound, the Lord’s cruel grin falling away. “What did you just say?”

“I said,” You raised your voice. “I finally know why you’re alone.” 

When the Lord had no response, you pelted him with sharp words, your tongue forked like a venomous snakes. “It’s no wonder everyone left you here, to rot in this Manor. Even the servants left you here alone and I can hardly blame them, especially with that shitty attitude.” 

You jabbed your index finger, hard into the Lord’s chest. “It’s better than being talked down to by some stuck-up his ass Lord who can’t appreciate the work others put in for him and his ridiculously sized home that he keeps all to himself!”

Your shouts echoed around the Manor and bounced back, as if it was too, fed up with Lord Baal’s neglect.

“That’s probably why your family probably left too!” A cruel laugh escaped you as you tugged at yesterday's clothes, still on your back. “I mean, your mother didn’t even bother to pack her clothes to take with her when she left this place-”

The fire went out, stealing the words from your throat, plunging you into blackness. The ghostly moonlight bloomed behind you.

Heart in your throat, you looked around frantically, desperate for your eyes to adjust to the limited lighting. The tightness in your chest didn’t go away as you raked the surroundings for any sight of the Lord, ears pricked and almost yearning for his pompous tone that you hated him for. 

The clicking of the front door earned a gasp of surprise from you, finally finding the only other occupant of the Manor.

He stood in the doorway, eyes shadowed and glowering into the night, as if it was the turning of the earth that had wronged him.

Without so much as a word, he slammed the door closed behind him. The Manor shuddered with the force, the window panes rattling, threatening to fall from their neglected frames.

*

Lord Baal stalked through the grounds of his Manor, fists clenched and teeth gritted.“That absolute fucking-” He growled as he stormed toward his overgrown garden.

This was stupid, to go on a walk so close to the morning, he knew it was, but he didn’t care.

Clawing his way through the rose bushes, ignoring the way the stems pierced his flesh, he forced his way into what was once a marble maze.

Once he was clear of the bushes he stopped, breathless, surrounded by them.

He kicked at the thicket, felt stupid for attacking a plant, then fell to his knees. 

Your words hammered down on him as the Lord glared at a statue of his father. Nearly consumed by moss, vines twisting around its Greek podium, it soothed the Lord for a moment. 

This moment of clarity, allowed a question that Lord Baal had been pushing away for so long, to creep into his mind:

Did they really leave because of me?

Read 4 Chapters ahead

Masterlist

[journeytothewestresearch]

Sun Wukong's Final Battle

Journey to the West (Xiyouji, 西遊記, 1592) chapter 99 describes the Monkey King's final battle as a fierce, stormy confrontation against demons wishing to steal the hard-won scriptures for themselves. This takes place shortly after the pilgrims and holy texts are dumped into a river by an annoyed river turtle spirit:

Master and disciples had just climbed up the riverbank when suddenly a violent gale arose; the sky darkened immediately and both thunder and lightning began as rocks and grit flew everywhere. What they felt was One gust of wind And the whole world teetered; One clap of thunder And both mountains and streams shuddered. One flash of lightning Shot flames through the clouds; One sky of fog Enveloped this Great Earth. The wind's mighty howl; The thunder's violent roar; The lightning's scarlet streaks; The fog blanking moon and stars. The wind hurtled dust and dirt at their faces; The thunder sent tigers and leopards into hiding; The lightning raised among the fowl a ruckus; The fog made the woods and trees disappear. That wind caused waves in the Heaven-Reaching River [Tongtian he, 通天河] to toss and churn; That lightning lit up the Heaven-Reaching River down to its bottom; That thunder terrified the Heaven-Reaching River's dragons and fishes; That fog covered the shores of Heaven-Reaching River with a shroud of darkness. Marvelous wind! Mountains cracked as pines and bamboos toppled. Marvelous thunder! Its power stirred insects and injured humans. Marvelous lightning! Like a gold snake it brightened both land and sky. Marvelous fog! It surged through the air to screen the Ninefold Heaven [Jiuxiao, 九霄]. So terrified were the pilgrims that Tripitaka held firmly to the scripture wraps and Sha Monk threw himself on the poles. While Eight Rules clung to the white horse, Pilgrim twirled the iron staff to give protection left and right. That wind, fog, thunder, and lightning, you see, had been a storm brought on by demons of yin energy" [yinmo, 陰魔], who wanted to snatch away the scriptures the pilgrims had acquired. The commotion lasted all night, and only by morning did the storm subside. Soaked from top to bottom and shaking all over, the elder said, "Wukong, how did this storm come about?" "Master, you don't seem to understand," said Pilgrim, panting heavily, "that when we escorted you to acquire these scriptures, we had, in fact, robbed Heaven and Earth of their creative powers. For our success meant that we could share the age of the universe; like the light of the sun and moon, we would enjoy life everlasting for we had put on an incorruptible body. Our success, however, had also incurred the envy of Heaven and Earth, the jealousy of both demons and gods [guishen, 鬼神], who wanted to snatch away the scriptures from us. They could not do so only because the scriptures were thoroughly wet and because they had been shielded by your rectified dharma body [zhenfa shen, 正法身], which could not be harmed by thunder, lightning, or fog. Moreover, old Monkey was brandishing his iron rod to exercise the nature of pure yang energy [chunyang zhi xing, 純陽之性] and give you protection. Now that it is morning, the forces of yang are evermore in ascendancy, and the demons cannot prevail." Only then did Tripitaka, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk realize what had taken place, and they all thanked Pilgrim repeatedly (based on Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 4, pp. 363-365).

師徒方登岸整理，忽又一陣狂風，天色昏暗，雷閃並作，走石飛沙。但見那： 一陣風，乾坤播蕩；一聲雷，振動山川。一個熌，鑽雲飛火；一天霧，大地遮漫。風氣呼號，雷聲激烈。熌掣紅銷，霧迷星月。風鼓的沙塵撲面，雷驚的虎豹藏形。熌晃的飛禽叫噪，霧漫的樹木無蹤。那風攪得個通天河波浪翻騰，那雷振得個通天河魚龍喪膽。那熌照得個通天河徹底光明，那霧蓋得個通天河岸崖昏慘。好風，頹山烈石松篁倒。好雷，驚蟄傷人威勢豪。好熌，流天照野金蛇走。好霧，混混漫空蔽九霄。 諕得那三藏按住了經包，沙僧壓住了經擔，八戒牽住了白馬；行者卻雙手輪起鐵棒，左右護持。原來那風、霧、雷、熌，乃是些陰魔作號，欲奪所取之經。勞攘了一夜，直到天明，卻才止息。長老一身水衣，戰兢兢的道：「悟空，這是怎的起？」行者氣呼呼的道：「師父，你不知就裡。我等保護你取獲此經，乃是奪天地造化之功，可以與乾坤並久，日月同明，壽享長春，法身不朽。此所以為天地不容，鬼神所忌，欲來暗奪之耳。一則這經是水濕透了；二則是你的正法身壓住，雷不能轟，電不能照，霧不能迷；又是老孫輪著鐵棒，使純陽之性，護持住了；及至天明，陽氣又盛：所以不能奪去。」三藏、八戒、沙僧方才省悟，各謝不盡。

I really like the idea of a battle between a divine force of yang energy and demonic forces of yin. This is a common occurrence in Chinese Folk Religion—e.g. a Tangki spirit-medium channeling a god to exorcise evil spirits.

But the above description really sets my mind alight with images of the confrontation. Monkey peers through the pouring rain to see an unfathomably large demon army the likes of which the cosmos has never seen. It contains innumerable commanders, vanguards, and an ocean of spirit-soldiers armed to the teeth. This demonic force would be the joint effort of demon kings and jealous gods wanting immortality and salvation for themselves. [1] Monkey takes this assault on the scriptures as a personal insult given his great effort in helping procure them.

A demon commander might say something like, "Leave the scriptures and the priest if you value your life!" Then Wukong would scream:

Who said that? Who the FUCK said that? Who's the slimy, little, demonic shit, twinkle-toed, cocksucker up there, who just signed his own death warrant? [Surprised silence from the army] Nobody, huh? The fairy-fucking-godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing! [pounds chest three times in a row] I WILL BEAT YOU ALL UNTIL YOU FUCKING DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Adapted from dialogue spoken by Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket (1987).)

In all seriousness, though, his speech should be a chilling threat similar to Subodhi from chapter 2:

[Y]ou can be assured, wretched monkey, that you'll be skinned alive. I will break all your bones and banish your soul to the Place of Ninefold Darkness, from which you will not be released even after ten thousand afflictions! (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 125) ... 把你這猢猻剝皮剉骨，將神魂貶在九幽之處，教你萬劫不得翻身！

Anyway, the army commences its attack, the commanders sending forth wave after wave of spirit-soldier units wielding thunder and lightning as their weapons. In response, Monkey's body explodes with millions or even billions of hair clones to meet the oncoming storm. Each one wields the magic iron rod, which dispenses pure yang energy along with every ass kicking. The resulting battle is beyond imagination, with various units of Great Sages working to both defend the scriptures and Tripitaka but also drive back and decimate the malevolent force. Wukong succeeds in routing/destroying the entire demon army by dawn of the next morning.

Note:

1) The Buddha states that the scriptures of the Great Vehicle are "for the cultivation of immortality; they are the gate to ultimate virtue" (Wu & Yu, vol. 1, p. 205).

Source:

Wu, C., & Yu, A. C. (2012). The Journey to the West (Vols. 1-4) (Rev. ed.) Chicago, Ill: University of Chicago Press.