#it was necessary to remove the brown leaves

[bethestaryouareradio]

[physalian]

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Or

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

[sonamytrash]

I Aim To Please.

Plumber Toji Fushiguro.

Porn trope Toji series, part 2 🖤

Part one here 🖤

Warnings: Smut, Plumber Toji x Fem!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding k!nk, pregnancy k!ink, no foreplay, Toji Fushiguro has a big dick, not proof read, trashy porno storyline, I don't know anything about plumbing, anything I learned about plumbing for the sake of this fic was through porn, reader you're a slut.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

It was a quiet Friday afternoon, and you had the weekend to yourself—or so you thought. You had finished work early, arriving back at your apartment having scheduled a plumber this afternoon.

The soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional chirp of a bird outside were the only sounds that filled the air. You felt a sense of calm wash over you as you slipped off your shoes and work attire, donning a baggy t-shirt and shorts before walking into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The apartment was your sanctuary, a place where you could unwind from the stresses of the week. But, as you filled the kettle, you were reminded of the persistent drip from the sink that had been driving you crazy for days.

You had tried to fix it yourself, watching YouTube tutorials and armed with a wrench, but it was clear that your DIY skills had their limits. That's why you called in the cavalry—Toji Fushiguro, the plumber with a reputation for getting the job done swiftly and efficiently.

Just as you finished making your drink, the doorbell rang, and you took a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door. There he was, tall and broad-shouldered, with a tool belt slung low on his hips. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes, a piercing shade of brown, met yours with a professional yet alluring gaze. "Hi, I'm Toji," he said, flashing a smile that made your knees wobble just a bit. "You got trouble with a tap, sweetheart?"

You nod, stepping aside to let him in, trying not to stare too long at the way his muscles moved under his tight-fitting t-shirt. "Thank you for coming," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. As he passed, you caught a whiff of his aftershave—a faint scent of pine and mint that sent a shiver down your spine. "The problem's in the kitchen."

Toji nodded and followed you, his heavy boots echoing in the hallway. Once in the kitchen, he set down his toolbox and surveyed the situation. You pointed to the sink, feeling a bit self-conscious in your oversized t-shirt and shorts. "It's been doing that for a while now," you said, gesturing to the slow, maddening drip.

He leaned over, his muscular arm brushing against your side, and you felt an unexpected jolt of attraction. His closeness made the air feel thick and charged. He turned the faucet on and off again before he began to inspect the pipes under the sink. You couldn't help but watch the play of muscles across his back, the way his biceps flexed with each movement.

"Looks like it's just a loose washer," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. "It's an easy fix."

You leaned against the counter, sipping your tea as you watched him work. Truthfully you would usually leave workmen to their own devices, but it seemed a shame to miss out on the view. The way he moved with such confidence, his hands sure and capable, was surprisingly arousing. You felt your cheeks flush as you remembered the last time you had been intimate with someone—it had been months, and it was definitely not this handsome.

As he knelt, reaching into the cabinets, his pants tightened around his thighs, and you couldn't help but imagine what lay beneath them. He looked up at you, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, and you knew he wasn't oblivious to the tension in the room.

Toji removed the faulty washer with ease, and the silence that followed was deafening. The air between you crackled with unspoken desires. "It's fixed," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your entire body. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense. "But it's going to take a few minutes to let the water pressure settle."

You nodded, your eyes lingering on his full lips. He took a step closer, and before you knew it, he had set his tools aside and was standing right in front of you. The heat from his body was palpable, and you could feel his breath on your skin. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

The question hung in the air, loaded with meaning, and you knew that he wasn't just referring to the plumbing.

Your heart raced as you set your tea down, the porcelain clinking against the counter. "I don't know," you replied coyly, your voice barely above a whisper. "What did you have in mind?"

Toji's smile grew into a smirk, his eyes traveling over your body with a hunger that sent a thrill of excitement through you. He took another step closer, and you could feel the warmth of his body against your legs.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "I've got a few... tools that might be of use to you."

You felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine as he reached out and lightly brushed your thigh with the back of his hand. His touch was like a spark that ignited a fire within you, and suddenly all you could think about was the heat of his body against yours.

"Maybe you could show me?" you offered, your voice breathy and hopeful.

Toji's smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he reached out and gently tugged on the hem of your shirt. "I'd be happy to, princess. " he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You took a step closer, feeling the heat from his body, and the air between you grew electric. The flirting was no longer subtle. You bit your bottom lip, and he took it as the invitation it was. His hand traveled up your side, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist, and your breath hitched.

Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer. His lips found yours in a kiss that was rough, his tongue demanding entry as he tasted you. You responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you gave in to the lust that had been building since the moment he had arrived.

You could feel the fabric of your t-shirt stretching tightly across your breasts as he cupped them, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples through the thin material. A moan escaped your lips, and he took it as an invitation to deepen the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth.

His hands traveled up to the hem of your shirt and with a swift tug, he lifted it over your head, revealing your lacy bra. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before unclipping it and letting your breasts spill into his waiting hands. His rough fingers tweaked and pinched your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You reached down and unbuckled his tool belt, letting it clatter to the floor. Your hands worked on the button of his pants, and when they were open, you slid them down to expose his boxers, the outline of his substantial erection straining against the fabric. Toji stepped out of his boots and shed his pants, leaving him in just his underwear, which he quickly discarded.

He lifted you onto the counter, the cold marble a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. His hands roamed over your bare thighs, making you gasp as he pushed aside your shorts and panties. The tip of his finger traced the wetness of your sex, and you bucked your hips in response, desperate for more.

"You're so fucking wet for me, already?" Toji teased, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip and nodded, unable to form coherent words. "Mmhmm," you managed, your voice a breathy purr.

Toji chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with desire. "I want to hear you say it," he demanded, his hand sliding up your inner thigh. "Tell me how much you want me."

You looked into his eyes, feeling a rush of boldness. "I want you," you whispered, your voice a seductive purr. "I want you to fuck me."

Toji's eyes darkened at your words, and his grip on your thighs tightened. "Is that right?" he said, his voice a gruff challenge. "You want this rough plumber to pound you like you're his personal fuck toy?"

You felt a thrill of excitement at his crude language, nodding eagerly. "Yes," you breathed, your voice thick with need. "I want you to use me."

Toji's eyes narrowed, his grip on your thighs tightening. "You're going to get exactly what you ask for, sweetheart," he growled, his voice full of promise. He stepped closer, the head of his cock nudging against your wet folds.

You could feel the head of his erection pressing against you, and you were still surprised by how big he was. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the feeling of being filled, but Toji didn't rush. He took his time, rubbing the length of his cock against your wetness, building the anticipation.

When he finally entered you, it was slow and deliberate, stretching you with a delicious burn that made you gasp, considering you had no prep from his fingers, it was no suprise that there was a stong to accompany the intrusion of his cock. He didn't stop until he was all the way in, his hips flush against yours. You could feel every inch of him, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he took a moment to adjust to the snug fit. You felt your body quiver around him as he began to move, his hips rocking into yours with a force that made the countertop creak.

The sensation of his huge cock filling you was almost overwhelming. It stretched you to the point of pain, but the pleasure quickly overtook any discomfort. You had never felt so full, so claimed. His movements grew more urgent, each thrust hitting a spot deep within you that had you crying out his name.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well," he grunted, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're made for this, aren't you?" His dirty talk only served to heighten your arousal, making you wetter and more eager for his rough, unbridled passion. "You're greedy cunt is taking all of me, every inch," he continued, his voice gruff with desire.

You whimpered, biting your bottom lip as he began to move faster, his hips pistoning into you with a relentless rhythm that had you clutching at his shoulders.

Toji's eyes were blazed with lust, "You like it rough, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I could tell as soon as I saw you, that you like being pounded like the slut you are."

You couldn't deny it, and you found yourself moaning back, "Yes, yes, I do." Your voice was shaky, your body trembling with every impact. "Fuck me harder, Toji," you begged, feeling the edge of an orgasm approaching.

"That's it, take it," he grunted, his hips smacking against yours with each punishing thrust. "You're such a good little whore for me, aren't you?"

The words sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself responding in kind. "Yes! Yes, I am," you moaned, the dirty talk adding a delicious edge to the already intense experience. "Fuck me like you own me, Toji. Make me cum!"

Toji's pace didn't let up, his eyes locked on yours as he pounded into you. You could feel your body tightening around him, the beginnings of another orgasm building. The way he talked to you, the way he used you, it was all so new, so raw, and it was intoxicating.

"I'm going to fill you up," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to breed you right here on this kitchen counter."

You gasped, the shock of his words mixing with the pleasure coursing through your body. The idea of him impregnating you was both terrifying and thrilling, a taboo fantasy that had you clutching at him even tighter. "Do it," you moaned, your voice barely a whisper. "I want to feel your cum inside me."

Toji's eyes lit up at your response, his strokes growing more erratic as he approached his climax. He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, "You're going to get pregnant with my baby, aren't you?"

The thought of his seed filling you up, his child growing inside you, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through your body. "Oh God, yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his back. The idea of being filled with his essence was too much to handle, and with one final, powerful thrust, you felt your body give way. You squirted everywhere, your juices spraying out around his cock and coating the counter beneath you. The intensity of the sensation was like nothing you had ever felt before, and you screamed out his name as your muscles clenched around him.

Toji grunted with pleasure, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued to pump into you. You could see the effort in his face, the way his jaw was clenched and his muscles bulged with the effort of holding back. "Atta girl, make a mess on my cock," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, your body convulsing around him until finally, with a groan, he buried himself deep and emptied himself inside you. You felt the hot spurt of his cum fill you up, and the sensation was like nothing you had ever experienced. It was raw, primal, and utterly exhilarating.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same hunger he had shown moments before. His cock remained buried inside you, still pulsing with the last remnants of his release. You could feel his heart hammering against your chest, his breathing ragged and erratic.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, savoring the feeling of his warmth and the weight of his body pressing you into the counter. The kitchen, once a place of domesticity, was now a stage for your carnally charged performance. The scent of sex mingled with the faint aroma of mint from your tea, creating a heady blend that seemed to intoxicate you further.

"You're a naughty girl," Toji said, his voice still thick with lust as he kissed along your neck, making you shiver.

"Is that a compliment?" you teased, your voice light and playful.

Toji chuckled, his grip on your hips loosening slightly. "You bet your sweet ass it is," he said, his eyes raking over your bare chest. "I've never seen anyone look so fucking good with their legs spread on a kitchen counter."

You couldn't help but smile at his crudeness, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the aftermath of your orgasm. "And I've never had a plumber quite like you," you retorted, running your nails lightly down his back.

Toji chuckled, "I aim to please."

[paulyenvol6]

Wedding Night

Daemon x Stark!Reader

Y/n Stark only knows the Rogue Prince from tales and can't help but fear her wedding night with the King's brother. But he turns out to be not only an attentive and gentle but also a passionate lover who starts a fire in her when she feels his hands on her for the first time.

Contains: detailed smut, fingering oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kissing, breeding kink, praising, dirty talk, arranged marriage, soft!dom Daemon, virgin reader, inexperienced and nervous reader, angst

Wordcount: ~4.65k

Masterlist

You had your head lowered so you could only see the stone ground underneath you.

You felt a pain on your scalp as your handmaiden was undoing your braided hair but then she was done and your hair fell down your shoulders. You wanted to step away and preferably sit down but suddenly another servant girl started to unlace your dress in your back and you twitched.

"What are you doing?", you snapped and the girl looked terrified. You felt a little bad because you had scared her but you had bigger problems right now so your eyes flashed at her.

"A-Apologies, my lady.", she stummered and looked at you with big eyes. Your handmaiden, a warm woman of about thirty years old patted the young girl's shoulder and turned to you.

"Do you wish to leave your clothes on? So that your husband can remove them?" You looked stern and felt numb as the handmaiden observed you and didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to do either, seven hells, you didn't know about Targaryen tradition or anything about marriage or the act of bedding. You didn't even know your husband.

"I-I don't know.", you breathed and suddenly your new handmaiden looked pitiful. "It is tradition for the bride to take off her clothes before the ceremony, my lady. So she can wait in the bed for her husband to claim her maidenhead."

You nodded but had your head lowered and the maidens took it as a sign for them to slowly take off your gown. It fell down to the ground and you felt exposed and vulnerable under their gaze even though they were professional and didn't look at you a second longer than necessary. And then they were done. It happened so quickly, the servants curtseyed in front of you and then left the room and you truthfully would have wished for them to stay longer. Perhaps never leave because now all there was left for you to do was wait.

You stood naked in the middle of your new chambers and felt so horrible and cold that after a few moments you grabbed a night gown that laid on the table that the maiden had probably prepared for after the bedding ceremony. And though you feared that your husband wouldn't approve of what he might regard as a disrespect towards his family's customs you couldn't help yourself and wrapped the gown tightly around your body even though it didn't hid a lot of you.

Then you sat down on the bed and stared at the door, waiting for Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince. You had met him three days ago but the first words you had exchanged were your vows under the eyes of the sept. All you knew about him were the tales the small folk as well as the highborn ladies in court told about him. He was famous for sleeping around; you had heard that there wasn't a brothel in King's Landing that he hadn't visited. And he was known for being a warrior. The commander of the city watch who was as fine a knight as he was brutal and violant and was feared by his enemies. This you could say already: Your husband had seemed rather cold during the celebrations of your wedding and the feasts in the red keep.

And there was another thing: You had heard the rumours about the Rogue Prince and his niece, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. No details had reached your ears but they were supposedly more than only an uncle and niece to one another and even though that didn't shock you as the customs of House Targaryen weren't new to you, you still feared that your brown hair would not be to your husband's pleasing.

You were a Stark after all and couldn't look more different to Rhaenyra Targaryen. You had thick dark brown hair and greenish brown eyes and you just hoped that Daemon would be pleased with you. Because this far there hadn't been anything in his words or actions or even face expressions that hinted you that he was any more delighted by this marriage than you were.

You were torn from your thoughts when the door suddenly opened and there he was, your new husband who slowly walked into the room. You had expected him to be drunk as you had seen him sipping on his wine all night but he seemed to be sober when he approached you. His eyes met yours without saying anything and you immediately stood up.

"Husband.", you said and lowered your head. He chuckled which made you lift your gaze and his eyes looked curious while you tried to appear less nervous than you truthfully were. Your hands were shaking and you could feel your lower lip tremble with anxiety.

Daemon watched you for a moment, then turned away from you all of a sudden and your eyes followed his movement.

"You're nervous.", he spoke while slowly pouring some wine in a cup. You helplessly stood in the room with your bare feet beginning to feel cold and didn't know whether to follow him or climb on the bed so you remained in your position. The Rogue Prince turned once again and his eyes slowly traveled down your body.

"And you're still dressed." These words and the realization what was to happen now made your eyes teary and your face was drawn with fear. Your husband sighed and slowly approached you.

"Do you know what happens between man and wife in their wedding night?", he whispered. You nodded, that much knowledge you had. He raised his eyebrows and gently put his hand on your shoulder that was only covered by the thin gown.

"Are you scared of me?", Daemon asked softly and you didn't know if you were supposed to answer him truthfully or not. So you didn't answer at all and he smiled softly.

"I will not hurt you for telling me the truth, little girl." This gesture made you exhale slightly and you felt some of the heaviness on your heart vanish. You nodded, it was very slight and yet he noticed it.

"I will not harm you, you understand me?", he said and made sure the two of you had eye contact. You nodded again though the anxiety hadn't vanished entirely yet. Daemon sensed it too and sighed while gently caressing your shoulder with his thumb.

"What are you scared of, little one, mhm? Tell me." You gulped and slowly raised your gaze.

"That you don't like me.", you breathed. "And that it hurts too much. And that – that I won't know what to do and that you'll be angry." Daemon almost couldn't hear you because your voice had gotten so quietly and in the end you had lowered your head again. Tears threatened to fall onto your cheek and you bit your lip nervously.

"Shhh.", the Rogue Prince made and lifted your chin with his finger.

"I think worrying that I don't like you shouldn't be an issue.", he spoke and smirked slightly. "And I will be gentle with you, little one. I'll go slow and prepare you for me." His hand wandered up to caress your cheek and it felt surprisingly soft. "I willl help you, sweet girl. I will guide you and show you how to do it. Sit down.", he said and took his hand off you.

You stumbled towards the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. Daemon drank the remaining wine in his cup and then slowly put his cup on the table and walked towards you. He took his seat next to you and watched you mischieviously.

"What do you like to do? What are your passions?" You frowned, feeling surprised about the change in topics but smiled.

"I like to read. And I like to dance and listen to music." "What kind of books?" You thought about it for a second.

"I like to read about dragons. Targaryen history." Daemon's smirk intensed and he rested himself on his arms behind him. "Have you ever seen a dragon?"

"Only from the far.", you said shyly. "Well what a great coinicidence that I have a dragon."

You nodded excitedly. "I know. Caraxes. I've read all about him. And about the dragons of the Conquerer and his sisters. Balerion, Vhagar and Maraxes."

Daemon couldn't surpress a smirk seeing you finally showing another side of you and listened to you speaking about his ancestors, stories that he had heard a hundred times already. But then after the two of you had spoken a while about all sorts of things Daemon thought it was time to perform your marital duties. It was late already and the Rogue Prince and you couldn't spend the whole night talking. So he smirked at you and his eyes traveled down your body.

"Are you calm?", he whispered and you nodded slowly even though you didn't exactly know what he meant by asking this. You were still nervous obviously and though Daemon had proven to be a nice person this far you were still a little scared of him. Your husband leaned down to you and pressed his lips on yours. You tried your best to copy him and kissed him back as you felt his hands on your waist. It wasn't unpleasant actually; his lips felt soft on yours and you felt your heart beating a little slower.

But then Daemon slowly began to pull down your night gown and you tensed. He didn't notice your discomfort until you clung to the fabric and stopped him from exposing your body. He looked at you with a frown and your lip shivered.

"You don't want to take it off?", he whispered and you shook your head with teary eyes. "Why not?"

You just shrugged your shoulders. "Please.", you pleaded and the Rogue Prince nodded, different to what you had expected and just pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Eventually I'll see all of that but we can make it slow.", he whispered and you felt relieved. So his hands remained on your clothed body and he stroke your skin through the fabric in order to get you calm. After a while you relaxed and got used to his soft lips on yours and Daemon's hand wandered up a bit until he touched the underside of your breasts. It was a little odd at first but his touch was gentle and soothing so you let his thumb run over your body.

"Do you like that?", he mumbled against your mouth and you nodded. "Good."

Then you could feel his hands traveling further up to play with your breasts and nipples. But shortly after he grabbed your waist again while this time his mouth explored you and he kissed down to your neck. You liked what he was doing this far, at least you didn't feel disgusted or uncomfortable and you started to feel like this might not be the worst night of your life. And yet your heart was still beating loud as thunder and you feared you might do something wrong.

Now Daemon's hand pushed you towards the bed a little. "Lay down.", he whispered and you moved backwards to obey him. While you got comfortable, your husband took off his shirt and revealed his strong and muscular chest that was beautifully lid by the candle lights. You gulped and unconsciously bit your lips which didn't go unnoticed by Daemon. He slowly approached you and climbed on the bed to lay on top of you. He was careful not to press you into the bed with too much of his weight so he partly rested on his knee next to you. Daemon moved the hair out of your face and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"I want this to be nice for you, my sweet Stark girl.", he whispered and his pretty eyes so close to you made you feel intimidated and you could feel yourself blush. "I won't hurt you.", he futhermore spoke and toyed with some strays of your brown hair.

And your husband's words actually helped your hasty heartbeat to come down and your tensed muscles relaxed a little. Seeing his face so close to yours, his weight on your body and his hand by the side of your face made you feel heated, almost as if the dragon lit a little fire in you. But that fire would increase highly in the next minutes as Daemon started to kiss your swolled lips again while his hands caressed your waist and breasts.

But soon he was eager for more and kissed his way down to your neck where he found great delight in nibbling at your skin and soothingly kissing it afterwards. You twitched a little when he pulled at your skin with his teeth and your husband smirked up to you. Then his journey led him farther south and soon his mouth brushed over your breasts though still covered by your night gown. Daemon looked up to you, questioningly perhaps, and now you decided to let him undress you. Not because you were convinced that he would love what hid underneath but rather because he seemed to be of gentle nature, different to what you had heard before in the tales told by the ladies in court. You kind of trusted that he would be kind to you and accept your body the way it was. So far he didn't seem like the kind of person to insult or complain, but was affectionate and caring.

But all your worries had been entirely unnecessary anyhow. After you had given him a small nod, the Rogue Prince pulled down your gown to reveal your bare chest. He looked down with a lustful glare in his darkened eyes and his mouth changed to a smirk.

"You most certainly didn't have to feel doubtful about this." You smiled and blushed and Daemon lowered his head to lick over your pearky nipples that looked so innocent and sweet to your husband. His tongue drew patterns over them and he took them into his mouth to suck on them. You grew more and more lustful and the fire in you became hotter. At some point you reached out to grab at the back of his head and Daemon smirked against your chest, noticing that you finally became a little bolder. Your fingers toyed with his hair and your breath went faster as well.

"Such sweet tits.", Daemon whispered and lifted his head again. His thumb ran over your chin and he smirked down to you. "You're very pretty, little one. There's no reason to feel frightened." You nodded and finally also opened your mouth.

"Yes.", you breathed and then your husband started to further pull down your night gown and you lifted your hips to help him. Once you laid entirely naked underneath him you pressed your thighs together feeling ashamed to be bare in front of him but Daemon wouldn't have this.

"Ugh uhm.", he made and pushed his knee between your legs. "Don't hide from me, sweet girl.", he whispered close to your ear which made you shiver. "I'm your husband now. And you shouldn't hide from your husband."

So you let Daemon run his hand down from your breasts to your belly and then between your legs. He cupped your sex which made your eyes widen at the new feeling and Daemon then ran his finger through your slit.

He was experienced, of course he was. At no point did you doubt the obscene stories about him visiting the brothels of King's Landing to fuck, celebrate and drink even at the young age of 15 years. He was older now, 24 to be exact, mayhaps too mature to live in this overflow and ecstasy and yet he had bedded countless of whores who each had contributed to his knowledge and skill. But of course your lack of inexperience didn't lead back to your younger age, 17, but the duty you had as a woman in this world. Your maidenhead was to be saved for your husband and this moment your deflowering grew closer and closer as your husband's finger ran from your hole up to… you didn't know what it was in truth.

His finger touched a spot that you hadn't know to exist but it sent shivers through your body. Daemon was content when he saw your reaction and pressed into that spot. "Uhmm.", you whined because it really was an indescripable feeling. He was beyond satisfied and watched your every facial expression as his finger drew circles and different patterns over your little pearl.

"I know, my sweet wife.", he whispered and kissed your cheek when you let out a particular loud cry. "I consider this little pearl to be holy.", he spoke with lifted eyebrows. "A holy gift by the mother, so sweet innocent maidens like yourself can be pleasured. Though I don't believe in the faith." Daemon smirked widely but you were too far gone in your desire to answer him.

Restlessly you shifted on your back but the weight of his body that pressed into you heavier the more you moved around didn't grant you a lot of space. You whimpered and sighed, panted and exhaled until his hand come to a stop and you immediately missed his touch. You were curious what he would do now and just wished he would continue but to your surprise Daemon kissed his way down on your body until he laid between your legs.

"What are you doing?", you asked breathlessly and your husband smirked. "I'm preparing you for me, little girl. And I'll give you pleasure that will have your soul leave your body.", he whispered and his words made your breath go faster. And yet you weren't convinced because what you believed he was about to do didn't seem… appropriate. And yes, he lowered his head and kissed right next to your pearl which made you grab his hair.

"But… With your mouth?", you breathed quietly and the Rogue Prince raised his eyebrows. "Yes. It is one of the finest arts, my sweet love. Just relax and you'll see how much you'll like it."

And he was right, it only took him a few twirls with his tongue around your little nub and you saw stars.

"Mhmm…", you moaned and your husband simply loved how responsive his new precious wife was to him. Daemon truly took your breath away and tears welled even up in your eyes as his tongue did magical things on your little pearl. It just felt so good, so overwhelmingly good that you never wanted it to stop. He grew even more lucious hearing your sweet noises and at the same time was motivated to let his tongue dance quicker on your nub.

His hands were on your hips, holding you down so you wouldn't be so restless and his eyes remained on you all the time. Sometimes Daemon demanded of you to keep your eyes on him and you tried your best to do as he said but every now and then you couldn't help but let your eyes roll back, so overwhelming was the pleasure. And yet so taunting… It felt as if you were being driven closer and closer to something you couldn't name. And you were eager to find out what it was.

"Daemon.", you whimpered and the Rogue Prince smirked, hearing you say his name. You were begging, pleading for him to get you there, to this place that felt close and yet so far away from you.

"Please, Daemon.", you whined and moved your head from one side to the other. "Please." He couldn't get the smirk out of his face and teasingly flicked your pearl.

"What is it, my sweet girl? What do you wish me to do?" You couldn't bring yourself to answer. You simply didn't have the power at this point and even if you did, no intelligent thought remained in your head. You just hoped that he would know what it was you desired without words and you were certain that he did but merely wanted to tease you.

But then he kissed right on your little pearl and drew tight circles with his tongue around it. "I know what you need, little one.", he whispered with his husky voice and this sound alone made you blush. It sounded filthy and obscene for some reason.

"I'm gonna get you there, love, I promise." And he did. His tongue didn't come to rest for a second and at the same time Daemon inserted a finger in you. It felt a little uncomfortable at first but you got used to it and after some time he even added a second. You couldn't say that you loved the feeling of it because it burned a little but Daemon made sure you were relaxed and calm by the movement with his tongue on your pearl and you were beyond soaked so his fingers could slide into you without problems.

Your sounds grew louder as well and you couldn't stay still. Without Daemon holding you down you probably would've fallen from the bed by now. And at the same time you felt getting closer and closer to the edge, everything inside of you tensed, a warm feeling spread throughout your body and then… the knot in your belly exploded. The feeling took away your breath and you widened your eyes in shock. This was something you had never felt before and you didn't even realize that you held your breath.

"Daemon.", you cried out and your hands had grabbed the bedsheets tightly. Your husband was still occupied by licking up every drop of your sweet juices but now soothingly caressed your thigh.

"Breathe, sweet girl.", he spoke against your cunt and you inhaled deeply. Slowly you felt your heartbeat slow down and enough air was entering your lungs again. And it seemed like Daemon was also done with savouring your cunt now because he licked up your slit one last time and then lifted his head. You were a little relieved because your pearl felt so swollen that his touch had made you twitch after you had reached your high. Daemon crawled up to lay on top of you and kissed you. You were able to taste yourself which made you blush.

"So sweet.", he hummed. "Never tasted a cunt sweet like yours, little wolf." His thumb ran over you lower lip and you shivered. Slowly your mind fully came back to you and when Daemon once again parted your legs with his knee you nervously bit your lip. You knew what would happen now. And you were scared of the pain. What if there was something wrong with your cunt and it just simply… wouldn't work? But the Rogue Prince caringly stroke your cheek and kissed you on your nose.

"It'll be fine. I'm gonna be gentle." With these words he removed his pants until you saw his cock that stood hard against his stomach. He looked so big and thick that you wondered how he was supposed to fit in your hole. But his cock was pretty though. You wanted to know what he felt like in your hand but that seemed to be a matter for another night because Daemon wrapped his hand around his cock and ran its tip through your fold stopping at your clit to rub against it.

You moaned and your eyes fluttered. And then after another few seconds the time had come. Your husband circled your entrance.

"Breathe in, love.", he whispered and watched your face for reactions. You obeyed and inhaled while you felt him thrust into you. There was a barrier and you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen which made you hiss out. The pain made tears well up in your eyes and you held on to Daemon's arms in an attempt to support yourself.

"Shhh.", he made and caressed your hair. "It's alright, I know it hurts." He didn't move yet and gave you time to get used to the feeling which you were thankful for because only slowly did the sorrow fade.

"Doing so well for me.", Daemon breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the tightness of your cunt. Your veins were pulsating and you panted uncontrolled trying to perceive your surroundings.

"It hurts.", you breathed and your husband immediately reached out to remove the tears from your face with his thumbs. He kissed your cheek while his hands soothingly caressed your shoulders.

"It'll be better in a moment. Just breathe." And you did, you inhaled and exhaled and after a time you started to feel better. It was such an odd feeling to be filled by his cock. Daemon now pulled out of you only to thrust back in and even though he was gentle, you once again whimpered at the pain.

"I'm sorry.", he mumbled against the crouch of your neck and your hands reached out to grab his hair. But this time it hurt less and soon your husband slowly thrusted in and out of your cunt. His eyes fluttered and it was clear to you that he received great pleasure from being buried in your cunt. By now the pain had also vanished almost entirely and yet you weren't stimulated as amazingly as you had been a few moments before when Daemon had used his mouth on you. Your husband panted heavily and kissed you hungrily while moving inside of you.

"Oh seven hells.", he moaned and held the side of your face. "Are you alright?", he asked and you nodded with big eyes. "Yes.", you breathed and your husband smirked while traveling his hand down between your bodies. You only knew what he was doing when you felt his hand on your pearl and your mouth formed an 'O'. He went around it in tight circles and you felt your knees getting weak. Together with his deep thrusts inside of you the stimulation was almost too much and your eyes rolled back. The two of you got closer and closer to the edge and his thrusts became sloppy.

"Look at me.", Daemon moaned when you closed your eyes. You did as he told you and tried to concentrate on his pretty face in front of you.

"Daemon. Please.", you whimpered and your hands helplessly clung to his back. "Yes, my sweet girl. I'll make you feel good. I'll fill you with my seed until you'll have my babes inside you. Now and every night from now on.", he whispered against your ear and it only enhanced your desire. The feeling in your tummy got more intense with each moment passing and then the two of you came simultaneously.

Daemon grunted deeply and collapsed on top of you while you arched your back and felt you legs shake in pleasure. His seed filled your cunt to the brim and then you laid with him on top and you both tried to catch your breath. Your heart was beating fast and sweat was covering your forehead. After a while Daemon lifted his head and looked at you. Your face was reddened, your eyes swollen from the crying and your hair was sticking to your forehead. You thought that you probably looked horrible but your husband had never seen a prettier sight so he smirked and kissed your lips.

"So sweet.", he grinned and you smiled weakly. "My little wolf. I can't believe this beautiful girl is mine now." You were too exhausted to answer him but your eyes glistened and it was answer enough for Daemon. As much as you had feared that night it had turned out to be one of the best of your life and you only hoped that many nights like this would follow.  

[cntloup]

medieval au you finally find out what your husband does

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

"does it bother you?" you ask as you lay in your husband's arms, "what?" he asks, peering down at you, confusion written on his face.

"that i was... a prostitute." you respond, lifting your head from his chest and gazing into his gorgeous brown eyes as realization settles in them.

"no." he replies with a slight shake of his head, "no?!" you question in a surprised tone.

"no." he repeats, "what bothers me is the fact that you had to do it, the circumstances that forced you into it."

"and i assure you..." he continues, "that you never have to do that again. in fact, you will never have to even lift a finger as long as i'm here."

"simon..." you call out breathily, a dreamy smile painting your face and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

as soon as your lips meet, the sound of footsteps and metal clanging in the distance reach your ears.

he's on high alert and instinctively shields you from any possible danger, his large body covering yours as he faces the door, ready to jump at whoever dares to attack him and his wife.

"stay here." he whispers to you and reaches to take his sword beside the bed, "simon? what's happening?" you ask, frightened and confused.

he turns to you as he reaches the bedroom door, "don't make any sound. whatever happens, whatever you hear, you stay here and keep quiet."

"wha-" you start and he shushes you, "under the pillow." he says, gesturing for you to look.

your hand reaches under his pillow and you take the dagger hidden there, "use it if necessary." he says and leaves the room.

you squeeze your eyes shut as your hands tightly hold onto the dagger, crying silently in utter fear.

the sound of shouting and swords clanging against one another and bodies falling and hitting the floor fill the house.

and you pray, although not religious, you pray to whomever there is above listening, that no harm comes to him.

after what feels like an eternity of terror, he enters the room, "we have to go." he informs you while clutching his abdomen as he bleeds into his shirt and hand.

"oh my god, simon!" you rush to his side and remove his hand to take a look at the wound.

he winces as you remove the part of his shirt that was stuck to the wound, "sorry." you apologize.

your eyebrows furrow and you wince in pain, as if you can feel it as you glare at the deep wound.

"you know how to sew?" he asks, "i've got it." you utter and leave to bring your sewing kit, trying so hard to keep your composure and not scream in his face asking what the fuck just happened. he's hurt and he's your priority right now.

you guide him to sit on the bed and sew him up with your delicate hands, shedding silent tears as you think about how you nearly lost him, and the amount of blood frightens you, "don't worry, love. it's nothing. i've had worse." he says, wiping away the tears running down your cheeks and you scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood.

you finish patching him up and place a clean cloth over the wound.

"we have to go now. there has to be more coming." he says and you help him to get up as you witness him struggling.

"go where? who even were they?" you ask in frustration, you still have no idea what it is all about, "i'll tell you on the way. now pack up your stuff." he replies monotonously, only adding to your frustration, but you stay cool and obey.

he informs the lads of the attack and you all gather in a large ship... which is your husband's apparently. there's a whole lot you don't know about him.

"you're a bloody pirate?!" you shout with widened eyes, surprised and angry and all the emotions in between.

"...yes." he mutters, "and there's a prize on my head."

"what?! simon, what the hell?! when were you gonna tell me??!" you start shouting in his face and slapping his chest, unleashing all the anger and frustration you felt.

"i wasn't planning on it." he responds, his nonchalance only fueling the fire of your rage towards him as you huff and puff, glaring daggers at him and pacing the length of the ship.

"i know it's a lot to take in-" he starts, only for you to cut him off, "damn right it is." you snarl, but immediately take a deep breath to cool yourself down, "but it's not your fault."

"i'm sorry, simon. i know i overreacted." you apologize as you walk up to him and embrace him while keeping wary of his injury.

"not at all, love. you have every right to." he says, wrapping his big burly arms around you and taking you in his loving embrace.

"you need to rest." you murmur, looking up at him, "only if you stay with me." he whispers, slowly leaning in, "always." you say and capture his lips with yours, both smiling widely into the kiss.

[wriothesleysgf]

𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒 ⊹ cough syrup — wriothesley ₊ ◌ ۪ ࣪

ᝰ .ᐟ ꩜ fortress of meropide gets intense cold spells, but everything is bearable when you have a loving man to keep you warm. ⟢ [ f ! reader , sfw . ]

fall always came with a shift towards colder weather. the leaves began to brown and the sweet tunes of fontaine's songbirds were carried by gentle gales. then winter snuck up ever so unsuspectingly; divination experts and meteorologists alike began to predict snowfall, and the court's streets became bustling with those preparing for the upcoming holidays. you, however, were rarely privy to any of this.

such an infatuation with the lord of meropide meant that you spent a significant portion of your year in the ocean's depths. although you'd initially been terrified of the deep sea and what unknowns lurked there, wriothesley quelled your fears and managed to enlighten you as to the true beauty of life down here. whether it was watching the jellyfish float about or cheering on up and coming fighters in the pankration ring, the man truly managed to make you feel at home all the way down here.

the one thing that you'd never managed to get used to, however, was the damn cold. sure, you'd experienced the same transformation in weather when you were living in the overworld, but such a change was more intense down here. wriothesley was accustomed to it after all of his years in the fortress so it took him a second to realize why you opted to stay bundled up in the warm sheets of the bed that you shared.

"doll, is everything okay?" he asked, looking over at you as he picked out his shirt for the day— it would surprise some how many greyscale button ups he owned.

"mhm," you hummed, not wanting to worry the man before he headed off to deal with the necessary duties for the day. however, once he heard the small sneezes coming from you, he noticed what was most likely going on.

"you cold, baby?" he cooes, finding your small nod adorable. you were buried in the sheets at this point, with only your eyes peeking over the top of your pile of blankets.

wriothesley wasted not a moment in striding back over to you. he lifted the blankets and came directly to you, wrapping his large arms around your figure and pulling you into his broad chest. though many assume those with cryo visions tend to run on the chillier side, wriothesley's size and stature had him radiating a fair amount of heat at all times.

"you're freezing," he comments.

"'s so cold down here... i thought i'd get used to it but... clearly not."

he chuckles softly, walking back towards the bed. he shrugs off his coat and removes his boots before sitting down next to you. "come here, love," he pats his thighs.

you oblige, crawling into his lap. of course, the pile of blankets come with you. wriothesley finds it absolutely adorable. he fawned over you, ensuring that the blankets were positioned to perform at peak efficiency. he did debate running ti the infirmary to see if sigewinne had any hot water bottles that he could borrow, but couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone for a second.

"bless you, doll," he cooes as you sneeze once again. wriothesley reaches over to his waistcoat, retrieving a small hankerchief from his pocket. to be honest, it was rare that he needed to use it himself, rather keeping the object on him at all times should you ever require it. "why don't you try to sleep, sweetheart? i'm not going anywhere,"

"but what about-" you tried to protest, knowing he most likely has work that he needs to tend to.

however, before you could even finish, he cuts you off in one of the most caring tones that only few were privy to. "you're always my priority, princess. everything else can wait; i guess that's a perk of being the warden," he chuckles softly.

you decide to not protest, curling into wriothesley's lap and resting your head on him. it was quite easy to doze off with the combination of his hand against your hair and the lullaby of his heartbeat.

© kentofairy — please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my posts. this includes posting to wattpad / tiktok or other platforms.

[sreegs]

If you have a slow cooker, some butter, and a bag of sweet onions, and some patience, you can make the easiest and best caramelized onions in your life. The slow cooker method ensures you don't have to watch your onions to make sure they're not burning. I've posted this a couple times but I'm gonna write the recipe down here.

This is so damn easy. It's also nearly impossible to fuck up. It also scales well.

A few notes on ingredients first:

You should use sweet onions or vidalia onions. These have a higher sugar content than yellow or white. You can also mix sweet/vidalia with red onions as well. Spanish onions can substitute sweet/vidalia.

This recipe presumes you're using sweet onions that are on the larger side, bigger than your fist. If your onions are smaller I'd say say three smalls equal two large.

I usually eyeball the ingredients, but you will be using roughly a teaspoon (5g) of butter per large onion.

What you need:

Slow cooker

6 large sweet onions

2 tablespoons (30g) of butter, plus more for adjustments

Salt as needed

Instructions:

Remove the onion skins and slice your onions as you want. I prefer to french my onions but you can cut them into half moons. Precision doesn't matter, but don't cut them too finely.

Turn on your slow cooker to high and set it for 8 hours. Cook time will vary.

Toss the butter and sliced onions into the slow cooker. Once the butter melts, mix it around to distribute the butter. If there's still onions that don't get buttered up after melting and mixing, add a bit more butter.

Salt as desired. I do two heavy pinches (approx 1 teaspoon) for 6 onions.

Put the lid on the slow cooker and let it cook undisturbed for 8 hours.

After the 8 hour cook:

Ok decision time. You can either go big here or not, up to you:

Check your onions. They should be reduced and a bit more golden brown now. If you wanna go big, reset your slow cooker to low and set the timer to cook overnight, like 12 hours. At the end of this sometimes it looks like your onions got a little burned on top, but they did not. It's fine.

If you want your onions today, or after they've cooked for another 12 hours, the next steps are the same:

Remove the lid and stir the onions. Set the slow cooker on high again for 1 hour and leave the lid off.

Let cook for at least another half hour, then stir and check for doneness. The onions will brown rapidly during this time but they won't burn as long as there's still liquid in there.

Keep checking every 5-10 minutes. Cook longer if necessary. Once you're satisfied with the consistency, you're done.

The caramelized onions can be kept in an airtight container for about a week in the fridge. Freeze the rest.

Note: if you get to the end and the onions are swimming in too much butter but they seem done, you can always skim some off. Then you have browned onion butter to put on anything you want to taste delicious.

[evilgwrl]

TW: Intended cannibalism (DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT)

He was warm, eyes a deep pot of old coffee, beans ground and soaked in now lukewarm water that no one would drink. You laughed at the sight of his crinkled mask, the strings a flimsy fit behind his ears, murmuring about how they’re not necessary to wear anymore. He only shook you off.

You mingled together under saturated lights, a bottle of Shiraz between the two of you, blonde lashes dipping to your lips every time the stained glass was brought to your lips. Skin tore as you nibbled away at it with your front teeth, scraping the residue of toxic metallic into the warmth of your mouth.

“Do you want to come back to mine?”

It was simple. Bodies tangled between one another, lips interlocked, the empty slot filled by his sheath as subtle praise ran through you, tearing you apart limb from limb as you submitted solely to the man in front of you. Gentle mumbles about how good you taste, slick strung between his lips as he nuzzles against the delicacy of your cunt.

The clock passed, arms ticking in the background of shuffled moans as he laid you down, bringing a glass to your lips as you laughed, tongue stained a deep red, the scent of tobacco entwined down the passage leading to your demise as he kissed you, pulling away to admire you.

“You’re beautiful.”

It was simple. Eyes fuzzing over with delicate static as you whined, stumbling into open arms that should’ve comforted you. Numb lips smacked against one another, the taste of nothing gutting your insides as you succumbed to the irritable slumber you never asked for.

He was cold, eyes a bewildered stain of brown, the distant memory of mangled limbs buried upon fields of dirt evident through the estranged look on his face. Gentle strokes provided faux comfort as dazed eyes adjusted, concrete walls caving in as you whined. The lights were white, the purity of them a sick metaphor as you cried out.

Tender flesh worked against his mouth, your eyes a dull strain of melancholy, converting you into nothing but a poster, bold red words displayed on community bulletin boards until they eventually rot away, an ironic but brutal joke at your expense. Your ears fell silent at the praise, mask removed as he revelled in your taste, ivory plucked from his mouth as he planted a kiss on your forehead, leaving nothing but the stain of crimson.

Gentle eyes stared at the girl before him, taking in the familiarity of her features, an uncanny mellowness bringing him a sense of achievement as he held the milk bottle out, murmuring about how devastating the loss was for everyone. Hushed whispers would be shared by the two of them over a bottle of Shiraz, the look in his eyes stagnant as he placed whatever was left of her among you, the collection of pearl-coloured hulk buried as one in the same field you found in his eyes.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 25: love letters

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

A small disclaimer: I tried my best to proofread the letters but I hope you can forgive any mistakes, if there are. I had a lot of fun planning this one, I hope you like it!

“Why do we have so much trash, Mom?” your teenage daughter asked, watching you close the third jumbo-sized black bag filled with things you clearly no longer needed.

You two were putting away the necessary things for the move the following week and, taking advantage of the occasion, you were getting rid of things you no longer needed and putting some others in boxes to donate to some institution. Michelle wasn't too excited about the idea of cleaning, like any teenager, but at that point she wasn't even helping you anymore and was just sitting near you, playing with anything interesting she found and keeping you entertained with her chatter.

“Over the years you accumulate things because you think they will be useful for later, but in reality they aren’t and they just become a pile of useless things” you laughed “And when they can be you forget that you have them saved and you buy a new one”

“Do you think Dad will buy me that closet I want for my birthday?”

“It will depend on your grades and how well you behave,” you murmured, as you always responded whenever she asked both of you for something. She knew it was easier to bend her father to her whims, but you made sure to remind Spencer that discipline was necessary too.

“What does that box have inside?” she asked and you had to lift your head from where she was standing to look at which box she was referring to.

A smile escaped you when you noticed that she had found your old, unpainted metal box that had once stored sweets but now fulfilled other functions, the one that you kept in a dresser drawer but that with so much movement had ended up on one of your husband's stacks of books.

“Open it and find out”

Your daughter did as you asked, removing the lid with some trepidation as if a poisonous animal was going to jump out.

“Letters?”

“These are all the letters your father has written to me,” you responded proudly. The package was quite sizeable and had everything from envelopes to poorly cut pieces of paper that Spencer would slip into your pocket from time to time.

“Letters?” she repeated, sounding quite confused. “That's like the Middle Ages. Did you guys not have cell phones or what?”

“Letters are still used today, miss Tech,” you scolded her, pointing an accusing finger at her. “But your dad has never been a fan of text messages, and when we met I was working as a clerk in a library that your dad frequented. We would talk from time to time and he would leave me pieces of paper among the books he handed out so that I could read them. Almost all of them were his opinion of the books, but at some point it was his way of flirting with me. This one, for example, was for our first date… see?”

You gave your daughter a folded brown sheet of paper, from which she read the following:

“How cheesy!” she complained, after reading the words of the man who would later become your husband, although you knew she probably didn't mean it. “And what did you say to him?”

“Well, I told him yes, it's obvious. "It seemed very sweet to me, at our age no one did that kind of thing anymore."

“But there are many letters here.”

“Oh, yes, your dad traveled a lot when he still worked at the BAU and although we talked on the phone he made sure to write me a letter every time he missed me, which was almost every time” you laughed, remembering with nostalgia your courtship “He says that writing helps him think about things better. There are several good ones, to tell the truth”

You searched through the box for a letter that was decent enough for the teenager to read, feeling her gaze at all times. Finally you extended it to her, one made of beige paper and the same crooked handwriting that the two of you knew perfectly well.

“And it didn't scare you?” she asked, frowning slightly “You know, that it was so… that he sounded so in love.”

“Oh, I was too, daughter,” you answered honestly. “Although not all of them were equally romantic, there are some that are sillier. Like that one here, look at this”

“Was my dad always as nerdy as he is now? With that curious data and statistics”

“He was much more so,” you laughed. Your daughter opened her eyes wide, as if she didn't believe it.

“And you still married him?”

“Are you guys talking about me?” a voice spoke from the door, making both of you jump. Spencer had just finished his class hours and you didn't know why you hadn't even heard him open the door, but there he was now.

“I was showing Mich the letters you gave me,” you explained and he nodded softly, realizing this from the box resting on your daughter's lap.

“Do you still have them?” he asked, an almost imperceptible blush on his cheeks, as he sat on the bed next to you.

“Of course, why would I get rid of them?”

With care and love you reached up to the back of your husband's neck and then pulled him to you in a soft kiss that took him by surprise, but which he didn’t refuse.

“Ugh! You are disgusting!” Michelle squealed from the other side, forcing you to break away from the laughter that had overcome you.

“You won't say that when you have a boyfriend.”

"What are you talking about? She'll never have a boyfriend," Spencer added, as he always responded at the mention of it. "We're going to put her in a nunnery, don't you remember?"

"Daddy!" she complained, pretending to be upset, but with a smile giving away that she wasn't.

The man left his place to walk over to your daughter and lean towards her, trying to place a kiss on her forehead while he struggled with all her complaints and kicks. But in the end she always gave in, just like he did with her. They were each other's weakness.

“Go and take a shower and if you have homework, finish it. We’re going to order a pizza."

Your daughter gave a celebratory expression and left the room in a hurry, to fulfill what he had told her and also to get rid of the possibility of you asking her to do the cleaning that she hadn’t done during the afternoon.

"How was your day?"

“Everything normal,” he smiled, reaching out to take one of the old envelopes you had in the box, and with that you two seemed to be remembering the same time: the passionate and youthful love you had. “I hope she hasn't read the more inappropriate”

“No, I keep those just for myself,” you replied, winking at him playfully.

The next morning Spencer had classes early, so he left almost after breakfast. You didn't realize that he had left a note on the table until much later and when you found it you couldn't help but smile like a fool.

taglist: @navs-bhat@reidwritings@tricia-shifting14@spencerslove@vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1@sdddoobydoobydoo@taintedstranger @missabsey

[littlemisslomax]

"C" isn't just for Constantine...

Ch. 1 - "Oh yeah, that's a good idea."

John Constantine x nurse!Reader : CW: medical talk, mention of cancer, mention of su¡cide.

The hospital's fluorescent lights flickered overhead as you made your way down the corridor, the rhythmic beeping of machines and the hushed murmurs of nurses filling the air. Your shift had just started, and you were already tired. All of last week, you prayed to be assigned to the ER or to Triage, but here you are in Oncology and Radio. It’s so… depressing. It's so dismal that it drains you just to walk down these hallways, hearing the things you hear from different rooms as you pass them. You glanced at the chart in your hand, the first patient of the shift: John Constantine, Room 314. Preparing for an MRI. You took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright, sterile hallway. A pallid, lanky man in an expensive suit sat on the edge of the exam table, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling upwards in lazy tendrils. His eyes, dark and haunted, flicked towards you as you entered, small wisps of his black hair drooping over his forehead.

"Mr. Constantine?" you called softly, stepping closer into the room and shutting the door.

"Yeah, that's me," he replied, his voice rough and weary. He took another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly for a moment before he exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Hello, I’m uh— I’m your nurse for today.” You offer him a weak smile before your eyes trail down to the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. “If I could just ask you to please put out your cigarette…?” The request squeaked out a bit awkwardly. It was always so tough asking patients to do anything, especially considering how much these patients already probably have to worry about.

"I'm here to help you get ready for your MRI," you explained, setting the chart down and moving to gather the necessary supplies. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, mixed with the acrid scent of tobacco. "It won't take long."

He watched you with a mix of curiosity and wariness, his eyes tracking your every movement. You could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and probing, as if he were trying to see past the surface to uncover your secrets. It was disconcerting, but you pushed the feeling aside and focused on your task.

"Not many people would want this job," he remarked, a hint of sardonic humor in his tone. His voice was like gravel, roughened by years of hard living.

You looked up, meeting his eyes. They were a striking shade of brown, intense and void-like. "Well, someone has to do it," you replied, offering a small smile. Truth be told, you would much rather be in Pediatrics, handing out stickers and lollipops, but you obviously can’t just tell him that. That would be terrible bedside manner. "And besides, everyone deserves a bit of kindness."

He let out a bitter chuckle, the sound low and mirthless. "Yeah, nothing but sunshine and rainbows for me."

"Well anyways, Mr. Constantine, let’s get you ready." You said, your voice steady. "If you could just undress and get into this gown." The paper of the hospital gown rustled a bit as you lifted it out of the exam table drawer and handed it to him. You turned away, working on something on the counter to give him some privacy. “MRI magnets are some of the strongest in the world. Please be sure you remove any and all metal from your being and leave them with your clothes.” You added as a cautionary warning. John wasn’t loving this. What a waste of time—but the blood in his coughing sure was a sight. He had to get this done. So, with a roll of his eyes, he obliged and took off his watch, and removed all metal on his body. But… he was taking a pretty long time getting that gown on. He was more worried about removing all of his protection. For just a moment you turn around and catch a glimpse of him shirtless, seeing all of those tattoos of different sigils and symbols. Your cheeks get just a little bit hot, and you turn around. Suddenly, that jar of cotton balls on the counter is extremely interesting.

You adjust your scrubs and cough before sitting down at the monitor at the desk in the corner to begin the pre-examination questionnaire. “Well, I know you smoke… How many in a day...?” You ask, pulling up his file. “Oh, I swear, I don’t smoke,” John scoffed, a sarcastic smirk spreading across his somber face as his gaze remained glued on the sterile linoleum floors. “Some guy just came in and strongarmed me into trying a cigarette… Peer pressure is a real problem in our world, y’know?” Unamused, you just look at him with a silent expression that speaks volumes. After a few beats and a couple blinks you speak up. “Mr. Constantine.” “Jeez.” He muttered, “No sense of humor...? Fine. I'd say a pack a day.” John finally gave the answer. “Well… It says here on your file that you have previously struggled with suicidal tendencies. Would you say that this is something you continue to struggle with? Preferably on a scale from one to ten.” Typically, this was a heavy question for you to ask any patient, but it seemed John wasn’t your typical patient anyway. “I wouldn’t say I struggled. I was pretty successful in my endeavors.” John gave another dry joke of an answer and a mirthless chuckle.

And he was met with another blank stare. But this time, you were trying to hold back a laugh. That one was kinda funny, but you gotta keep a straight face, this is serious. With a clearing of his throat, he spoke up another response. “About a two…” The only noise that could be heard in the exam room was the sound of your fingers clicking against the chunky keyboard, the humming of the fluorescent lights, and the crinkling of the sterile parchment under where John was seated. You stood and washed your hands before gloving up and going over to him to administer a few run-of-the-mill tests before transferring him to Radiology. The wheels of the blood pressure monitor creak as you roll the small cart over to the table. Velcro rips apart as you open the cuff and wrap it around his arm.

"So... Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You paused, considering your answer. "Because I believe everyone has a chance at redemption. And sometimes, it starts here, I guess."

He studied you, his gaze intense and searching as if trying to gauge the sincerity of your words. "Redemption, huh? Not sure there's enough bedside manner on earth to redeem some people." John said, his tone low and almost derisive, knowing that by 'some people,' he was really talking about himself.

"Maybe not," you conceded, meeting his eyes once more. "But it's worth a try, isn't it?"

For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. It was as if your words had struck a chord, resonating with something deep within him. You pulled the cuff off of his arm and smiled softly.

"Maybe," he said finally, his voice softer than before. "Maybe it is."

The weird tension was broken by the entrance of John’s doctor and a couple of Radiologists, ready to take him over to the MRI. “John? You ready?” John’s dark eyes bolted over to the doctors in the doorway. The dread and worry in the pit of his stomach grew heavier and heavier.

You looked up at him and offered a reassuring smile, your hand gently resting on top of his. "I'll be here when you're done," you said gently. "You're not alone in this. They’re going to take great care of you. I’ll be sure to keep your stuff nice and safe until you come back. Looks expensive."

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something other than cynicism and bitterness. It was fleeting, but it was there—hope, maybe, or the faintest glimmer of trust.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

As you stepped back, giving him space, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to this man. Something about him drew you in; a sense of shared understanding and unspoken empathy. You knew this was just the beginning, a first step on a path that could lead to something more.

And as you left the room, you couldn't shake the feeling that your paths were meant to cross, that in the thralls of fate, you had found each other for a reason. A regular kismet.

a/n: eat up y'all, this is gonna be a slooooowww burn. in all seriousness, i really hope you guys like it, i've had writer's block from hell recently, and know i've been super inactive. hoping this makes up for it

[whimsimille]

THICKER THAN BLOOD

Chapter 2: "Come home to me, darling."

(Jeong Jin-Man x fem! reader)

"Why are you leaving so suddenly?" You questioned, your voice bouncing off the tapestry that adorned the living room wall of your quaint shared apartment and the oak bookshelves filled with classics.

The comforting aroma of a simmering homemade tomato sauce filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and the rhythmic chopping of crisp, fresh vegetables on the polished granite kitchen countertop. 

Dressed in a worn-out apricot apron adorned with faded sunflower prints, your hands were occupied with diligently kneading the carefully prepared pasta dough for your dinner, a recipe passed down from your Italian grandmother.

All of a sudden, the living room's normal sounds—the soft purr of Gunpowder, his gray cat curled up on the plush Persian rug, the low drone of the television playing the evening news—were replaced by an eerie silence that made your skin crawl. 

On turning, you noticed Honda in the midst of rushing preparations for departure. He was hunched over the suede couch, lacing up his sturdy boots, his face etched with stern concentration. Against the dimly lit backdrop of the room, his figure blended seamlessly, rendering him no more than a transient silhouette.

"Where exactly are you off to? And what's the urgency?" You signed, your hands dancing in the air while you leaned against the wooden door frame. A knot of unease formed in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his hasty departure.

His gaze met yours, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he signed back, "I have to go. Jin-Man needs me. I can't disclose more for your safety. You know how it works."   

He continued to pack his bag—a small duffel made of worn leather with patches on the corners and straps slung over one shoulder. As he did so, you caught sight of an old photograph falling out of the side pocket; it was of you both from what looked like a summer festival years ago, grinning widely under colorful umbrellas while balloons swelled around you both.

"But can't it wait until tomorrow? Is it really necessary to depart on the day that we get back together after several months?

The worn-out leather of the couch groaned under his weight as he rose, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the faded brown wallpaper. 

Moving towards you, he avoided the cluttered coffee table littered with dog-eared magazines and discarded newspapers. His leather jacket, draped over the back of a nearby armchair, was quickly pulled on, the rusted zipper scraping against the silence of the room.

"No, it can't wait. But I'll be back in time for dinner. I promise." Even as he used a gentle swipe of his thumb to remove a stray splotch of tomato sauce from your cheek, his smile never left his face. “When I return, we can lounge on the couch, munching on popcorn and be engrossed in those old Hollywood classics you're so fond of. You can also show me your progress with that hacking project you've been working on. Maybe try not to fry the motherboard this time?"

"First of all, you better keep that promise. Second,  I’ll hold you to it. Third, for your information, that was a one-time thing!"

"First, I will. It's a promise. And second, I remember it being a three-time thing." He chuckled, his laughter warm like a summer's day.

"Shut up. But tell me, why the secrecy? Why can't you share what's happening? Jin-Man usually keeps me in the loop when a mission comes up.”

Despite your persistent questioning, Honda remained resolute, his face as unreadable as a closed book. He gently loosened your grip on his arm. "Stop nagging me like Mama would. I can't divulge any details. It's not safe. But I need to go. Jin-Man needs me. Don’t you have any government sites to hack? Or do you plan on crashing our systems again?"

"Stop it, douchebag. You're being reckless. We need to tread with caution, especially now more than ever. You know that. And that was not my fault; their security was just… upgraded."

However, he simply shook his head as he smiled at your pout, pulling you into a warm embrace. The cold, hard metal of his brass knuckles, concealed in his pocket, pressed against your side. A chilling reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Yet you refrained from voicing your fears, choosing instead to hold him tight, the rhythm of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"Alright," you conceded, swallowing your protests, "at least take some food with you." Gesturing towards a Tupperware container on the table, filled with steaming eggs and a side of kimchi jeon—both staple dishes in your shared meals.

His eyes softened at your concern, and he took the offered container, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead before making his way towards the entrance.

As he neared the door, a rush of childhood memories invaded your mind. Sometimes you stayed up late whispering secrets under the covers; sometimes you felt his pain even when he was miles away, and sometimes you both fell off your bikes and ended up in the emergency room with scraped knees. They dubbed it the twin instinct, but to you, it was a lifeline, a warning system that alerted you when Honda was in danger.

"Honda, wait!" You called out, your voice echoing off the creaking wooden floorboards. 

The desperation in your plea stirred Gunpowder from her sleep, her tail twitching softly against the worn-out rug as though caught in a dream of chasing unseen mice. Honda turned, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes questioning in the pale afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the old blinds.

A knot of guilt twisted in the pit of your stomach, threatening to crawl out through your lips and fill the room with its bitter taste.

The two of you were caught in a moment where petty bickering had canceled all the plans you had carefully added to your shared agenda. Your hands, once intertwined in unity, had become unglued from one another, your fingers now tangled in the strands of hair sprouting from your head. The hateful words you once spat at each other—words that had plunged through the gaps of your milk teeth—had turned into a somber reality. It suddenly seemed oddly appealing to consider dying in order to keep him around.

"I...I love you, brother," you admitted, the words feeling foreign yet so right. It was something you should have said a long time ago, after your parents' deaths, when it was just the two of you against the world. But you had always been afraid—afraid that admitting your fears would make them real.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. "I love you too, sis," he signed before stepping out into the afternoon, leaving you in the silence of the empty apartment.

While life in the apartment carried on around you—the stove still burning, the TV blaring the evening news, Gunpowder curling around your ankles, licking your calves—you felt tears springing up in your eyes as your thoughts raced.

Come home, Honda. Come home and tell me everything about your day, from the way the sun glinted off the skyscrapers to the way the coffee tasted at your favorite café. Come home and argue with me again, about trivial things like who left the lights on or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Slam your bedroom door like you used to when we were teenagers and stomp around the house in Dad's old boots.

Come home and laugh with me, share those terrible inside jokes that only we understand. Handle your knife in the wrong way, the way you used to when you're not on a mission, when you're just my brother and not a covert operative. 

Come home and hold me again while I cry in your lap about the girls and boys that shattered my heart. Come home to fix the TV you always mess up with those greasy fingers of yours, leaving stains on the remote.

Scream at me if you need to; let out all that pent-up frustration that I know you keep bottled up inside. 

Come home and tell me how you always manage to burn the pasta, making it stick to the pots. Come home and let me nag about your messiness, about the dirty socks you always leave on the floor and about the dishes in the sink. 

But most importantly:

“Come home safe. Come home to me, Honda. Please."

2 months later

Late afternoon light filtered through the window, casting elongated, capering shadows across the glossy surface of your living room's hardwood floor.

Finally, after a whole day cleaning the place and trying to make it more child friendly, you were curled up in the embrace of the vintage couch and a soft, threadbare blanket, a relic from your childhood, was wrapped snugly around you, providing a comforting barrier against the creeping chill.

You idly stroked Gunpowder, who was as much a part of the family as any human member. Her fur was coarse, yet soothing under your fingertips.

Gunpowder was the only other living being that missed Honda as much as you did; her amber eyes held a profound sadness that echoed your own. You were grateful that Jin-Man let you take her from the animal shelter.

She didn't deserve to be alone, not when she had already lost so much.

With the monochrome scenes flickering against the brick wall, the contemporary television set in the room's corner was showing Casablanca.

Nonetheless, your mind was elsewhere, lost in a world of thought, meandering through a labyrinth of candid memories as your eyes were glued to the window, drinking in the expanse of the verdant family farm outside.

In your hands was your favorite cat mug, the one with the chipped ear and faded paint, a sentimental relic from your college days.

It was unusually quiet, the usual cacophony of farm life replaced by the relentless drumming of rain.

Not only was Ji-An nowhere to be seen, but Jin-Man's rusty truck had vanished from its customary location beside the red barn.

A glance at the old, ticking clock hanging on the wall—16:00, way past the time Ji-An usually got home from school—made your anxiety spike.

Just as you were about to pull on your trusty yellow raincoat to go look for her, you saw Jin-Man's truck pulling up the gravel driveway. He got out of the truck, his jacket hanging haphazardly off his broad shoulders, and his jaw clenched in a way that set off alarm bells in your head.

You quickly signed , "Hey! Old man! Good afternoon to you too! Where's Ji-An?" as he stomped past you, heading straight to his office. But he didn't answer; he didn't even spare you a glance.

Following him, you tried to make sense of what was happening, but he closed the office door right in your face. You were left standing there, frustration bubbling up inside you, a sense of foreboding making your heart pound in your chest.

As you paced around the living room, worry gnawing at you, the front door creaked open. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you turned around, expecting to see Ji-An, safe and sound.

But what you saw made your heart drop.

Ji-An walked in, soaked to the bone and covered in mud, carrying her pink backpack—the one her mother had bought for her last Christmas. Her uniform was clinging to her small frame, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she didn't make a sound. Not a sob, not a whimper.

Seeing her, you rushed over, dropping onto your knees to be at her level. "Ji-An, sweetheart, what happened? Why didn't you come home with Uncle Jin-Man?" you asked. A flutter of panic seized you as she remained silent, her eyes downcast. "Did something happen at school? You can tell me. I'm here for you."

“I need a bath, Noona. I don't want to talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

You looked at her for a long moment, the sight of her shivering form causing a lump to form in your throat. Her hair, previously neatly braided, was now a mess; the ties you had made for her earlier that morning were nowhere to be found.

"Yeah… Of course, baby," you reassured her, offering a weak smile.

With a sigh, you slowly rose to your feet and gently took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. You could feel her fingers tremble slightly in your grasp, her small hand cold and damp from the rain.

You then went to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath for her. You quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes for her—a soft purple cotton t-shirt and a pair of comfortable cartoon pants that had cute little teddy bears printed on them. You placed them neatly on the bathroom counter, within her reach.

Once the bathtub was filled with warm water and a generous amount of bubble bath, you helped her undress the wet clothes sticking to her skin. 

While Ji-An enjoyed her warm bath, Gunpowder sat in front of the bathtub. Her amber eyes were focused on the bubbles, her tail twitching with curiosity. Every now and then, she would bat at a stray bubble, her paw slicing through the air with a fluid motion as if it were a game.

With Ji-An safely in the bath and the clothes inside the washing machine, you then went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. Using cookie cutters, you shaped the food into fun shapes—a star-shaped sandwich, fruit cut into the shape of animals, a bowl of soup with alphabet pasta. You even managed to make a small salad; the vegetables were bright and colorful. It was a small gesture, but you hoped it would bring a smile to Ji-An's face.

Throughout the days you've been living in this place, you've tried countless times to make Jin-Man and Ji-An eat at the same place, to share a meal like a family. But Jin-Man always avoided you and Ji-An like you were viruses, always eating small things before burying himself on the couch while watching movies all alone or in his office working with Pasin. It was frustrating to see the distance between them, but then again, it wasn't your job to force conversations and lovey dovey moments.

Once the food was ready, you set the table and then sat down in front of Ji-An, waiting for her to finish her bath. She emerged a while later, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the warm water.

Gunpowder, having finished her bubble play, twined around Ji-An’s legs as the child sat at the table. You both sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle hum of the washing machine and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

Then, to your surprise, Ji-An was the one to break the silence.

"Today, I waited for Uncle Jin-Man to come and pick me up from school. But he was late, and it started to rain. I decided to walk home instead."

You watched as she continued to sign, her hands moving with a quiet determination. " I was walking in the rain when I saw Uncle Jin-Man's truck. He slowed down, but I didn't want to get in. I was upset with him. So, I continued to walk, even though it was raining hard. Uncle Jin-Man stopped and waited for me to get in, but I didn't."

“I wanted him to come out and apologize, to tell me he was sorry for being late. But he just accelerated and went away. I was so angry, Noona. I wanted him to understand how I felt and how it felt to be forgotten."  

"It's okay, baby. It's okay to feel upset. But remember, your uncle loves you very much. Sometimes, adults make mistakes too."

Shortly after dinner, you decided it was time for Ji-An to learn a new task: cleaning the dishes.

Filling the sink with warm, sudsy water, you showed her how to hold the scrub brush and guided her hand to clean the surface of the plates with gentle but firm strokes. You made sure she understood the importance of removing all leftover bits of food and how to rinse each dish thoroughly under the running water.

"Remember, Ji-An, cleaning is also a part of cooking. Once you're done eating, always make sure to clean up after yourself. It's not just about keeping your area clean, but also about respecting the people who will use the kitchen after you. See, we're not just cleaning up our mess; we're also preparing a clean space for the next person, " you signed, watching as she absorbed your words and continued washing the plates carefully under your watchful eye.

When you were done and completed with the task, you noticed that the sky had completely darkened, the bright hues of the day replaced by the deep blues and blacks of night. You gently dried Ji-An's small, pruney hands with a plush, soft towel and led her towards her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm, cozy hue from the night lamp sitting on her bedside table, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls.

You tucked her into her bed. The fluffy comforter was pulled up to her chin, and you couldn't help but laugh at the way Gunpowder jumped onto her lap, purring contently.

"Noona," she signed, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light, reflecting the soft glow of the night lamp. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? "

"Of course, sweetheart. Do you have any particular story in mind?" You asked, settling yourself comfortably at the edge of her bed, your hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"No, you choose, " she shrugged, her small body snuggling deeper into the warm covers.

You mulled over her request for a moment, your mind flipping through the pages of the countless stories you knew. Finally, one came to your mind. "There's a sad yet beautiful story from my hometown about two squirrels. They were mates—lovers for life and the town's favorite pair of animals. They were seen everywhere together, always chattering away in their own language, their tails intertwined. "

With each word, you painted a vivid picture of their life together. You told her about the female squirrel's illness and the male's devotion and his refusal to leave her side even in search of food.

As you narrated, you noticed Ji-An's eyes welling up with a faraway look. She interrupted you multiple times. "Why didn't the male squirrel eat?" "Why didn't he find another mate? " "Do all squirrels do this? "

You answered each question patiently, explaining the depth of the squirrel's love and the depth of his grief. You told her about how the male squirrel mourned for his mate, returning to their empty nest alone each year.

As you reached the end of the story, you noticed Ji-An's eyes growing heavy. Her questions became fewer and farther between, her chest moving slower until she slept. Still, she was twitching ever so slightly, hands closed and then jerking open in a rhythmic pattern that spoke volumes.

In an attempt to provide some comfort, you laid down next to her, being careful not to jostle her too much. You wrapped your arm around her small form, pulling her closer to your warmth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of yellow and red. The hyena. It was lurking in the corner of the room, its eyes gleaming malevolently in the dim light, eager to haunt you too. You didn't even turn to look at it. It was there, but it wasn't real. You knew it.

"Goodnight, Ji-An," you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, placing her bunny toy in the place where you'd been seconds before. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," you added, stroking her hair soothingly. "Noona's here. You're safe."

You switched off the night lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

As you left her room, you closed the door gently behind you, leaving the hyena and the remnants of your past locked away.

Easing back into the worn porch chair, the fabric of Jin-Man's purloined shirt fluttered against your skin in the cool night breeze. A stolen moment of solitude, with nothing but a half-burnt cigarette for company. 

The embers at the tip flickered, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. Drawing the cigarette to your lips, you inhaled, letting the sharp tang of nicotine coil around your senses and momentarily dull your worries. 

Eyes shut, you allowed your thoughts to drift to the intricate web of coding and changes you had to make in Murthehelp.

The only sounds were the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves under the night sky's vast expanse. Yet, this tranquility was abruptly shattered by the encroaching sound of hushed footsteps gradually growing louder. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jin-Man standing before you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the cigarette nestled between your fingers with a look of distaste as if you had the devil's hands between your lips.

A chuckle escaped you; the sight of Jin-Man, usually so composed, visibly irked by the cigarette, was enough to momentarily diffuse the tension. "Insomnia again?" you asked, flicking the ash off the cigarette with your thumb.

His hardened gaze didn't waver as he retorted, "I was waiting for you to come to bed."

You shrugged nonchalantly. Since your suicide attempt, Jin-Man has taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you. The concept of solitary sleep had become foreign to both of you.

“What's eating at you?" he asked, his gaze softening slightly.

"Why did you abandon Ji-An at school?" 

"I got tied up and lost track of time," he replied, but his excuse fell on deaf ears. You scoffed at his words, well aware of the truth. He hadn't forgotten; he probably thought leaving Ji-An to trek home on her own would toughen her up.

"That's a load of crap, and you know it," you retorted, stomping out the cigarette under your feet. "Do you think making her walk home alone in the rain is going to make her stronger? Is that your grand plan?"

His silence was a response in itself, resonating in the quiet night air louder than any words.

"You are unbelievable, Jin-Man," you muttered. The scent of fresh paint and pine filled the air. It was a far cry from the gunpowder and blood that once filled your memory. But you couldn't help but crave it sometimes, even if it meant pain. Pain meant life; it meant survival. "You keep pushing her away relentlessly, like a stubborn child refusing his vegetables. You're so preoccupied with making her tough and resilient that you forget she's just a child. She needs your love and your understanding. You forget that she can't even communicate normally and that her aphasia is only getting worse! You don't even let me talk with her teacher, and don't pretend I don't know about the bullying she's enduring at school! We're not in Babylon , Jin-Man! We're in a small town where everyone knows everyone else. For heaven's sake, grow up!”

He retorted, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through the heavy silence. “You should be more concerned with managing your own aphasia and PTSD. Ji-An’s not your responsibility. She's not related to you by blood. Drop this saintly act of playing mom. We're not her parents. This isn't a dollhouse and we're not Ken and Barbie.”

"Act? I kept Ji-An alive after her parents died! I trained her to communicate again! And even though it's hard, I've made her eat properly and taught her how to brush her teeth and do her homework again! I've been here for her every step of the way! You just... sit in your office or hide in your room!"

His jaw clenched tightly before he spoke again. "You think that's all it takes? Just feeding her and teaching her sign language?" He spat out angrily. The tip of his tongue traced his bottom lip as he continued speaking harshly, "It's not enough! She needs discipline! She needs structure!"

You shook your head violently. "She has enough structure! She needs us, Jin-Man! She needs our support, our guidance. She doesn't need a soldier; she needs a parent!" 

His face tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. 

"Are you that afraid to care for someone, that afraid to love again? Are you hiding behind your uniform, your duties because you're too scared to face your own feelings?"

"Don't play with fire. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think I do! And do you think Jin-Suk would like to see his daughter being trained as a warrior rather than growing up as a normal girl?" you challenged, your voice echoing with the strength of your belief.

The mention of his brother struck a nerve. A flash of anger crossed his stony features, and before you knew it, he was charging at you like a wild animal. 

Suddenly, Jin-Man's hands shot out, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your back slammed into the gnarled wooden planks, the splintered texture scratching against your skin. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through your spine, causing you to gasp as the wind was knocked out of your lungs.

"Why are you doing this, Jin-Man?" 

In response, his large, calloused hands wrapped around your throat in a vice-like grip, cutting off your airway. His fingers pressed against the delicate skin of your neck, the strength in his hands threatening to crush your windpipe. It felt like you were sinking into an abyss, the darkness of his rage engulfing you, making it impossible to breathe.

You clawed at his hands, desperate to pry them off. But his grip was unyielding; his hands felt like iron bands around your neck, tightening with every second that passed. As you gasped for breath, your vision started to spin, the edges blurring as black spots danced in front of your eyes. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, screaming for air.

Panic surged within you, a tidal wave that threatened to consume you. Time seemed to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity as you struggled to draw breath.

Finally, his grip loosened just slightly, allowing a sliver of oxygen to rush into your lungs. You gasped; the taste of air was like ambrosia—sweet and life-giving. Coughs racked your body as you struggled to regain control over your breathing, your throat raw and your chest heaving. The salty tang of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision.

But you refused to back down, to give in to the fear. You locked eyes with him, defiance burning in your gaze. "Go ahead, Jin-Man, continue," you spat out, your voice raspy from the assault. "Kill me. But know this: my death won't change the truth.”

“Jesus, you're so weak, girl.”

A chuckle found its way through your bruised vocal chords. “Yeah? Wanna see who's weak then?”

Summoning every iota of your willpower, you retaliated against his suffocating hold. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you strained against his formidable strength. 

After a fierce and desperate struggle, your adrenaline-fueled power seemed to catch him off guard. With a sudden explosive kick, you managed to wrench yourself free, pushing him violently away from you.

Caught off balance, Jin-Man stumbled backwards. His feet skidded across the wooden floorboards, and his body crashed into the pot of vibrant lilies you had carefully chosen from the local market to adorn the porch. The pot shattered on impact, fragments of terracotta scattering across the floor, intermingling with the uprooted flowers and loose soil.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the brutalized lilies and the quiet patter of dirt falling onto the floor. But inside? Inside of you, the hyenas laughter echoed through your mind, mocking you for getting what you deserved—too used to chaos and violence.

The sight of the destruction seemed to snap Jin-Man out of his rage-induced stupor, his furious gaze softening as he took in the aftermath of your altercation.

"I'm done," you said, breaking the silence. "I'm done with this, Jin-Man. I'm done with your anger, your stubbornness, and your refusal to let anyone in. I'm done with the constant battles, the endless wars. I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving."

“Y/N…” He trailed off as he grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you around to face him. Your bodies were just inches apart now, his breath hot on your cheek as he pleaded silently.

“Don’t. Just shut your mouth and let me go. I'm not your Barbie, right?” Each word was punctuated by the bitter taste of blood as you absentmindedly touched your raw throat.

“You can't sleep alone.”

“I'll manage.”

“You can't remember when you last ate.”

"I'll set a reminder.”

"You can't drive without crying."

"I'll get a taxi."

"Ji-An needs you."

I need you.

"She needs you more."

"And you, Jin-Man," you added, the sting of your words sobering the air. "You need to realize that before it's too late."

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

April 3:

"Are you serious? Did I actually have to buy another chip to send you messages? You know, the store owner looked at me like I was crazy."

1 missed call from Ahjusshi

April 5:

"Ji-An keeps asking for you. She asked me to tell her the story about the couple of squirrels. You know, the one about their endless love and devotion."

2 missed calls from Jeong

April 7:

"Pasin showed me the link to the site. It's pretty quick and easy to access. Even an old man like me can make requests for guns, right? Technology these days, eh?"

April 11:

"She asked me to put on Casablanca. It's one of your favorites, right? I remember Honda telling me that you're addicted to Hollywood classics.”

“Gunpowder keeps sleeping on your side of the bed. I hate it.”

3 missed calls from Jeong Jin-Man, son of a bitch

April 22:

"I have a mission for you. It's critical and requires your skills."

"Can you come home so that we can discuss the details? There's something about it I can't trust in a message."

8 missed calls from the son of a bitch

“I guess I will ask So Min-Hye to replace you then. I know you wouldn't want that."

May 7:

“Ji-An's teacher told me that you visited her today. Did you really make two boys eat dirt by grabbing her money?”

“I could've helped.”

May 9:

“Went to the market today and heard Kyung Soo say that you're a good kisser. I had to stop myself from laughing."

“I heard from the locals that he went to the hospital after being knocked out. Strange, right? Or should I say, expected?"

May 16:

"Gunpowder brought a dead bird into the house. I think she's trying to replace you as the hunter of the family."

May 21:

"I saw a girl at the market wearing a dress you would like. It had sunflowers all over it. Made me think of you."

"She was about your age, too. For a moment, I thought it was you ."

-------

As Jin-Man speeds in the direction of Ji-An's school, his heart pounds against his ribs like a war drum. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his forehead slick with beads of sweat. He curses himself silently, berating his own negligence.

How could he have not noticed that Ji-An hadn't come home?

The typical view of the small city blurs past him, the houses and trees merging into a hasty collage of colors under the evening gloom. The town's bakery, the park where the children play, and the old library all blur into indistinguishable shadows. But he barely registers any of it. His mind is filled with vivid images of you screaming at him for this oversight.

He imagines your small fists beating at his chest, your eyes—those captivating eyes that he secretly admired—flaring with anger and worry. 

“How could you forget her again , Jin-Man? She's just a child!"

The guilt, like a ravenous beast, gnaws at him, driving him to press the pedal harder. The old engine protests, its roar echoing through the tranquil evening. 

Suddenly, he remembers his phone.

Snatching it from the passenger seat, he dials your number hastily. The line rings once, twice, thrice, but there's no answer. He fumbles to leave a voicemail, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks into the device. "Hey, I… messed up. Ji-An... I… Just call me back.”

The voicemail ends with a beep, leaving Jin-Man alone with his thoughts and the eerie silence of the empty road. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving the road.

Nearing the school, his eyes flicked to the digital clock on the dashboard—it read 19:00, the hour when the last echoes of childhood laughter usually fade away. But now, the school grounds were eerily silent and deserted, a stark contrast to the daytime symphony of playful shouts and laughter. The playground, usually a vibrant hub of activity, was painted with somber shades, the swings swaying lightly in the breeze, their squeaky chains the only sound piercing the silence.

As he swung into the school's parking lot, a small figure suddenly sprang from the shadows, frantically waving his arms. 

A boy was shouting, his voice hoarse and strained, as he pointed towards the grimy basement door at the rear of the school building. "She's locked there!"

Without a second thought, Jin-Man abandons his car, leaving the engine running as he sprints towards the basement door. The door is locked, but within, he can hear Ji-An's voice, her pleas echoing through the desolate night. 

"Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man!" she is calling, her voice scratchy and strained, likely from the first use of her vocal cords in months.

Frantically, he scans his surroundings. His eyes land on a fire safety box nearby. Inside, he spots a hammer. 

With no time to spare, he smashes the box, glass shards raining onto the worn-out asphalt. He grabs the hammer, using it to break the rusted chains and unlock the door. 

In a final heave, he throws the door open, revealing Ji-An inside. Her cheeks were flushed red from crying and her eyes were brimming with a mix of relief and fear.

She doesn't waste any time rushing at him, her small fists pounding against his chest. He doesn't move; he doesn't try to stop her. She's screaming at him, her words punctuated by her furious hits: "Why did you take so long? You promised you were coming back soon! Why did you arrive so late? Why did you let her go? Why did you let Noona go? Why? Why?"

He could only look at her, absorbing her words and feeling each syllable like a physical blow. Her pain, her anger, and her confusion were all directed at him. 

Then he did the only thing he could think of—the only thing he thought you would have done in this situation. 

He pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

For minutes, he doesn't say a word until he grabs her, holding her close.

Turning to the boy, he nods, "I'll give you a ride home."

The journey to the kid’s home was silent, save for the muted hum of the car's engine and the occasional rustle of cloth against leather. 

Ji-An was huddled against the passenger seat, her body trembling slightly. Noticing this, he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her small frame in the same way he did for you.

After dropping the boy off and Ji-An finally falling asleep, he drives aimlessly. The city lights flicker past in a hazy blur, their glow casting fleeting shadows on his face. He thinks of you—your laughter, your anger, and your determination. It's strange, he thinks, how the absence of someone can fill a room, a house, or a life.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone.

Glancing at the screen, he sees your name flashing. He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the decline button. 

But then he remembers how things used to be and how it felt to hear your voice without the weight of regret and guilt. He misses when your name didn't make his chest ache, when it was just a name he heard now and then but held no significance to him.

He yearns for the days when he didn't know you, when his eyes didn't instinctively scan every room he entered in hopes of finding you there. He misses the sight of you standing among strangers, wearing that ridiculous skirt he used to tease you about but now finds himself missing.

He finds himself longing for the mundane details. How you'd take off your shoes at the front door, placing your keys with care in the small glass bowl on the corner of the kitchen counter. How you'd drape your coat over the back of a dining room chair, your socks left at the foot of the bed next to the sleeping cat.

He misses holding back your hair as you succumb to the side effects of your PTSD pills, your body rejecting the chemicals meant to help you cope. He yearns for the times when you would climb under the white blankets with him, forcefully opening his arms to encase you between them.

He misses how you would place your legs on top of his and let your hands wander to his waist and chest. He misses hearing you say, "I missed you," telling him about your day as you would slowly drift off to sleep. And he longs for the times he would secretly kiss your cheek softly before he inevitably had to leave you for work.

He misses when you were simply strangers—not two people who act like strangers in public but once knew each other better than they ever knew themselves. He misses the simplicity of those days and the innocence of not knowing what it felt like to lose you.

Because, in the end, when the lights are off and his eyes flutter shut, the back of his mind always whispers your name, calling out to you like you are the only place he was ever meant to call home .

When he finally decided to answer the call, he placed the phone on the dashboard, the worn leather creaking under the weight. He switched to speaker mode, the familiar chime filling the small space of the car. 

"Hello?"

Tinny and distant over the phone speaker, you responded almost immediately. "You left a voicemail. What happened?" In the background, he could hear the faint, unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking open and the soft hiss of a cigarette being lit.

"Your voice sounds rough," he commented, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. "How many days have you been communicating only with sign language?"

"Shut up, motherfucker. What about Ji-An?”

"I…" he started, faltering. The words he needed to say were stuck in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.

“Look, Ji-Man. I have nothing to do with you anymore. I’m calling you back because you sounded like a wounded little bitch and you said her name. Drop the show and spit it out.”

“I failed again, okay?" The confession spilled out of him, the words tasting like defeat. But he couldn't stop there; he had to finish what he started. "But, look, Ji-An spoke.”

He could almost hear your sharp intake of breath and the sound of the cigarette being hastily put out in the background. There was a long, drawn-out silence, the kind of silence that spoke volumes. He could imagine your surprise—the way your eyes would widen slightly, the lit cigarette forgotten in your hand. But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, filled with a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

"She spoke?"

"Yes. She called out to me. She used her voice, and she spoke."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that everything is okay between us," he continued, his voice gruff, "But I'm also not going to pretend that we don't have a shared past. One that involves a little girl who misses you."

"You're such a bastard. You know how to manipulate me using her," you snapped, the sound of a chair creaking in the background signaling your agitation.

"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that Ji-An misses you. And you miss her too, don't you?"

A silence followed his words—not an uncomfortable one, but a silence filled with unspoken words and a shared history. And then you sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that echoed with the weight of your unspoken thoughts.

"I do miss her. But you, Jeong Jin-Man, are a pain in my ass.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at your words. "I've been told that before."

"I'm sure you have."

Another silence filled the line, comfortable yet heavy with years of shared experiences.

"By the way," he added, his voice softer now, "the key is still under the cat statue you put by the front door. You can drop by anytime."

"I'll think about it. But don't expect me to come running back, Jin-Man. We're not the same people we used to be."

"I know. But we're still us, aren't we?"

"We're something ," you admitted, a sigh slipping past your lips. "But I don't know what that is anymore."

"Neither do I. But maybe we can figure it out together, old lady."

"Old lady?" you scoffed, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Coming from a man who's 10 years older than me."

"Years are still years," he teased, a smile playing on his lips. "But whatever we are, Y/N, whatever we become, you're still… something to me. And so is Ji-An. Remember that."

"I will. I will, Ahjusshi."

[sleepyfan-blog]

Interviews

Author’s Note: This is the next part of the Big E raises the primarchs AU! First. Previous. Next. A big thanks to @plagueparchments, @undeaddream, @kit-williams and @bleedingichorhearts for allowing me to borrow their OCs for this fic! Please rb and support their artistic endeavors!

word count: 5,041 this fic got away from meeeeee

Warnings: none? Please tell me if I need to tag something

Tagged: : @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @sharenadraculea @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan 

Summary: Valdor interviews some candidates to become primary caretakers for the infant primarchs.

Valdor sent out a coded message, asking all  those above a certain clearance level who were not currently assigned to high priority missions to arrive at his office at their earliest convenience in order to discuss a top-secret medium term mission that required discretion, finesse and care. He has already spoken to over a dozen of his fellow custodes, high ranking mortal military officers, admech and civilian mortal staff… Along with the occasional Terran noble. None of them had the qualities that he was looking for as of yet. 

There was a light knock on the door and Valdor called out neutrally “Come in.” A flash of surprise shot through him as Pariah Almach walked into his office. 

“As you say, captain-general. The mission details on the call you sent out were light on details, but I’m… Curious and willing to serve.” The tanned man stated, tucking a stray lock of dark brown hair behind one of his ears and lightly rubbing one of the facial scars on his lower cheek, golden eyes flicking up to Valdor’s face before looking away respectfully.

“There is a reason for that. I have a series of questions to ask you, which I stress you must answer as truthfully and honestly as you can. There are no incorrect answers, but they will determine  your fitness for the mission. If I deem you a potential candidate, I will inform you of the mission details. Due to the nature of the mission it is strictly voluntary, however if you decline the mission, the lord sigilite will remove your memories of the specifics of the mission for the safety of the mission. Do you understand?” Valdor asks, making sure to be upfront. This was the first hurdle that had more than half of the potential candidates who had arrived so far to decline the mission and leave. 

“I understand, Captain-general. I am ready to answer your questions and pass whatever tests are necessary.” The powerful blank answered with a serious and determined nod. 

“Excellent. How much experience do you have working with young children? Specifically infants and toddlers?” Valdor asked, watching him carefully.

Almach blinked rapidly a couple of times, visibly confused before answering “As a child and a teenager, I had many younger siblings I was raised alongside. As one of the eldest, part of my duties were to care for and protect the little ones as best as I could. I haven’t any formal childcare training, but I’ve got a good few years of experience with children of all ages, including infants, sir.”

Valdor noted that down on his dataslate and continued “How do you feel about potentially interacting closely with psykers who will start out wholly untrained due to their nature, as well as those who are closely attuned to the Warp because of their nature?”

Almach shifted a little in his seat “As a Blank of some strength and training, I have dealt with out of control psykers by exerting my own abilities to nullify their own, sir. As long as the psykers don’t attack me for existing, I think I would be able to get along with them well enough… Though I’d need to be away from them for the psykers to learn how to use their powers, if that’s something in the cards for those psykers.” He’s aware that not all psykers who are found by the Emperor’s forces are allowed to continue to live and are brought under his banner. Those tainted are killed to prevent further contamination. Even if the psyker themself is unaware of the darkness they’ve brushed.

Valdor nods, asking several more childcare related questions before saying “I believe that, despite your status as a Blank, you would be a good fit for this mission. As you are aware, The Emperor has many projects going in order to further unify and strengthen humanity. One of these is the Primarch Project. Twenty-one genetically and psychically hand-crafted human infants by The Emperor and each with a multidisciplinary team of the brightest scientific minds who could be found on Terra, created to lead the Legiones Astartes. Most of those scientific minds have been reassigned to the Astartes project, with a couple of the medical staff on hand at any time of the day or night in case the genetically altered infants require medical attention.’

The captain general paused for several seconds before continuing to explain “They were originally to stay in their incubation chambers until their physical maturity was that of a toddler, but strong visions prompted The Emperor to pull them from their tubes early and bring them to a secure wing of the palace. One of these infant generals is a Blank, though how powerful he will be has yet to be seen. Should you accept this mission, you will be assigned the primary caretaker for primarch eleven, the Pariah Primarch. He does not have a name other than Primarch Eleven yet. Your duties would involve the total physical and emotional care of primarch eleven while he grows from an infant to a toddler, which should take up to two years. One of the fail safes that the Emperor put in place in each of the primarchs was to ensure that they would physically mature faster when exposed to danger. You may also be assigned to care for primarchs Five and/or Seven, depending on how many qualified people I find for this mission. What say you?”

Almach swallowed dryly. Could he raise one to three children for war and bloodshed? Admittedly, that’s what they were made for, and his own hands were dripping in the blood of others. He was also keenly aware of what it was like to be a Blank surrounded by non-blanks. How lonely and aching that could get. He would do his duty, despite the guilt that bit at his heart “I will, captain-general. When do I start?”

“Do you have any loose ends to wrap up? Otherwise you will start immediately, and you will be living in the same section of the Imperial Palace as  your ward or wards.” Valdor revealed. 

Almach shook his head “I have no loose ends, sir. Am I allowed to pack a couple of mementos before being transferred to the palace, sir?”

“You are. One of the Golden Host will accompany you to your apartment and aid you in packing, take the rest of the day to get ready.” Valdor ordered. “Oh, and you will be given a week of childcare training before being introduced to your charge or charges.”

“Yes sir.” Almach responded, nodding. He’s not surprised he’s going to be watched while having such information in his head. He got up and headed off, mind running in many different directions at once.

~

There was a light, efficient knock on Valdor’s door, soon after Almach left and he called out “Come in, please.”

“Yes sir.” Apollo responded, quietly walking in, closing the door behind him and sitting down when Valdor silently gestured for him to do so. “I received your call for a highly secretive, multi-year mission? I am here to present myself for it. What do I need to do, sir?”

“Before I tell you about the mission, I have several questions to ask of  you. There are no correct answers, merely the truthful answers you have. If I decide that you are unfit for the mission it is not due to a fault you possess, merely a mismatch in abilities and needs of the mission. Understood?” Valdor clarified, knowing that some of his fellow Custodians would take a rejection of any mission as a failing on their part.

“I understand sir, and I am ready to answer any question  you have.” The Dread Spear responds, lifting his chin a little and squaring his shoulders.

“Excellent. Now, I will ask you a series of hypothetical questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your abilities.” The captain general instructed, before he cleared his throat and stated “You are guarding a very young and willful charge that has shown signs of willfulness and a prickly disposition. They are being difficult and refusing to do what you have told them to in order to keep them safe. What do you do?”

“I remove them from whatever the source of danger is, or I eliminate the danger, depending on whatever is the swiftest option. Is this a bodyguarding mission, sir? I… Do not have experience with such things. I thought the Aquiilan Shields took those missions solely.” Apollo murmured, shifting ever so slightly in his seat.

“This particular mission is set to last for at minimum two years and will be taking place within the Imperial Palace itself, Apollo. There are a number of other… Considerations that caused me to widen the pool of potential candidates. How well can you adapt to humans with enhanced and altered instincts?” Valdor asked.

Apollo thought about the question for a couple of moments before asking “Are you talking about the approved abhuman strains? I have worked alongside different kinds of abhumans before, sir. While they may be a perversion of true humanity, so long as they are willing to serve the emperor, I have no qualms with them.. And as long as their instincts do not get in the way of the mission, they don’t particularly bother me either, sir.”

Valdor hummed, writing down what the younger Custodian said, tapping the stylus thoughtfully against the dataslate before saying “Before I explain this mission it must be said that this information must be kept in the absolute strictest of confidence. Do not breathe a word of this outside of the imperial palace, even among our fellow custodes, even if you know that they are also aware of this duty. If you feel you cannot keep such silence, speak now and you will be removed from the duty roster.”

“I can keep this silent, captain-general.” Apollo answered, shifting a little in his seat again, leaning forward slightly, intensely curious. He’d recently arrived back from a kill mission and had noticed that some of the golden host were abuzz about something, yet they could not or would not say whenever he approached to speak with them. 

Valdor quickly explained about the changes in the Primarch project, and that the infant primarchs had been removed from their incubation chambers and moved to a different heavily guarded and warded section of the Imperial Palace for their own safety, and finishing with “This particular posting would have you taking care of the needs of one or more of the infant primarchs directly. Tending to their physical needs and ensuring that they are adequately emotionally and mentally stimulated as well. You cannot become emotionally attached to your charge or charge. If you feel that you are, come to me and you will be reassigned.”

“I… Infant care is not something I have been trained on, sir and is outside of my realm of expertise. But I feel that I can maintain proper emotional distance from the Primarchs, and should be able to care for whichever one or more of them I am assigned to tend to.” Apollo answered honestly.

“You will be given childcare training for the next week, and then introduced to your charge. I’m sure that you will do well, Apollo.” Valdor murmured, nodding.  

~

Valdor called out, "Come in," As he heard a quiet knock on his door, ignoring the desire to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd dealt with a half dozen nosy and unfit nobles who had only wanted to know what the mission was. As they had no intention of actually completing the mission he did not tell them. Not that their whining and fussing... and the fact that His Imperial Majesty had shown up to court lat. Again. And with a small dirty towel over one of his shoulders... Rumors abound in regards to why, and he knew that he would need to head those rumors off sooner, rather than later. It was a job for future him, but he's noted down to get done after the initial interviews were done. 

"What is the mission you are seeking to staff, sir?" Zedkiel asked, standing attentively near the door. The Terrab born Raven Guard watching with dark and inquisitive eyes. 

"Before I tell you, I have questions for you to answer first, and the warning that if you are selected for this mission, you cannot tell any of your brothers the mission... And that you'll have limited to time to even contact them over the vox, due to the nature of the mission. If you wish to withdraw now, you may," Valdor explains evenly, watching the other trans-human carefully. 

"I am used to being out of contact with my Brothers for long periods of time during missions, The Raven Guard are primarily trained in stealth, assassinations, and misdirection after all. I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities." Zedkiel murmured, resolute. 

"Good. Now. How do you handle interpersonal conflict? How do you handle discipline of others under your sway? How do you adapt under high pressure situations where you cannot resort to violence?" The Captain General asked. 

Zedkiel was now very intensely curious as to what this mission could possible be about, but restrained the hundreds of inquiries that The Captain General's questions spawned in his mind. He took his time to ponder each question before answering. "I try and find ground with whoever I am in conflict with, to come to a compromise that all involved can live with, if not happy about. As for discipline, I find that corporal punishment leads to long-term issues and prefer to correct problems using more constructive methods. I find redirection and positive reinforcement of the correct behaviors to be a more effective, sir." 

Zedkiel was aware that a number of Commanders and Officers preferred to use the rod and sticks liberally, but he had found that Carrots and gentle correction had much better long-term results, even if it took longer to get unruly Scouts into line, than beatings and terror tactics. "As for high stress non-violent situations, I deal with them by first assessing the situation ato determine the source, and how I might be able to solve or stop the stress. How I would do that depends on the kind of stressor or stressors present, Sir."

Valdor wrote down what Zedkiel said, a considering expression appearing on his face. He was quite certain if he offered a spot for the Astartes on the mission, that Zedkiel would accept without pause. To b able to meet his tiny Primarch. But would he be a good caretaker? From what Valdor knew of the younger trans-human's mission history and personality... The other may be a tad indulgent, but given that he knew that Apollo would be Strict... A gentler hand and limited Astartes exposure should be fine for the infant warlords. "If you refuse this mission after I give you the details, they will be wiped from your mind, for safety and security reasons. Do you understand?" 

"Yes sir. I am ready," The raven guard responded, posture straightening minutely. "The Primarchs were pulled from their incubation chambers as infants for security reasons. They have been moved to a secure wing of the palace and require full time caretakers. Will you be one of them?" Valdor explains deliberately keeping his face neutral. 

Zedkiel's eyes widened a little in shock before the Astartes spoke, voice cracking a little in eagerness, "I would be honored to help care for any of the Primarchs why they are so young." Valdor inclined his head, the corners of his lips quirking up a fraction of a centimeter before flattening again, He's unsurprised by the other's eagerness, "Of those I've interviewed today, you are one of three candidates I've found acceptable for their care team so far. Tie up any loose ends that you have today, then report to Imperial Office 156 on Beta level for training. You and the other caretakers will receive one week of child care training." 

"Yes sir," Zedkiel murmured, saluting Valdor and leaving once dismissed. 

~

"Come on in," Valdor called out as another person knocked on his office door. He had taken just long enough of a break to eat and stretch his legs a little before returning to the desk that His Emperor had given him. 

"Yes sir," Another of the Golden Host murmured, stepping into the room and sitting down. She removed her helmet and massaged her horns, looking him over, a small smirk appearing on her face, "Long day, cap? Just what is this mission? Half the palace is talking about what it might be, or so it feels like." She shook hout her dark hair as she spoke. 

"The mission is highly classified, " Valdor responded before he gave her the same warnings he had given about the secrecy and security level that this mission was and an offer for her to back out before continuing, as well as the pre-screening questions. 

Baphomet flashed him a challenging grin, eyes alight with interest as she leaned over his desk a little, "Oooh, now you've got my attention sir! It's gotta be something special with this kind of security involved. Ask your questions Boss, I'm ready!" 

Valdor cleared his throat a little before answering with several questions in a rapid response, "Do you have any experience dealing with untrained psykers in a non-violent way? How experienced are you with dealing with those who see glimpses of possible futures? How well do you interact with Blanks?"

Baphomet hummed a little, scratching at the base of one of her horns, leaning back in her chair, kicking her feet before answering, "I've corralled untrained psykers before. Especially given how most baseline psykers tend to be squishy. I can usually scruff them if I need to without much issue. Blanks freak me out a little, but the Sisters do important work. As long as the Blank or Blanks in question aren't shitty to me. I'm fine with 'em. But you know how some baselines get with my mutations. I won't tolerate any whining. Oh! I dunno much about seers, though." 

... Considering that Nine had an obvious mutation he couldn't be able to easily hide. Baphomry might be an excellent fit for him as a primary caretaker, despite her disciplinary history. Valdor gives her one more chance to back out of the mission- to which Baphomet flashes him a grin and laughs. He explains about the infant Primarchs, concluding with, "one of them has bird-like wings and future sight. Almost half of them exhibit warp-touched abilities regularly. And all but three of them have shown at least one warp-touched abilities once after being removed from incubation. Are you willing to be a caretaker for the infant Primarchs?" 

Baphomet's eyes widen in surprise and delight as she shot up to her feet, "That sounds line an absolute riot! Fuck yes, I'm up for the challenging mission! I haven't had ... any experience with itty bitties, but I know you. I'm getting kiddie care training before being unleashed on them. I'm absolutely up for it!" The younger Custodes was bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, radiating excitement. 

Valdor nods, a small smile, which he allows to, appearing on his face amused by her exuberance as he instructed her, "Deal with anything you need to. Caring for the infant Primarchs will last for two years at minimum. Possibly longer, depending on how much of a handful they are as toddlers. Report to room 156 on Beta level tomorrow to begin the week long child care course."

"Aye aye sir!" Baphomet chirped before prancing out of the room, grinning widely and helmet in hand. 

There was a quick, rapid knock on Valdor's office door.

"Enter," The Captain General instructed, mildly curious as to who would next present themself for consideration. The fact, as it stood, the caretaking team was half Custodes, did not show any bias on his part, but rather due to the fact that Custodians were likely the best suited to handle infant warp creations meant to Lead Sector-claiming armies when they were fragile and at their weakest. 

There was a rapid clicking sound as a Martian Tech Priest crawled along one wall of Valdor's office. through the door that they were closing with their tail. The Mechanicum's cultist waved a heavily modified hand in Valdor's direction. 

"Uhm. Greetings. Why are you here?" Valdor asked bluntly, pulling out the language translation app on his data slate, ignoring the rising frustration clawing at his mind. 

The Tech Priest clicked rapidly at him for several seconds. The translation software wrote out for him [Here for Assignment. High Priority and Security Level. Serve Omnissiah.]

 ...Great. Sure. Uh-huh. Not. “I see. Do you have other methods of conversation, or is this auditory clicking your only method of communication?” On one hand, it might be good for the infant primarchs to interact with a member of the Mechanicus, and to know that there was a varied methods of communications.. Would it be prudent to allow a member of their tentative allies so close to such a vulnerable resource? Even if several of his fellow Custodes would be present when this priest was as well?

[Singular method of communication.] The priest clicked rapidly, head tilting a little to one side. [Translation simple with helmet and vox-communication systems.]

“While that is true, if you are picked for this mission, not everyone you will need to communicate with has access to a helmet or vox to translate the sounds you are making. Regardless, I have other questions to ask of you, before you receive the details of this mission, if I deem you a fit match. This mission is highly secret and you would not be able to inform anyone else of receiving this mission any of the details. I was handed the task of stocking the best people by the Emperor Himself. Very few people are aware of this mission as it is. If you refuse to take the mission if you learn of the details, your memories of such will be erased permanently. Do you understand?” Valdor responds, leaning over his desk and looming at the tech priest, gaze narrow and focused.

[Understood. Will answer queries. Serve Omnisiah.] The tech priest beeped response. [Will serve faithfully and keep silence.]

Valdor nodded, looking over the list of questions he had and began with “This mission will take a minimum of two years, and will involve a great deal of physical, mental and emotional discretion and effort on the parts of the team members. Do you have any experiences with caring for and disciplining delicate sentient resources? If so, please give examples. Additionally, if you are chosen for this position while you will not want for any resource you may need to successfully complete this mission, are you able to discern between a need that is not being properly fulfilled and a want or desire in your charge that they are trying to emotionally or mentally attempting to manipulate from you?”

[I have worked with tech-priests in training, after they are released from their vat tubes. They can be unruly as their weak flesh can overwhelm them with sensation and stimuli. Routines, training and careful praise/punishment system is effective in keeping them in line. Before they have been fully brought into the fold, some of the young priests in training can get… Stubborn and unruly. I have dealt with youthful manipulations in the past with a firm hand, when interacting with them. Logic and not yielding to yelling or other emotional appeals is important while training and interacting with such resources.] The tech priest - whose name escaped Valdor at the moment - clicked at a steady tempo.

Valdor hummed as he wrote down the other’s response. The lack of regular communication was a bit of a hindrance, but his responses were illuminating and could prove to be most useful in dealing with the infant primarchs. That and they would need to get used to the strangeness of the Mechanicum quickly, so early exposure wasn’t a bad  idea. “Very well. This is your last chance to back out before I explain to you the mission parameters. If you do decide to back out, it will not be held against you in any way.”

[I am ready to serve.] the tech priest clicked.

The captain-general nodded, before explaining the success of the primarch project, and the fact that the infant generals had been pulled out of their maturation tubes as infants due to security concerns, and the fact that the tech priest - amongst others - would be tending to their physical and emotional needs during such a vulnerable point in time, as well as the week long child care training the priest would be taking before being introduced to his charges, finishing with “Currently all of the primarchs are being cared for in a single room together, though that is subject to change, particularly as they grow older and their requirements change. Do you accept this duty?”

[I would be honored, Captain-general.] The tech priest beeped back, his tail flicking a little. 

“Good. Finish up any tasks you have today.” Valdor ordered him, informing the tech priest as to where to report to for training tomorrow.

~

“Sir, are you still looking for candidates for that high priority, top-secret mission?” Adonis asks as he peers into Valdor’s room, where the captain-general of the Adeptus Custodes is sitting, staring at his dataslate as if he hopes it has the questions to all the questions in his mind.

Valdor looked up at Adonis as he spoke and beckoned him inside with a curl of one finger “That I am. I have found some who qualify, but ideally I’d have one or two more on the team to fill it out competently.” He was still somewhat hesitant in including the tech priest in the group… But from what he had read over of Tiny’s service history, the priest should be a good fit, if a mildly mischievous caretaker. 

“I see. What qualifications are you looking for, sir?” The Aquilan Shield asked, tilting his head a little in curiosity as he obeyed the silent order to come into the other’s office and sit down. 

While Valdor had been tempted to simply assig the infant Primarchs a team of Aquilan Shields - particularly those who had been previously assigned young charges in the past, he was also aware of the… Mixed feelings that the Primarchs provoked in many of his fellow Custodes. Mixed feelings that Valdor knew he himself was not exempt from. “I have several questions to ask of  you, as well as a warning to give to you.” He informed the other of the length of the mission, if he refused it that the memories would be taken from his mind, and that Adonis was free to decline the mission with no repercussions.

“Ask your questions, sir. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready to complete such a mission.” Adonis answered stalwartly, chin lifting up a little, resolute.

“How have you handled medical emergencies that occur to your charges in the past? When one of them fell seriously ill, for example.” Valdor responds. He knew that Adonis had never allowed any of his charges to come to harm during the course of his duties,but illness was an unfortunate thing that happened to baselines. While it was exceedingly unlikely that the infant primarchs could get sick with normal illnesses, and the palace was well-guarded against magical curses and maladies…

They were still gene-crafted infants, and while they were definitely heartier than any natural born infant, there was still the possibility of something unfortunate happening to one or more of them. 

“Fifty years ago, one of my charges fell critically ill. I realized their symptoms and brought them to one of my brother apothercaries who had training in treating the illness that they had fallen prey to. Once they had the medications they required I monitored them closely for signs of relapse or worsening condition, while ensuring that they complied with the medical orders and restrictions they’d been given. I personally ensured that they got all of the nutrients, electrolytes and water they needed in the form of a nutritious but easily consumed soup. Under my care they swiftly and fully recovered from their illness.” Adonis answered promptly “While they were resistant to fully complying, I allowed them to move a little more than recommended in order to get them to consume the soup I created for them without fuss. A little bit of compromise goes a long way to compliance in my experience.”

Valdor nodded as he noted that down, a reflective expression appearing on his face. “I will ask you once more, do you wish to withdraw your name from consideration? If you do not, I will explain the mission parameters.”

“I am ready to serve, sir.” The Aquilan Shield responds, alert and inquisitive.

The captain-general explained to Adonis about how the primarchs had been pulled from their maturation chambers as infants, where they had been placed, adn the fact that his Majesty had been the one primarily taking care of the infants, before realizing that to take care of so many infants at once would effectively prevent him from continuing to reunify the Sol system, amongst His many other duties that had begun to fall to the wayside. Which was why he had assigned Valdor to find appropriate caretakers for the infant primarchs. He finished with “Are you willing to care for the infant primarchs, while they are so weak and vulnerable?”

Adonis nodded “I would be willing to do so, sir. I am well aware of His plans for them in the future and will do my best to guard and guide them, should I be chosen for this mission.”

Valdor nodded, saying “Excellent. I will give you the rest of the day to tie up any loose ends you may have. Report to room 156 on Beta level tomorrow to begin the week long child care course.” 

“Yes sir.” Adonis acknowledged before leaving with a brief salute.

[evilscientist3]

Hey dont cry. 1 large diced onion fried in oil on medium heat till soft and slightly translucent, then 1 diced bell pepper, 2 minced cloves of garlic, hot chili powder, paprika, ground cumin, and chillis to taste fried for 5 minutes, then increase heat and add 500g minced beef and fry till browned, then 1 tin chopped tomatoes 300ml beef stock a pinch of oregano 1 tbsp tomato pureee and a teaspoon of sugar, then simmer covered stirring occasionally for 20 minutes, then remove lid add 1 drained tin of kidney beans and cook uncovered for 10 minutes, then add salt and pepper to taste and any additional spices as necessary, then leave covered for 10 minutes to allow for flavours to mingle before serving with rice and sour cream, okay?

[najia-cooks]

Apple tart with chili-cardamom caramel

A tart-sweet apple filling, spiced with Ceylon cinnamon and fennel, layered on a robust, flaky crust, then drizzled with a warming, aromatic clear caramel. The spices are subtle, creating a play of complementary flavors with no resounding winner.

Releasing liquid from the apples ahead of baking serves two purposes: creating a crust that is crisp all the way through; and forming a base for the caramel, marrying the flavors of the topping and the sauce.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Paypal | Venmo

Ingredients

Makes one 12” x 12” tart. Serves 4-6.

For the dough:

1 cup (120g) all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp kosher salt

100g salted non-dairy margarine (stick form)

About 3 Tbsp cold water

For the topping:

1 1/2 baking apples, washed, cored, and thinly sliced

1/2-inch chunk Ceylon cinnamon, toasted and ground, or 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon (or substitute 1/4 tsp cassia cinnamon)

1/4 tsp fennel seeds, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground fennel

Pinch ground cloves

2 Tbsp vegetarian granulated sugar

Pinch salt

To assemble:

1/2 Tbsp non-dairy margarine, melted

For the caramel:

Liquid from draining apples

3 Tbsp sugar

3 green cardamom pods, crushed

1-2 dried red chilies, broken

With 1 chili, the sauce is to my taste warming without being detectably spicy. Increase chili as desired.

Instructions

For the dough:

1. Combine flour and salt in a mixing bowl. Cut cold margarine into an even dice with a sharp knife and coat in flour (or cut margarine into flour with a pastry cutter).

2. Add water, kneading dough against the sides of the bowl, until it just comes together. Cover and put in the refrigerator to chill.

For the topping:

1. Wash apples, core, and slice thinly. Toss with spices, salt, and sugar and put in a sieve over a bowl to drain. Leave for about an hour, stirring once, until apples have released several tablespoons of liquid.

To shape:

1. While the apples rest, roll out dough into a rough rectangle on a generously floured surface.

2. Fold the rectangle in three widthwise, like an envelope, and then in half widthwise to form a square.

3. Re-flour the surface, if necessary. Roll out dough again into a large square about 1/4” (1/2 cm) thick. Brush the surface of the dough with melted margarine.

To assemble:

1. Arrange apples over the dough so that they overlap slightly, leaving a 1-inch (2.5 cm) border on all sides.

2. Fold the edges over the apples and press down on the corners to seal.

3. Put in the freezer to chill while preparing the caramel.

For the caramel:

1. Pour the liquid from the apples into a saucepan (preferably one with a light-colored bottom) and heat on medium-low. Add sugar and stir to dissolve.

2. Add spices and heat on medium, without stirring, until simmering. If sugar starts to stick to the sides of the pan, brush it down with a wet pastry brush.

3. Continue to heat, gently moving the mixture back and forth with a rubber spatula if you notice the color changing unevenly, until caramel is a light amber color. This will probably happen quickly, so watch closely.

4. Remove from heat and carefully dunk the bottom of the pot in a bowl of cool water to halt further cooking.

To bake:

1. Preheat your oven to 400 °F (205 °C) with the rack in the center. Bake the apple tart for 50-60 minutes, until crust is golden brown and apples are tender.

2. Drizzle with caramel and serve hot.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Rebel With A Cause

Echo x Gen! Reader

Warnings: None. Fluff and a kiss. A little bit of angst in relation to wartime and heartfelt goodbyes.

582 words

Notes: I decided to write a series of "goodbye" ficlets where the reader takes / removes something from each of CF99 as they part ways. I plan to do the others. I wrote Crosshair some time ago.

---

The Rebellion was in its infancy, yet you were amongst those placing themselves on the front lines, determined to make a difference in a galaxy that otherwise seemed uncaring and oblivious. Your native home had been overrun by the Empire and all its lackeys, leaving you to find a greater purpose, one shared with many others; it was something to be proud of, and you had never once looked back.

Neither had this soldier, a clone who had been dealt a rough hand in life, parts of him not man, but mechanical, yet this in no way put a damper on your feelings.

As in times of war, his was another hasty exit, leaving your heart aching and your mouth dry as he strode with purpose, meaning to board the ship that would carry him away.

“Echo!” you called out, desperation coating that single utterance of his name; your legs felt like jelly, even as you forced them to propel you forward. The distance was short, finding yourself to be in the presence of your lover before he could even turn around.

You stood before him and swallowed back your spit, butterflies having taken flight in your belly. Still, you would not allow him to leave without saying farewell; there was always the real possibility he would never return to you, or you to him.

“Officer,” he started, one of his brothers watching from aloft. Your gaze darted upward, and he drifted inside the cover of his ship; you were thankful Rex understood you wanted this time alone.

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” you pleaded, unable to stop the tears that were beginning to well in your eyes. That stoic face softened, brows knitting in concern. Echo reached out to you with his scomp, then hastily lowered his arm.

“I’m…” The clone trailed off, unsure of what to say, or how it might be received. You smiled at him, finally daring to take up the one hand left to him.

Carefully, deliberately, you removed his glove. He watched you intently, deep brown eyes rising to meet your face. It felt as if time stood still, the thrum and hum of the rebel encampment behind you all but dying on the breeze; it was welcomed wholeheartedly as it cooled and refreshed your balmy skin.

Gently, you lifted his wrist, setting his hand against the curve of your cheek. This allowed Echo to feel your sorrow as it trickled from you in discrete drops, your lips brushing the inside of his palm as you whispered your one and only wish: “Be careful.”

Echo drew you in, fingers curling behind your ear as his thumb swiped away your tears. His lips met yours, kissing you fervently, and as if his life depended on it.

Words no longer felt necessary, his sentiments expressed through the impassioned swirl of his tongue. You loosed a whimper, Echo pulling back to study the intricacies of your face, those things that made you, you.

“I will,” he affirmed, temporarily placating you. He took up the glove offered shyly back to him, stowing it away, then turned on his heel to board the ramp, one final glance cast in your direction.

This alone would keep you hooked, desiring nothing more than for this blasted war to end, a life spent by his side something that may have already crossed your mind.

[rowniebow]

mercy | newt scamander x male reader

Summary: You and Newt have been put in a sticky situation. Newt has been the hot commodity lately, but you were all too ready to bargain. 

Warnings: Angst

Reader: Male, muggle

Parining(s): Newt Scamander x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

masterlist

Your eyes focused on the cold cement ground you sat upon. Your knees were pulled to your chest. Your head was pounding from all the stress and commotion. You couldn’t help but wonder where you would be as of right now if you had denied the strange British man and stayed working at your nine-to-five factory job. Would you still reside in your pathetic, run down apartment across from Gerda who shared her butter and you shared your eggs with? Would Jerry still be belittling you about how lazy you are at your job? Yes. Most likely Jerry would still be an asshole.

But, most of all, would Newt be in this situation if it weren’t for you? You can’t help but think he would be sitting at home taking care of his creatures if it weren’t for you agreeing to join him. That, at least, is what you said to convince yourself you were okay with what was all happening. Convincing yourself you were at fault for the bad things so your “solution” to the issue - this decision you were making for the both of them - wouldn’t be as painful.

What were you to do, though? When someone shares their most vulnerable feelings with you, and you share your own, are you really supposed to just watch them up and leave without you when their hand is extended as Newt’s was? When they’re offering you an out of your miserable life, and instead an invitation to what you assumed would be a nice quiet life with someone you loved and doing things you loved with them? Are you supposed to say no to joining the person you have grown to care the most about? 

You were yanked out of your thoughts as the loud metal doors were peeled open by two large, muscular men clad in armor and wands out ready to strike if you made even one off move. You couldn’t help but wonder if all that was truly necessary for you: a small man with no capacity to fight back. Good lord, you couldn’t even get rid of spiders. All you could do was ignore them and wish them on their merry way. 

You stood, the shackles hung off of your wrists and ankles. The rusted chain clattered against the cement floors, scratching against your already pounding head. You trudged with the two large men trailing close behind you. They poked at your back every once in a while when you were dragging from exhaustion. 

You three arrived at the large wooden double doors. They creaked as the men opened it to reveal you to the man that hasn’t left your mind in years. 

You took in every aspect of Newt with a gasp. His arms were limp and pale from all the hours they had been hung up against the wall. He was on his knees, but his ankles, bloody and bruised, sat chained to the wall just as his wrists were. Blood drained out of them, you were sure they were tingling with discomfort. He didn’t look up, leaving you to look at his knotted, messy hair. Strands flew everywhere, it didn’t even have its usual shape and part. His dozens of layers of clothes had been removed. He stood limply in his tousled white button down and brown straight legged pants. Both clothing items were ripped at the seams and ruffled beyond the familiarity of Newt’s well-dressed and ironed appearance. 

“Oh, Newtie,” You groaned at the sight of him. Rage filled your veins. You suddenly began to rethink your bargain, wondering if these awful people who had already done this to him would keep their part and let him go after all this. 

Newt looked up with wide eyes at the sound of your voice echoing off of the brick walls. His eyes were swollen and red. His cheeks were patterned in purple and red. Hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He struggled at the chains, trying to stand up and move towards you but, of course, he was to no avail. “Y/N,” he called out hoarsely, tears threatening his eyes. You ran towards him, the guards obviously wanting to stop you but they let it happen knowing what was to come. 

“Newt, goodness, my sweet,” You cooed, lightly rubbing your hand over his wounded cheeks as you examined him. He winced slightly as you grazed the open skin but overall he refused to look away from you, shocked to see you in front of him. “Are you okay? Lord- obviously you’re not. It’s okay, alright? I-It’s gonna be over soon, okay?” You hushed your tone, wanting to save all your words for him and only him. 

His bloodied wrists caught your eye, “Can we- Can we please get this bullshit off of him? God,” You hollered out into the echoed room. The chains released themselves, magically, of course, and Newt fell into your arms. He struggled to snake his own limp limbs around your waist. You felt his shaking body and breath and nearly broke down. 

You continued to hold him close, a hand keeping his head in the crook of your neck and another keeping him upright in your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you continuously whispered into his hair that was still soft as ever despite it all. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“Now,” A voice boomed from behind you. “Would you like to break the news to him, dearest? Or, shall I?” 

You ignored the threatening voice - the voice from the man who’s at fault for the crimes committed against the two. You only continued whispering your hushed apologies. You reassured Newt, in between quiet sniffs, that he was going to be okay and that it would all be over soon. That he wouldn’t have to worry anymore and he could continue to forget this. 

Newt, listening to your every word and absorbing it (grateful that he gets to hear it again at all), peaked over your shoulder at the presence who had walked in. Neither of the two had seen the man’s face. He stayed hidden under his black, hooded cloak. A mask sat over his face, keeping anyone from seeing him. 

Newt watched the man, blurred from his tears, take several steps in the room. After hours and hours of the torturing done to him by this man, he couldn’t even find the strength in him to do much more than look and groan. He happily let you rock yourselves back and forth as you chanted comforting phrases into his ear for only him to hear, and ran your fingers through his hair, and left your warm heavy hand in the middle of his back and rubbed it in small circles. 

“I suppose I’ll take that as a plea for me to tell him.” The voice boomed out once more. 

Your eyes couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. You quietly sobbed, muttering, “Please, don’t be mad. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“The little muggle has offered himself in exchange for your peace. For your freedom.” You could hear a smile in the man’s voice as he spoke of your bargain. You could also very clearly hear a sharp gasp from Newt, as he began to moan in disagreement. “Yes, we haven’t decided what to do with him, yet, but-! I am a generous man, myself, so I have decided to make the deal with him.” 

Newt struggled but managed to push himself away from your loving hold. “No, I-I don’t agree with this.” He managed to squeak out. His ragged voice from all the screaming you had heard him do from down the corridor shook and let a cold shake travel through your spine. 

“Yes, well,” The man with the booming voice behind you turned and made his way out of the door. “I thought I’d be kind and let you say goodbye. We’ll be back for you soon enough.” His uncaring voice sent rage through Newt. His fist clenched but he was too weak to do much of anything. 

The door slammed shut leaving you two alone with one another. “No,” Newt began but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“Love, I can’t let them hurt you anymore than they already have. Or the creatures. You get to leave with them, I made sure of that.”

“N-No, but,” He gulped, doing his best to soothe his scratchy throat. “I-I don’t get to leave with you,”

“That’s okay-,”

“No! It’s n-not okay.” His eyelids fluttered and his mouth twitched at the ends.

“Yes, it is,” You moved your hands to hold his cheeks. His head struggled to stay up with the weight of gods pushing him down. “You’re gonna be okay and the creatures are going to be okay and that’s what matters.”

“No! I-I-I won’t be okay!” He let out a pained sob. The waterfalls escaped his green eyes.

“You will. And you’ll live a nice quiet life like you said you would.” The smile that graced your lips was filled with nothing but pain and Newt saw right through that.

He stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be okay without you. I don’t want to live a ‘nice quiet life’ without you. That-That is just no life at all, one without you.” 

Salty drops of water streamed down your face at his words. What could you even say to that? You’ve been telling yourself you are doing this for him but it’s not as if you would be anything less than angry if he were doing the same for you. 

“There-There must be a-another way.” Newt shook his head, refusing to believe this was the reality he was going to have to accept. He kept his eyes trained on you the whole time as he took in every detail, anxious this was going to be the last time he saw your face. He absorbed your skin and where it wrinkled. He memorized every divet in your imperfect perfect complexion. How your eyes were swollen and red from rubbing them all day. The way the light reflected off of your mesmerizing eyes. How insanely beautiful you looked in every way all of the time. He couldn’t believe he scored someone as gorgeous as you, inside and out. Fully and completely beautiful. 

“Newt,” You whispered his name, afraid if you said it any louder then the name would escape the two of you and run off somewhere it shouldn't be. “I love you. You are going to be okay. You are resilient and stubborn - I know you can do it.”

“I-I don’t want to, Y/N.” He sighed taking you in. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whispered as the doors burst open again with a slam. You rushed back into his arms for one final moment where you could feel safe.

“Please, don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me,” 

“I love you so much, Newtie. To the moon and back.”

“I-I love you, too.” 

The hushed words exchanged between the two were cut short as the big men came to pry you and Newt off of each other. You continued to fight to reach him, but your strength was nothing in comparison and you were only left reaching your hand out as the space between you two grew. Newt continued to scream and holler, even gathering the will to stand and jog after them. But, of course, he was overpowered by yet another unnecessarily strong guard. 

The last thing you saw of Newt was him on his knees, screaming your name and pleas for mercy.