#no one suspects a thing I’m sneaky as fuck BOI

[alaraxia]

of course you have white hair and trauma

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Piece by Piece: Halfway Happy

I’m just posting the fic here instead of the former link because god, mobile Tumblr hates me. 

Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: T (for now, huehuehue) Pairing: Steddie Category: Established relationship, trauma, healing, domestic fluff  Series summary: Healing doesn't happen at once, it is like a puzzle, a mozaic, piece by piece. Steve excels at shoving those broken pieces under the nearest carpet and pretending they don't exist. Eddie excels at finding them and returning them to Steve, glued back together. A series of standalone moments from Steve and Eddie's relationship and how Steve learns to be cared for. Chapter 1 summary: Steve collects responsibilities like stupid porcelain figurines and his most recent one is fixing Eddie’s eating habits. Eddie hates being told what to do, but maybe, just maybe there could be a potential compromise. 

You can also read it HERE.

You will see a lot of parentheses in this fic. The reason? The POV is Eddie's and I see him as a guy whose ideas have a mind of their own and he has to chase and redirect them at least once or twice a sentence. I hope you understand and forgive me. I swear it's intentional.

This will have multiple chapters (M rating for the future ones), most of them standalone, but tying into the topic of Steve's tendency to carry all the weight of the world on his shoulders and Eddie's disregard for his own safety and well-being.

Anyway.

Chapter 1: Halfway Happy

This isn't right. Why does he feel responsible for this again?

Eddie really should have noticed some signs sooner, but that was the thing with Steve Harrington. He had many talents, some more surprising than others, but sneakiness and being inconspicuous with his feelings weren't exactly among those (perhaps because Steve didn't know what "inconspicuous" means. Big words and all that). He was almost painfully honest and transparent, which - and past Eddie would have gagged for only thinking this - made him a perfect company for someone as paranoid and twitchy as Eddie. How could you feel unsafe around a man who couldn't lie to save his life? How could you suspect that he was hiding something? Then again, and Eddie would kick himself mentally for months for missing that, Steve hiding something out of concern for others was very much like him. Always self-sacrificing, even when it was no longer necessary.

Eddie himself was, self-admittedly, full of shit and he loved riling people up with the most outrageous things imaginable, but also loved fantasy and if you twisted his arm, very firmly, preferably with Steve whispering tiny encouragements into his ear and mouthing at his neck, he might have admitted (quietly, very quietly, and then deny it till his dying day) that he was an idealist. His father had tried his very best to extinguish that tiny flame of hope in him, repeated ad nauseam that "there is no good or bad in this world, everything you want you need to take yourself. Concern is for weaklings," he told little Eddie when the boy turned worried eyes at a toy left in the backseat of the car they were just stealing and, in his naive youth, asked whether the family will be okay when they have a kid to take care of. "No one is going to give you anything, so grow up."

Well, turns out his dad didn't know shit, because Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins and now his (how did this happen to him, the freak, Eddie Munson? How did he of all people end up with the hottest man in Hawkins, and, more importantly, someone who had no idea what Mordor was?!) boyfriend had just waltzed into his life, bit a demobat or two, threw himself into another dimension again and again, either with a bat or stupidly unarmed, while babysitting a group of annoyingly lovable brats. To top that, he nursed Eddie back to health when Vecna's attempt at resurrection didn't go exactly as he'd intended (a fuck-up in life, death and resurrection, no surprises there) and...

He never asked for anything.

Never.

Steve was just giving, giving anything and everything, food, shelter, advice, hugs, kisses...more. Eddie sometimes dreamt of taking Steve to see his dad in prison, just have Steve stand there, the hair and everything, while Eddie would display him as the most precious treasure in the world and yell at his dad "HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THIS, HUH?!"

So yeah, the idealism. Eddie loved fantasy and felt like Steve was a full party in one delicious package - a protective warrior, ready to face any danger with a bat in his hand to keep his loved ones safe (did Eddie count? He hoped so. He'd have to ask Steve just in case. And if Steve started a new habit out of it, saying "I still love you, by the way, if you were wondering" in the most random moments, Eddie didn't mind at all). A hilarious bard, always cheering up the rest of the group (mostly unintentionally, although Eddie suspected he sometimes accentuated his stupidity to lighten the mood). A caring healer, always there after a battle, his gentle hands making sure that Eddie's injuries were clean, well-treated.  A mage...well, the Harrington charm had to count as a spell. It just does, there's no other explanation for the things Steve's voice did to Eddie. Steve was, to put it simply, just everything.

And he was so good at that everything that it took Eddie embarrassingly long to notice that, maybe, Steve really didn't know how to relax. A full party in a single person, so self-reliant that he didn't really get why anyone else would take over any of his responsibilities.

The first time Eddie noticed something was off was when they were watching a movie together. It was a wonderfully domestic scene - Eddie slumped against Steve, beer in hand, head thrown back with barks of laughter as Steve valiantly (and ineffectively) pretended to be an expert on recent video releases and their significance in the grand scheme of things (or the film world). Well, not really pretended, Eddie was pretty sure Steve understood how fruitless that would be, but somehow they got into a bickering match on how useless Steve was at his job at Family Video when he had absolutely zero idea about movies, genres and all that jazz (he also had no taste, Eddie claimed, and he'd die to another demobat swarm before he'd admit that watching romantic comedies was way more palatable when Steve leaned into his shoulder, gentle smile on his lips, unaware his hand was squeezing Eddie's tighter during love confessions and happy endings). Steve - of course - denied this and proclaimed he was an expert on bullshitting his way through any and all unknown topics, that his charm and quick tongue (Eddie snorted and wiggled his eyebrows at that and Steve smacked him with a pillow) would save his ass again and again. He offered to prove it and asked Eddie to choose a movie to recommend to an imaginary customer.

And that was how they got to this moment, with Steve describing the progressive character tropes and psychological merit of The Nightmare on the Elm Street. Not even ten seconds in and Eddie was howling in laughter at his insistence on how the movie poses a challenge to look beyond the physical defects and into the soul of the villain. Eddie mused that Steve had maybe seen a picture of Freddy Krueger and used that single image for a full-blown (and fully misguided) moral argument. And while his confident claims were absolutely and outrageously ridiculous, he couldn't help but listen, watch Steve's animated expressions, his free hand gesticulating to convey the importance of how we need to let go of our biases.

"Okay, okay, I yield, Harrington," Eddie wheezed and wiped tears from his eyes, grinning at Steve. "You are an excellent employee. The best if you want to get someone to watch a movie."

Steve grinned back and pulled Eddie closer to him. "Told you. The Harrington charm."

"I just wouldn't want to be there when your customers come back after actually watching what you rented them. I mean. The lecture was great, 10/10. But you know it's a slasher, right?"

Steve shook his head. "Well, duh. But even slashers can have those...you know. Overtones. Maybe the poor scarred claw guy just needs some understanding or something." He winked at Eddie. Winked. With those ridiculously thick lashes and all. The asshole.

"Now that's settled, we definitely need to watch it and see what you think of Mr. Krueger afterwards," Eddie laughed and nuzzled closer to Steve, his ringed fingers playing with the other man's t-shirt.

It had become quiet, just warmth and shared touches, and Eddie found himself relaxing, his mind at peace. That is, until his stomach gave a quiet growl, nothing major, nothing to be nervous about. All stomachs do that sometimes.

So why was Steve staring at him with that look, the one he gave to the kids when he found out they were up to some dangerous bullshit again and hadn't bothered to tell him?

"Are you hungry?"

Eddie waved his hand. "Nah, I'm fine, man. Don't worry about it."

But of course, Steve did worry about it. That was the whole thing about Steve. Caring and absolutely relentless. The deep breath he took warned Eddie that this would be yet another bickering match that he would, eventually, lose. Didn't mean he would go down easily though.

Steve frowned and put some distance between them, just enough to observe Eddie's face closely. Does he expect a sign saying THIS YOUNG MAN IS STARVING or something?  "You sure? Because you haven't eaten anything normal today-"

Ah, there it was. The battle had begun. Eddie cocked his head to the side and put on his best offended face. "Excuse me! That box of cereals didn't eat itself!"

"It had been almost empty."

"And now it's completely empty!" Eddie grinned. "Hence, I ate."

But Steve was not amused. Or even remotely convinced. "Something nutritious?"

"Uhhh..." Okay, that was a tough one. "The box said so...?" Eddie tried, using his doe eyes to the fullest advantage (and failing spectacularly because while his eyes normally had Steve stuttering and forgetting the topic of their conversation or sometimes even his own - but never Eddie's - name, the caring and protective side of him just wouldn't switch off).

Steve shook his head. "The box is a filthy liar."

Eddie grasped at his chest dramatically, throwing himself back against the sofa. "That traitor. The fiend! I really thought I could trust him! Or it. I think it. That sounds more devious, don't you think, Stevie?"

And of course, Harrington just wouldn't get off his back. Eddie didn't do well with people telling him what to do, he'd normally flip them off and leave, but Steve's earnest voice, the please-let-me-care-for-you-or-I-will-be-miserable look in those eyes, the long fingers gently stroking Eddie's arm through the t-shirt...he could never just push the man away.  He wondered if Steve realized how special he was to Eddie, to go through this dance every so often and never throw up his hands, say "fuck that!" and leave the door at the slightest bump in the carpet.

Steve just twisted in his seat more, watching Eddie with a gentle smirk. "You need something proper, Eddie. Something that's not just sugar and artificial coloring. Plus, it's sort of a fast energy thing, it goes up and then down really quickly-"

"Makes it a good fit for me," Eddie quipped.

"- and your stomach's been singing me serenades-"

Munson threw up his hands in defense. "Baby, all of me wants to serenade you and have you let down your beautiful hair from the tower Harrington. Can't blame my stomach for that."

It was quiet for a second and then: "...Eddie."

He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly tight. "...yes, Steve?"

Eddie didn't want to look up, didn't want to see that he was, yet again, causing worry to the most precious person in his life, but then there were warm hands on his own, intertwining their fingers. His eyes met Steve's as he prepared for the inevitable loss.

"Can I please," Steve said, his voice serious and his hand squeezing Eddie's more tightly than should be necessary, "can I please get you something. Just a sandwich or...or I can heat up something, it doesn't matter. So please...will you let me?"

Ah, there it was. Even more effective than the Harrington charm. Eddie sighed and reached out, stroking Steve's face gently. "If it makes you feel better, then yes."

And just like that, Steve smiled, radiant and content, and Eddie found himself thinking he'd eat dozens of sandwiches to keep that expression on his boyfriend's face forever. Not much of a sacrifice, really. All his cooking was delicious, even the simplest things tasted so much better than most things Eddie ever ate (although that might be saying more about Eddie's disregard for something as mundane as food).

The realization came a bit later, when Eddie started happily munching on a sandwich. Steve was still smiling, but his expression slightly dropped.

"Whut?" Eddie hummed at him, trying to keep his chewing noises down. "It's really good, if you're worried about that."

Steve shook his head. "No, not that. Although I'm happy you like it. It's just...I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner. That I should have prepared something."

That had Eddie staring back at him, mid-chew, forgetting to swallow. "Um." Oh yeah, the bread. Gulping down the rest, he gave an incredulous chuckle. "Steve, I'm older than you, you know that, right? I'm pretty sure that I won't starve to death if you decide to take a nap, watch a movie or something. I managed to survive until now after all."

"Barely," and ow, that one hurt. Because while Eddie went for a teasing tone, Steve's betrayed what he really thought. The constant worry, the smell of blood and toxic spores that would stay with them forever.

And yes, Eddie disliked, hated, abhorred when people had the audacity to try and change him, when they wanted him to act against his nature. The logical thing would have been to say something along the lines of I don't answer to you, Harrington, and I'm not a fucking child you need to watch 24/7. That would be the pre-Vecna Eddie. And in a way, he still felt that way, he still had that rebellious streak (or two, three, a dozen). But there was also this, the love, warmth, laughter and discussion on hidden kindness of Freddy Krueger, and even if he lashed out sometimes and spoke too fast and maybe had to explain himself while his hands travelled in the weirdest patterns to illustrate his point, he would go to the hell and back (again) to keep all that. To keep Steve.

The post-Vecna Eddie just sighed, ate the rest of his sandwich in one bite and scooted towards Steve who was now avoiding his gaze, staring intently at his feet as if there was an incredible show happening just to the left of his sock. "Hey."

Nope, the sock was still more interesting than what Eddie had to say. "I know it's stupid," Steve muttered. "I'm not doubting you or anything, I know you can take care of yourself, but..." He left the rest unsaid. Eddie would be lying if he said he understood, because how did they even get here over a stupid stomach growl? But the magical lab girl El taught him an important word - compromise, apparently halfway happy - and maybe this was the right time to practice what it meant.

"I'll tell you what, big boy," smiled Eddie and the change in tone finally made Steve abandon his floor watching. "I promise that I'll be more conscious of the proper and nutritious food thing if that makes you feel better. But! Please, for the love of all your nuggets and then some," and Steve snorted at this and that might have been just the small push Eddie needed, "never think my less than ideal habits are your fault. I mean, I think they're absolutely fine, but you have," he waves his hands in the air, "standards. So, I propose an exchange."

"That sounds ominous," Steve mumbled, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie nudged his side. "Ominous! What a big word, I'm a proud man! Anyways. Your back is pretty fucked up, or so I hear every morning." Ignoring Steve's protests, he carried on. "If you let me help you with that, I swear on my guitar I will eat. Something. Nutritious," he spat out with feigned disgust.

He knew that Steve didn't really let anyone take care of him, that he was always restless, looking for something he could be doing for others. And Harrington was almost as stubborn as Eddie. He really, really struggled not to chew on his hair waiting for Steve's response.

"So...you're telling me that I get a massage and you start eating well?" Steve chuckled and the tension was gone, just like that. "You've got a deal. Seriously, Munson, where is the catch?" And if Eddie ended up in his lap even faster than usual, well. As if he needed excuses.

"Oh, baby," Eddie smiled against his mouth, "did I mention I'd get to pick the music to accompany that massage?"

"Well, shit."

....

Oh yeah, that small tidbit about a failed resurrection? A fanfic in planning. Yours truly can nowadays hardly write in her native language, not to mention English, so any corrections are welcome.

AS ARE COMMENTS. PLEASE. THEY ARE LIKE COFFEE TO MY TIRED SOUL. TALK TO ME. WAKE ME UP INSIDE. (Desperate Evanescence sounds)

Ahem.

[25shadesoffebruary]

Bro Check Out makes me want to check out of this series.

If your watching two trash dramas does that equal to one quality one? It should for the things have to endure. Let me stop being dramatic it’s not that bad. It’s gotten ……*looks at smudged cue card* butter….???…BETTER I meant better.

For the love of—— why was Daonuea so upset about finding out Nine had a girlfriend…didn’t suspect Candy of being his girlfriend?? I guess when Nine said “I got back with my ex out of guilt” he thought Nine and ex broke up idk.

Also Daonuea you know you don’t like Tee the way that Tee likes you. You’ve known this for awhile…baby boy what are you doing??? Like honestly what are you doing??

Nine….NINE…there’s so much I could say about him. But the more we get into the story the more that is revealed about him and the more I’m trying to understand him and he because a an asshole a little bit less each time

Praew however is one of the worst characters. Omg that is one manipulative little bitch of a woman.

Candy…I thought at first that she was being a fake friend to Praew that she didn’t really like her and honestly she really shouldn’t like Praew Idek why she puts up with this woman. Like I have zero clue how both of them would have became friends.

Tee…



Anyway…what was that last part of the episode anyway…was it finally a breaking point for Nine??? For him to realize what he truly wants and how to about it the right way and not sneaky snake way?? Did he finally come to terms with his sexuality??? Because at first I thought the reason he turned the call boy away was because he was thinking about Daonuea and he realize he wasn’t going to get any satisfaction out of him because he wasn’t Daonuea. But now I’m thinking he actually closeted. Which would help to explain his off and on again relationship with Praew. That and the fact that her ass is fucking psychotic.

Anyway imma keep watching this series until the last episode….because although it’s a dumpster fire I’m already watching another that is and now I’m invested so…I’ll see y’all next week I guess.

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere! Lenore Headcanons

Warnings: NSFW, gaslighting, forced relationship, kidnapping, emotional manipulation. i mean, c’mon, it’s Lenore.

♦️I DO NOT CONDONE THESE BEHAVIORS IN REAL LIFE.♦️

Lenore is the epitome of a yandere who uses emotional manipulation to get what she desires. She’s a diplomat, wishing to maintain peace with other countries, and in doing that...it’s very easy to get ensnared in her web of lies. She is sneaky, hellbent on completing whatever goal she sets herself to.

One day, she just so happened to see you. Looking out the window, absent-mindedly, she saw a small, running figure in the midst of the Styria snow. 

It was alarming surprising to say the least; if any humans were to find it’s way out here in the cold, they wouldn’t survive long. For this one to be so proficient in their movements, they must be an experienced traveler of some sort. And regarding the cold...you must be wearing some kind of fur. As she continued to watch you, she took note that you never fully came near the castle; you were careful to stray from it’s grounds and never come close. So, you were a smart one...how very cute.

She will most likely become interested in you from either a grand, powerful gesture or maybe even a pathetic encounter, but Lenore probably won’t pay much attention to you if she doesn’t see a benefit for herself. But in a Yandere universe, Lenore will do whatever it takes to snatch you up and claim you, keeping you with her forever. That being said, consider yourself very unlucky if she decides to pursue you. 

She’s the kind of yandere to never be too fast, nor slow with her plans in action; and she will try to use her skills as a master puppeteer to draw you in. No longer will you be able to keep your distance, away from the demons, away from Lenore. 

If it’s one things we all know by know it’s that she’s a cruel, a truly sadistic individual. As we see in her interactions with Hector, she’s alluring...almost hypnotic in a sense as she lures her food to exactly where she wants them. Her abilities to gaslight and trick others makes it easier for you to mess up; cue an unfair punishment.

But you’re not her food, but you’re definitely her prey in a different sense. She will not stop at just seeing you and letting you go if she gets bored. If the latter does happen, she will kill you. I’m warning you; don’t struggle or resist. You may just find your end coming closer than you hoped. 

Your original accommodation is a partially-luxurious cell; I say partially because Lenore will use your weaknesses against you in order to demean you. She loves it when you beg for mercy, when you beg for her to let you go. It reminds the both of you that she’s the one in control, your life rests in her hands, and she lives to see the horror in your eyes as you realize that this time, you might not live to see another day. 

Personally, I feel as though Lenore would reward you just as much as she likes to punish you. If you obey her commands, if you listen to her and just stop struggling Lenore will give you gifts. If she knows that you’re hungry, she’ll slip you a hunk of bread. If she wants you to look nice, she’ll brush your hair, maybe wrap a soft scarf through your locks. 

Lenore has the final say in everything to do with you, and the other vampire sisters who she works with could give less of a shit; unless Lenore suspects or catches them trying to kill you, they mostly do anything to keep out of her way where you’re concerned, not wishing for any jeopardizing of ruling Styria.

One of the hardest things about being her darling is that you never actually know how Lenore feels about you. Does she love you? She sure seems to enjoy taking care of you, rewarding you, pleasing you over and over again. Does she want to kill you? You just hate it when she starves you. Why can’t just Lenore let you die, instead of beating you and throwing you around like a doll. She keeps you guessing, and you are thrusted unwillingly into a sick game that bids for your life. You have to constantly be on guard, your lover just treasures it when you cry at her feet, begging for her love which she so diligently gives you. She only punishes you when you deserve it, pet.

The worst feeling of all...is the power that Lenore holds over your head. If you were to try and escape, the outcome could be different depending on her mood. Forced cuddles? If she was feeling nice about it and generous, you’d be forced into her lap, swaddled in blankets, her claws keeping you close to her chest. But no matter how nice she may play herself out to be, Lenore is a monster. Everything she does ‘for you’ is for herself, and she will always be above you.

NSFW

WARNING: DUB-CON, NON-CON, GASLIGHTING.

Except, Lenore’s version of love is breaking, then building her darling up again. If it takes making you cum until you can’t anymore so you just shut up and listen, Lenore will relish in your punishment.

She prides herself in her ability to use your own pleasure against you. You can’t help it. You hate it, when these sexual acts should be so gratifying and sensual, they are performed as though you’re being tortured. Which you are, of course. You hate your body’s betrayal against your better judgment when you cum from Lenore’s touch. This woman has taken you, hunted you down, and forced you into sickening submission.

She has ruined you in many ways, but once Lenore finds a sweet spot to abuse, it’s game over. She loves blindfolding you, tying you down to her lavish bed, with the air making your body prickle with goosebumps; partly from your nakedness, and partly from your fear. She literally makes you guess what she’s going to use on you, and if you get it wrong (you almost always do) she uses it on you ten times harder. She gets off on your pain to the worst level.

Her ways of “pleasing” you makes you orgasm so many times, but Lenore will always finish the job with oral sex. In terms of giving and receiving, she is mostly a giver in her own fucked up way, but she mostly goes down on you to prove a point or as a harsh punishment. Although, since you’re her lover, Lenore really wouldn’t mind you being forced getting between her legs to serve her occasionally.

“Pet, how many times do I have to tell you? You are mine, and you always will be. You never had a choice! That being said, lie down like the good pet you are.”

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

so shit just got dark. i wanted to try something new, and i love this show and loathe this character, meaning that it was very easy for me to make her sound as bad as she really is, perhaps even worse. Lenore is so well written and well acted in Castlevania, and she needs more content in the fandom. i am NOT romanticizing her behavior towards Hector or what i’ve written in any way, i just thought it might be interesting to see how she would act if she genuinely “loved” obsessed over someone. Hector is just so gorgeous and cute, he deserves the best. poor boy.

anyway, hope you enjoyed! ♦️

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10

- Chapter 11 -

The Fire Palace was, ironically enough, on fire.

Nie Mingjue had known that something was going to happen since earlier that day, when Meng Yao had breezed in with an unusually pointed announcement that it was “Breakfast as usual!” and then handed him a bowl of glistening red-braised meat. Yesterday’s leftovers, of course, a servant’s share, but more and better than Nie Mingjue had had in quite a while.

He’d looked up at Meng Yao silently in question as he ate, wondering if Meng Yao giving him his own meal – it was obviously that – was a good thing or a bad thing, the final meal of the condemned or a means of gathering strength before an upcoming event of some unknown variety.

Meng Yao looked as tense as a wound-up spring, his normally placid features unusually tight and his attention elsewhere, but he noticed Nie Mingjue’s attention and winked.

Not an execution, then, Nie Mingjue concluded. He might have doubted it if it was someone else, but Meng Yao was fundamentally selfish, deep down in his core, and as long as he enjoyed Nie Mingjue’s company he wouldn’t be willing to release him to the comfort of death and non-existence, no matter how much he might prefer it some days.

Learning to deal with someone like Meng Yao had been a great deal of fun, actually – puzzling out how to talk his language, to try (in vain) to understand his way of thinking, to try to figure out how to appeal to him. Possibly it wouldn’t have been something he’d enjoy if he’d had anything else to do, but, well, he didn’t, and next thing Nie Mingjue knew he was eating meat and Meng Yao was winking at him and he knew that he needed to prepared for whatever happened next.

He hadn’t exactly been expecting a fire, but he supposed he hadn’t really been expecting anything at all.

Except, perhaps, that when he tried the door to his cell, staying low to avoid the smoke, it swung open as if it had never been locked at all.

Meng Yao – thank you.

Nie Mingjue went over to unlock as many of the other cells as he could – as he’d suspected, Meng Yao hadn’t thought of that, or possibly hadn’t bothered to care – before heading back up to the main hallways of the Sun Palace. He wasn’t sure if Meng Yao intended for him to run away or if he was supposed to be doing something else, but surely by now Meng Yao knew that he wasn’t the sort of person to get himself out of trouble.

Not when there was a chance that Meng Yao might need him.

Not when there was a chance –

He lies, Nie Mingjue reminded himself. He likes to hurt you. There’s no reason to believe that they’re actually dead and gone.

The Sun Palace was a mess as well, people running around left and right with panic in their eyes – mostly not people he knew, or who knew him – and whoever had set fire to the Fire Palace had definitely reached here as well. Few of them carried swords, and Nie Mingjue suggested to the handful of staff who considerately stopped to warn him that he was going the wrong way that if they couldn’t get away entirely, they might be safe if they took refuge in the kitchens, in the hope that the invading army would live up to their principles and not engage in a wholesale slaughter and, if it took a turn for the worst, then at least they’d have lots of knives close at hand.

When he opened the door to Nie Huaisang’s old room, he saw someone move out of the corner of his eye. For a moment his heart was in his mouth, hoping – but no, it wasn’t his brother.

It was a boy about the same age, though. He was not quite yet fifteen at a guess – a child, really, and who let a child join in with an army?! – and was wearing dark clothing with no clan insignia, a sword at his side and a single red ribbon woven through his hair. He was holding a long box that he’d dug out from underneath one of the stones in the floor.

He looked up just as Nie Mingjue looked down, their eyes meeting.

“Uh,” the boy said. “You don’t look like a guard.”

“I’m not,” Nie Mingjue said. “You don’t look like my brother.”

“Your brother…? Oh!” The boy smiled, suddenly, and the expression transformed his face into something far livelier and good-natured, although Nie Mingjue suspected that he saw more than a little arrogance mixed in there, the sort that’d undoubtedly get the boy into trouble one day. “In that case, this box is for you, da-ge!”

The boy said it in an especially familiar tone - had they met before? Nie Mingjue didn’t think they had.

He thought he might remember having taken on a little brother like this, full of mischief.

But he accepted the box, more out of bemusement than anything else, and knew from the second it was in his arms what it contained.

“Baxia,” he breathed, his eyes stinging with tears as he drew her – he’d missed her so very much, during his time below, and he thanked his brother’s wisdom in hiding her. Nie Huaisang must have acted very quickly, right after Nie Mingjue’s failed attack on Wen Ruohan, spiriting her away when everyone was still distracted…Nie Mingjue looked at the boy. “How did you know..?”

“Nie-xiong told me,” he said. “I’m Wei Wuxian, of the Yunmeng Jiang – I’m sworn brothers with Wen Ning, which makes you my big brother, too!”

Well, that at least explained that.

“Is A-Ning all right?” he asked. “Is - is Huaisang…?”

“They’re both fine,” Wei Wuxian assured him, and Nie Mingjue might adopt him as a younger brother for real just for bringing him that news. “Nie-xiong sent me here to help rescue you!”

“You’re too young.”

“…fine, I told him I was smuggling myself along anyway no matter what anyone said and asked if he had any requests, and he told me that if I’m going to make a fool of myself I may as well make myself useful and get Baxia.”

Nie Mingjue hoped that meant that Nie Huaisang had assumed that this part of the Sun Palace would be out of the way of the fighting, although knowing his brother, he might have just decided that Baxia was more important. He had a bad tendency to slip into Qishan Wen-like sneaky thinking when Nie Mingjue wasn’t around to correct him…

“Where is the fighting happening?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“The main hall,” Wei Wuxian said promptly, then pause. “You’re asking so that we can avoid it, right?”

Nie Mingjue liked to think of Meng Yao as a prison guard, and he was, but Nie Mingjue was one of Wen Ruohan’s precious prisoners, one of the ones he liked to cradle in his fist like pearls, and you didn’t get a job like that – being one of Wen Ruohan’s chief torturers – without being close to the man himself.

And that meant Meng Yao was facing danger from all sides: from the attackers, who would see Meng Yao’s Wen robes and Wen sword and not think twice, and from Wen Ruohan, if he ever figured out the extremely obvious truth that Meng Yao was a spy.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, and turned his feet towards the main hall. “You can go, though.”

“Are you kidding? Your brothers would kill me if I let you go alone – and that’s probably for the best, they can get rid of me before Wen Qing gets to me.”

“They won’t kill you. Sect Leader Wen will.”

“…I’m still coming with you,” Wei Wuxian said.

“How good are you with your sword?”

“Good enough – and, hey, at least I don’t look like I just spent the last few months in prison or something!”

“I was in prison,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, mostly because it was funny to see Wei Wuxian try to swallow his tongue. He didn’t waste time objecting to him coming along, though – if necessary, he could distract Wen Ruohan himself while Wei Wuxian got Meng Yao out.

The corridor was lined with bodies in all sorts of colors, Wen, Lan, Jiang, and even somehow the familiar colors of the Nie sect, which he hadn’t been sure anyone still wore. Nie Mingjue rushed forward, unable to shake the feeling that something bad was happening, and burst in through the doors only to see Wen Xu crumpled on the floor, on his knees but not injured or bleeding, his father towering above him, and Meng Yao one step behind him, his sword in hand and moving forward to stab, but Wen Ruohan wasn’t distracted enough – he had noticed him, was turning towards him –

“Wen-dog!” Nie Mingjue shouted. “Go fuck your mother!”

He’d never actually cursed Wen Ruohan out loud before, a mix of terror and survival instinct, and maybe it was that that made Wen Ruohan stop in surprise for just a moment, just a breath, a heartbeat, and that was enough time for Meng Yao to complete his swing.

Wen Ruohan staggered, struck, and he lashed out with his hand, sending Meng Yao flying.

“Go help him,” Nie Mingjue ordered Wei Wuxian, who was already moving, and he took three steps and sent Baxia out ahead of him.

Wen Ruohan tried to bat it away, like a cat to a mouse, but if he knew Nie Mingjue too well by now then Nie Mingjue also knew him in turn; he hadn’t bothered to send his saber straight at him but past, letting Baxia use her blunt end to full effect in spinning herself around with the momentum of Wen Ruohan’s own blow and using the extra force when driving herself straight into his back.

Wen Ruohan spat out a mouthful of blood.

Before he could collect himself, Nie Mingjue was in front of him, his hands on his neck, and Wen Ruohan choked, the blood welling up in the back of his throat given no release. His eyes were bloodshot, his impressive cultivation an unstable mess from all the fighting he’d been doing for months and now the two unexpected stab wounds, his hands reaching up to try to tear Nie Mingjue’s hands away, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to let him. He refused to let him, pulling freely from the deep reserves of his own cultivation, strengthened through years of practice and meditation, maintained even in prison through discipline and boredom. He had so much, had wasted so much, never using his power the way it was meant to be used, to eradicate evil and protect the innocent, but rather just pointlessly stockpiling it for years and years while trapped in the Nightless City – but that was all fine.

He only needed to be strong enough for this one moment in time.

“Rabid dogs,” he said, “need to be put down.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes widened in recognition of the words he himself had spoken all those years before when he’d killed Nie Mingjue’s father twice over, once with his saber and another with his own hands.

The light of recognition was still there in his eyes when Nie Mingjue snapped his neck.

“Fuck,” Meng Yao said from where Wei Wuxian was helping him up, wheezing a bit. “I was hoping to do that myself, da-ge. I need it.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged and crooked his finger, Baxia pulling herself out of Wen Ruohan’s chest to cut off his head. “You struck the first blow,” he said, nodding at the head that tumbled down to the floor. “You can take credit for the whole thing.”

He didn’t need credit. There was Wen Ruohan’s blood on Baxia’s blade, his last breath on Nie Mingjue’s hands – he could burn incense for his father at last, and hope that he enjoyed the prizes his son, so belatedly filial, had at last won for him.

“Mingjue-xiong!” Wen Xu shouted, having gotten up off the floor, and threw himself at him. The movement was very agile, which meant that Nie Mingjue’s assumption that he was uninjured – that he’d been felled more by his fear of his father, the poisonous anxiety his father had cultivated in him deliberately, than by pain – was correct. “You’re all right!”

Nie Mingjue staggered with the weight of Wen Xu in his arms, with his arms around him and holding him tight.

“Mingjue…?” Meng Yao’s jaw gaped open like a fish. “Wait, you’re Nie Mingjue?!”

“Did you not know that?” Wei Wuxian asked him, gingerly picking up Wen Ruohan’s head by its hair. “Actually, come to think about it, who are you?”

“Consider A-Yao as my younger brother,” Nie Mingjue told Wei Wuxian. “Since you’re sworn brothers with A-Ning, you can consider him a brother as well.”

Hopefully that connection, and any others Nie Mingjue could scrounge up, would be enough to make up for Nie Mingjue having put his revenge ahead of Meng Yao’s ambitions. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Meng Yao needed Wen Ruohan’s head in order to win a place at his father’s side – to get the name he was entitled to, the name he’d promised his mother he’d get – and Nie Mingjue had taken that from him.

“You said you were nobody important!” Meng Yao said accusingly, uncharacteristically off-balance, glaring at Nie Mingjue like he’d done something to him personally. “That people had probably forgotten you!”

“That’s our Mingjue-xiong, all right,” Wen Xu said, grinning. He didn’t so much as glance at the body at their feet, but his eyes were a little wet, glassy with relief – an ancient fear finally defeated, not a beloved father lost. Nie Mingjue was unwillingly glad that they had broken their father-son bond so thoroughly; he would have killed Wen Ruohan anyway, but he would have regretted causing Wen Xu pain. “Never listen to anything he says about himself, that’s the first rule. So you’re another of Mingjue-xiong’s younger brothers, huh? I guess that makes you one of us, then.”

“Us?” Nie Mingjue echoed. “What are you talking about, you’re older than me –”

“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t count!”

“You’re four years older –”

“I’m going to call you da-ge from now on and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

-

When Nie Mingjue had thought of travel – and he had thought of it often, trapped behind the walls of the Nightless City, unable to leave – he had imagined himself flying on Baxia, or maybe riding a horse on a long journey, the animal laden with all the baggage. He excelled at both skills within close quarters, and his endurance was similarly excellent – how different could long-distance travel be?

He hadn’t expected to be making his first journey in years in a carriage.

It might even be the same carriage that brought him and Nie Huaisang to the Nightless City that first time, large and echoing, as vacant and barren as their hearts had been.

Of course, it wasn’t vacant now.

“– and of course the walls are made of stone, so there really wasn’t that much damage,” Nie Huaisang was saying enthusiastically, waving his fan around like a saber, though he’d never admit as much. “Some tapestries, some chairs, that sort of thing, things that can be replaced –”

“I tried to preserve as much as possible,” Wen Xu interjected, still somehow looking guilty despite having been told a dozen times over that Nie Mingjue didn’t hold him accountable for having burned the Unclean Realm. “I let word go in advance, they were able to move a lot of things out, evacuate –”

“Things can be remade, people cannot,” Jin Zixuan agreed quietly, ducking his head when Wen Xu wrapped a companionable arm over his shoulders in thanks for his support. They’d apparently gotten close after Wen Xu had officially defected, bringing over those Wen sect cultivators that did not wish to engage in Wen Ruohan’s wars of conquering or who were disgusted by the way their side had conducted themselves during the war to date; Wen Xu had been leading his own men, but being able to take people with him didn’t mean anything about provisioning them, and Qingheng-jun as the general of the overall campaign had assigned the Jin sect to assist.

Jin Guangshan had probably thought, when he agreed, that it would end up with Wen Xu in his debt, a rosy future in which the Jin sect controlled two of the five Great Sects even after Wen Xu recovered the vast Wen sect coffers that were his birthright.

He was probably not expecting Wen Xu to save his son’s life in battle, or for the two of them to impulsively swear brotherhood as a result.

There was, Nie Mingjue reflected, an awful lot of that going around.

Wen Ning, for example, was currently sitting at one corner of the carriage playing some sort of bizarre hand-gesture game with his two sworn brothers, the Jiang sect boys, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian. Exactly what meritorious deed they had done together to justify such an oath remained a little vague – Nie Mingjue suspected, based on various comments, that they might have done it purely to keep Wen Ning at the Lotus Pier when Wen Ruohan had started to make noises about bringing him home.

Regardless, Wen Ning was happier than Nie Mingjue had ever seen him – Wei Wuxian’s brash and outgoing nature was rubbing off on him a little, making him more confident, while he positively blossomed under Jiang Cheng’s harsh scolding-as-affection, which was similar enough to Nie Mingjue’s own that Wen Ning was by now thoroughly versed in how to accept it. He, in turn, was able to bridge the gap between the two of them, acting as a translator when each boy’s issues interfered with communication, and the three of them were by this point utterly inseparable.

Nie Huaisang had apparently thought the idea was marvelous and insisted on a sworn brotherhood triad of his own – Wen Chao, of course, and surprisingly enough Lan Wangji, who apparently had been conspiring with the two of them in regards to the war ever since his visit to the Nightless City so long ago. Nie Mingjue had no idea how that brotherhood had managed to work out, given Wen Chao’s bizarre affinity for Lan Wangji’s father (they’d agreed to share), Lan Wangji’s tendency to communicate exclusively in barely visible facial expressions whenever possible, and of course Nie Huaisang’s rampant but ultimately harmless tendencies towards self-indulgence causing disasters left and right all the time, but they all certainly seemed very happy about it.

(Lan Wangji was currently sitting next to Wei Wuxian, watching the game – in all accuracy, Wei Wuxian was halfway into his lap, given the cramped nature of the carriage, but Lan Wangji didn’t seem to mind.

It was an interesting parallel to Wen Chao, sitting across from him, with Wang Lingjiao in his lap…)

Wen Qing, at least, did not have sworn sisters.

Yet.

It was apparently a subject being seriously discussed, along with Jiang Yanli and a Jin sect girl variously referred to Mianmian or Luo Qingyang, but they hadn’t reached any conclusions as of yet.

That had not stopped either girl from addressing Nie Mingjue, rather cheekily, as da-ge.

In fact, it hadn’t stopped any of them from doing that.

Even Lan Xichen – currently sitting and chatting with Meng Yao with great enthusiasm – had joined in, apparently on the basis of his younger brother being sworn brothers with Nie Mingjue’s younger brother. The whole thing smacked of Nie Huaisang’s reasoning from start to end, but Nie Mingjue couldn’t dispute that it was rather nice to see so many people happily calling each other brother and sister – the cultivation world hadn’t been peaceful enough for such familiarity in at least a generation.

Of course, the fact that they’d all thirteen of them insisted on squeezing into the carriage with him, which was spacious but not quite at the level of a qiankun pouch, was making it abruptly clear to Nie Mingjue that he had – somehow – assumed responsibility as the elder brother of the vast majority of the younger generation of the Great Sects.

Possibly that was going to become troublesome once the older generation realized.

Probably, even.

This carriage ride was probably going to be the thing that made everyone realize it.

(There were those that already knew, of course – in his brief meeting with her, Sect Leader Yu had gruffly informed him that she whole-heartedly adopted Nie Huaisang’s interpretation of how sworn familial relationships worked and therefore, as the older brother of her grandson’s sworn brother, he ought to give up and resign himself to calling her grandmother already, and then there had been Lan Qiren who hadn’t even bothered to logically justify any of the most un-Lan-like hugs he had insisted on giving him. But everyone else in the cultivation world was probably going to be in for a bit of a shock…)

Nie Mingjue himself had been very firmly placed in the center of the carriage where the bumps had the least impact, and which was also conveniently within arms’ reach of everyone. They’d all picked up a tendency to reach out to touch him every once in a while, as if reminding themselves that he was there and not dead and not about to vanish out into the ether. Even the ones he didn’t know that well at first had very quickly lost their reserve around him, which Nie Mingjue ascribed to mob mentality and everyone else ascribed to him exuding an aura of trustworthiness and reliability – Nie Huaisang declared that he just felt like a big brother – which Nie Mingjue thought sounded silly but everyone else agreed with fervently enough that he realized it was time to stop arguing.

There had been a lot of tears when they’d found each other again, a series of meetings that had left him drained and dehydrated and so, so happy. Wen Ruohan hadn’t killed a single one of them.

Nie Mingjue had then given everyone a scare by collapsing, more out of relief than anything else, but that scare was presumably why he was stuck in the invalid’s place even all this time later – he wasn’t actually an invalid any longer, no matter what Wen Qing darkly insisted and everyone else tried to enforce, he’d even started gaining back some of the weight he’d lost in the Fire Palace and he was swinging Baxia free and clear in carefully monitored trainings that made his heart sing – but in all honesty he didn’t mind or, more accurately, didn’t care.

He was going home.

Back home to Qinghe, to the Unclean Realm, which he hadn’t seen for five years and more. Back to his Nie sect, which demanded that he be recognized as their sect leader by seemingly unanimous acclaim despite there being a plausible argument that he’d not made much of a contribution in the war – an argument that, whenever he mentioned it, made every single one of his now-siblings bristle and hiss like cats, and, whenever anyone else mentioned it, made him have to quickly run damage control before his vengeful mob could plot their utter destruction. Even the interim Sect Leader Nie, a cousin of his, had yielded up the position at once, even though he might’ve had a reasonable argument to keep it.

The world was in chaos, the politics of the situation following Wen Ruohan’s demise not yet sorted out, there was rebuilding and healing to be done, truces to be reached, forgiveness to be given out, justice to be achieved, endless amounts of work to be done –

None of that mattered right now.

Nie Mingjue was going back to the place he loved the most, with the people he loved the most by his side.

He didn’t know what to expect when they arrived. He thought it would be something good.

- END -

[boom-bakugou]

‘Message Recieved” - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: This is a gift for @mcchristinaconlinobeyme who wrote me lovely little fanfic in return 💖

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: Stalker-ish and abusive tendencies from reader’s father, Bakugou’s filthy language

Summary: You thought your villainous father was out of your life for good. Until the letters began to arrive.

Word Count: 2.5k

masterlist

It was little things at first. You couldn’t help but notice your name on flyers when you would go into the city. When men would bump into you in the street and before you had time to apologise they’d have run off without a trace. U.A. knew of your fathers history which is why they felt it necessary to have you be under more protection at school.

Though soon enough you just began to think that all those little occurrences were nothing but that, your plagued mind worrying yourself that something was bound to happen. But the teachers were taking care of you, nothing was going to change that.

Until the letters began to come.

Suspecting it was another student leaving small love letters out for you, you didn’t particularly pay much interest in it. The notes saying things like ‘Hello Y/N’ and ‘I’ve missed you a lot’. But one night as you were fading into sleep you heard the small drop of paper onto your balcony. Itching your eyes you feigned awakeness to try and see above you if someone was there and dropped it onto your balcony below. But all the lights were off on the floor above. Opening the envelope your blood ran cold, your feet stepping back until you tripped and landed with a heavy thud.

When are you going to come back home to me Y/N?

Nothing could stop the wave of tears from flowing down your face or the choked sobs falling out your mouth, you could’ve woken up the whole floor but you didn’t care as the shock settled in. You were doomed. It wasn’t until there were loud raps banging on your door that took you out of your swampy wallowing. You didn’t even wipe your face as you went to open the door, your hands shaking as you twisted the door handle- expecting to see your father there.

“Can you keep the noise down idiot some people are trying to slee-'' Bakugou stood in front of your door, hair disheveled from his rudely awoken slumber. “What’s up with you?

It wasn’t common knowledge for a lot of the students to know about your father since you had been placed under witness protection. The teachers felt it better that way also as a means for the other students to not think of you any differently from themselves.

“I need to see Mr Aizawa.” Your hands had unbeknownst to you; crushed the paper. You’d been safe for so long, why now? Why when you’re finally happy why does it have to crawl right back up to you?

“Yeah.” His answer was curt but he could see you not even taking the effort to move, or even look him in the eye. Bakugou knew something was immensely off. “Look. I’ll take you there.”

Bakugou’s hand finds the small of your back as he tries to guide you towards the elevator so you two could head to Aizawa’s room. Bakugou took a short glance at you while you waited in the elevator. He didn’t like seeing you like this, pale, sickly. And your eyes looked like they wanted to set that small piece of paper alight. Right now, he would give anything to take you out of how you’re feeling.

When you finally reach Aizawa’s dorm room, you don’t even lift an arm to knock so Bakugou proceeds for you. It takes a few moments for him to awaken and answer the door, his eyes gleaming with anger as to why you’re here.

“You two better have a good reason for being up on a school ni-.”

“I think my dad is trying to get me back.” You uttered.

It was the first time you spoke in that whole few minutes of making your way up the dorms and it felt like years of silence. Aizawa’s gaze lifted with a look of worry, asking you to continue.

“I didn’t really think about it at first, but I’ve seen things when I’ve been outside. Posters with my name on it and small threats. I figured it was just something dumb but it had to be him. A few nights ago I started getting these letters on my balcony, they were harmless so I thought one of the other students was playing a prank on me. Until I got this one.”

Your hand shakily lifted the crumpled envelope and Aizawa took it and scanned it over. Sighing as he prepared himself to speak.

“Do you think he’s trying to get you to join him in his criminal activity?” Aizawa asked, yet before you could speak Bakugou piped up; clearly confused by the interaction.

“Criminal activity? Y/N? Is someone going to tell me what’s happening here?” Bakugou did his best to keep the volume of his voice lowered but it still stuck out sharply in the empty halls. His hands crackling with annoyance as he struggled to understand the context.

“Bakugou that’s enough from you.” Aizawa’s eyes gleamed of his quirk and the small popping and smell of caramel soon dissipated. “You’ve heard enough now go back to your dor-“

“Actually Mr Aizawa, I’d prefer it if he stayed.” Your voice sounding slightly more confident than before, looking to Bakugou who’s shock rang in his eyes. He was just happy that you wanted him there. His defensive presence was almost… calming.

Aizawa acknowledged your wishes and asked you both to wait as he contacted the other teachers to be on the watch out for any disturbances on school grounds. He agreed that he’d take the night to keep watch but the teachers tomorrow would have to set up a schedule.

“Now I know you can handle yourself Y/N, but I’m trusting you Bakugou to make sure she gets to her dorm safely.” His eyes shot between the two of you, sympathy washing over you as he glanced at your sickly expression. “We’ll keep everyone safe.”

And with that Bakugou walked you both back to your dormitories. Not wanting to deal with the silence for any longer, Bakugou broke it with a sigh before speaking.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but your dads a villain?”

You nodded, you knew everyone would do their best but your father was sneaky, manipulative. He played games no one knew how, and it terrified you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? All the messages, the ways to get into your head. It was suddenly all at once eating you alive, the feeling of eyes all over your body.

“Thank you. For- staying with me.” You sigh, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the darkness of your room. Not even giving Bakugou a chance to say ‘you’re welcome’ as you shut your door. Sliding your curtains closed and double checking to make sure that everything was locked, you succumbed to a worrying slumber. The thought of your father in the front of your mind.

Throughout the days, things wore off. Your father clearly having taken a hint that security at UA had increased since his last letter. But nothing would stop him from having you back with him. And that was when the text messages started.

‘You know the fates your friends will meet if you don’t find me Y/N’

‘You can’t hide from me forever’

You hadn’t told the teachers of the texts for some moral high ground you had set upon yourself that you could push through it. He wasn’t in your life anymore and bu hacking into your phone wasn’t any different. Until the last text.

‘Tomorrow. They’ll all be dead because of you if you don’t show your face at the park, midnight. Don’t think I won’t.’

Attached to the message were selfies of you and your friends from 1-A. Laughing, smiling, having a good time together. But it was the last few photos that caught your attention. Pictures not from your phone. Photos of you and Bakugou taken from distances away, just days when you were all out shopping and hanging out on weekends together with the rest of the Bakusquad. But with every swipe of your finger, the pictures got closer and closer.

‘Katsuki Bakugou right? Don’t think I won’t blow him to smithereens too. Take up my offer or watch your friends and your little boyfriend’s faces be splattered all over TV screens at my hands.’

You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was it. You had to join him. For the safety of everyone. Packing a small bag you slipped out onto your balcony, manoeuvring ways to get down and out of UA Heights in the dark. You stifled sniffles as you snuck out, probably never going to see your friends again, and Bakugou… he was rough around his edges, yes, but he was the only one who knew. Who knew what you had been through, the torture your father had put you through. You knew you couldn’t burden him with the texts you had been getting though, he’d been your therapist enough. You had to leave. For him.

Your father didn’t give any descriptors on what park to head to, but you had your hunch. It was one that he used to take you as a kid with your mother. But that memory was all but a dream. Walking around the dimly lit paths, you searched for any sign of him before an arm tugged you into the rough of a bush. Expecting this to be your fate, you lent into the attacker.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The harsh whisper of Bakugou’s voice was weirdly music to your ears. His eyes had bags underneath them, an abnormal sight for the boy who went to bed at 8pm every day.

“What’re you doing here?” You shot back, keeping the hushed tones. Knowing your father would kill Bakugou on sight if he saw him here.

“Stopping you from doing something stupid, idiot!” His hands gripped tightly at the sides of your shoulders before dropping them as he realised he might’ve been scaring you more than he should’ve been.

“I knew something was up. I fuckin’ knew it.” Bakugou shook his head, you couldn’t read him in the darkness of the leaves surrounding you both. “I knew he wouldn’t just up and leave. Fuck-“

“Why did you follow me Bakugou?” Your voice was angry and you could see the look of shock on his face. It took him a few moments to answer before he gave a sigh.

“To take care of you idiot.” His voice is but a mere grumble, but it’s as clear as day in the quiet of the park. “You don’t have to suffer in silence. I- I’m worried about you.”

He shoots a side glance at you, obviously worried about your wellbeing. His eyes dance over your face so delicately, taking in every small aspect of it. As if he’s studied it for hundreds of years and knows each freckle by memory.

“You can’t be here.” You didn’t even realise you were crying, the look of realisation set upon his face.

“He’s here isn’t he?” His question is simple enough but it feels like a ton of bricks on your neck as you try to nod.

“Y/N~” your dad's voice rings out in the dark and it sets the two of you upright. The anger washes over his face and you realise that he can no longer hold back, and you can’t even stop him. Nothing ever stops Bakugou.

“You think you can just lure her away you freak?” Bakugou’s words reek of venom, his figure slipping out from the shrubbery, palms crackling like 1000 party poppers. “You’ll never lay a finger on her!”

Bakugou is the first to blast, you can’t help but hide in the bushes as the fight ensues, too terrified to show your face in case your dad swoops you away. But… what about Bakugou?

“Where is she?” Your father’s voice rings like a lion’s roar, it sends bile up your throat.

“Somewhere you’ll never find her!” Bakugou lies through his teeth, hoping to buy some time.

Before long it’s an all out flashy quirk fest. Your father's quirk being that of scorching energy beams, not an easy fight for the two. It didn’t take too long before your father eventually clipped Bakugou with one of his beams, sending him flying into a tree.

“Katsuki!” You scream out, revealing your hiding place. Scrambling over to Bakugou’s slumped over body you try to wake him up as your father chuckles and stomps over to you. You manage to throw him back for a few blows, keeping him away from Bakugou and yourself before you hear voices. The teachers. The sight of your father being captured by Aizawa’s scarf couldn’t help but feel like a breath of fresh air.

“They get here okay?” Bakugou chokes out from underneath you, his eyes squinting at the heroes.

“You called for help?” Your face was wet with tears, once falling because of fear and desperation and now just happy that Bakugou was seemingly alright. “That’s not like you.”

“I didn’t care what happened to that fuckin’ idiot.” His hand lays atop yours, switching his sight to you with a small smirk played upon his lips. “Just that you were safe.”

“Katsuki I-“

“I care about you a lot Y/N.” Bakugou sits himself up, wincing, so he can look you better in the eye. “I just, wanted to make sure that you were okay because… well I like you okay?”

The admission seems to hurt him but feels like a relief off of his chest.

“You were there for me Bakugou when I needed it.” You pull him delicately into a hug, the explosive smell of caramel and firewood playing upon your senses. “And… I’m thankful for that. Plus I- like you too.”

“You’re not just saying that because I saved your life are you idiot?”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit.

“No Bakugou. As I said, you’re there for me. And that’s why I like you… a lot.”

[rachelbethhines]

Robin Hood and His Merry Band

list of characters for an original series I’m working on 

Alan-a-Dale - the gloomy and cynical bard, the grumpy voice of reason who doesn’t give a fuck, wonders why he hangs out with these crazies, knows it’s cause they’re family to him but won’t admit it out loud, besties with Friar Tuck even though they never agree on anything, is clearly a bi disaster 

The Archdeacon of Canterbury - The aging head cleric of the church of England. He supports King Richard but is becoming increasingly impotent because of his failing health. Still holds a lot of political power because of his title though.

The Azure Assassin - A deadly mercenary and rival to Robin Hood. Orphaned at a young age Azure had to steal to survive. She stowed away on a pirate ship at the age of ten and has spent the pass eight years studying fighting techniques the world over. They call her the Azure Assassin because her blue eyes are the last thing you’ll see before dying. She’s gained a modest fortune and fame as a spy and assassin, however she can never stay in one play too long due to her reputation getting out. Prince John has offered her a pardon and a place in high society if she brings in Robin Hood’s head. Shame she’s fallen in love with his brother Will Scarlet, as that complicates matters.  

The Bishop of Hereford - Conservative asshole who supports Prince John’s rule and shares his beliefs on ‘bringing order to the kingdom’. Wants to usurp the Archdeacon as the head of the church. Is Friar Tuck’s and Sister Clara’s arch nemesis.

Dame Brianna DuBois - Also known as the The Black Knight, DuBois is loyal to the throne of England and whoever sits upon it. She’s Prince John’s personal bodyguard and unbeknownst to all a double agent for King Richard who is in hiding. However she is conflicted when her duty places her lover Yua in jeopardy. Yes, she’s totally a butch lesbian.   

The Duke of Essex - Prince John’s adviser and right hand man. He only cares for power for power’s sake but is sneaky and conniving and willing to play the long game to get it. He prefers poison to swords, but is surprisingly good at hand to hand combat when cornered. Has a pet snake. It’s the only living thing that he loves.    

Elenore of England - Prince John and King Richard’s sister and Maid Marian’s mother. She died when negotiations during a worker dispute turned violent. Unable to quell the people’s rage, she was stuck down during a riot. Richard, blaming himself for losing his temper and causing things to escalate has since tried to follow in her footsteps and become peacemaker. Prince John went the opposite route and blamed the ungrateful peasants (criminals in his mind) and resented Richard for even bothering to negotiating in the first place.   

Friar Tuck - The jovial and optimistic heart of the team. He tries to keep everyone’s spirits up and believes that helping people is the ultimate expression of god’s love. Is a hopeless romantic and also very, very gay. He butts heads with more traditional leaders of the church often. He also has a not so secret crush on his best friend Alan. 

Guy of Gisbourne - From pauper to nobleman, Guy is Robin’s opposite in everyway. He crawled up from the bottom rung by using and stepping on others and he’s always looking for the opportunity to climb the ranks. Don’t let his foppish ways fool you though, he is both a cunning and ruthless foe and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. His latest scheme however is to marry Maid Maiden and become next in line for the throne as Prince John has no other heirs save his ward.  

King Richard - Good Richard the Lionhearted is no longer a bloodthirsty crusader in this alternate universe but a peacemaker. He wishes to end wars, not start them, however his more abrasive, uncouth, and impulsive nature can often clash with his loftier goals. Many feel the king would do better to stay at home and tend to domestic matters instead of concerning himself with the conflicts of other far off lands. At the start of the story he has disappeared on one of his diplomatic visits. In reality Prince John has stuck a deal with the king’s enemies and he is currently on the run. 

Lady Tiffany - Little John’s little wife and the daughter of the Sherriff of Nottingham. She acts as the gang’s ‘man on the inside’ helping Robin Hood sneak in and out of places and feeding the team needed information. She’s stubborn and spoiled but also very kind hearted. She usually can get her father to give into her demands with just a pout and when that doesn’t work a full on tantum will do. She a woman who knows what she wants and what she wants is her man. Unfortunately daddy dreariest would never approve of their union and so Friar Tuck marries them in secret.  

Little John - Robin’s best friend and right hand man. He’s a simple man who loves life’s simple pleasures, good food, good friends, and a good brawl from time to time. He adores his partner, Tiffany and would like nothing more than to marry her for real, in a real church, in front of the whole world. However their relationship must remained hidden from her father, the Sheriff, since the violent lawman would sooner see him hanged then have a thief for a son-in-law.  

Lord Locksley - Robin’s and Will’s father. He is arrested for ‘not paying taxes’ but in reality it’s for supporting King Richard and secretly helping the displaced monarch. His arrest leads to Robin and Will becoming outlaws and the series kicks off two years later.   

Maid Marian - Prince John’s ward and niece. Her mother died when she was young and her beloved uncle adopted her. Prince John is the only parent she’s ever known and she at first believes him to be a kind and just man. She’s completely oblivious of Prince’s John’s underhanded dealings and oppression of the poor and at first is skeptical of Robin Hood. However as the two grow closer, Marian learns how harsh the real world is and just how much her father figure has lied to her. 

Miss Yua - Maid Marian’s lady-in-waiting and best friend. She’s the daughter of Sir Ivanhoe and longs to be a knight as well. She’s a stickler for rules and doesn’t trust Robin Hood and his gang of thieves. At first anyways, over time she too learns of Prince John’s cruelty and even becomes a victim of the tyrant’s schemes. Which puts her in direct conflict with her love, Brianna DuBois.  

Much the Miller's Son - born as Midge the miller’s daughter, the young Much longs to be accepted as a boy. As such he’s ditched his dresses, cut his hair, and ran away to Sherwood Forrest in order to be free from society’s expectations. The rest of the merry band accepts Much for who he really is, but at only 13 won’t let him join their gang. He still winds up caught up in their misadventures anyways due to his refusal to listen to anybody, and his determination to get away from his overbearing mother. 

Nurse Agnes - Maid Marian’s wet nurse and the closest thing to a mother that she has. Agnes believes in the ‘old ways’ and is very superstitious. She’s also very critical of royalty in general, but is smart enough not to say so out loud. She’s tried to raise Marian into a better person than Prince John, but eventually was dismissed once Marian had come of age. Since leaving the court Agnes has become the witch of the woods and a healer for the poor. 

Prince John - The main antagonist. Prince John believes that he needs to bring order to the kingdom of England and feels like his brother King Richard has neglected his duties as ruler and placed the kingdom in danger. He'll do whatever it takes to protect the country including subjecting it’s undesirables.  

Robin Hood - Leader of the Merry Band and archer extraordinaire, Robin Hood had to go on the lam when his father was arrest for ‘treason’. While his first priority was to keep his baby brother, Will, safe, the two of them met other outcasts in need over the years have built up an underwound network of rebels who fight against Prince John’s rule. Seemingly suave and cool at first, Robin is actually a bundle of nerves as he tries desperately to keep his friends and family safe...even if it’s mostly from themselves. His world is turned upside down though when he meets the lovely Maid Marian. 

Sheriff of Nottingham - The spiteful and cruel sheriff tries to keep the small town of Nottingham under his thumb. He hates Robin Hood and his Merry Band with a passion and sees their continued exitance as a personal insult. The only thing that will deter him from his goal of putting those outlaws in their place is his devotion to his beloved daughters Tiffany. Who distracts him with her seemingly impulsive and shallow whims.   

Sir Ivanhoe - A respected knight who once served under King Richard has returned home only to find that his king has not made the journey back as planned. He suspects that Prince John is up to no good, but is afraid to make any risky moves so long as his daughter Yua lives among the court. Her safety is the most important thing in the world to him. 

Sister Clara - The resident nerd of Sherwood Forrest and the brains of the team. Clara had joined a convent in order to receive an education and to study science, however her experiments were frowned upon by more traditional leaders of the church, like the Bishop of Hereford. She’s since renounced her monastic vows and has joined Robin Hood’s Merry Band in the pursuit of science! She’s allowed free rein on the sole condition that she doesn’t blow up the camp.  She still manages to blow up the camp, at least once a month. Still her inventions are invaluable to the team and she’s absolutely feral with her chim-bombs.  

The Trapper - A mysterious hermit who sometimes visits the local pub. He’ll often corner patrons with crazy drunken ramblings and loves to give Robin cryptic prophecies and disjoined ‘clues’ whenever they run into each other. (turns out this is an act and he’s really a spy for King Richard)

Will Scarlett - Robin’s younger brother. Will was 15 when they lost their father and now at 17 wants revenge. He’s a hothead and is constantly picking fights with everyone and anyone. While he is dismissive of Robin’s overprotectiveness, he both loves and admires his brother. Even tries to emulate him in some ways. He also would like to think of himself as a smooth talking clever con artist and ladies man but more often then not his temper gets the better of him. Like most teens he’s obsessed with the latest fashion tends and loves to wear fancy clothes (that he’s usually stolen) He’s favorite article of clothing is his impractical red feathered hat. He’s in love with Azure and is best friends with Much. 

[sondrawr]

Where Monsters Dwell

“What kind of place is this?” “The kind of place where fairy tales live and monsters dwell.” —Smoke Bitten

Adam Hauptman is intimately acquainted with fear. It was born in a jungle in Vietnam and never quite left him. Even in his happiest moments—of which there were many, especially recently—it lurks in the fringes. Lying in wait.

When he sees Mercy broken on the burnt grass, seemingly dead, he feels that fear claw up his chest and strangle him. He blacks out for god knows how long, his worst fear playing like a feedback loop in his mind. It isn’t until Samuel, still wolf, bites him in the arm that he finally comes to.

That’s how Adam finds himself, naked and half covered in blood, cradling Mercy’s body. His pack huddles around him, worry creasing their faces. He feels the stink of his fear billowing out of him like smoke, choking everyone around him.

“She’s alive, damn it!” Gary finally manages to gasp. He is panting, voice raspy. How long had he been trying to tell him?

Adam reaches down into himself and feels for that thread-thin bond that connects him to his heart’s mate. It’s there, flickering. He grasps it in both hands, wrapping it around his wrist, anchoring himself to sanity. To her.

Mercy survives that night, like she has done so often before. But one day her luck will run out; his fear whispers the words he knows too well. She’s not like Coyote—damn the man—who resurrects like the sun every morning.

Adam hates beyond telling that her unconquerable spirit is wrapped in such an insubstantial thing as human skin and bones.

:::

Adam first met Mercy Thompson in Montana when she was about thirteen years old. He was up on business, Alpha of a New Mexico pack and newly engaged to a blonde, 22-year-old coed named Christy.

Mercy at the time, before the deaths of her foster parents robbed her of childhood, was still all scraped knees and awkward arms of adolescence. Jutting chin and slumped shoulders—defiant and bored.

There was a ghost of a bruise on her face from the accident where she wrapped Bran’s brand new sports car around a tree. He had heard of that incident within hours of it happening, as he suspected most wolves did, even across the ocean. Mercy’s antics were already famous.

She sat on a chair outside Bran’s office, the scuffed toe of her sneaker knocking into a leggy console table nearby. Looking at him sidelong, she had the air of someone waiting their turn at the principal’s office.

When the door finally opened to let him in, he asked, “What did she do this time?” He stepped around Bran to enter the office.

Bran’s mouth pressed flat in an irritated line, while Charles smirked in the corner. He was the one who answered: “Something about chocolate Easter bunnies.”

“She poisoned a group of boys at school,” Bran snapped, closing the door a little too roughly behind Adam.

“Really?” That seemed a bit extreme for the young girl, whose reputation for pranks were mostly harmless, if effective.

“She injected several chocolate Easter bunnies with ipecac,” Charles explained. “And then warned the boys not to steal them, or ‘they would pay.’ They, of course, did not listen. Apparently the boys had been in the habit of stealing the younger kids’ candy for a while.”

Adam laughed despite himself.

“She wants for discipline,” Bran said with a frown.

“Mercy has plenty of discipline,” Charles answered. “It’s the focus of it, that’s the problem. Her interests are too narrow and she has an overdeveloped sense of justice.”

“And her foster father can’t do anything?” asked Adam.

Charles smirked. “If Mercy were a wolf, I wouldn’t be surprised if she outranked him. Any good she does is out of love for Bryan and his mate, not because of fear or intimidation.”

That was, Adam realized, the principle by which Mercy lived her life. It was the driving force of all she did for her family and friends—the pack she forged for herself, not with magic ties but by fierce loyalty and reckless love.

:::

It has been months since she recovered from her devastating injuries. Injuries that Samuel said at first would be the end of her. Her survival is nothing short of a miracle and, Adam suspects, a bit of Coyote’s magic.

Now night holds new terrors for him. He lays in bed at night just listening to the steady beating of his mate’s fragile, mortal heart. Dreading the day when it would inevitably stop.

:::

Mercy was twenty-three when he next saw her in the middle of a Washington desert. Alone in the world but still causing trouble. The first order of business for his newly arrived pack was eliminating the rogue wolves who were harassing her. Saved without so much as a thank you.

Was it coincidence or conspiracy that brought her to the Tri-Cities when Bran had ordered Adam to move his pack north from New Mexico? Coincidence on her part probably, but definitely not Bran’s, whose machinations were wide reaching and infamous.

That Adam bought the property behind her trailer was pure, ornery spite on his part.

She had marched up to him on the first day of construction and stuck a finger in his chest. “Tell Bran that I don’t need a babysitter,” she told him, eyes flashing. “I’ve done fine for eight years without his help—I’m done with wolves.”

“Good to know,” he answered, because he knew that response would drive her crazy, and turned back toward the construction of his pack house. He imagined her making faces at the back of his head and smiled.

:::

He kisses a line down her body, pausing at the shiny-pink of each new scar. Scars she earned in defense of his pack—in defense of him.

And he knows his love is killing her.

Oh god, would her life be better without him? Yes, the fear—the monster—inside him says. Yessss. We will kill herrrrr.

Panic like bile rises in his throat, and he gulps it down. Beneath him Mercy tenses, sensing his change of mood. He murmurs quietly, nuzzling her, lulling her back into softness underneath him. His lovely Mercy. His mate, for who he would willingly lay down his soul, let alone his body.

Whom he would kill for. Without question.

This. This will be his goodbye, then.

He presses a kiss to her inner knee, to her neck, and then presses into her, drawing a sigh from her lips. With his own he continues his careful ministrations, whispering a benediction against every mark on her skin that dares to be there because of him.

:::

His touch is a disease. His touch is a curse.

He can’t bear lying next to her and not touching her, so he doesn’t. He stays late in his office. He sleeps in the spare guest room. It’s killing him, but every day she’s alive, and it’s worth it.

It’s killing him that she wanders the house with those empty eyes, a line of concern between her brows, the hurt and confusion that clearly marks her face.

But at least she is alive. And soon, it will be over.

:::

Adam’s favorite memory of Mercy—the one he thinks of before he puts the gun to his head—is of her in the wedding dress too fancy for the church reception that his pack and daughter put together. She’s dancing with Jesse, at the heart of the people he loved most in the world, swaying to a country song blasting from the church’s ancient speaker system. And she turns to him and smiles.

He can see it as clear as if it were right in front of him. There was so much love in her face then. How different are those faces, the one from his memory and the one Mercy wears at this moment, when she finally sees him for the monster he is.

But she is not disgusted and horrified, as he feared she would be. She is furious. She throws a barrage of words against him, her unfettered anger like a battering ram.

In the years Adam had known and loved Mercy, he has become intimately acquainted with her many moods. Sneaky, playful, worried, content. They were as familiar to him as the feel of Mercy’s calloused hands in his.

Her white hot rage was something entirely new. And through clenched teeth she seethes a truth so utterly profound, that in that moment it shatters the madness that grips him. He lowers the gun in his hand.

Three simple words they had spoken to each other again and again. Whispered in passion and in play. Promised—sworn.

“You are mine.”

:::

He believes her. And for now, so does the monster.

You are mine.

You are mine.

You are mine.

He follows her home, to bed. And though he can’t make love to her like he wants, he worships her body with oil and hands and mouth.

It isn’t until she is completely sated and asleep when the monster rips through his body again. A monster that he now realizes is the ugly marriage of his own fear and self loathing, and Elizaveta’s death curse.

But instead of hurting his mate like Adam fears, the monster scrabbles out from beneath the covers and huddles in the corner of the room. It sits there watching his mate, the covers rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing.

Within a few minutes, the even breaths stutter and stop. “Adam?” she calls, voice rough with sleep.

It’s the monster that growls in response, and Adam waits. It didn’t work, he thinks. The monster is still here. Will you finally leave me like you’re supposed to?

And still he remembers her promises: You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says sounding annoyed. “Get back to bed. I’m cold.”

Oh, my Mercy.

After a moment, the monster cautiously approaches the bed, and it creaks under the sudden weight. It wraps itself around her, tucking her head under its chin. She draws up the covers over them both, and they settle to sleep.

For the first time in a long time Adam prays. Let this be enough. This love. Let me be enough to keep her safe.

If God is kind and he is lucky, maybe it will be.

Maybe the monster will love her, too.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Sneaky Pete

Chapter One: On Set

Featuring actor Peter Gerety

In 2018, I was an extra on the season 3 set of "Sneaky Pete." The scenes I was in had been filmed at a hotel where the cast and crew were staying at. I was excited doing it and it was a real education watching the show being shot. The principal actors on this were all seasoned pros, from the star Giovanni Ribisi on down. But the actor that caught my attention was Peter Gerety. I recognized him from "Law & Order," "The Wire" and "Homicide: Life on the Street" among other things. He’s a peach of an actor who plays a lot of cop roles in addition to judges/lawyers, that sort of thing. He’s good at it. And I thought he was cute, fitting my template for guys I like.

During the breaks between shoots, I watched with a little more than curiosity as the "old character actor" interacted with everyone around him. He seems like a nice, funny guy which only made me want him more.

Then I started noticing that Gerety would glance over at me from time to time which instantly made my cock hard. I started getting the idea that maybe he was checking me out because he'd look away quickly whenever I would glance up and catch him looking at me. Well, that only made my cock even harder.

Anyway, we'd just finished a long day on set, so I decided I better go to the bathroom and try to position it so that it didn’t show off so much. The bathroom was empty, so as I went to the wall urinal and started to stroke my ever growing erection.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and in walked the old actor. Damn if he didn’t step right up to the urinal beside me, holding my cock in my hand, jacking off. I didn’t know what to do when I thought I saw him out of the corner of my eye looking over the divider. That's when I realized I hadn’t heard him pee, so I looked over briefly. What I saw was him stroking a thick, 7 inch uncut cock. I never would have suspected that this thickset, scruffy character actor would have such a nice rod which made me even harder.  

I guess it was because I was surprised (and aroused) that I stared too long and he noticed. When I looked up, he was looking right at me. He winked and smiled a warm friendly, knowing smile.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's a little horny." He said as I tried to put my engorged dick back into my pants.

"I was..." I tried to say, but nothing came out.

"Don't put it away, it is okay, I won't tell anyone. I’m glad I was here to see the show.” The actor said. Then he reached over and offered me his hand. “My name is Peter. Peter Gerety.”

"I know who you are. Sam‘s my name, Sir.” I replied.

Just then, the bathroom door opened and someone else came in. Peter went back to pretending to pee and I quickly zipped up and went to wash my hands. As I was drying them, Peter flushed his urinal and also went to the sinks, but as he started to run the water, he placed his hotel room card on the edge of the sink right next to me. He quickly rinsed his hands, looked in my direction and winked, then walked out, leaving the key behind.

I was thinking what a sneaky little flirt he was. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had, so I grabbed the key and headed out. By the time I got to Peter’s room, I was afraid he’d think I wasn’t interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. The lights were dim, Peter was in a hotel bathrobe and he’d ordered porn on the television.

I quickly undressed and walked over to where Peter was sitting on the hotel bed. He took me in his hand, cupping my balls and then stroking my shaft softly. His hand was warm and gentle as his nimble fingertips sent waves of delight up and down my spine.

"Nice cock." He called out like a kid discovering a new toy as slowly began to manipulate his hand back and forth over my dick’s head.

“That feels good.” I said as I closed his eyes.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped wide opened as I felt my dick moving into his warm, moist mouth and softly and gently massaged me with his tongue.

“Damn! That feels great.” I said as I reached down and grabbed the old actor by his curly locks.

I took sudden delight in forcing my huge dick slowly down the old actor’s throat. I expect at any moment that Peter would gag, but the stout old man didn’t. He kept swallowing the big cock being fed him, inch by inch. And the deeper my dick reached down his throat the better it felt.

“Damn! That feels good.” I said in a moaning tone as Peter managed to swallow the entire length of my 8" cock.

Clearly he was a master cock sucker as he did things to my cock with his tongue that had me squirming from pure pleasure. I was finding it hard to hold back as his hand grabbed my nuts, squeezing them tight while his head bobbed up and down my prick. I began fucking his face furiously, I was going wild... I felt myself fixing to cum when Peter suddenly took his mouth away from my pecker.

"Why don't you join on the bed." He as he removed his robe.

I sucked my breath in at the sight of the old man’s dick. It was beautiful, pale, cut and thick and pinkish in color. I laid him down on the bed and began stroking his dick. I licked and sucked his nipples as I rubbed the head of his cock, spreading his pre-cum like lube. I kissed my way down his chest, leaving a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner.

“Yes! God! Yes!” The old man cried out, “Suck it. Damn, I haven’t had it sucked in months."

The taste of his dick was sweet and manly. And it stiffened more and more the longer I tongued the shaft as I sucked on it. He grabbed my head and forced his dick even deeper in my throat. I like him forcing his dick down my throat, making me his boy. I worked my tongue up and down the sides of his old dick as best I could. I wanted to give the old man all the pleasure I possibly could.

Using the universal language of "hey let's 69" which was gently pressing against his thigh, Peter began to swing himself on top of me until his cock was dangling in my face. The tip of his cock was wet with precum which I greedily accepted. He started moving up and down as his dick was sliding on my tongue.

When I felt his tongue again on my dick, I felt that his mouth was full of saliva as he now fiercely was devouring my cock like he was hungry for cum. I could feel the base of his cock harden to orgasm status which sent me over the moon. I immediately felt the unavoidable beginnings of a monstrous orgasm.

Seconds away from shooting his load, Peter began humping my mouth faster and faster. I put my hands around his body, pulling it down, I opened my mouth as wide as I could. By that time I felt his pre-cum in my mouth, he was grunting, panting, sweating and from the sounds he was making I felt that my dick has some pre-cum on it. He was still humping my mouth, driving it as deep into me as he could as he began to empty his load. He stopped his rhythmic assault on my cock and was resting with it lodged in his throat.

I grabbed his head firmly in my hands pounded my cock into his mouth. He must have realized I was getting close, cos. I felt his middle finger brush against my hole. That was it for me, I felt myself tense up and one final thrust and my crotch was pressed against his face, my cock spewing deep down his throat, and he was swallowing it! The old man didn't let a single drop of cum leave his mouth.

Minutes later we lay in a wasted heap. Drained of energy we lay there for a while before finding pillows and cuddling into each other.

[tossawary]

Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary. 

-

 Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself  so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away! 

 Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing  "I can and I will ruin your entire life"  glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes! 

 Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives.  “Holy shit, I’m good,”  he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction.  “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!” 

 -

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course. 

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.” 

- 

 He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them! 

 No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item! 

 Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?! 

 All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this. 

-

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing. 

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction. 

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.” 

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?” 

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny. 

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post. 

- 

Shang Qinghua does  not  miss the man’s unconcealed  “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news”  expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects! 

 Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head,  “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.” 

 (Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!) 

-

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends. 

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth. 

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge. 

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things! 

- 

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”   

 “Ah,” Shang Qinghua says. 

-

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people. 

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person* 

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.” 

Shen Jiu: “...” 

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company. 

  “Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.” 

 “-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying. 

 Binghe nods. 

- 

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still...  kids)  look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead. 

 “Shang-Shishu!” 

  “How dearly this boy is loved!”  the Weeper’s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head.  “More than life itself! More than death itself!” 

 “Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.” 

 Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes. 

 Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

  “Oh, shit” is right! 

- 

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration. 

-

  “Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.” 

 Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression. 

 “What?” 

 “...It’s my name.” 

 “What?” Shang Qinghua repeats. 

 “It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.” 

 “Oh.” 

  “Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain! 

 “You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.” 

 “Ah, alright. Thanks.” 

- 

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name. 

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life. 

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.) 

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name. 

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or  fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately. 

 “I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses. 

 “She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses. 

 Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was…  I was  really,  really stupid, Uncle.” 

 “Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again. 

 Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was  pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise! 

 Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now. 

 Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist. 

 “Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all  stupid luck!  Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was  so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!” 

 It  sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew! 

- 

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ. 

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet. 

- 

 “...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.” 

  “He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.” 

 “...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your… restraint in this matter… in recent months.” 

 Aha, yikes. 

-

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying. 

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.” 

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps. 

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.” 

[kinglazrus]

Expectations

Prompt from @danphanwritingprompts: Maddie had suspected her youngest child of having some kind of ghostly influence for a while. So she was expecting for them to reveal that. Not admit that he’s trans.

Word count: 1145

Maddie may spend a lot of time down in the lab, maybe too much time, but she can still tell when something is up with one of her children. Especially when it involves ghosts. She's noticed the bruises, and the late nights, and the slipping grades. All troubling signs that have her worried about her youngest. But the tipping point is how her and Jack's gadgets react to Danny.

Every invention that leaves the lab is carefully calibrated to react to ghosts and only ghosts. If Maddie and Jack didn't take the time to perfect this setting their lab would be a minefield of gadgets ready to go off at a moment's notice. Every ectoplasmic sample, every ecto-powered gun, would trigger alarms.

But the Ghost Gabber, the Booo-merang, the Fenton Finder and more all go off around Danny, no matter how much calibrating Maddie does. As much as she hates to admit it, that leaves her with few explanations. But Maddie doesn't want to jump to conclusion, and she doesn't want to frighten her youngest with her assumptions, so she sits back and waits for Danny to come to her.

It takes months before Danny finally approaches her.

"Hey, Mom?"

Maddie, busy stirring the batter for a new cookie recipe, pauses. Something in Danny's tone catches her attention, tells her this isn't the simple, casual hello of a child to their mother, but a nervous call for attention. Maddie places her mixing bowl down on the counter and turns.

Danny doesn't meet her eyes, head ducked, fingers running through unruly hair, not quite short, but the shortest it's ever been. A smart move, if Maddie's suspicions are right. Long hair only gets in your eyes when you're that active. It's the reason she keeps her own hair so short. She takes in Danny's baggy hoodie and long basketball shorts. Her heart aches wondering what bruises they hide.

"Yes, sweetie?" Maddie keeps her voice calm, not wanting to spook Danny.

"There's something... something I want to talk to you about."

"You know you can always tell me anything."

"I know. I think I know. I hope I can. This is kind of really important. Like, really, really important." Danny shakes with nerves, rubbing at eyes that aren't quite watery, but aren't quite clear.

Hoping to make things easier, Maddie kneels and pulls Danny into a hug. "I think I already know what this is about."

Danny stiffens, shoulders going rigid, and mumbles, "You do?"

"I've suspected for a while, after noticing the signs. You must have been so scared, and I'm so sorry if we made you feel like you couldn't tell us," she says, hugging tighter. Danny hiccups and hugs back. "I don't think your father knows, but we can tell him together. We love you no matter what, Danny. You'll always be our little girl."

Danny's breath hitches, and suddenly she's out of Maddie's arms and standing halfway across the kitchen. "What?"

Maddie blinks, stunned, thrown off by the sudden rejection. Confusion clouds her youngest daughter's eyes, and Maddie can't fathom where it came from. "Danny?"

"What do you think I'm trying to tell you?" Danny asks. She stands guarded, arms loosely crossed in front of her, body turned away from Maddie.

Maddie feels nothing short of baffled. What did she get wrong? What did she say wrong? Other than outright confessing, she can't think of a way to breach the sudden gap between them. So that's exactly what she does. "I know you're a ghost."

Danny goes pale as, well, a ghost. The blood drains from her face, shock and fear filling her eyes. Maddie thinks she's going cry. Instead, she grabs her hair and shouts, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Rosaline Danielle Fenton!" Maddie admonishes on instinct. "Language!"

Danny ignores her, instead staring at her hands. "You notice that, but you don't notice this? What the hell! I wasn't even­– how did you–" She breaks off with bitter, incredulous laughter. "Why did you notice that?"

"It wasn't hard once I had all the pieces. You look just like you did before cutting your hair. Although I don't approve of how you've modelled yourself after the ghost boy." Judging by Danny's broken expression, that isn't what she wanted to hear, but it's the only thing Maddie had to say. The only thing she can give Danny is the truth.

"Modelled? What do you..." Danny stills and trails off. Her eyes widen, then narrow. "No, Mom. That's Danielle."

"Yes," Maddie nods, "Danielle Phantom. Using your middle name isn't as sneaky when you already go by it."

"No, Mom. You're not listening. That's not me, that's Danielle. I'm–"

"Honey, it's okay." Maddie doesn't understand why Danny is resisting so much. This should have been easy, but now she feels like she's fighting Danny on something they both know. "You don't have to lie. I'm not mad that you're the ghost girl–"

"I'm not the ghost girl; I'm the ghost boy!" Danny bellow rings out through the kitchen, her voice carrying the trace of an echo as it expands to fill every corner, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. She continues softly, "I'm Danny Phantom. I'm... I'm trans, Mom."

"Oh." Maddie takes a moment to properly process that. "Oh." She can't believe how wrong she got it—sort of. Apparently, she's right after all, and Danny is a ghost. Not the ghost she thought, but the one Maddie and Jack talk about hunting all the time. Guilt washes through her, a thick sludge that clings to her bones and leaves her feeling sick. She said those things in front of Danny. She said them about Danny to Danny.

And she's saying nothing now. She feels the horrified expression on her face, sees the growing despair on Danny's, and realizes he thinks this expression is for him. It is, but not that way. Never that way.

"Do you need a binder?" Maddie asks in a rush. That isn't what she meant to say. She meant to say I love you and I accept you, but the moment she processed those words—I am trans—a hundred thoughts flew through her head about what that meant for Danny, and what he might need from her. "Or hormones? Unless you don't want them. But it's okay if you do, or if you don't."

"Mom."

"Oh, and clothes. You have a lot of Jazz's hand-me-downs. I'm sure that's not what you want to keep wearing."

"Mom."

"I'm sorry, Danny, I– do you still want us to call you Danny? Or is that why you started going by your middle name in the first place? If you want to change it, we can. Anything you need, you father and I can–"

"Maddie!" Danny's tone makes her freeze. She recognizes that tone. Lower than Danny's speaking voice, sounding closer to a pre-pubescent boy, it's the voice Phantom uses with citizens. The voice he uses with Maddie and Jack.

Danny's right in front of Maddie again, posture no longer defensive, although he still looks to be on the brink of tears. But this time there's a tentative smile on his face.

Maddie stops. Finally, she says, "I love you, sweetie. And I accept you. But we still need to talk about your ghost hunting, young la– uh, mister."

Danny throws himself forward and wraps his arms around Maddie's waist, tears of joy spilling from his eyes. "I love you too, Mom."

Running a hand through Danny's hair, Maddie smiles. The ghost hunting talk can wait for now.

[recurring-polynya]

As we all know, I am Perpetually Rewatching Bleach, and I hit the Reigai Arc a while ago, but I didn’t feel like recapping it, because recaps are a ton of work and I am Tired, but Bleach 333 might be the Bleachiest episode in all of Bleach, so I had to.

In the immortal words of Gideon the Ninth: “Things were happening too much.”

So, this is pretty deep into the arc-- all the lieutenants are in the World of the Living and all the (real) captains are in Soul Society, Nozomi has just unlocked her zanpakutou, and Reigai Zaraki and Byakuya showed up to start shit.

At the end of the last episode, all the lieutenants put their reiatsu in Nozomi’s sword (why does some variation of this happen every filler arc??) and she blew up Zaraki and Byakuya. The episode opens with Renji muttering “Did we get ‘em?” which is really how every episode should open. It looks like they successfully KO’d Zaraki, but Reigai Byakuya survived, and he proceeds to take out all the lieutenants with a single Soren Sokatsui.

This seems bad, but then, the Captain Commander shows up out of nowhere and sets Reigai Byakuya on fire. Yes. Really.

Ichigo and Rukia get Yamamoto up to date, but the best part of this scene is that Renji is just...lying there in the middle of it, like a sleepy boi.

All of sudden, more Reigai show up, and there’s a split screen reaction shot, but... it’s just of the unconscious lieutenants. Friends, I literally screamed. They made this episode just for me. We’re also going to start counting SSRS’s, because this episode has... a lot of them.

I also want to point out the Ichigo, Nozomi and Kon seem to be entirely uninjured; Rukia, Chad and Uryuu are able to get themselves up, Renji is Hanging In There, and all the other lieutenants are toast. I am pretty sure this Says Something About the Lieutenant Class.

Oh God, there is so much Peak Renij Dialogue in this episode.

At this point, Renji attempts to sit up, and falls down again.Good hustle, buddy, you tried.

Somewhere around here, my husband got up to let the dog out and he said, “pause it if anything good happens.” I had to pause it almost immediately because Reigai Ukitake and Kyouraku showed up and then this happened:

There’s like 4 minutes straight of releasing, literally everything is on fire, and after being told to stay back like 5 times, Nozomi jumps into battle and we get split screen reaction shot #2.

Nozomi attacks Kyouraku and Ichigo goes after Ukitake. Yamamoto literally grumbles “Those darn kids...” and then Unohana comes out of nowhere and casts four different binding in a row on Yamamoto while an electric bass guitar plays. I say this all the time, but this is exactly how I would fight if I were a shinigami fighting another shinigami: just bind the fuck out of them and then attack them while they’re down. This scene was incredibly gratifying to me, Unohana is the GOAT.

How’s Renji doing?

Keep working at it, you’re doing great, pal.

The true purpose of filler arcs is more fights for characters that we didn’t get to see fight enough, and this episode delivers with some excellent Kyouraku and Ukitake throw-downs. Whoops, here’s reaction shot #3:

Because his spiritual energy has been on its last legs this whole arc, Ichigo is supposed to use his powers very carefully, for example, not going to bankai or using Getsugas, except when he can’t think of anything else, which is constantly. #4.

Did I mention that Fake Ukitake and Fake Kyouraku are Very Real Husbands this episode? Because they are.

We cut back to Rukia and Renji (still prone) and Kon. Kon is Big Sad because he can’t help. I have no love for Kon, but I respect this great compliment he lays on Rukia after she punches him.

Rukia and Renji decide they gotta go help and-- and Renji is UP! The man is up!

Except that Yamamoto abruptly busts out of his wards and Rukia has to breathlessly gasp “What is this reiatsu?” as per her contract.

SHIT FAM the real Unohana is here and she’s got Dramatic Singers! Fake Unohana is literally about to pee herself and so would you if you say this coming for you:

Wards still be exploding, Obligatory Renji Protects Rukia (and Kon) Shot!

Split Screen Reaction Shot #5: Karakura Kids Edition

Then, um this happened.

AHEM.

This was my favorite SSRS in the episode because it was kinda high concept. Rukia starts talking in the left panel, but you can still see her arm moving the middle panel. Didn’t they do this in Pacific Rim, with the heads-up displays? Or maybe that was Voltron. I don’t care, I love this shit.

Anyway, when Renji picks up the dialogue, BAM, he takes over the middle.

The fireball has done nothing to the Reigai, so we get a walking-thru-flames drama shot that ends with... yet another SSRS.

They start to attack Yamamoto who is 1000% ready to throw down, but then Kageroza shows up and declares that he will be taking on the old man himself.

Ichigo gets real concerned that Kageroza will use Yamamoto’s power against him (Yamamoto is like, ‘whatever’). Nozomi volunteers to act like a decoy, and Kageroza does his villainous laugh, “you’ll never steal my spiritual pressure-- NANI??”  It turns out Nozomi already charged her sword up with the Head Captain’s spiritual pressure when Kageroza...was...checking his phone? I do not know how me missed this sneaky, sneaky maneuver:

I guess he didn’t see anything because they were behind Ichigo’s back. Sure. Fine. Whatever.

Anyway, it’s not enough, so Yamamoto attacks. That’s not enough, so Ichigo unleashes his final Getsuga (not, like, the Final Getsuga, just like, the last one he has. Very confusing naming scheme here.)

Does this count as another SSRS? It doesn’t do the BAM/BAM/BAM, so maybe Rukia/Renji/Kon have been in split screen mode this entire time, and it’s just a revisit. Whatever, I’m gonna count it. We’re up to 8.

Ichigo is now spent. He mumbles “Did I get ‘im?” and then falls out of the sky.

“I NEED RENJI TO CATCH HIM,” I scream, while my husband winces and pinches the bridge of his nose. “GET UP, RENJI!” I yell. “YOU CAN DO IT.”

He’s thinkin’ about it!

Oh, no, Ichigo, did not, in fact, “get ‘im.” Kageroza appears to have survived, which I guess justifies a SSRS #9.

Look at Renji’s face. He’s ready. He’s goin’.

And he’s off!!!! I LOVE THIS MAN.

UGH, we have to sit through Kageroza explaining how he survived the attack by absorbing Nozomi’s attack and Ichigo’s Getsuga who cares who cares who cares, get to the good stuff--

yaaaasssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Kageroza is powering up his attack, we’re gonna get the “To Be Continued..” any second, but NO there is STILL TIME FOR ONE MORE!

Ten. TEN. This episode is only 22 minutes long and they managed to fit in 10 split screen reaction shots. I suspect this may be the record.

This entire episode was just split screen reactions shots, people powering up, shots of my OTP, and Renji catching Ichigo and then cradling him lovingly. Perfect episode. 1000/10.

[never-fully-lucid]

[Un]Subtle Signs

Pairing: Abed Nadir / Reader 

Summary: You’re caught off guard when the boy you’ve been [not so] sneakily admiring just straight up asks you about your feelings. No Y/N used.

Word Count: 1.3 k

“Do you like me?”  

The words seem to echo in the silence of the empty street, and it takes you a few seconds to process the loaded question. How you’d gone from discussing the quality of visual effects in Inspector Spacetime to Abed dropping this fucking conversational bomb was a mystery. The two of you had offered to buy Troy some medicine for his current cold, and had been making your way back to their apartment while casually discussing the show. Seemingly out of nowhere he’d popped the question, in the same tone you’d use to discuss the weather, and now you’re stuck waiting for your brain to stop making fax machine noises.

Once your brain has sufficiently rebooted, you realize that you’ve stopped walking and take a few strides to make up for the distance between you. Abed- now also standing still- is looking at you expectantly, clearly awaiting some form of reaction.  

Deciding to tread cautiously, you respond, making sure to keep your tone light-hearted,

“Of course I do, Abed. I consider us good friends.”  

Friends, you repeat to yourself. Just friends.

Instead of taking your answer at face value and resuming the trek, Abed studies you. You hope that the one theater class you took when you were twelve is paying off right now. As his silence stretches for a beat too long, you feel yourself growing a little flustered and more than a little stressed.

Could he know how you feel about him? You’d been so careful! Taking care not to stare at him for too long during study sessions, making sure not to ask him too many personal questions despite wanting to know him better. After all, you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable around you; you’ve been known to come on a bit too strong in order to compensate for your own awkwardness.

Finally, he speaks up;

“I know that we’re good friends. But that isn’t the kind of “like” that I’m referring to, and I think you know that.” he says, and your stomach sinks a little, blood rushing to your face.  

Shitshitshit! He knows! Or at the very least, suspects!!

“Hah- hah” you laugh weakly, meaning for it to sound lighthearted but coming out slightly choked off. Alarm bells ring in your head and you scramble to do as much damage control as possible, your brain working on overdrive trying to salvage your cover. For all you know this could cost you your friendship with the boy in front of you.  

“Not that you’re not a good-looking great guy,” great start, real smooth, “but can I ask why you’re asking me of all people?” you manage to pull off a small perplexed smile as you speak, which proves hard to do under his intense stare.

Without a pause, Abed launches into his seemingly prepared explanation:

“I'm a perceptive person- I observe those in my close circles, and we’re around each other pretty often. I know that you look at me more than you look at others in the group. At first I simply accredited that to our placement at the table, but there were other signs.”

Uh oh.  

He continues;

“When our eyes meet, you look away and usually flush shortly after. You smile a lot when I’m talking, even if it’s about references that you don’t get. You try to be open about your feelings when we talk so that I don’t have to decipher what you really mean. You look at me the way that you were looking at me minutes ago: your eyes crinkle at the edges, you lean forward; your lips curl slightly upwards- you look... ‘soft.’”

Nonono.  

Your heart is racing. Palms sweaty. Knees weak. Arms heavy- you know; the whole shebang.

“Plus, on the rare occasion that I wear tank tops, I can basically feel you burning a hole into me with your sta-”

“I get it!” you interject, cutting him off rather abruptly. You’d been rapidly growing redder throughout his speech, and by this point you’re sure that all the blood in your body has flooded to your face. You wonder if you could faint to avoid this conversation, and contemplate holding your breath to better those chances.. 

Oh well.

A sigh escapes your mouth. “I thought I’d been so sneaky,” you admit a little dejectedly. There’s no point in trying to deny it now, not after all the surprisingly detailed examples that clearly pointed out your infatuation. Abed’s brows raise, a little surprised to see you acknowledge it so quickly.

“You did your best, and I don’t think the others know,” he points out, seemingly to offer some consolation.  

His words don’t make what you need to say next any less painful, but you know you have to put your feelings aside:

“I’m really sorry if my attention made you uncomfortable. Our friendship is really important to me, not just on the basis of being study-group friends. To be honest, ever since the whole trying-to-set-you-up scenario, I was nervous to ask if you were open to dating, let alone admit my growing feelings and ruin our friendship,” your palms are sticky with sweat, so you wipe them on your shirt.

“I really did try to ignore them. My feelings, I mean. Regardless, I really hope that this doesn’t affect our relationship, and I’m willing to just forget that this talk ever happened, and I promise I’ll try to stop reacting to you the way I d-”

“Don’t.”  

This time it’s Abed who cuts you off, which has you blinking up in surprise at him. Which part does he not want you to do? Before you can ask, he continues,

“Don’t pretend this didn’t happen. And don’t try to change the way you act around me.”

Your eyes widen a little as his gaze moves away from your face, almost self-consciously. A flicker of hope ignites in your chest, and with baited breath, you ask:

“Why not?”

Abed takes a small step towards you, still looking away. 

“Because we share similar interests. Because you always try to think of others, even when being scatterbrained. Because you find happiness in the small things in life. Because I like spending time with you. I’m drawn to you in the same way that you’re drawn to me.” He’s looking at you again, that intense gaze directed at you, with a small smile gracing his lips.

Your flicker of hope is now a burning flame that’s spread throughout your body, and you can feel your mouth stretching into an ear splitting grin. Almost in a dream-like state, you take a small step towards him, looking for any sign that he doesn’t want you so intimately close. Seeing none, you proceed to wrap your arms around his waist, and lean your head into his chest. He smells like soap and some kind of laundry detergent, mixed with a scent that’s just uniquely him. As he returns the embrace, wrapping his larger arms around your frame, a strong sense of comfort washes over you; a feeling you didn’t know you were longing for so strongly prior to this very moment.

The two of you stay standing in the middle of the street, simply basking in your newfound closeness, until the moment is punctured by a deep growl coming from Abed’s stomach, making you giggle against his chest and unwind your arms from his torso. 

“We should get back to Troy, he’ll get mad if we leave him waiting,” you suggest, voice hushed due to the lack of space between the two of you. Before you can move to step back in order to walk beside him, Abed reaches out and takes your hand, studying your reaction. Your grin returns tenfold, grateful that he’s considerate of your response, and you lace your fingers through his larger ones, pulling him in the direction of his and Troy’s street. 

You know there are still things left to be discuss, feelings left to share; maybe friends left to tell, but right now the warmth of his palm against yours is your primary focus, as you walk hand in hand down the empty street, debating the special effects budget of your favourite Inspector Spacetime episodes. 

     ___________________________________________________________

A/N: This is my first fic in a while, so I’m a little nervous posting it,,,  If anyone actually sees this, I’d love some feedback / criticism- my knowledge of appropriate tenses, character writing, and all syntax went out the window. 

[I struggle with expressing physical contact, which is why there’s a lot of making sure that both parties are comfortable with what’s happening!] 

Abed deserves all the love 🥺

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

More Than You Bargained For: The Party Timestamp

Summary: Jensen’s not too excited to be going to a party with the reader but she ends up making his night in another way...

Masterlist

Pairing: Ex-Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language

“Do I have to go?” groaned Jensen. He stood by the bottom of the stairs with a pout on his face, Jared snickering from the hall. “Shut it, Padalecki or I’ll make you go as her date.”

“Sorry but you are officially on bodyguard duty, Mr. Ackles. I got a hot date myself tonight,” said Jared. You sighed as you stepped down the stairs, Jensen smiling up at you. “Would you look at that? She’s not the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Kiss my ass, Jared,” you said with a smile.

“You look very beautiful,” said Jared.

“Gen picked it out,” you said with a wink. “Speaking of which, get out of here on your romantic weekend away. We got it from here.”

“Alright, I’m gone,” he said. “Call me in an emergency.”

“Goodnight, Jared,” said Jensen.

“Have fun guys,” said Jared, heading down the hall and out the front door. You smiled as you stood on the last step, fixing Jensen’s bowtie, giggling when he started to cross his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Do I have to?” he whined again. “I’ll give you all the sex and brownies you want? You like both of those things.”

“I do like both those things a lot, but I need a date and my other husband wasn’t available,” you teased.

“Had to marry a fucking famous person didn’t I,” he sighed. “Spoiled brat.”

“Asshole bodyguard,” you said, leaning up as he came down for a kiss. “I won’t tell anyone you’re actually sweeter than molasses.”

“Only if I don’t let it slip that you’re the hardest working, most amazing and kind person I’ve ever met and that your favorite fancy store is Target,” he said.

“I fucking love the shit out of that store,” you said.

“I know. You were there for three hours on Sunday. Toothpaste. I asked for one tube of toothpaste. You came home with three shirts, two throw pillows, a cookbook and a coffee mug. Oh, and no toothpaste,” he said, flashing you a smile.

“I went back and got it,” you said with a laugh. “What’s up with you? You’re extra nervous tonight. This isn’t the first time you’ve ever gone with me to an event.”

“S’first time since I was gone…” he said, glancing down at his wrist, a faded thin scar over the top of it. “I’m not the bodyguard anymore. I’m your husband. Your previously kidnapped husband. There’s going to be attention on me whether I want it or not.”

“I know,” you said softly. “All you have to do is stand there, smile and get your picture taken for two seconds. Alex will get you out of there and into the party like that, I promise. We already went over it.”

“Who’s going to be with you then?” he said.

“Jensen. I’ll be fine on my own for a little while. You being comfortable is what’s important to me,” you said. “Plus you know I can kick ass, even in heels.”

“Alright,” he said. You finished with his tie, smoothing out his jacket before you stepped onto the ground and into your heels. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you said. You walked with him to the front door, spinning around and holding up a finger.

“Forget something?” he asked.

“Yup,” you said, opening your clutch and pulling out a strip of fabric.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Trust me?” you asked. He nodded and you tied it over his eyes, Jensen smiling when you finished. “All set?”

“Sure...what are you up to?” he teased.

“Covert mission. Like some special ops level stuff. Don’t worry about it,” you said, grabbing his hand.

“Oh, do you get to be my bodyguard? I think I like that game,” he said, chuckling as you pulled him outside. “Dammit. Part of me really wishes you were going to drag me upstairs and have your way with me.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be sure to do that later on,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“You better,” he said. You got him in the passenger seat before you were off down the road, spotting Jensen touching his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Leave it, Jensen,” you said. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”

“I don’t like not knowing where we’re going,” he said.

“We’re going to the party,” you said. “There’s going to be a surprise when we get there. Can you keep it on for me, please?”

“Mhm,” he said. When you were stopped at a light, you reached over and held his hand, Jensen humming to himself.

About fifteen minutes later you pulled into a parking spot, helping Jensen out as you saw his ears perk up.

“No, no. No bodyguard mode, just enjoy the surprise,” you said.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He let you hold his arm as you led him into a building and down a hall, his head unable to help but turn and try to figure it out. You put him at a stop outside the room, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Alright, I think I could get use to this if you keep that up.”

“Down boy,” you laughed. “Alright, alright. I know you’re getting antsy.”

You reached up and undid his blindfold, Jensen looking around.

“Snuck me in the back to the party?” he teased. “I thought you wanted to show off your smokin’ hot husband.”

“Oh? Now he’s cocky,” you said. “I figured you’d like this better.”

“A little. I knew what I was getting into though when I married you. I can be the center of attention a little bit for you,” he said.

“I’m glad,” you said, more than glad he just assumed you were at another event and not actually in the back of his favorite restaurant. “Let’s head on in then.”

You smiled as he held your hand and you went for the pair of double doors leading to the event room you’d rented out.

“Happy birthday!” he was greeted with the second you opened the doors. He opened his mouth a few times before he spun to look at you, shaking his head.

“I knew you were being sneaky!” he said, biting his bottom lip. “I should have known.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to plan a surprise birthday party for you,” you said. “And actually surprise you.”

“There was definitely some covert ops going on,” said Jared, Gen right by his side. “We had a little help though.”

Jensen turned and saw a group of guys heading for him, his face in a big smile.

“No way! I thought you guys were overseas and-“

“And when your little wifey got a hold of us, of course we came. Not like we missed the wedding or any of the other shit that’s happened since,” said Mark.

“Did you really get stabbed by a serial killer?” asked Jason.

“I’m more curious how that sweet girl took the freak down and saved Ackles’ ass,” said Lyle.

“Oh? Is that what everyone thinks happen?” asked Jensen, cocking his head at you.

“S’what I remember,” you said with a smile.

“Of course it is,” he teased.

“Go, catch up with your friends,” you said, pushing him towards his special ops buddies, some of his teacher friends joining in. “I know it’s been a while, honey.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“So...should I be expecting this elaborate of a birthday party for myself?” asked Alex after you’d left Jensen’s parents somewhere by the food table.

“I’ll buy ya a happy meal at the drive thru if you get me an extra week off work,” you said. He chuckled, smirking as you both watched Jensen on the other side of the room. “Do you think he was actually surprised?”

“I think throwing him a surprise party two months after his birthday certainly threw him off. Hard to surprise a guy like that,” said Alex.

“Think he’s noticed I’m not drinking yet?” you asked, giving Alex a shy smile.

“He probably thinks you’re just being a good DD. When you going to tell him?” he asked.

“When we get home,” you said. “Think you’re ready to be an Uncle?”

“Eh, I dealt with your whiney little butt and Jensen. How hard’s a baby?” he said.

“Still dealing with my whiney little butt,” you said, leaning back in your chair.

“You never whined,” he said after a moment. You turned your head, Alex not looking at you. “You were just...afraid. Of a lot. Then you were just lonely and you chose a career that’s extremely lonely and why do you think I came to be your manager? To watch your back.”

“Dad told me that once,” you said quietly. “We had a fight over something stupid, you and me. I think I called him to vent and he revealed to me that you just said one day you were going to finish your degree online and be my manager and that was it. He told me to remember that whenever you drove me nuts.”

“Like when I tricked you into a bodyguard?” he teased. “Bet you love that decision now.”

“It made me feel small again,” you said, his face finding yours. “Jensen sort of terrified me he was so...he had me memorize like a hundred rules. I couldn’t get any privacy, it felt like he was watching me all the time...but his job was to do those things, not because he or anyone else wanted to control me. He was just keeping me safe.”

“On the bright side, he’s like a ball of fluff under the hard shell,” he said.

“Ain’t so hard nowadays. Someone else was a little lonely too,” you said. Jensen gave you a wave as he walked over before curling his finger at you.

“Mind if I steal this one?” asked Jensen, holding out a hand for you.

“Nah. I got a fiancé to go find and harass myself,” said Alex.

“I taught him so well,” teased Jensen, pulling you to your feet and over toward a quiet corner. “I haven’t seen you much tonight, my buddies have been hogging me. Must be what it feels like to be you.”

“Jens,” you said.

“Walk with me?” he asked. You hummed and followed him outside, finding yourselves out on the sidewalk, his pace slow. “So...something you want to tell me?”

“Seriously? How do you always do that? I bet the freaking doctors office gave it away. I swore I told them not to tell dad anything until I-“

“Dad?” he said, stopping in his tracks. You went wide eyed, a smile creeping onto his face. “Are...am I going to be a dad?”

“I bought cute little boots and everything to surprise you when we got home,” you said with a nod, Jensen throwing his arms around you. “Yeah, you’re a dad. Even if I totally ruined my own surprise.”

“A baby…” he said, smiling at your stomach. “Okay, I will admit I was surprised by the party and suspected you were planning something else tonight but this one takes the cake. How long have you known?”

“I found out earlier this week. I thought I was working too hard and that’s why I was late and then I remembered what we did on your actual birthday and...you did say you had a good feeling on it after all,” you said.

“Baby,” he said, tentatively reaching his hand out, your own grabbing it and giggling as he rested it against your stomach. “We made a baby.”

“Yeah, we did,” you said. “Are you happy?”

“More than,” he said back, running his thumb over your dress. “It’s just funny is all.”

“What is?” you asked.

“This is going to be the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life, which is saying something, but I can’t wait,” he said.

“You know I’m glad my brother hired a psychopath. Never would have found you,” you said.

“I can just hear you telling the story of how mom and dad met to this kid someday,” he laughed. “They’ll never believe it.”

“That’s a long ways away,” you said.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, pulling you into another hug. “I feel normal. You made me feel so normal again after everything that happened in my life.”

“Our lives are so not normal,” you said.

“Maybe they aren’t but you are and I am and we’re going to have a baby that has two good parents,” he said.

“Jensen?” you asked. He hummed, lightly spinning you around. “You want to go tell your family the good news?”

“In a minute. I want to remember this next time I have a not so great day,” he said.

“Okay, sweetie...Jens, there is another surprise actually,” you said, ducking your head down.

“What?” he asked, looking back but you turned his face to you.

“I had an ultrasound, it was eight weeks and all so…” you said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Babies, Jensen. Babies,” you said. He tilted his head, looking down at your stomach.

“Bab...more than...two? Twins? We made…” he said.

“Twins,” you said with a smile. “I’m thinking one of each but it’s still early to be betting.”

“Two babies,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Actually triplets,” you said, his eyes wide. “I’m just messing with you. It’s twins.”

“You were two seconds away from me having a heart attack,” he said, taking a deep breath. “How the...screw it, we figured it out so far. We can do this too.”

“Well my brother knows but even he doesn’t know it’s twins if you want to one up everybody in there,” you said.

“Definitely,” he said, giving you a kiss. “Love you, princess.”

“Really?” you said, Jensen chuckling as he skirted away and you laughed, trying to throw your shoe at him. “Asshole! You know I hate that.”

“I love you too, princess!”

[send-me-your-hcs]

Can you please write something with kingpin mob boss tony and spy!Peter infiltrating his gang to get to him?? ty ru, love you!

Love you too anon, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Implied non-consent, age unspecified Peter.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says as he pushes open the door. “I want to go with Bucky and Steve on the next assignment.”

Tony hums without turning around. He lets Peter stand there for a moment, waiting. Impatient. If Peter’s going to barge in here making demands, Tony’s going to remind him who’s in charge.

“With Bucky and Steve,” Tony says after a while. His hands continue tinkering with the gun he’s in the middle of upgrading. “Interesting. The newest member of my team - who has never been handed an assignment before - wants to tag along with my two right hand men. Tell me, Peter - you’re a smart boy - just what exactly do you think you’d bring to that particular table?”

Peter goes stiff, Tony can hear it in the affronted tone of his voice. “I’ve been on assignments before.”

“You collect,” Tony clarifies. He turns around, at last. “That’s what you do, Peter. You go to all the nice little delis that all the nice little old men own and you collect the money they owe me with that pretty little smile on your face. Bucky and Steve, on the other hand, are out there making sure those nice old men hand you every single penny that they owe. They keep this business running smoothly. Do you think you have what it takes to do what they do?”

“No,” Peter says. His honesty surprises Tony. “That’s why I want to go. I’ll never learn if you don’t let me.”

Tony smiles in spite of himself. “I had no idea you were so ambitious.”

The boy’s eyes are bright, liquid pools of amber as he stares Tony down. He takes a step forward. Then another. He holds Tony’s gaze as he approaches, neither of them speaking.

“I want to be useful to you,” Peter says. His lips are just barely too far away to lean forward and kiss. “Sir.”

Fuck.

Tony’s not an idiot. He knows a con when he sees one, and Peter - delicious, righteous little thing that he is - is playing the long con. He’s known since day one that the boy’s only here to oversee his downfall. Peter’s not as sneaky as he thinks he is - Tony’s caught him more than once pulling open his own wallet to help a bad customer fulfill his debt.

And yet. Despite knowing that Peter is here to crumble his empire from the inside out, somehow, Tony’s tempted to let him. Pepper always said his libido would be the end of him.

What better way to go?

“Is that so, baby?” His hand cups the side of Peter’s neck, thumb pressing teasingly over his Adam’s apple. “Well, if you want to be put to use, I can think of a handful of things you’d better be better suited for.”

There’s a flicker in Peter’s expression. It reminds him, not for the first time, how truly young the boy is. He’s still new, still green. He’s probably never been spoken to this way in his entire life. And yet here he is, letting a man he despises do just that. It makes Tony eager to see just how far he can push. What Peter will let him say and do to him before his facade cracks.

“Do you want that?” he asks in a murmur. “Do you want Daddy to make good use of you?”

He’s cornered Peter now, they’re both aware of it. There’s nowhere the boy can go without bringing this little game of theirs to an end except straight forward, into Tony’s arms. Tony waits, endlessly patient, for the boy to speak. Just stands there and continues to pet his pretty little throat.

“I do,” the boy says at last, swallowing thickly beneath the pad of Tony’s thumb. “I want to prove myself to you, Mr. Stark. If I can be useful to you, then…” The words die in his throat. He opens his mouth to speak, tries, fails again. “I...I - ”

“Say no more, Mr. Parker.” He smiles and moves to the side, arm wrapping around the boy’s shoulders, supportive, paternal. “You want to be of use. I’m a practical guy, I can dig that. Let’s find you something that fulfills your need to be used and my needs in general.”

He urges the boy forward, Peter’s skinny hips bumping against the edge of the table before he catches himself. His expression breaks, his mask slipping, for a split second. Fear falls over him like a curtain and he forcefully pulls it back, but not quick enough to hide it from Tony.

Tony presses in behind the boy and bends him over the table. Peter’s shivering underneath his hands when he gently cups his hips, slotting between his slender thighs, shoving him further up the table. Peter braces himself against the tabletop, but curiously doesn’t reach for the gun Tony had been tinkering with moments ago. He wonders if the thought even crossed the boy’s mind, or if he’s so removed from violence - as Tony suspects he is - that the idea of shooting someone as vile as Tony, even in self-defense, is entirely outside his realm of possibilities.

Well. Whether the boy reaches for his gun or not will be entirely up to Peter.

In the meantime, Tony’s going to push and push until something gives.