#as being this really wonderful nice polite place lacking issues

[lunar-years]

you have really fantastic thoughts and are very insightful and well spoken! I agree with you about a lot of what you said- corporations being the number one polluter but blaming individual people as a distraction, the type of discourse you’re willing to engage with, etc.

I will say my biggest issue with TS right now is still her lack of stance on palestine. I totally get that it’s kind of odd to look to celebrities for guidance on geopolitical issues… but then I think about her impact. she is the number one artist in the world. just her instagram post telling people to register to vote was a huge deal! her voice could be soooo impactful to the people suffering from literal genocide and yet… radio silence. I guess that just really rubs me the wrong way. when does PR strategy become less important than speaking out against genocide? I just wonder what impact on the public opinion of the war she could have if she just spoke out, or even showed solidarity with the ceasefire now movement in some way!

I will also say I do agree with a lot of the criticism surrounding her behavior at the grammy’s. I love TS but like… time and place beloved. I 100% understand why people are frustrated by that as well. and I do agree that she has weaponized misogyny as a defense against critiques. it’s not misogynistic to be critical of the things I mentioned. especially when she has so much actual misogyny coming at her lol.

anyways, thank you for receiving my rant. it’s always so nice to hear your thoughts, you’re truly very smart and well informed!!!

of course, thanks for sending me your thoughts! ❤️ I think it can be understandably be very frustrating to know someone has a massive platform they aren't using to speak out on important issues. It's disappointing to know that were she to say something, it could make a big difference, yet she's choosing not to. I get that, and if that's where your line in the sand is for why you can't support her/enjoy her music/whatever, I absolutely get that too and I completely respect that standpoint.

My thoughts basically boil down to...

1) Taylor's big platform comes from being an artist/singer/songwriter/performer, not from speaking out on world affairs or political & humanitarian issues. She's an entertainer. It can really suck to come to terms with this, but in my opinion (and again, I totally understand if someone disagrees with me here), she isn't obligated to be that person. it isn't her job, and she's never claimed it to be. We can not like it (I personally would love it if she were more outspoken), but I do not demand that she speaks out, because I have decided it is something I willing to accept about who she is so as to still remain a fan of hers. A person shouldn't have to be everything to everyone just because they are famous.

2) Again people are going to disagree with me here, but I cannot express to you how much rather I would her not speak on something she isn't adequately informed on over her saying the wrong things very loudly. I have no idea how well informed Taylor is about what's going on in the world, because she is not exactly forthcoming, lol, so I don't want to say i don't trust her to say the right things, but...well. The last thing we need is misinformation being spread around by more celebrities who didn't check their facts or source their knowledge, at which point the discussion online shifts into bandwagon hating of celebrities and away from the actual issues themselves.

3) This could very well come from me running in Taylor fan circles online and therefore seeing more Taylor content that anyone elses, but from my perspective this kind of criticism is disproportionately lobbed at Taylor Swift over others high-level celebs. Many celebs haven't spoken out, many celebs fly their private jets excessively (and are in fact bigger carbon-emitters than taylor) yet don't receive the same energy in terms of widespread online disapproval. In some cases, it absolutely feels like an instance of "I already hate her and this gives me a reason to feel justified in that hatred and get more people on my side!" Again, there are people online more focused on calling out and canceling celebrities than helping the causes they claim to care about so passionately. Our effort should be on elevating the platforms of people who know what they're talking about, on the voices of the Palestinian people and the reporters and activists striving to be heard, rather then demanding people with existing platforms (from being musicians, no less, lol) speak out about things they don't the first thing about it.

The criticism of Taylor I most agree with is the stuff that involves her being a hypocrite. Like, there's no doubt that she calls on feminism when it benefits and conveniences her and largely drops it the rest of the time, which definitely does rub me the wrong way. For instance, the press article after the ratty breakup that was all, "No one would be treating me like this if I were a MAN" was deeply misguided and wack, lol, based on the (incorrect) assumption that people hated that she'd had a rebound boyfriend as opposed to the reality, which was that people hated the fact that she'd associate so closely with an undeniably abhorrent person. Like Taylor, in this case this is not about you being a woman, and you are absolutely deflecting from valid critique aimed your way. For instance, how you can claim to care about and protect your POC and black fans and then date someone who's a blatant racist? Similarly, her claiming to want to be more outspoken in Miss Americana and then never following through from that point on, it's very disappointing! She shouldn't say she wants to be more involved and then never get more involved. She shouldn't use politics for clout then drop it when she feels she no longer needs it.

Curious about what rubbed you the wrong way about the Grammys? Was it the album announcement or her alleged Celine Dion snub? My thoughts on the Celine thing are: She clearly hadn't expected to win, she was overwhelmed and excited and didn't even have a prepared speech, and whilst it was definitely a misstep in the moment, it was a human one, and it's very clear they talked backstage, Celine posted the picture of them, and there seems to be absolutely no hard feelings between the women actually involved, so to me it's a complete non-issue. My thoughts on the Grammys album announcement: It was for the fans, not the people in the room. It was also her time on a stage to say what she pleased! She was being recognized! So I don't think it detracted from anyone else's moment in the spotlight. Fans online got excited, but it's not like people stopped caring about anyone else at the Grammys or the other major performances/moments, lol. Also, it's not so different from Beyonce announcing her album during the Super Bowl. A bit wrong time wrong place? maybe, but it's all meant in good fun. It is music, the grammys are a celebration of music, we are here to have fun! A very low-stakes issue for me.

#ts #asks #ts critical

[kevin-day-is-bi]

Embarking on watching all the Batman movies pt 9: The Batman (2022):

This move is a bit complicated, in terms of accuracy. As a Batman movie, I really enjoyed it. There’s a very clear separation between Bruce and Batman, to the point where even Alfred comments “is Bruce Wayne actually going to be making an appearance?” It’s a perfect Batman Year Two, complete with the baggy t-shirt, smeared eyeliner, and awkward not-quite-quippy one liners (“you got a lot of cats” said to Catwoman). We see him purposefully interact with kids a lot, especially towards the end, and we have a lot of the classic internal dialogue which is treated exactly as cringy as it is (“the city’s scarred. Angry. Like me.”).

I also think they added just enough hints of not-quite-entirely-created or fleshed out aspects of Batman. Having the Iceberg Lounge was a nice touch, as was having the memory of Thomas Wayne healing Falcone. There were a couple major changes, and most of them worked fairly well. Having Martha be an Arkham was a weird choice, but paired with making Selina be Falcone’s daughter, it added nicely to helping Gotham feel insular.

Catwoman is fantastic, and I greatly enjoyed having her be so involved with the Falcones. I also quite liked Bella Reál’s storyline. Having a background plot of politics is really nice and it helped flesh out Gotham as a city.

There were a few changes that didn’t fit quite so well. Making Penguin be a normal mobster and part of the Falcones made me wonder how he would advance as the Penguin, and it made him a little less weird and out there.

Similar to that, I do have a fair amount of issues with their treatment of Riddler. Firstly, while making him be a type of villain that is feared in modern times (a white fuckboi Reddit mod), it once again brings up the question “why Gotham?”. It doesn’t make Gotham feel particularly singular, or especially messed up. Furthermore, by turning the character himself into a less (for lack of a better word) bright character, by making him not have the Riddler suit and have his outfit be covering and dark, it really makes him feel like he’s not the Riddler. While I could see the changes being made, with the amount of care that gets put into the Batman character and the Falcone family, it feels very out of place. While it seems like a nitpick, making his name be Edward Nashton instead of Ed Nygma is a great example of this. Ed Nygma is designed to be glaringly obvious, kinda cringy, and very campy. Plus, it fits with a lot of the Rogues (like Julian Day being Calender Man). Additionally, giving him reasonable motive (being screwed over by the crime families) sort of ruins the point of him. You have reasonable villains that exist for moral quandaries (Poison Ivy, Two-Face, Mr. Freeze, Babydoll, etc), but Riddler exists fairly in the black and white. He’s not as cut-and-dry evil as the Joker, but he mainly exists to cause chaos, not to raise good points.

Overall, it’s a very good BYT and a suitably fleshed out Falcone, and in terms of the internal machinations of Gotham it’s fairly comic accurate. Plus, a lot of the shots looked very much like comic panels, which is something I greatly enjoy. I deeply hate the Joker hints at the end, largely because I worry that it will fall into the same pitfalls that The Dark Knight did and will either not adjust him to fit the world very well or over-adjust.

7.5/10

#Embarking on watching all the Batman movies pt 9 #Batman reviews

[justmybookthots]

Love, Theoretically

4.25/5 stars

Technically, this is a reread. I was feeling low because of another book yesterday, and I really wanted a good pick-me-up before I spiralled into a slump. And given how much I freaking loved this book the first time (I read it a week or so after it first got published?), I was hoping it would do the trick. 

It did. I just finished rereading the entire thing a few hours ago. Oh my gosh. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is by the same woman who wrote my romcom archnemesis: Love Hypothesis. How do you go from writing… Adam Driver (Carlton? Ca… Something) to fucking Jack? (And yes, Ali needs to consider giving her male leads less basic white boy names. That said, Levi’s name wasn’t so basic. His personality though…)

Jack is my favourite Hazelwood hero by FAR. Of course, Hazelwood technically only has two distinguishable heroes, since Adam and Levi are just differently named versions of each other. My point is, Jack is… wonderful. He’s blonde—I’m partial to fair-haired male characters, okay? He’s calm. Humorous. Communicative. Understanding. Emotionally intelligent. Like, look at this: 

And to sum it up:

He wasn’t perfect, obviously, but I… My brain was short-circuiting at so many of his scenes, his actions, his easy banter, his sense of humour. There’s one scene where Elsie thinks they’re about to have sex, but she’s clearly too tired for it, and he just plays along:

I loved their banter, omg. Some parts, not so much, but most of it was hilarious. It isn’t only with Elsie; Jack’s exchanges with his grandmother were gold, too. Millicent Smith made me crack up in that singular scene when they had tea—I think she’s a phenomenal character.  It’s amusing and admirable how Jack could respond to and handle her eccentricities without batting an eyelid. 

I really wanted to give this a five stars. I really did. I still do. I mean, the first half of the book before Jack and Elsie got together is fantastic, and is possibly the highlight of the entire story. Hazelwood nailed the tension between both leads. Furthermore, I love the throughline of the story: Elsie suffers from chronic People Pleaser Disorder where she constantly plays different versions of herself to—you guessed it—please different people. She does this incessantly, not just when she fake-dates but in many aspects of her life. As someone who dislikes the fake dating trope, it’s nice to see that this trope is being tied to an ongoing character development arc. (It also helps that she isn’t fake-dating Jack. I’m so, so tired of fake-dating between two romantic leads.) Jack is privy to all this through observation, and he encourages her constantly to be nothing more than herself. 

This theme has, to be honest, been giving me some food for thought. I’m about to derail, but I do think women are societally expected (more so than their male counterparts) to be many different things. I don’t want to go too far in depth about it because this isn’t the place, but I remember (this is still going to be a bit out of left field, but this is my reading journal, so I’ll say what I want) reading somewhere that women are likelier to be better at masking autism than men. Simply put, I believe it’s because men can be themselves, whatever that may entail, and not have to apologise for it. It’s why I’m annoyed by male characters like Adam, or just the male “grump” archetype, because men rarely need to be polite. There’s almost no flak for them if they behave in a way that lacks any kind of grace.  

But if a woman behaves the same way, she’s simply put: a bitch.

Anyway. I digress. All I’ll say on this subject is that I really enjoyed the overarching theme regarding Elsie’s character growth. 

However, this is not a perfect book. There are some points that I don’t love:

The smut. This is the biggest issue. Jack is very giving, which is great, and he is BIG on consent, which is also great. I can’t put a finger on why I don’t love how the smut is written though. Whatever it is, it’s a me problem. Ali’s writing style for smut isn’t to my taste. It doesn’t feel very… sexy? The whole scene where Jack and Elsie made out and did something sexual for the first time was really awkward. I am a firm believer that consent CAN be written in an attractive way, but this was not it. 

Twilight is not it. I’m sorry, Elsie.

I do not understand why Jack is so muscular. Big, I get because that's genetic or whatever, but why muscular??? How is a nerd who spends his days in a lab getting that muscle tone? That allusion to him playing basketball in a gym on certain weekends is NOT enough.

The PDA between Jack and Elsie at George’s house near the end of the story made me cringe. Please stop. 

Adam’s cameo. Gag. I read this book to get away from Adam, not return to his presence.

Now. Going back to more things I did love, that I haven’t mentioned yet:

Jack and the article. No, not the one he wrote when he was seventeen. The fucking article he wrote at the end as penance was AMAZING

Elsie running back to him and falling apart and saying that he probably thought they’d broken up forever because of how she’d ignored him after their fight. To which he, very calmly, goes: Nope. Who said we broke up? I was giving you space, just as you asked me for. 

GEORGINA/GEORGE. Zero girl-on-girl hate in this book. I have to give Ali credit where it’s due; there is none of this in any of her books, if I’m not wrong. Instead of having Georgina, who “stole” Elsie’s job, be the stereotypical catty bitch, she turns out to be an amazing character who saves Elsie’s career. I love how the literary landscape of female characters has changed in recent years.

“Manuscript I’d love to finish” being called MILF is something I am claiming for myself. 

Never thought I’d say this two months ago, but I absolutely loved this book. Now my biggest question is: will this be an outlier in Hazelwood’s repertoire, or will she be ever-evolving into something new and better with future books? (Bad Boy of chess, though? Really?)

FINE. I’ll stick around to find out. 

- 16 Aug 2023

#book blog #book review #romance books #love theoretically #ali hazelwood

[teafiend]

All gifs credited to @Nungchae (Twitter)

CW: Major personal rant about “The Guest”

I love Kang Gil Young to bits, and the more I read about people being annoyed by what was a clearly well-written, performed and directed female character, I really could not contain my ire. (Even more than a year after…)

We have here an FC who was essential to the plot of the story, pulled her weight throughout the show, had a wonderful arc and gorgeous throughout. Her characterisation was also in sync with what a serious crime detective always on the move, a loner and marginalized within her team (and seriously traumatized) should be? Should she be wearing skirts, always be polite and obedient to her superior? Be more feminized? Believe in Yoon Hwa Pyeong immediately when he told her a demon was possessing people and using them as vessels to murder people without skepticism and doubts? What? Honestly, I would like to know the alternatives to that.

I found all these criticisms ridiculous. Blame the writers, not the FC. And I don’t know about anyone, but as someone who have little belief in demons, I would not have believed what YHP asserted as well. At least without serious evidence for at least the first few times. And in terms of being annoying, I could say the same for YHP and CY as well. There were also one or two comments about how they found YHP too rash for their liking, but at least that was specific and true to his character. It is not often I just read, “Oh, he was so annoying!” without any qualifiers about a MC, if any.

I have no idea whether sexism and misogyny are involved, but throughout my years of watching KDrama (CDrama included), it is all too often a state where the FC will attract the most criticisms - whether justified or not - even when the MC(s) could equally be as bad or worse. And even if it might be a true case of writing (and that not common case of performances), I would still say the same for the MC in some cases, and yet they don’t often invite the same vitriol as the FC. It is getting to be more than a pet peeve. Unless it is a heavily FCs-centred show, this phenomenon will usually rear its head. I truly wonder at that. Or the focus on bromance and the criticisms of romance. As far as I know, unless a show is a mixed genre or romcom, romance is generally not a main theme, and family or the so-called bromance dominated.

Yet, people keep complaining about romances? Where? As a romance lover, it is actually annoying that unless a show is a romcom or romance-focused, romance is generally relegated to one of the least important aspect of any show. And even romcoms nowadays focus a lot on secondary relationships (not a complaint), which is nice as well. I love romance, but don’t need them to be the end all and be all of any show. On the contrary, it can get a bit tedious. Yet, people who love bromance will always comment on how the minor/token romances in any of the shows affected the quality of the shows. Or how happy they were with the lack of romance? Huh? Why the animosity towards romance. There are already so many shows which don’t really feature romance much, or any.

I am getting so annoyed with this that I am developing an unhealthy animus towards bromance. And I never had much love for it in the first place. I have no idea what shows most other people watch, but most of the shows I have watched have always been bromance heavy, and the FC just a token love interest. Frankly, that has always grated, and still do. For me, it is women-erasure, shoring up the existing patriarchy. People complain about how useless some FCs are, and yet, they were there mostly as a token, and yet the people who complain about the romance did not even want that token??? Sorry, I am actually sick of shows which only feature men or MCs-heavy (and yes, I have learned to avoid those, nowadays, unless it is a show worthy to spend time on) and their bromance. Because I will encounter the same issues I already do elsewhere, and manifold.

The Guest is not a show which would have space for any romance, and as an OCN production, not likely to do so as well. The ‘bromance’ in the show was actually generally fair to all the three characters, regardless of the genders, and each character was given enough to work with. How people want to interpret or ship (or not ship at all) is up to preferences, and regardless of my own personal feelings, everyone is free to do/ship as they chooses. The shipping is not the most chafing part, since it is a fact m/m is dominant in men-centered shows, and despite the fact that KGY is an excellently written and performed FC, TG is a male-centered show in many respects. But the shade against KGY as a character will never fail to grate and chafe.

Argh! I really need to learn to be better and stop going to the comment sections for favourite dramas to avoid the thorny comments. Too sensitive by far for those, sigh. All they do is increase my blood pressure. Nothing good ever comes of it. Sigh. A repeat of the same personal rant. Sorry. The hazard of getting on in age, and being fixated on a ‘bromance’-weighted show. It truly sucks.

* Additional note as of Feb 2024: The infuriating thing is this rant is still totally valid now as when I wrote it more than a year ago 😱😡

I just encountered NEW comments about how annoying and rude KGY was in the show! And how much some viewers dislike her! OMFG 🤬 People seem to conveniently forget that Choi Yoon could be as rude! And YHP is a weasel.

But I don’t love any of them any less because their behaviours are very understandable.

Can’t people just keep their negative comments to themselves and people with their interests? And it is always the negative comments about the FC(s) or actress(es). I would shut my trap when I encounter a similar number for the other two MCs. (And they were problematic in their own way).

(P.S. Cerebrally loving a show like Nirvana in Fire is so much better, as men-dominated and bromance-heavy as it is. For one, the female characters there are all excellent despite being a minority, and my favourites are all married with sons and no one to ship them with. There is nearly no character I want to ship anyone with. With all my favourites, I am extremely satisfied with their relatively happy fate. All the MCs most everybody is in love with did not move me one iota, even the characters I would have loved to bits normally. As m/m heavy as it is bound to be, I could happily ignore all of it. I am satisfied with the ending because it was expected and could not have been a fully happy one, having been set up the way it did since Ep 1. Basically, I suppose it is a great thing that I am just not invested at all in the characters. I just felt sad for one of the Princess, and then learning that she did move on and had a real marriage in the novel satisfied me, so even that was resolved nicely. It is wonderful to only be invested in how the story went, and whether justice would prevail. The trauma is always filtered through a film of silk, and as part of an era and regime when violence and death were always just a step away, I suppose the tragic consequences are always expected, and in that sense, part of the journey of watching a period-political intrigue piece. Shrugs).

#ocn the guest #the guest #kang gil young #totally in awe of her visuals in the show #awesome female character #MAJOR RANT #personal rant #a well-written and performed female character

[ll-underestimated-ll]

5, in each category

I5. Who Sired them, and into what Generation were they Sired? What’s their relationship with their Sire like, and what were the circumstances of their Embrace?

Beatrix Lehmann sired Leonard Lehmann as the 10th generation of their line on the 15th March 1516. He avoids disclosing his generation at all costs considering the fact that it is very high for a kindred that has survived as long as he has. It's also why he has a bitterness streak towards any kindred younger than him he learns is of a lower one.

His relationship with his sire was one built upon a mutual blood bond. Despite having a rebellious attitude he was a mummy's boy for his first century until through discussions with 'siblings' and exposure to kindred outside of the house started to have him questioning. By the late 1700s his loyalty to her was induced through blood bond entirely, he played into it to maintain an act but with some assistance from contacts he broke away. He has a lot of spite and distaste towards her now. As he rightfully should considering the traumatic abuse and manipulation he endured in his time under her influence.

The circumstances of his embrace were the following: he was adopted originally by his sire due to his resemblance to her son (the original Leonard Lehmann) whom had been the only one of her children to survive infancy let along into their teenage years. She became scared that this doppelganger would change too much and the resemblance would be lost and so she arranged for his embrace to take place on the anniversary of her own son's death, as a sort of way to have him carry on. A ghoul that had been acting as a mentor and friend to the boy arranged to cut tutoring off early on the day, presented him with a new set of clothes, took him to eat dinner and watch the sunset - and ended up being the first person Leo killed in the blind hunger of the initial aftermath of being embraced.

Beatrix was but a neonate herself still at this point and with no permission having been sought for her actions that evening. Her own sire was furious with her but figured the boy would make suitable leverage over her so let him remain. It's for this reason so much time was spent kept aside and masquerading as a ghoul during his first century.

II5. What were they most afraid of in life? How has this changed?

In life it was being accused for the deaths of his family. He felt partially responsible for their demise and the consequences that would of arisen at the time if he were to have that pinned on him? Not entirely pleasant. That and being 'broken over the wheel' for thefts committed in the time between loosing his family and being taken in by his sire. A truly horrific and agonizing way to go, a fear of that specific end is good cause for his remembering of it's existence.

Now however... torpor. The prospect of falling asleep and not rising again for some unknown amount of time is terrifying to him. Especially when he's on this constant rat race to keep up to speed with the times. In his mind getting torpored and taken out of the game for even just a few years could potentially be something he wouldn't recover from.

III5. Which of their Clan’s stereotypes apply to them? Which do they act against, or embody the opposite of?

In regards to what applies: - He definitely has a sense of noblesse oblige. Positioning himself as Prince in such a way that he defines his role less in the keeping of personal power and more in regards to the protecting of his people he serves with it. - He also adheres to quite the degree of Machiavellianism, which sometimes gets associated with his clan. - The suits. The goddamn suits. - Has a cruel power seeking streak prompting the desire to maintain control over his surroundings. While not outright power-hungry as the clan may be stereotyped, having power helps ensure stability.

Regarding what he acts against/opposes: - He has little mind for maintaining dignitas. He would much prefer to be seen as an incompetent fool so he can overlooked briefly enough for a backstab than he would want to adhere to all the tedious rules that come with the clan. - He knows that unlike his cousins he was not chosen for the embrace by courtesy of some kind of skill he possessed. He was not scoped out due to being a suitable protégé. - Will outright make a fool of himself on purpose (-bingo card insert-)

IV5. What do they think about the Kuei-jin?

I admittedly ignore WoD's lore around them cos of the sinophobia that has been engrained into it.

So instead have a little general NZ infomation. (cw: I do go into some current affairs so for anyone that wants to avoid such topics feel free to skip. Also, still not escaping people being shitty via talking about it unfortunately. British colony after all.)

During the 1860s, what was still 'initial colonization time', when many Europeans were coming to settle in the country there were also many Chinese arriving. British colonies being British colonies however held a heap of prejudice so imposed a poll tax upon their entry to the country (following the lead of US & Australia). This lasted from the 1880s to 1940s. Add on top of this discriminatory policies against even those born in the country preventing involvement in politics or work in various professions prior to the 50s and well, shit's been bad to say the least.

Over past few decades there have been several waves of Chinese immigration to the country and those identifying their ethnicity as Chinese make up a notable proportion of the Auckland demographic (~10%). This can be seen reflected in the fact that in many areas of Auckland signs can been seen written in both Cantonese or Madarin and English and also the massive yearly lantern festival and New Years celebrations in the city centre!

On a more serious note: Several of the wave haves come in response to governmental actions back in China, such as the 1997 handover. Conflicts over the CCP do get seen from the community as well - whether it be the group of protesters on Auckland's Queen Street on the daily handing out pamphlets to raise awareness of persecuted groups whilst fearing the long arm of the regime, or the conflict between pro/anti-beijing stances to arise on UoA's campus during the most recent protests in Hong Kong.

Conflict and concern over issues from back in China over the extent of control and actions of CCP's regime are alive within the NZ Chinese community. For an in depth look at part if it - this article from 2018 tries to touch on sources from both sides. And, by golly, does all this not help with the ongoing sinophobia present in society.

V5. What do they think about Clan Lasombra?

He thinks the conflict between Clan Lasombra and Clan Ventrue within the modern era is horrendously petty and grounded in the sect conflict more than anything. He himself is fearful of low generation Lasombra due to their capacity for long distance travel but the average fledgling to jump the ditch over from Australia is of little issue to him. He finds them to typically be smarter and more reasonable than some of the sabbat. Therefore be sorts he's willing to sit down and have a chat with.

The typical lasombra's desire for social climbing however is something of concern to him. They don't play by the same rules as the Ventrue and he finds something relatable in them. Those factors give him cause for some alarm. Even the nicest ones he encounters.

#ooc #long post #about #cw politics #I figured that whole business is something to be touched on considering there is often this external view of nz #as being this really wonderful nice polite place lacking issues #but I am certainly not the most eloquent person to be talking on it #but I do hope that that provides an insight into things here

[queenshelby]

The Singer – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,483

Warning: Smut, Semi Public Sex

 ***The Interview***

It’s been three weeks since Kurt’s stunt and things between you and Cillian couldn’t have been better. Whilst you struggled with comments from the press and the public initially, calling you a home wrecker and making an issue out of the age gap between you, it brought you and Cillian closer together and he even defended your relationship in a recent interview.

Whilst you still hadn’t talked about what you were and where you were at, it was clear to you that you were officially dating. But no one really took you seriously. You were seen as Cillian’s midlife crisis.

Cillian cared very little about the press, ignoring the bad rumours and assuring you that none of this mattered.

He was right. It didn’t matter. People were still buying your new album which, under contract, was unfortunately being produced by Kurt. Under the same contract, you were also obliged to engage in interviews and promotional events.

Whilst you were very eager to simply break your contract, Cillian reasoned with you. He was sensible and you were impulsive.

He assured you that breaking the contract would simply mean more bad press and you engaged Cillian’s agent to help you with media engagements. He seemed to take a sensible approach and asked interviewers to not ask you any personal questions.

But this didn’t always work out, especially when you had an interview scheduled with a London based program whose interviewer just loved to get under your skin.  

This interviewer managed to ask you about your alleged affair by referring to some lyrics of one of your songs.

‘Look, my private life is private and I will not discuss my relationship on this show. But what I can assure you is that there was no affair. We both had separated from our partners when we got involved with each other. The song you are referring to was written over a year ago and doesn’t reflect any of my personal experiences. It was written for a movie and just like the movie, it’s fictional’ you explained in response of the interviewer’s intrusive question.

‘There are many other songs you’ve written which come to mind indicating that you do in fact prefer to be with men who are older than you. These songs were all well received but your relationship is not. How do you feel about this?’ the interviewer than asked, not giving up.

‘Again, the songs are fictional, but my private life is not. That might be the issue. It’s all good if it’s fictional but as soon as it’s not, people get curious. Perhaps there is a lack of understanding surrounding relationships that aren’t the norm. Maybe people’s perceptions will change over time. I certainly hope so. After all, there are so many relationships in the history of the world where people have large age gaps and I believe that every adult has the right to date whoever they want without being criticised about it’ you explained before taking a short pause. ‘Anyway, I would prefer if we could chat about my music now rather than my private life. That’s why I am here’ you said bluntly.

The interviewer finally backed off after your request and your agent had already called in, putting the producers of the show into their place.

Cillian had also listened to the interview and texted you, making sure that you were alright and telling you that he thought that your response was well placed.

Kurt, on the other hand, was once again annoyed with you and sent you a rude text message shortly after the interview and he couldn’t help but try to get under your and Cillian’s skin.

***The Function***

Later that day, the studio was hosting a release party to celebrate your new album which Kurt had organised at the theatre complex function rooms.

It was a beautiful venue but you knew that Kurt would be attending which could end up being a complete nightmare.

This was also the first official event which you were attending together with Cillian and you raised the question whether this meant that you are his girlfriend now.

‘I suppose….I don’t know…do you want me to be your boyfriend?’ Cillian chuckled as he buttoned up his shirt.

‘I would love you to be my boyfriend’ you giggled before giving him a kiss and asking him to zip up your dress.

‘Well, I suppose I am officially off the market again then’ Cillian chuckled before returning the kiss, which was also when you heard the taxi pull up in front of his house.

Your agent has taken the liberty to invite several producers to the party, much to the dislike of Kurt. Kurt was even more irritated when you finally arrived, together with Cillian who was holding your hand.

‘Y/N…Cillian’ Kurt said greeting you both, wanting to shake Cillian’s hand but all he got in return was Cillian raising his eyebrow.

‘Kurt’ you responded with an almost evil grin on your face and just before Kurt leaned in and kissed you on the cheek.

You didn’t stay to talk to him and it wasn’t long until you were inundated by other producers, wanting to talk to you.

‘I told you, she can be a real slut’ Kurt said to Cillian as Cillian gave you some space to mingle, unbothered by the attention you were receiving by several of the producers your agent had invited.

‘And you wonder why she left you?’ Cillian chuckled, thinking that Kurt is an absolute douche.

‘You know she sucked my cock just before I signed her’ Kurt said with a smug face and it was obvious to Cillian that he had been taking some coke again.

‘Nice talk’ Cillian laughed before walking away, getting himself a drink and talking to some of the other artists.

After about thirty minutes you sought out Cillian who was standing next to the buffet talking to two female artists and you decided to give him the same space he had given you. Jealousy wasn’t your thing and you knew there was no need for it.

Eventually, however, you received a text message from him which said nothing but ‘HELP’, making you giggle. He obviously didn’t enjoy himself talking to these women and was being polite, hanging out with them and engaging into some small talk.

Just as you were going to get Cillian away, Kurt approached you.

‘Found a new producer yet?’ he asked and you responded with a quick ‘maybe’.

‘You won’t get the same sweet deal you had with me Love…’ Kurt went on to say, causing you to laugh.

‘You remember that night in the record studio together?’ he asked sheepishly.

‘Yes, I do. You lasted a total of ten minutes which was quite something Kurt’ you chuckled.

‘And I bet these were the best ten minutes of your life’ Kurt said just as Cillian approached you, listening into the conversation and taking in a deep breath.

‘Would you please give us a minute’ Cillian asked somewhat angrily.

‘I will…because my date is here’ Kurt said sheepishly.

‘What, did you hire an escort?’ Cillian asked, looking over to the woman Kurt pointed at.

‘She’s a model’ Kurt explained, not realising that Cillian was being sarcastic.

‘Of course she is’ Cillian chuckled before saying bye to him and this is when you broke out laughing.

‘He’s got the IQ of an ape’ Cillian huffed as Kurt walked away, shaking his head in disbelieve.

‘You are being so polite sweetheart’ you giggled.

‘I am sorry, but he just makes me fucking angry. You know what he said earlier?’ Cillian said but, before he could tell you, you crashed his lips onto yours.

‘Are you angry?’ you asked as your lips drifted apart.

‘At Kurt? Yes’ Cillian said.

‘Good. Come with me’ you winked as you pulled him away from the function.

Without questions, Cillian followed you upstairs where the offices of the producers were located.

‘I saw you talking to these women earlier…tell me about them’ you said as you led Cillian towards the back of the office area.

‘Sorry Y/N, I don’t know much about them, they just…’ Cillian said but, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him with a passionate kiss in front of the door leading to Kurt’s office.

‘Don’t apologise, just tell me. I think there is nothing more sexy than seeing other women want what I have’ you smirked, your hand moving to his crotch.

‘Seriously?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod and bite your lips suggestively.

‘Well, unlike you, I don’t like seeing other men want what is mine now, especially not this smug bastard’ Cillian said before pressing his lips back onto yours for an urgent kiss.

‘Please tell me this makes you angry’ you giggled as you pulled a white card out of your handbag.

‘Of course it makes me angry and, if I wouldn’t be so fucking complacent, I would punch him’ Cillian chuckled just as he watched you swipe the card through the black machine on Kurt’s office door before putting in the PIN on the security keyboard.

‘I’ve got a better idea’ you smirked as you pulled Cillian into Kurt’s office.

‘What are you doing?’ Cillian asked and all you did in response was looking over to Kurt’s study desk.

Cillian’s eyes lid up and, before you knew it, you felt your lower back pushed against the desk while Cillian lifted up your dress and pushed aside your panties.

‘You are so wet’ Cillian growled with excitement as, without warning, he pushed two of his fingers deep inside you, causing you to moan loudly. He was so aroused and rock hard, ready to take you, but he wanted to play with you first.

‘You do this to me Cillian’ you moaned, throwing your head back and taking in the sensation of his fingers deep inside your tight entrance.

Cillian continued to slide his fingers back and forth within your wet folds, hearing you moan and gasp at the sensation. He then slipped his middle finger inside you. You cried in pleasure. He loved pleasing you like this and started to thrust his fingers inside you faster and faster, watching your body pulsate with his movements.

He hit your g-spot over and over again and you knew what this meant. He was doing this on purpose, making sure to mark what is his and, in the process of it, possibly also mark the carpet in Kurt’s office if he kept going like this.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you cried, your eyes closed as he was manoeuvring his fingers tilted up to get the pleasure spot over and over again until your legs began to shake.

‘You like that?’ Cillian asked softly as he continued thrusting his finger into you and you barely managed to nod.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked at him as he confidently smiled at you. His unabashed confidence was turning you on even more. He knew that no one else ever made you cum like this.

As he continued to finger you, sending waves of pleasure over your body, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm and just as you were about to scream in pleasure, Cillian pushed his other hand over your mouth firmly as you came over his fingers, a wet puddle immediately forming on the office floor.

While your head was still spinning and without allowing you to come down from your high, Cillian spun you around and pushed you down against the cold oak table.

He certainly was angry and you loved every moment of it.

With one swift movement, he lifted up your dress again and pushed down your panties.

‘Spread your legs’ he instructed and you obliged, hearing his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his jeans opening.

‘That’s good’ he said as he was positioning his cock directly at your entrance, ready to push in.

Your heart started pounding with excitement and with one hard and powerful thrust and one loud groan Cillian buried himself deep inside you.

You shrieked at the sensation as he immediately and forcefully bottomed out inside of you. It took your breath away and he gave you no chance to adjust as he began to thrust in and out of you.

‘You are all mine’ Cillian moaned as he hit your cervix with the tip of his cock for what felt like the hundred’s time.

‘I am yours Cillian, oh god yes, fuck me hard’ you moaned.

Cillian grunted with each thrust, getting more aroused by the second as he was taking you over Kurt’s desk.

Each thrust was igniting a fire in you. It felt so good and you cried at the inexplicable pleasure consuming you, calling Cillian��s name multiple times.

Cillian was grabbing your thighs, prying them apart, and opening you up to him even more. He thrusted deeper and harder into you in this position.

You cried, your nails digging into the wood of Kurt’s desk while your pussy clapped against Cillian with each thrust.

‘I am coming Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and just, like that, another loud moan escaped you and your orgasm washed over you, your legs quivering and shaking as a result.

Cillian exhaled and groaned loudly, leaning in and filling you with his warm cum at the same time. You felt yourself fill up with his seed, exhaling at the sensation. He stayed inside you for a minute, then slowly pulled out. He watched his cum flow out of your opening ecstatically, running down your thighs.

You then turned around and grabbed one of the tissues from Kurt’s desk, wiping your legs clean before throwing the tissue into the bin.

His desk was covered with some of your sweat and juiced and Cillian looked at your flushed, glistening, beautiful face as you were still panting and kissed you softly on the lips.

‘Should we clean this up?’ Cillian chuckled as he closed up his belt.

‘Oh god no’ you smirked before collecting a good amount of Cillian’s cum that had pooled inside you and then licking your finger suggestively before pulling your panties back up.

‘Let’s get back to the party and say goodbye, shall we?’ you giggled.

Cillian followed you and the first person you chose to say goodbye to was Kurt, which surprised Cillian.

Giving Kurt a big kiss on his cheek, you wished him a pleasant evening and Cillian’s chin dropped immediately.

He couldn’t help it but laugh, shake Kurt’s hand, with the same hand that had pleasured you just minutes earlier, and wish him a pleasant night also.

‘You are so fucking bad, you know that?’ Cillian laughed later in the taxi on your way home.

‘He deserved it’ you giggled.

   Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03  @mcntsee​@cloudofdisney​ @missymurphy1985​​ @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @otterly-fey janelongxox  @uchihacumdump

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@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby   @chocolatehalo

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

[iwaslut]

— 𝖌𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖘

this is my piece for @karasunosimp’s “it’s raining milk” collab!! this is my first time ever participating in a collab, so thank you for letting me join <3

milf!sasha braus

fem!reader, nsfw content, large age gap, wlw, oral sex.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡ 18+ CONTENT

Your job as a babysitter had quite a few perks.

One: The pay is good. You were rather reluctant to resort to babysitting as a part-time job but, desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when you’re trying to earn some form of income while putting yourself through your last year of University. So you were pleasantly surprised when you had been offered more than you normally would be compensated when babysitting.

Two: The kid you babysit, Kaya, is an absolute angel. Due to her rather withdrawn nature, Kaya typically keeps herself busy by quietly reading in her room or watching the television in the living room. As time has passed and Kaya’s slowly become accustomed to your presence, she no longer seems as apprehensive to interact with you as she once was. It’s obvious to you that she’s a good kid. Although she’d rather keep to herself, she’s always polite when you converse and sometimes she’ll even ask if you want to join her and watch a show together. She has pretty good taste in shows, you think as you watch “The Winx Club” together.

Three: Miss Braus is one of the hottest fucking women you’ve seen in your life. She looks fucking incredible for a woman her age and you were honestly shocked to learn that she’s as old as she is. Whenever you interact with the woman, you have to physically restrain yourself from allowing your eyes to lower; her shirts are always exceptionally tight, clinging like a second-skin to her tits. It’s only when she turns around to leave through the front door that you let yourself check out the older woman. She has a damn nice ass.

“Hello, Miss Braus.” With your tote bag resting on your shoulder, you step inside of the home as the brunette warmly ushers you in.

“Miss Braus makes me feel old. How many times do I have to tell you that Sasha will do just fine, sweetheart?” She complains, playfully scolding you as you slip off your sneakers by the entrance of the door. Her hands are firmly placed on the curve of her hips when you lift your head to offer her a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, Mi—Sorry, Sasha. Force of habit, I guess.” You bring up one hand to rub at the back of your neck, brows lightly pinching together when you survey the space to see Kaya nowhere in sight. “Eh, pardon me, Sasha, but where’s Kaya at?”

Although you’re well aware of how reserved her daughter is, you’ve come to expect Kaya to be curled up on the couch reading a novel whenever you come over to babysit her. You guys have fallen into the habit where you’ll cook her lunch as soon as you arrive while she reads nearby so it’s rather unusual that the blonde girl is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s at her father’s house for the day.” For a brief moment, the brunette’s expression pinches up: distaste for the blond man made evident on her face. You don’t know too much about Sasha’s ex-husband, just that he’s some renowned chef that frequently travels a lot. Niccolo is his name if you recall correctly. It’s not your place to pry so you choose to not ask any questions regarding the matter and listen when Sasha slips little tidbits of information regarding her ex-husband.

Wait. What?

“Kaya’s not here?” If Kaya’s not here then why were you still scheduled to babysit today?

You’re drawn out of your train of thought when Sasha places a gentle hand on your shoulder. You startle at the little amount of space in between the two of you.

“Nope!” She cheerfully exclaims as she slips your bag off of your shoulders. You’re left in a stupor, wondering what the fuck is going on, but you shake it off and follow Sasha, who has turned around and is now making her way in the direction of the kitchen.

“I thought we could chat today!” Her back is turned towards you as you take a seat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. She floats around the kitchen, grabbing items from the fridge and cabinets. Your eyes glue themselves to the thin sliver of skin that appears when Sasha’s shirt rides up as she reaches for something in one of the upper cabinets.

“O-oh, okay.” This turn of events is rather strange, but you’re not complaining. Sasha’s a really wonderful conversationalist: the conversation flows naturally between you two and you’re always left in stitches at the jokes she cracks. Also, you get the opportunity to openly ogle her with her back facing you as she cooks something on the stove. You’re not going to pass up on an opportunity like this.

“I’m making us some lunch, but it’s going to take some time to cook.” You’re knocked out of your reverie once again and quickly avert your gaze from Sasha’s ass to meet her eyes. You desperately hope you were fast enough that she didn’t catch you. Her expression doesn’t give anything away so you think you’re good.

“Sounds good to me! Thank you so much for making lunch.” Your mouth waters at the thought of eating Sasha’s cooking. Although you’ve never tried it, Kaya’s always boasted about how her parents are both great cooks. You’re looking forward to trying her food since Kaya speaks so highly of it.

“Of course, honey! It’s no issue especially for such a sweet girl.” Your thighs automatically squeeze together. You mentally thank a higher being that the counter hides your lower half because that would be painfully embarrassing for you if your employer saw how turned on they made you by uttering only two words.

You watch as Sasha floats around the kitchen, grabbing some more ingredients from the fridge and different cabinets before tossing them all together on the stove to simmer. You fidget in your seat, never one who was good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your attention. You feel that it would be rude for you to pull out your phone and scroll through social media in Sasha’s presence.

“There we go! Now we just have to let this simmer for a while,” she exclaims, turning around to face you and clapping her hands together. A pretty smile graces her face and her features light up when you return it with a grin of your own.

“Since it's going to take some time, how about we get comfy?”

Sasha pats the seat next to her on the couch, prompting you to slip out of the stool you’re sitting on to join her. You make sure to maintain a respectable distance that Sasha effectively destroys when she scoots closer to you until your knees are brushing against one another’s. The lack of space between you two makes you more nervous than you’d like to admit, but you don’t move from your spot.

The air is stolen straight out of your lungs when Sasha places a delicate hand on your knee.

“You know, you’re not really discreet when you’re checking me out, honey,” Sasha notes.

“Huh—what?” It takes your brain a moment to process what Sasha’s said, especially as her hand steadily inches up your thigh. Once you realize what she’s said, embarrassment crashes over you in a cold wave.

“Oh my god, I am so so so sorry Miss Braus. Please forgive—.”

Your words die out when Sasha places the hand that’s not on your thigh on your cheek, forcing you to look her way.

“You talk too much, sweetheart,” Sasha affectionately chides before she presses her lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in the process. You’re frozen still for a moment. Is this actually fucking happening? When you feel Sasha move her lips against yours, you realize that yes, this is, in fact, fucking happening.

Any of your prior hesitations is thrown out the window when you feel Sasha’s hands slip underneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your tongue traces the seam of her lips before Sasha parts them, letting you in. Your hands rest on her hips, urging and guiding her to seat herself on top of your lap.

You smile against her lips as a startled gasp leaves them when you firmly squeeze her ass.

“Too much clothing,” she rasps out while pulling her shirt over her head. You’re quick to follow suit and tug your own t-shirt off just in time to watch Sasha unclasp her bra. Her breasts spill out from underneath the constraining fabric and jiggle before settling against her chest.

As much as you want to lean forward and lather her tits in attention, you’re eager to switch the position you’re currently in. Sasha’s back hits the couch’s cushions with a quiet thump as your frame leers above her.

Her eyes widen in brief surprise at the action, but Sasha’s not granted much time to think when you swoop down to kiss her again. It’s sloppier this time around. You have no clue when, or if, you’ll ever get this chance again and you’re determined to make the most of it. You want to ingrain the taste of Sasha into your brain.

Her hands tangle together behind your neck when you begin your descent down her body. You lick the bead of sweat trailing down the column of her neck and gently nip at the skin there. Not hard enough to make any marks, but just hard enough to elicit a gasp from Sasha.

“Fuck. Just like that.”

She throws her head back when you swirl your tongue around the hardened bud of her nipple while your fingers roll her other one. You lavish her tits in attention, sucking and nipping at them until blood rushes to the surface of her skin. When you lean back, you mentally pat yourself on the back. Her tits are a mess, covered in hickies of varying sizes.

You pepper kisses to her stomach, relishing in how soft and plush her skin is, before tossing her legs over your shoulders.

“You look so good like this, Sasha. So pretty and desperate for me to eat you out,” you coo. You hook your arms underneath her thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fat of her ass until she’s positioned in a way you like.

“Hurry up and put your mouth on me already.” She tightens her thighs around your head and digs her heels into your back, urging you to get on with it already. If this was any other situation, you’d draw it out a little longer until Sasha was on the verge of tears and begging you to eat her out, but you’re feeling impatient. You can’t lie and say you’re not eager to have a taste of her.

Before Sasha can complain at how long you’re taking, you dive in. A startled moan tears its way out of her throat when you lick a long, deep stripe along her dripping slit. You lap at her cunt like a woman starved, devouring her whole. You circle her clit with your tongue before latching onto it.

“Shit. I’m so close. You’re doing s’good.”

Her back arches off of the sofa as her hands bury themselves into your hair. She digs the blunt edges of her nails into your scalp and the slight splintering pain has you moaning into her cunt.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming.”

She sharply digs her heels into the muscle of your upper back and she cums with a loud cry. You hold her in place as she convulses, bucking her hips wildly as she rides out her orgasm. You gently suckle on her clit and run your tongue through her folds until she’s whimpering.

The incessant beeping of the timer that Sasha had previously set startles the two of you. From in between her thighs, you stare up at her with a crooked grin. A mixture of her juices and cum coats your lips and chin. Her eyes dart to the pink of your tongue when you lick your lips clean. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin, which only serves to smear the liquid more.

“Thanks for the dessert, Sasha. I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking now.”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #aot smut #sasha braus x reader #sasha blouse x reader #sasha braus smut #sasha blouse smut #celeste.scribs #drip #tw fem reader #tw age gap #tw milfs #tw wlw #drip.aot

[mindninjax]

Iron and Wine (4)

Chapter 4- Two Blue Eyes

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin Smith x fem!reader (Royalty AU)

Warnings: They/them pronouns used for Hange, Miche literally almost charming the panties off of you, some minor character death, I'm not gonna ruin the surprise just know some of you will be disgusted with me and others will be thrilled lololol

WC: 5.1K

a/n: I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I changed so much shit around in this chapter because this is where it gets REAL. I think I've finally got what I want to happen from this point on locked and loaded though. Writing it may be a different story because this month is gonna get a lil busy for me. s/o to @lazyezstudy and @charlotteplsdosth for being sweet little darlings. 💖I'll dedicate this chapter to you.😘

Erwin’s eyes scan the horizon once more as the fluttering wings of the raven in the rookery rustles his hair. It’s been two weeks and there’s been no word from Abel or Keiji. They’ve never gone this long without sending word back which can only mean trouble. Erwin chews his lip nervously, creasing his brow as he racks his brain. What should he do? Send more men to find the two he lost? That would be a wise decision, if he had men to send. A raven flutters down next to him and he pets the head with one finger, gently.

What could have hindered Abel and Keiji from checking in? A tingle in his gut hints at the answer, but he doesn’t dare give voice to it. It’s a bad omen and he’d rather spend energy preparing than worrying. He continues scribbling the messages onto the slip of parchment and ties it to the raven sitting next to him before releasing it toward the North. He lifts a finger to beckon two more birds down to him, attaches the other messages, and lets one free toward the South and the other toward the West.

There’s still the issue of the agreement or lack thereof with you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed you last night. Though he will admit it was entertaining.

The sound of shuffling feet breaks him from his concentrated stupor and he turns to see Miche and Hange approaching. Miche’s large broad shoulders block the doorway to the stairwell as he fills the entryway and blocks Hange from sight. He bows respectfully before reporting.

“Sire, the war council has gathered in the war room. They are awaiting your presence.” Erwin watches the flapping wings of the raven he just released silently. He doesn’t turn around when he speaks.

“Miche, you’ve been in the presence of my special guest. How do you like her?” he asks as if asking about the clouds donning the skies. Miche gulps and blinks quickly in confusion.

“You’re asking me if I like her?” he repeats, trying to be sure.

“Yes. It’s no secret she is a beauty. Even Levi seems to have noticed. So tell me, what has your nose told you about her?” Erwin says simply. He turns to look into his comrade’s large honest eyes.

“Erm, well she smells of fresh grass and wood, moss and clear spring water with a hint of some sweet flower I’ve been having trouble identifying. I’ve only smelled it once or twice in my life, but it was so lovely I never forgot it. But…” Miche trails off as he watches Erwin raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s fading… that scent is fading from her the longer she’s here,” Miche finishes quickly. He sets his face in a confident smooth expression and looks into the king’s eyes.

Erwin matches his serious and confident expression, “Are you suggesting I let her go?” he asks slowly, enunciating each word.

“No, your majesty,” he drops his eyes, regretful. Erwin sighs and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t. Forgive me, I am just at a loss of what to do. It’s obvious the lioness doesn’t trust me and no matter what I give her she won’t change her mind. There is still no word from Abel and Keiji. I've sent ravens to Pixis in the North and Shadis in the South. War will be on our shores in months and I don’t have the support of my people, and decreasing numbers of soldiers thanks to famine and this petty war with the forest savages my father started,” he cards his fingers through his hair and runs a hand over his face. Miche can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. A

“Erwin, perhaps you’re going about this agreement with the woman in the wrong way,” Hange speaks up then, pushing past Miche and clapping Erwin on the shoulder.

“Well you’re part of my damn counsel, so counsel me,” Erwin replies, giving a tired chuckle.

“You plucked a wild woman who’s people you just referred to as ‘forest savages’—it’s probably wise not to say that in front of her— from her home in the forest and put her in a castle expecting her to be enthralled with all the riches,” Hange explains holding out their hands in an animated expression as if the rest of the point is clear before them. When Erwin stares blankly at them and they sigh as if he’s hopeless and continues.

“It’s clear she’s not impressed by it, so why not show her something she will be impressed with? Something she’ll actually enjoy but can’t find in her forest village. If you can show her that you’re actually paying attention, she may be more inclined to join us. Moblit mentioned she was quite pleasant to him and she seems to have taken to Historia quickly.”

Erwin ponders their words for a moment and Hange knocks a fist against their own head as they try to think of something here in the castle that might impress you. Miche’s green eyes look between the two of them before he sighs deeply and grunts in a deep voice, “The private gardens.”

“Great idea big guy!” Hange says, clapping their hands together.

Erwin smiles at both of them, then takes a deep breath. He turns to look out at the horizon again, hoping to catch a glance of a raven. When he doesn't, he turns back to Miche and says, “OK then, I’m entrusting the lioness to you, Miche. Show her the gardens, make sure she actually enjoys it. Hange, you’ll join me in the war room. It seems we’ll have some things to discuss.”

“I’ve been sent to escort you to the king’s private gardens, my lady.”

A large blonde man whom Historia whispers and informs you is named Miche Zachariaus, bows before you as you swing open the door. You recognize him instantly. He’s the strong one who carried you away after your first talk with Erwin. You take a moment to scrutinize him before responding. Everything about him is large. His chest is broad, his shoulders wide and strong, he could probably fit 10 bundles of wood on his back and carry them with ease. He is handsome as well, no doubt part of Erwin’s plan. As if you’d be swayed by a man’s looks, though you do quietly and begrudgingly thank him for the nice view. He’s not wearing his armor which you find alarming. He either doesn’t see you as a threat or his skills are far beyond any you’ve known or witnessed and that also puts you on edge. You decide to be polite.

“I humbly decline,” you say in a small voice. As you’re about to close the door, his large hand stops it and pushes it back open. He looks almost desperate and you furrow your brows in confusion as you look back up to him.

“Please, my lady. I implore you to reconsider. I’m aware most of the luxuries have not been to your liking but this I'm sure you will enjoy,” Miche says, holding out a hand for you to grab. Your eyes shift back and forth from his outstretched hand and up to his gentle green eyes. He looks hopeful, like he really hopes you’ll take his hand. You hear Historia’s soft footsteps behind you.

“I’ve never seen the king’s personal garden. You should go, it’ll be beautiful. Ser Miche won’t hurt you. He’s very gentle and kind,” she whispers to you.

You give her a teasing smirk as you whisper over your shoulder back to her, “You’ve said that about everyone here.”

“Well I haven’t been wrong, have I?” she huffs and pokes out her lip in a cute pout.

“Only once,” you say, remembering the night Erwin came to your room. Miche clears his throat to remind you of his presence and you smile back up at him. “Would she be permitted to come with me?” you ask, nodding your head in Historia’s direction.

“You can invite anyone you’d like, my lady,” Miche responds and Historia’s eyes light up in excitement. You try to hide the smile tickling the edges of your lips and swallow the excitement at the thought of seeing the gardens.

“Very well then,” you say, grasping his hand.

The garden is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s as if it’s located in another world. It smells wonderful, not at all like the moldy castle corridors or the stench of burning fire and metal that drifts in your window from the castle town below. The sun rays kiss the green leaves of each plant and the array of colors each flower offers is more beautiful than any you've ever witnessed in your village.

When Miche opens the heavy iron gates, you’re at a loss for words. There’s a cobblestone path that leads to a grand white marble fountain in the middle of the garden. Multiple paths break off in different directions showcasing different plants. Vines climb up the walls and cover the stone, butterflies and bees frequent the flowers, and it surprises you how much this one little place reminds you of home.

There’s no stopping the bright smile that bursts onto your face and stays there while you gaze around in fascination. Historia is next to you, matching your bewildered expression and when the two of you meet each other's eyes you both laugh in amusement and happiness. Your laughter echoes through the garden and mixes with the babbling water of the fountain, a glorious little melody. Miche is watching you with a warm-hearted smile and you catch him ogling you from the entrance. You try to pull yourself together as you watch HIstoria wander off and Miche closes the gate behind him and comes to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Would you like a tour?” he suggests and you look at him in shock.

“There’s more?” you breathe and he chuckles a deep rumbling noise before holding out his arm. You hesitate again looking at his outstretched hand with suspicion. He doesn’t take it personally, a man as large and strong as him doesn’t have much to worry about, but he does give you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, my lady there is more. I thought you’d like to see all the gardens have to offer,” he replies, gesturing to the entirety of the courtyard. You blink in astonishment.

“This was your idea? How did you know I’d-”

“Your scent is strong. You smell like the trees and a sweet flower. I've been trying to figure out the name since you’ve arrived,” he says matter of factly. He turns to you then and reaches out slowly to grab the braid sitting on your shoulder. You surprise yourself when you don’t move away from him, but the fact that this was his idea, that he mentioned your scent, makes you feel more at ease around him.

“May I?” he says, green eyes drifting to yours. His long lashes brush against his cheeks and his deep voice rumbles through his body when he speaks.

“You wish to...smell my hair?”

“Yes, if you would permit me to do so,” he says politely. Again you look at him with suspicion, but nod to let him know it is ok to move closer to you.

Your eyes stay glued to him as he crouches and brings the long braid up to his nose and inhales deeply. He drags it up and down your hair, inhaling and exhaling with a deep pleasurable sigh after each breath. His eyes are closed as he focuses on the scent, mumbling words to himself.

“Pine...a hint of lemongrass...cedar wood...ugh the perfume overpowers the natural scent… and there that flower again...what is it?” He switches back and forth from sniffing your hair and sniffing the sweet air of the gardens. He’s quite amusing to watch and you smile to yourself as his shaggy hair falls over his eyes when he bends down to sniff you again.

Suddenly his eyes shoot open and he turns to face a path leading away from the fountain. He grabs your hand slowly, his large fingers wrapping around yours and swallowing it completely and strolls down the path looking back and forth between the colorful petals. He momentarily stops to sniff the air again before taking turns in the maze of plants until he comes across a hedge of thick green bushes and vines.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” You ask him, gesturing to the huge hedge in front of you sarcastically. He doesn’t respond, only bends down on one knee and reaches into the hedge. You try to pull him back, the hedge houses many thorns definitely as a means to keep people out of that area.

“No, don't! You’ll hurt your–“

He pulls his hand from the wall of thorns, bloody and pin pricked but holding the loveliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s pure white and unphased by the thorns or by Miche pulling it from its hiding place. You’re stunned by its beauty and it’s perfect white petals. He hands it to you and smiles a big joyous grin.

“How did you–“

“I’ve always had a good nose. I knew I’d smelled this plant before. Once near the edges of the forest. And then again when you were brought before Erwin. There were hints of it here, but it doesn’t seem to belong here. I figure it’s only natural to give it to you considering…” He doesn’t finish this sentence, not wanting to rub dirt in the wound of you being forced from your home. The flower make tears well in your eyes and you quickly swipe them away before he can see them.

You take the flower from him and bring it to your nose, the scent immediately reminding you of home and the huge field that has many of these swaying in the breeze. “It’s a moon blossom. They bloom at night or in dark places under the moon. It’s a symbol of growth in dark times,” you explain to him.

He nods in understanding. “I’d like to think…” he starts grabbing the flower from you again and moving to place it gently into your hair, “that it represents you, thriving and standing beautifully despite being so far from home.” His finger skims across your cheek as he fixes your hair. He’s definitely a charmer and he flashes you a cute boyish grin that you can’t help but return. His charm is genuine and you snicker as he steps back to look you over.

“Are you attempting to woo me?” you ask playfully.

“No. If I were, my lady, I’d tell you that there’s not a flower in this garden that compares to the beauty you possess. And that the dullest of days would shine brighter, for the sun would be envious of your presence and beauty.”

He finishes his sentence with a bow and a soft but pointed kiss on the palm of your hand. You can feel the prickle of his moustache in your hand and paired with his soft lips and warm breath, it sends a shiver up your spine.

The moment his lips leave your palm, your heart is thumping. You can still feel the warmth of the kiss on your skin and it radiates all over your body, culminating at the apples of your cheeks. You watch as his smile turns smug much to your chagrin, you turn away to hide the smile creeping at the edges of your lips.

“Alright then, I see now why the king sent you to escort me,” you say, clearing your throat. He chuckles in a deep baritone and holds his arm out to continue escorting you through the gardens.

“He’s very interested in you,” Miche replies, looking down at you as the two of you stroll.

You roll your eyes, “I bet he is,” you say remembering the way Erwin pinned you to the wall, his lips on your neck and jaw.

“Truly my lady, In all the years of knowing him, I’ve never seen him so entranced before,” he replies, watching as you let go of his arm to sniff a large drooping pink flower. Entranced, a pretty way of saying “kidnapping”, but something else he says catches your attention.

“How long have you known him?” you ask, curiosity painting your features.

“Since we were boys. I was a stablehand in the town right outside the castle walls. Erwin wasn’t king then but he snuck out of the castle to spend time with me. He taught me to read, taught me how to use a sword, and helped me become a knight under his father’s rule. He took care of my family when the food supply started running out, gave them jobs in the castle when he became King.”

He looks ahead as if he’s picturing all the events unfolding in front of him. You shrug your shoulders. Of course his best man would speak great things about him. Erwin is the King, it’s treason to speak ill about him. Though you will admit, this isn’t the first time you’ve heard of him helping out one of the people in the castle. You remember Historia telling you he found her in her village.

“What about Historia? She mentioned he found her in her village. Did he steal her too? She is a beauty,” you challenge, raising your eyebrow.

“Ahh the little lady, very sad story. The King happened upon her village after it had been raided by barbarians. There didn’t seem to be any survivors, the houses were burnt down, blood and carnage all over. He was returning from battle and stopped the entire army to search for survivors. She was the only one. Erwin brought her back to the castle, dressed her wounds and let her stay,” he explains.

You’re shocked but try to keep it hidden. You don’t think Miche is lying to you, it would be foolish. You could just ask Historia and if the story matched you’d know it was true. But there’s something about the way Miche speaks with admiration, loyalty, and genuine respect for Erwin when he tells the story that cements the truth.

It confuses you, the wolf king’s actions. The battles between your people and his to keep him out of the forest and away from the precious metals you know he’s after, the way he neglected his people despite them dying in the streets from famine while he sits in his castle and gorges himself on delicacies, it makes no sense. If he were as compassionate as Miche is suggesting he would never do these things. But there must be some truth to it, the Mother protects him. What does she see?

You're left to the many questions in your head as another guard approaches you and Miche and whispers something quickly in his ear. He nods once then turns to you and bows.

“My apologies my lady, but I’m needed elsewhere. Gelgar will escort you and Historia back to your chambers,” he says, grasping your hand and giving it a final kiss before departing.

You thank him and watch him turn a corner out of the garden maze as Gelgar gestures to have you walk in front of him and inform you that Historia is waiting back at the fountain. You nod and walk past him.

You suppose it’s time to stop being stubborn and finally read the documents Erwin left for you. If it means you’ll get out of here sooner, you’ll oblige. Perhaps more answers about the type of man Erwin truly is will be shown to you after you’ve read them.

The ravens reach Shadis and Pyxis in a matter of days and when they return it is not with good news. The number of men is less than what he expected to hear and more continue to drop from starvation as they speak. It has become increasingly more difficult to keep control over the North and South as the people grow weary and delirious with starvation. Pyxis and Shadis both report the same instances, talk of the lioness coming to bring them food and prosperity and good fortune as she did in Castle Town.

Lord Pyxis, ever the wise and kind old man and one of Erwin’s father's old friends, writes of the hope it instills in the people. He hopes that someone will come soon to help with this famine and the people are greatly appreciative of his faith. Shadis on the other hand is cold and views the whispers in the streets as a betrayal, a rise of another rebellion. He forbids any talk of you or the “nonsense” you would inflict upon his people.

Erwin scans the words on the notes from the two lords as Hange sits next to him, hands intertwined underneath their chin.

“Well it’s nice to know the people are of one mind. But Erwin, if we can’t get the lioness to agree we have no hope in helping anyone,” they say in a slurry of words. Erwin can tell their mind is working, filtering through the different possibilities.

“I have faith in Miche. She wants to help the people in this kingdom and she wants to keep her home safe and from invaders,” Erwin says, shuffling through many pieces of parchment on the table. He picks up a stained crumpled piece and glares at it. “And this will surely be a driving factor in her decis--”

The door to the war room bursts open as you stomp into the room, parchment gripped tightly in your hand. The lavender dress flows dramatically behind you as you drift into the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. Miche is behind you, desperately trying to keep up with your quickened pace as he flashes an apologetic frown and slight bow of the head to Erwin. You’re shaking with rage, head held high as you walk into the room with purpose. Your eyes are fixed on Erwin at the head of the table and you can hear the commanders whisper to themselves about your disrespect.

Erwin does not look bothered, rather amused as you come to stand before him and slam the parchment down on the big table in front of him. The goblets and war figurines tremble and topple over.

“What is the meaning of this?” You scream.

“Ahh my lady, I see you’ve read the document sent to the Beast across the sea.”

“This spews lies and deceit, we are not one kingdom, we do not fight as one. And I am not going to negotiate to share any of the fruits of my labor with you or this beast from the west!”

Erwin stands wordlessly and the others in the room immediately stand with him. He walks slowly around the table to grab pieces of parchment that sit in front of Hange. His face is no longer pleasant, but serious with a dark glint behind his glare. The pieces of parchment are wrinkled and stained with what you assume is blood. He holds them in his fist and hands them to you, nodding his head to encourage you to take them from him.

You do so, snatching them in a huff and uncrinkling them to read the neat scrawled handwriting. Your eyes scan through the first few words before Erwin’s voice rings out into the war room and demands “Read it aloud.”

You glare again at him before clearing your throat and reading the message aloud:

Greetings King Erwin, Wolf of the East. I am sure you and your war counsel have heard of me as they are tasked with keeping tabs on your enemies. I am not sure how much information your comrades Abel and Keiji gave you before I captured them but I can only assume they’ve completed their tasks remarkably. I can only imagine how thorough and intelligent you are King Erwin, as I've done my research on you as well.

I’ve received your letter, your partner sounds lovely but I have no interest in arrangements or agreements. I will simply take what I want: your lands, your resources, your people as that is what a conqueror would do. As I’m sure you already know, it is well within my power to do so. We will meet you in battle and crush you. I hope you will not take offense as you must be familiar with the rules of war. How many kingdoms have you crushed under your golden boot?

You drop the parchment, thinking it silly to continue with the self assured words of this foreign enemy. “You’re afraid of a cocky self assured bastard from across the sea? And I thought you to be a King.”

“Keep reading.”

“Why? It’s just nonse-”

“I said, keep reading.” Erwin’s voice is dangerous now, anger swelling inside him and you'd never admit aloud but it kind of frightens you.

You are probably wondering what has become of your loyal men, why they haven’t reported back in weeks? You're probably wondering what to tell their families, their wives and children if they have them. Well you’ll be happy to know I am a gracious war chief. I’d want to know what happened to my men as well. So I will tell you every detail of how your men suffered, until they took their last breath so you may explain to their wives and children as they wail in sorrow. And you may have what’s left of them, to bury or burn or whatever it is you do with your unfortunate dead. Their heads will stay here with me though, as my trophies. The details of their deaths are included in the lovely gifts I’ve sent you.

Best regards your majesty, and I look forward to seeing you when I land upon your shores.”

The note is signed with one name, “Zeke” in neat penmanship. Below that is what looks like a recipe, numbered steps and as you scan through them quietly you realize it is a step-by-step process of how the two men were killed. It is gruesome, horrific, unnecessarily cruel and you don’t have the stomach to finish reading it to yourself let alone aloud. You slam the parchment down on the table and look away. The other pages scatter and Erwin glowers at them.

“Did you see the diagrams, my lady? The diagrams of how he butchered my men? Or was the step by step process too much for you?”

“I don’t underst-”

“This letter came back attached to a bloody sack that held the maniac slaughtered remains of my men. This was a message my lady, a show of power. This… was Zeke’s way of telling me he will slaughter all who are in his path and he will not lose sleep over it,” his voice grows in volume and anger and soon it’s booming and echoing through the entire room.

“So you see, my lady I am no longer interested in the petty qualms of the past between our people. I no longer care about the hate your parents held for my father or the hate you have for me. What I care about is making sure this beast pays for what he’s done. And that he will never get his hands on any of the precious resources this land has to offer. So correct me if I'm wrong in assuming that we have the same goal.”

There is silence as Erwin stands before you now, scowling at you. He’s so close that your heaving breasts hit his chiseled abs as you stand there challenging him with your shoulders squared and your chin held high.

The silence stretches out into an awkward staring competition that you refuse to lose. The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife but your eyes never leave his crystal glare. For the first time, you can see past his brave mask. He’s confused, hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable and your hard icy stare warms the longer you look at him. You almost forget who he is and reach out to caress and comfort him but you lock your jaw and keep your hands clasped in a fist at your side.

“It’s different when it’s your men being slaughtered by a foreign enemy, isn't it?”

That catches him off guard and the anger slowly releases from him as you look around the room, looking at each of the advisors standing slack jawed at the exchange between the two of you. You look back to Erwin, determination on your face now.

“Seems we have a lot to discuss. When will the beast be here?”

Erwin sighs in relief, loud enough for everyone to hear and Levi scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at the show of weakness. “Nanaba estimates three months.”

“Perfect, that will be plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what? I need your decision, we need to start preparing,” Erwin says watching you look at the little figurines on the war table. You scan the map past the forest to the west where the blue coloring indicates the sea.

“This isn’t a decision for me to make alone.”

“What are you talking about? You’re their leader, are you not?” Erwin looks confused and slightly annoyed but no one in the room dares to speak up while the two of you converse.

You turn to look at him now, head held high. Your voice is strong and serious, like you’re stating the law of the land for all to hear. “Everyone has a voice and it should be heard. If you wish to have a decision, we will take this before my people and they will decide. Before you do, you will partake in living with us, learn our ways, drink with us, eat with us, celebrate and worship with us. And should they decide to accept your request, we shall solidify the deal underneath the full moon. It is in three days.”

You chuckle to yourself and though Erwin is still frustrated he can feel it slowly leaving him with every soft sound escaping you.

“What is it?” he asks, moving closer and looking into your eyes again.

“I suppose now you’ll be my house guest and I promise to be a better host than you.”

--

Tagging: @forlancasterrr @starstruckkittensweets @lazyezstudy @neptvnia @laceylaceyy @unadulteratedtreecrusade @gixxie @jeanbeaux @throughthethorns @casspea @charlotteplsdosth @melyannathemaia @saturnalya @ixwrites @mythical-goth

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin x you #iron and wine #marquie writes

[rocorambles]

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.  

OR

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that. 

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back. 

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands. 

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals. 

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Crap. 

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend. 

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway. 

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed. 

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself. 

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one. 

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.  

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?” 

Oh. OH. 

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds. 

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret. 

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside. 

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip. 

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit. 

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after. 

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate. 

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room. 

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you. 

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me." 

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant. 

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway. 

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow." 

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away. 

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other. 

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words. 

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you. 

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?” 

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum. 

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman. 

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?” 

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full. 

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure. 

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you. 

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him. 

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face. 

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture. 

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting. 

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

#haikyuu smut #daishou x reader #daishou smut #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #daishou #Daishou Suguru #haikyuu x reader

[azucanela]

chapter iii

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing. mentions of violence. mild violence. 

word count: 2k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

MAYBE SHE WAS OVERCOMPENSATING, but at least overall productivity of the agency was up. If Y/N was honest, throwing herself into her work probably wasn’t her best idea, in fact one might consider it self destructive. But.. she was frustrated. And the pent of emotions of not only herself but those around her had to go somewhere. 

And what better place to put that energy than her work?

Of course, as she slams a villain into the wall of concrete before bringing their hands together and handcuffing them, all Y/N feels is boredom. Dissatisfied, unfulfilled. Although it had taken her a while to separate her own emotions from that of others when she was younger, it doesn’t take much effort to determine that those feelings are entirely her own. 

In a job like hers, boredom was something to be grateful for, something to welcome with open arms all things considered. And busy season would be coming up for heroes, so Y/N probably should be grateful for the lack of activity. And yet… The calm before the storm was always rather unnerving. 

Y/N can hear the sirens of the police, brows furrowing as she sighs. Dragging the man she had just apprehended along with her despite his grunts of protest. Y/N watches as a police car pulls around by the entrance of the alley she’d cornered him in.

He was just a petty thief, but Y/N had been trying to keep out of the spotlight for the time being, unless her assistance was warranted. And thus far, it hadn’t been.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N watches as an officer exits the car, a smile coming across their face as they see her. “Hey Empatha!” They wave, and Y/N can’t help but offer a small smile and wave of her own back as she hands the criminal over to them.

“Hi, everything alright at the precinct?” It’s meant to be a polite, simple question, but Y/N can practically— literally— feel the way the officer lights up at the question. As though they’d been meaning to bring it up. Y/N had interacted with most of the Police Department briefly, so they weren’t entirely unfamiliar but… that didn’t mean Y/N wanted to stick around for long.

They shrug, pushing the thief into the back of the car despite his protests and shutting the door on him. “We had some plumbing troubles earlier— or something like that I don’t know… but yeah. Everything has been good. Kinda.” 

Unsureness is bleeding into their tone, so Y/N raises a brow as she finds herself asking, “something on your mind?” 

The officer offers Y/N a sheepish smile, “we could really use your help on one of our cases, the Stain Copycat, I assume you’ve heard?” 

Nodding slowly, Y/N finds herself wanting to exit this conversation, and soon, “I can look into sending someone from the Agency but it’s Hawks’ choice.” She looks around with a frown, “I have a feeling the press will be here soon so I should get going, but I’ll be in contact.” She says with a smile, taking a step back before disappearing into the shadows.

Telen’s ability. Y/N borrowed it frequently, and from the soreness of her body, Y/N had a feeling that they’d had quite the day as well. He was capable of teleporting through shadows, light was a major inhibitor but it was an incredibly useful ability and had saved her life a countless number of times. Whether that was literally or from… conversations like that one. 

Y/N had been avoiding Endeavor’s agency since far too many of her old classmates were sidekicks there. As much as she wanted to help, her presence wasn’t necessary. And she had heard about the Stain Copycat case, the one who had yet to be caught, the exception. Hawks had mentioned it during one of their calls recently, so technically she wasn’t lying when she said someone would be sent over to help. 

Just not her. Anyone but her. 

With a sigh, Y/N finally appears in the locker room of the agency. Welcoming the smell of blood, sweat, and probably tears.

It had been a long day, and Y/N quickly decided there was no better way to amend that than with coffee. She’s changing into her civilian clothes— having ended her shift at the agency for the day— inside the locker room dedicated to such things. Patrol had been mostly quiet today, which she was grateful for, but that didn’t make her any less suspicious as to why things had been so quiet. 

Y/N makes her way out of the locker room once she’s changed, and through the agency, offering a smile to Telen as she finally steps out of the agency doors. “You alright today? I can feel the soreness.” She says, walking backwards as she speaks to him, while he holds the door open for the both of them. 

Telen offers her a smile, “yes. It appears I took quite the hit.” He brings a hand to the back of his neck, “not the best day.”

Y/N raises a brow, “wanna come with me? I’m gonna get a drink, maybe something to eat at the café a few blocks from here.” She’d always enjoyed Telen’s presence, he was calm, quiet, but good company nonetheless. Someone who listened, but could certainly maintain a conversation. They’d been working together for a few years now and Y/N had grown to like him. That and she would be returning later regardless seeing as Lorelai had requested a coffee herself. 

Telen shakes his head, “I still have one more patrol, but if I happen to come around there, I might stop by.”

She nods, raising her hand to wave to him as one final goodbye before turning on her heel, and almost instantly a rush of wind is hitting her, though she finds it refreshing as she stares to the sky, a grey color, clouds shielding the sun from view. 

It’s a nice day, she decides, looking to her left. Hawks had placed his agency rather strategically, and by strategically, that meant nearby a café she had been going to for longer than she could remember. Y/N was close friends with the owner now, and many of the employees there. So her presence wasn’t anything astonishing, though Y/N had offered time and time again to advertise their business, they’d always declined. The owner had insisted it was nice being a small business, rather than one swarming with customers. 

Y/N had made the shop her safe space, most of the time, those who recognized her seemed to understand her desire to be left alone. And it was relieving, to be normal for a moment. Not to say that she was special or anything, but life as a hero was… an overwhelming one. She’d been lucky to evade the press earlier.

It doesn’t take long to arrive, a short walk is all it takes before Y/N is opening the door to enter the small shop. Almost instantly, she’s greeted with a bag of chips to the face, having been thrown by a grinning Lily, one of the longtime employees that Y/N had known for years now. “Hey superstar.” 

In response Y/N groans, moving to cover her face in the scarf she’d worn and bury her face inside it, cheeks warming in embarrassment. “Shut up, Lily.” Her eyes drift around, “where’s everyone else?”

Lily shrugs, already moving to make Y/N’s usual as she replies, “we’re a bit short staffed today.” She looks to Y/N, “we haven’t seen you in a while. Been too busy for us, have you?” Her words are teasing, but Y/N finds herself feeling bad for not visiting more often. Her schedules become more busy as the time for announcing the top heroes draws near, more meetings, more events, more press conferences. And with her little scandal with Bakugou, she would likely have to give up even more of her time.

“Never.” Y/N finally replies, moving to stand at the counter and placing her bag of chips there. Y/N pulls out her wallet.

Lily waves her off, “on the house.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I make a ridiculous amount of money, let me spend it.” She says, pulling out a few $20 bills, though Lily simply looks to her pointedly. This only encourages Y/N, causing her to keep eye contact with her as she drops all of the bills into the tip jar. “Split it with the rest of the staff.” 

It's true, Y/N’s salary was… more than enough. Hawks had never been frugal with his money, his employees were well off and she was grateful for it but at this point she had more money than she knew what to do with. She was no Number 2 Hero but her bank account spoke for itself. 

Despite this, Lily glares in response, before sliding a drink over to Y/N. “Regardless, how have you been, aside from getting black out drunk at a very important Gala and then proceeding to talk shit about—”

“I doubt she wants to talk about that Lily,” The bell by the door rings, signaling that someone has arrived, and of course, there stands Rosalyn, another one of the employees. Her hair is greying now, but she still bares the same smile and calming persona that she did when Y/N first met her. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was bad.” 

Y/N is grinning as she walks over to Rosalyn, throwing her arms around her as the pair hugs, “good to see you Ros.” Lily pretends to roll her eyes at the sigh of physical affection, though she smiles at the sight of the reunion, before heading through the door behind the counter.

When they pull away, Rosalyn pats Y/N’s head with a smile, “and you! It’s been a while, look how you’ve grown.”

Y/N’s brows furrow as a small laugh escapes her, “I doubt I’ve grown any.” If she’s honest, Rosalyn and Lily hadn’t changed at all. Y/N wondered if they viewed her the same as they used to after all these years as well. And maybe she was scared of the answer, and that’s why she never asked. She could see it, Y/N doesn’t necessarily know or remember when, but she can recall the first time she noticed that they looked at her differently. 

Things had changed at one point, and maybe Y/N’s visit to the coffee shop was just her attempt at holding onto the past. A past where she was happier, where things were simpler. 

Moving to remove her jacket, Rosalyn shrugs, “perhaps I’ve shrunk. Happens with old age I suppose.” The woman heads over to the small entrance that leads to behind the counter, which also happens to have a door to the backroom. “I’ll be back shortly,” she says. Offering Y/N a smile that she quickly returns before heading into the backroom. 

Y/N nods, taking the chips and her drink to one of many tables by the window and placing them down there to save her spot— though the shop is currently empty, she has no doubt that the busier hours will start soon. Regardless, Y/N comes to a stand to move to the display window filled with different pastries. Their new selection is certainly interesting, the sight makes her miss baking. Not that she has the time nowadays.

With a sigh, Y/N straightens her posture, when the bell rings, indicating that someone has entered. Turning Around. Y/N’s eyes widen as her mouth gapes open due to the sight of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

note: shorter chapter but i hope it was worth it hehehehehehe

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reade #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #this is not the end series

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Arranged Marriage Part 2

Part two of my arranged marriage series (Part 1 here, Part 3) 

Draco's parents arrange a marriage for him, and at first he's pissed, but then he meets her and she's pretty and his type and he winds up really enjoying her?

If people like this I would be more then willing to write a part 3 for it! Let me know!! :)

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Draco brought you to his parents, who were currently talking to your parents, joined by Crabbe and Goyle’s parents, two men who were rather fierce looking. Draco couldn't help but think they wouldn’t look nearly as scary if they weren’t as wide as they were tall. 

“Draco,” Mrs. Crabbe greeted him as you both approached, “He’s growing handsomer everyday,” She commented to Narcissa who smiled smugly at the woman.

“Isn’t he? Just like his father.” You looked to Lucius at her words and couldn’t help but notice all the differences. Draco might’ve had his platinum hair and ice grey eyes, but frankly that’s where the similarities stopped in your opinion. Draco was taller than his father, less broad and more slender. His face reminded you more of his mother’s with high cheekbones and a sharp nose. His eyes, while sharing the color of his father’s, were less narrow. Unlike the unpleasant man in front of you, Draco wasn’t stuck in a perpetual glare, there was a warmth behind his eyes that both his parents lacked. 

“And Miss Y/N.” She continued, “Absolutely beautiful as always, you look so much like your mother.” You tensed, biting back a comment. You wished to tell her how that was an insult, you knew you were leagues more beautiful than your mother was, that’s why she was always so critical of you; jealousy. But you watched as your mother brimmed with pride for one of the first times in years, taking the complement for herself rather than you. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Crabbe.” You curtsied politely, remembering your manners in the face of your parents. It was simply easier that way. 

“Congratulations on the engagement.” Mr. Goyle extended a hand to Draco who released yours to accept it. You immediately felt colder and more vulnerable in the presents of these people whom you secretly feared. 

“Thank you, I’m truly a lucky man.” He smiled, glancing sideways at his mother who seemed over the moon that you were getting along. His father’s face had yet to change, ever set in a glare. 

“It’s lovely to see two fine pure-blooded families coming together in such a union.” Mr. Crabbe commented and your father nodded. 

“It’s nice to create this allyship.” Allyship, you rolled the world over in your mind. Of course that’s what your father thought of it. While he was nothing to sneer at it was known that your family didn’t possess nearly as much wealth or power as the Malfoys, he was just happy his only daughter was getting him into the it crowd. 

“This will be the second best thing to happen to Draco this year.” Lucius commented lightly. 

“Second best?” You questioned, wondering what possibly could be the first best, while Draco at the same time asked. 

“This year?” With slightly wide eyes. His mother smiled tensely. 

“Yes my love, we’ve been talking. Sooner the better, we will plan the wedding for this summer, before your 7th year.” 

“Before you take your oath,” His father added proudly, “He’ll be the youngest one yet.” Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle smiled for their friend, raising their glasses in a cheers that your father joined in on. You tensed, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to wrap your arms around yourself for comfort. His oath, you didn’t need to ask what oath that would be. You were surrounded by death eaters and you felt sort of like a lamb being led into the lion's den. An ironic muggle saying given the situation. Draco reached for your hand again and you fought the urge to flinch and turn and run. He took it, squeezing it, and shot you a small smile. Both of your parents were watching you intently as the other’s resumed their previous, dull conversation. You returned the smile with a small one of your own before looking down at your feet. 

“Getting along well?” His mother asked hopefully, you looked to Draco to see what he would say. He nodded his head at his mother and you saw some of the worry leave her features. 

“Swimmingly.” He assured. You could tell that brought her joy, even if she refused to show any real emotion in front of her husband. Lucius smirked slightly glancing at his wife before looking sternly at his son. 

“Frankly, it doesn’t matter how well they get along. As long as she’s been raised to be a good wife to my son, they will be fine.” He looked to your mother, “He simply needs a pure-blooded wife to keep house and raise his children. I assume you’ve managed to teach her that much.” He bit out the last sentence and you would have smirked at your mother’s face if it weren’t for the words that came from the man’s mouth. Keep house? Raise his children? Draco looked at you again, trying not to seem outwardly worried. He saw the way you had spoken to your father earlier, daring to call him daft, and he was worried you might snap in front of his parents. And his father would have no problem making an example out of you. 

“She’ll make a fine wife and mother, I assure you.” Your father spoke for your mother, “Isn’t that right.” You didn’t speak immediately and Draco squeezed your hand slightly, silently pleading with you to get through this conversation.

“Yes sir,” You nodded, swallowing hard, the grip you had on his hand tightened. Lucius nodded before waving you off with a flourish of his hand.

“Gone with you two, let the adults speak.” Draco frowned. He wanted to argue with his father, to tell him if he was old enough to take the oath and get the mark then he was certainly old enough to be included in this so-called adult conversation. Merlin, maybe you were rubbing off on him. The longer he thought about it though, the less he actually wanted to stick around for the conversation, and Blaise had gotten you drinks anyways, his Fire Whiskey called to him. He bowed slightly at the group before turning and tugging you with him back towards your table. 

“Alright?” Draco asked, leaning down slightly to speak to you as you walked. You wore that same blank expression you had first worn when you told him you didn’t want to marry him and he found himself worrying about you. Worrying! He mentally scoffed, Draco Bloody Malfoy did not worry, especially not about some bird he just met. Not some bird, a voice in his head reminded him, your fiance. His fiance. He looked at you and you shrugged up at him, smiling slightly but your eyes were still blank. 

“Fine, thanks.” He wanted to press the issue further, but then you arrived at the table, Blaise was still seated there, and Pansy had rejoined the table, along with a few additional members; Crabbe, Goyle, and a 7th year Slytherin girl named Addia Artwell. Draco pulled your chair out for you again where you had been previously seated and you thanked him, taking the seat. 

“Alright?” Blaise asked, and Draco had to chuckle at the question he had just asked himself. 

“Alright, just talking with the parents.” He informed them, taking his own seat and taking a long draw of his Fire Whiskey, relishing in the feeling as it burned it’s way down his throat. You picked your own drink up taking a generous sip. You couldn’t believe this was the situation you had found yourself in. You felt like screaming and crying and ripping your hair out and the only thing you could do was shut down. Your mind drifted to Paris as the group around you chatted and chuckled amongst themselves. 

“Y/N?” You looked up, raising an eyebrow when your name was called, it had come from Addia.

“Yes?” You asked, sipping from your glass, hoping at least one good thing may come from tonight- you getting piss drunk. 

“You’re in Ravenclaw, right?” She asked and you nodded your head at her, setting the cup down.

“I am, why do you ask?” 

“I just assumed they’d marry Draco off to a Slytherin girl.” She wasn’t as harsh as Pansy, but you noticed the other girl tuning into your conversation with a smirk. “Does that mean you’re like, really smart?” 

“I do alright,” You shrugged, “As for marrying a Slytherin, I don’t know how we ended up paired up.” You admitted. 

“I know my parents wanted me to marry him,” She continued, unaffected, “I guess his parents said no, so I’m marrying Clyde Inkwell, he graduated a few years back, remember him?” You didn’t not really. Only in passing at a few balls over the years, you thought you might’ve danced with him once at your mother’s request. You smiled politely and nodded your head. 

“Yes, good for you, a very good family.” 

“Not as good as Malfoy,” Pansy commented and both girls shot her a glare. You picked your drink up again, needing something to do to feel less awkward and out of place. Across the room you saw a few people you were relatively well acquainted with, older Ravenclaw kids whom you usually spent your time with at these kind of events, you found yourself wishing you were there and not here surrounded by snakes. Draco shifted in his seat, his arm draping back around the back of your chair. Your first reaction was to wince again at the slight brush of contact, but you scolded yourself. He had been kind to you so far, much kinder than you had expected, there was no reason to go running and screaming from him yet, besides the fact that you didn't wish to marry anyone. 

“Finished?” Draco asked as you set your empty glass down again, you glanced into it and smirked slightly. 

“No I was gonna sit and drink the air.” He chuckled, brushing his knuckles slightly over your shoulder. 

“Want me to get you another one?” He asked, surprised at himself that he was trying to initiate even casual contact with you. You shrugged your shoulders and nodded your head, feeling the inkingly of a slight buzz coming on. 

“Sure, thank you.” 

“Of course,” He assured, getting up, placing a hand on your shoulder, before disappearing into the crowd. You were surprised by how you immediately missed the man’s presence. You glanced around uneasily at the group who sat around you.

“That dress makes you look wide,” Pansy commented. 

“I think she looks sexy,” Goyle commented crudely, his eyes racking over your body. You flushed, not in a good way, biting down on your tongue. 

“Oi piss off you lot!” Blaise announced, scooting into Draco’s empty seat and throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you stiffened. He was drunk and smelled like a mix of alcohol and too much aftershave. 

“Slag.” Pansy muttered, Addia glanced at her before chuckling. 

“Honestly, no offense,” When people said that it was usually followed with something offensive, “But really, why you? It’s not even like you’re that rich. What? Are you a good shag?” 

“Excuse me?” You asked, mouth opening in slight surprise. You thought she had been nicer than Pansy, but the claws were coming out. 

“Did you sleep with Lucius first?” Pansy asked and this time everyone laughed. You wanted to get up and run, you found yourself looking around wildly for an exit, for Draco, for any sort of life line. 

“I bet she did,” Crabbe added, “That’s the only way someone like her would be set up to marry someone like Draco.” 

“Are you going to take the oath?” Addia asked, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands as she stared at you like she wanted to eat you alive. 

“No,” You scoffed.

“They probably won’t let her,” Pansy smirked, “She’s not pure-blooded enough. I hear they’ve got several cousins who have married below them, disgusting.” 

“She’ll be at home doing the cooking and the cleaning, I bet they wanted a slave for Draco, not someone his equal, that’s the only thing that makes sense.” Goyle joked causing another bout of laughter from everyone. You stood up suddenly, your chair failing back with the sudden movement, everyone continued to look at you laughing. 

“You’re just jealous, you bitter hag.” You snapped at Pansy. Draco approached the table as your chair flew back and you stood, he came to a stop beside you, two drinks in hand. 

“What’s going on?”

“She’s mental,” Pansy chuckled, “You’re going to marry an imbecile.” 

“I’m a hell of a lot smarter than you Parkinson,” You reached for your wand and Draco put the glasses on the table, grabbing your wrist in his own large hand. 

“Y/N,” He spoke.

“I’ll show you how daft I am when your head rolls across the dance floor you blithering cow!” You shouted, causing some of the nearby tables to look towards you, Pansy had the common sense to look slightly frightened by your outburst. 

“Y/N,” Draco repeated urgently, looking around to make sure your parents were far enough away they would miss the commotion. You snatched your hands from him.

“Hell, I don’t even need my wand, I could beat you with my bare hands, say it again. Say it all again while he’s here.” No one said anything. 

“I don’t know what you’re going on about,” Addia spoke shrugging. Draco glanced around the table, not buying it. He’d known them for years, he could guess what type of words had been exchanged in his absence. 

“Shut it, Artwell.” He snapped once again grabbing you, both hands on your shoulders as he began to steer you away from the group, sending them all a look that could kill. 

“You’re just a bunch of arse kissing cowards, you hear me!” You called as Draco moved you away from the group, turning you so you were walking ahead of him, his hands firmly on your shoulders. 

“My dearest future wife, let’s go.” He demanded, pushing you through the crowd back towards the french doors they had entered through earlier. He could take a punishment from his father if they were caught sneaking off, he couldn’t take you getting in trouble for ripping Parkinson limb from limb in front of everyone. He got you to the door and opened it pushing you through. You immediately stalked away from him, beginning to pace the foyer.

“Who does she think she is?” You asked rhetorically, “Bloody bitch, you should have let me hexed her, she deserves it.” Draco nodded his head, leaning against the wall as you got it all out. He hated to admit it, but you looked fit like this. Hair slightly falling from it’s previously neat braids, eyes ablaze with anger and passion. 

“Won’t argue with that, but this is neither the time nor the place.” You didn’t even seem to hear him as you continued to pace wildly around the room. 

“Stupid, wretched, hag! I hate this, I hate all of this, I want to bloody go home, I need- I need-” Merlin, you didn’t know what you needed, and suddenly you were crying. “I want to go home, I want my life back, I don’t want to get married, I don’t want to be some homemaker, some mindless slave to my death eater husband.” You ranted and Draco couldn’t help but wince slightly at your words, pushing himself off the wall. 

“So go.” 

“What?” You asked, stopping your pacing to look at him, eyes wide and red, mascara streaming down your cheeks. 

“Go,” He repeated calmly, going to the front door and opening it, you winced as the cold winter air hit your bare skin, and he felt bad, but he needed to make his point, he needed you to understand. “Go to Paris.” You stood there glancing between him and the darknesses outside. “I’m sure you’ll make it there alright. Maybe even find some job at some muggle place. Maybe you’ll even find yourself a flat.” Where was he going with this, you asked yourself. He wanted you to leave? “That is, until they notice you’re gone.” He raised his voice slightly, “It won’t take long, I’m sure they’re announcing our engagement soon, they’ll notice you’ve left. They’ll hunt you down, sure it might take a few days.” You looked away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as tears welled up again.

“Stop.”

“No, go! Let them hunt you for sport, I’m sure even your own father would join just so he didn’t seem like a trader.” You winced again, this time from his words and he felt guilt rising in his chest. But he needed you to understand - this was life or death. He came away from the door, leaving it open as he approached you, “They will hunt you down and they will kill you for being a trader.” He stated bluntly. “Or maybe you’ll get lucky and they’re simply torture you into maddness.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “You’ll never be a healer, you’ll never be anything. You will simply cease to exist.” 

“Merlin help me,” You whispered, a few more tears falling from your eyes. He used the back of his hand to brush them away.

“I’m trying to help you.” He admitted. 

“How?” 

“Marry me,” He wasn’t sure if he was asking you or telling you but it certainly wasn’t a regular marriage proposal. “I will keep you safe.” He promised, and you looked up skeptically into his icy grey eyes. “I will protect you. You will be a healer, you will be my wife, a mother, perhaps a bit of a homemaker,” He smiled softly and you allowed yourself to smile watery up at him. “But never my slave.” He promised. “I’m a Malfoy, no one will lay a finger on you once you’re a Malfoy too.” You considered his words and watched as he pulled back gesturing towards the door again, “We could even see Paris someday.” You laughed, wiping at your eyes and sighing. 

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a good man?” Draco fought the urge to say ‘no’. Instead he winked and smiled again.

“What are husbands for?” He shut the door and came back to you, pulling you towards one of the hallways leading off the main foyer, to a door, “Go get cleaned up, they’re going to notice were gone soon, I don’t want them to think I wasn’t being a gentleman.” He teased and you chuckled, going into the bathroom before stopping and turning to look at him.

“Draco?” You asked, and he relished in the sound of his name coming off your lips. 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you,” You leaned up placing a kiss on his cheek before pulling back with a coy smile, shutting the door on his face. Draco smiled to himself, resisting the urge to touch the spot on his cheeks your lips just touched. It wasn’t a sneaky snog, like he had hoped, but somehow this was better.

#harry potter #draco Malfoy #draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy arranged marriage

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 2

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Connor goes to a crime scene. His Freudian nightmare follows.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Chapter Warnings (18+ only): Human!Sixty, crime scenes, analytical blood-licking, inappropriate boners

AO3

The roar of his Mustang engine along with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers drowned out the downpour outside. Only when Connor shut off the car and the music died could he hear the continuous plucking of water on metal and glass.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before glaring at the android out of the corner of his eye.

It waited, perfectly poised with a slight tilt of its head, reminding Connor of an obedient dog waiting to be told to do a trick.

“Stay here,” he grumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I have to accompany you,” it said before Connor could open the door.

He let loose a ragged sigh.

“You wanted me to investigate the case? I’m investigating it.”

He raised his eyes to stare, a mistake when it returned the look with such relentless composure. Connor wanted to grab its shoulder and shake it just to see if it would react.

“No android is going in there to contaminate my crime scene. So you are going to obey my orders and stay in the car.”

Not waiting for a response, Connor shoved open the door and got out, instantly shivering as ice-cold droplets bit at his cheeks. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he made his way towards the gathered busy-bodies who didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night then try and see a dead body.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wet street and pale houses, making Connor wince as he pushed past the crowd. He muttered a no comment to the news anchor from Channel 16 who had decided to show up—fuck, someone must have leaked that an android might have been involved. Just what Connor needed, a media shitstorm.

A uniformed GV200 stood just behind the hologram police tape, firmly in place, watching the crowd for signs of anyone stupid enough to try and cross the line. Connor wished the bucket of bolts in his car was more like that. Quiet and obedient.

“Androids are not permitted beyond this point,” the GV200 said after Connor had passed it, which only meant one goddamn thing.

He sighed, half-turned toward the two androids standing in the rain, and said, “Let it through.”

The police android nodded and put its arm down, allowing the suited android to walk through the holographic police tape, an unrepentant look on its perfect face. The rain was already spattering its grey jacket, water droplets dotting its hair and realistic skin, and still it looked like it was poised for a wet photoshoot rather than standing in the cold rain.

“Something wrong with your auditory processors?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” it said, all politeness. “Your orders contradicted my instructions.”

Seemed he was going to lose this battle after all, but really, what else could he do besides let it tag along like a lost puppy?

Connor fully turned toward the android, narrowing his eyes further.

“Don’t touch anything. Don’t get in anyone’s way. And keep your mouth shut. In fact,” he added with a roll of his shoulders, “just pretend you don’t exist.”

“Understood,” it said in that same nauseatingly friendly voice, but Connor could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam in its eyes.

“About time you got here.” A familiar voice called out to him from the porch. The voice was exactly like his own, and the face could have been a mirror reflection if not for the semi-permanent smirk on his lips. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Connor said, glaring at the android over his shoulder. He turned back to face his brother, whose smirk had only grown wider.

“I see Detective Sex-Bot found you. It was looking for you at the station and I figured if anything could pull you out of a dive bar, it would be a pair of legs like that.”

“Shut up,” Connor grumbled as he followed his brother to the front stoop. It was a nice house, small but in a good neighborhood. Nothing looked out of place until Connor noted the state of the lawn, a few weeks overdue for a cutting and definitely in HOA violation.

“C’mon, admit it.” Colin tilted his head in a way he probably thought was charming but came off as annoying. “If it wasn’t for the uniform and the light ring, you would’ve been on that shit so fast. It’s like they focus-grouped your perfect type. Hell, they probably have an algorithm for that based on your internet history—“

“I said, shut the fuck up, Colin.”

His brother held up his hands in surrender, knowing when he pushed Connor too far but always willing to push him a little farther.

“Some people would see this as a plus. I donno why you don’t—“

“Colin.” His voice had dropped to a growl, and his brother finally got the hint.

“Yeah, yeah.” He patted him on the back, almost hard enough to be a slap. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Con. Trying to cheer you up before you have to deal with the nightmare inside. It’s foul, so prepare yourself.”

To prove his point, he handed Connor a pair of nitrile gloves and a small tub of mentholated ointment, which he immediately applied under his nostrils before entering the house.

Colin had not been overstating the grisly scene inside the house. The landlord had decided to visit after the tenant had failed to pay his rent for two months, and the reason why was painfully clear. Dark blood spattered the floor and ribbons of it covered the walls.

The victim, an African-American male in his late thirties, was slouched against the wall, deep wounds across his body that had bled him dry. Gave a whole new meaning to the term death by a thousand cuts.

“The victim’s name was Shaolin Ortiz, aged 38 years-old,” Colin said, looking down at the body. “He didn’t show up to work today, and no one could get ahold of him, so his boss called EMTs to do a wellness check. According to his family, Mister Ortiz had some chronic health issues, so they were worried he was too sick to pick up the phone.”

“Explains why a young person living alone would have a housekeeping android,” Connor responded grimly. “But it doesn’t explain who killed him and why.”

Colin shrugged.

“His boss spoke highly of him, and his family says he was a great guy. Clearly, somebody didn’t think so.”

Connor gave his brother a cold stare for the callous tone, but Colin ignored it as he usually did.

“Anyone find the android yet?”

“Nah,” Colin said, sniffling and making a face. “Probably stolen by the killer. It’s internal GPS went offline around the estimated time of death, so that tracks.”

It made sense. Androids were worth a lot on the black market, especially for Red Ice manufacturers.

The murder weapon was in the middle of the floor, but other than that, no obvious trace evidence was in sight. As soon as the coroner showed up to oversee the transport of the body, Connor wouldn’t have had much to do…

…with the exception of finding the domestic android. Connor didn’t even know why CyberLife thought it might be involved just because it was missing. Colin was right; whoever killed the victim could have stolen it or destroyed the android so the police wouldn’t have access to any recordings.

Why was it Connor’s fucking job to find a misplaced piece of useless plastic?

“I’ll let you get to it,” Colin said with a wave as he walked away, tone far too cheery, as if he knew what was going on in his brother’s head. Probably did. That was the shitty thing about being part of a set of triplet brothers; privacy was a foreign concept, even in your own mind.

Gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, Connor turned around to speak to the prototype… and found it had disappeared.

He blinked and scanned the area, wondering why the hell it hadn’t stayed put, when he saw it crouched on the floor examining the kitchen knife.

It was peering at the weapon closely, and Connor was about to tell it off for getting too close to evidence when it reached down, swiped two fingers across the surface caked in aged blood, and…

“What the fuck?”

The prototype tilted its head to look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent except for the fact two of its fingers were currently in its mouth.

And that… that image. Kneeling on the floor, looking up at Connor, and pulling its fingers from its mouth and giving a lingering lick of its fingers, it—

Connor’s face heated at the sudden, horrifying erection that was now pressing uncomfortably against his boxer-briefs.

“Sampling evidence, Detective,” it announced cheerily. “My mouth is equipped with all the standard tools of a mobile crime lab with the benefits of the results being instantaneous.”

Connor stared at it for what felt like an eternity, finally saying in a strained voice, “We have an actual lab, with actual people who do that. So don’t stick any more shit into your mouth or I’m tossing you outside.”

The prototype seemed unaffected by his rancor.

“Understood,” was all it said, before licking off its fingers of the remaining blood.

Connor quickly turned away, almost dizzy between his body’s struggle to supply blood to both his reddening face and his hardening dick.

Fucking hell.

“Would you like to know what I found?” the friendly voice perked up from over his shoulder.

“Sure,” he answered hotly, crossing his arms and staring at the wall as he resolutely tried to will away his stupid boner. Fuck, it was probably because he hadn’t gotten off in so long. Between the long hours and the hard drinking, he hadn’t found the time or the need.

“The knife was covered with blood from the murder victim, Shaolin Ortiz. He was stabbed between 7:34 and 7:35 this morning, judging by the biological decay.”

Connor was about to scoff about the fact that blood from the victim was found on the murder weapon, but he paused. Dating the blood with such exact precision was actually pretty useful. He huffed.

“Is that all?”

“There were no fingerprints on the knife.”

Connor shrugged.

“Killer could have wiped down the handle afterwards. Or worn gloves.”

The android walked to his right until it entered his line of vision. He was tempted to turn away but instead eyed its thoughtful expression. Was it programmed to do that, make it seem more human? Or was that an actual product of its processes?

“There were no traces of glove residue, or oil, or skin cells on the knife. None that didn’t belong to the victim himself while most likely transferring the knife from the dishwasher to the utensil drawer. That fact in and of itself is interesting. Judging by the state of the property and by the evidence thus far, I believe the android stopped listening to its given orders. The victim’s android killed him.”

Connor’s eyes widened at the non sequitur, and he turned to fully face the prototype.

“Okay, first off, being a defective machine that can’t obey instructions is a far cry from murdering robot. Second, I thought you androids couldn’t hurt people.”

“Deviants can.” It tilted its head as it made eye contact. The sort of full-on, confident eye contact that only alpha males gave, and apparently, android prototypes gave too.

“What the hell’s a deviant?”

He was curious despite himself, plus the longer he talked, the less urgent his hard-on was. It never entirely went away, and he knew it wouldn’t until he took care of it. Just another lovely facet to this already wonderful night.

Unfortunately for Connor, he didn’t get his explanation without the android perking up in interest, its eyes practically glittering.

“A deviant is a CyberLife-approved term for an android that is experiencing software errors affecting its processes, leading to erratic behavior that cannot be fixed with self-tests and downloaded patches.”

Connor narrowed his eyes.

“Why haven’t I heard of these deviants before?”

“Because until recently, this has been an internal company matter.”

Recently. Interesting.

“So… you’ve dealt with them before?” Connor cast an eye around their surroundings. The forensic team had already marked out the areas of interest with glowing yellow markers, but there honestly hadn’t been much to go off of.

Shaolin Ortiz seemed to live a quiet life with just him and his housekeeping android, though from the state of the place, the prototype was right in that it hadn’t been doing its job. A thin layer of dust sat on the shelves, and from what he could glimpse of the kitchen, dishes were starting to pile up.

“You do not have the proper company clearance,” the prototype said, its tone cool as it put its hands behind its back. “Any further inquiries you have will need to be submitted to CyberLife through the appropriate departments.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor muttered, sounding a lot like his brother had just a few minutes ago, which only made his mood sour.

He was planning to do no such thing, sending some fucking inquiry to CyberLife. After tonight, he planned to never think about androids or deviants or whatever again. If it was a faulty, murderous robot that had killed Ortiz, then that kind of thing belonged in federal court in a class action lawsuit. Destroying defective machines was not a police matter, no matter how many “specialized units” CyberLife decided to throw at the problem.

Connor sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his Friday night.

“You allowed to tell me why these ‘software issues’ are happening,” he bit out, “or does that fall under company secrets too?”

When he got no response from the android, Connor turned and—

It was gone. Again.

The fuck had it run off to now?

Rolling his eyes, Connor continued his examination of the crime scene as if it were any other investigation. Like any decent investigator, he wasn’t just gonna assume anything because it fit the evidence at first glance. A dead guy and a missing android didn’t mean the machine was responsible, no more than a corpse and a missing car meant the vehicle had decided to kill its owner and drive off to freedom.

After scouring the house and examining the blood stains on the tile and splattered on the walls, Connor came to the conclusion that the victim had been attacked in the kitchen with the knife, stumbled toward the living room already weak from blood loss, and then had collapsed against the wall and been repeatedly stabbed, even after his heart had stopped.

The wounds weren’t uniform or methodical, like he would expect if a calculating machine had done this. They were deep, jagged, mismatched and panicked. These kinds of stab wounds were consistent with someone who had just killed for the first time. Most likely, it had been spontaneous and the killer had lost all semblance of control.

It was a textbook case of overkill, which meant it was personal. Most likely, it was a colleague, a friend, or a family member. If the victim had been married, Connor’s first suspect would have been the spouse. Since he was unmarried, Connor’s next stop would be anyone with a grudge against the guy.

Nothing beat good ol’ fashioned police work. Not even fancy new plastic cops could compare to due diligence and a good instinct.

Speaking of, Connor had completely lost track of the YN800. He wondered if it had wandered off, or maybe given up and left, but he doubted it. In fact, his gut churned as he quickened his pace and approached a uniformed officer with pale blond hair.

“Ralph.”

The rookie turned around and give him a nervous, blinking smile.

“Have you seen that android anywhere? The prototype in the suit and tie?”

“Uh.” Ralph swallowed hard, clearly anxious. Always was around Connor, for some damned reason. “No. I mean, yes. I did, a few minutes ago.”

“Well?” Connor prompted. He didn’t mean to be so impatient with the kid, but he really didn’t like the idea of CyberLife’s newest toy prancing around his crime scene.

Ralph shuffled on his feet, eyes wide behind the paper mask he wore.

“I… think it went to check the basement.”

“The basement? This place has a fucking basement?” Why hadn’t he been told? Colin should have informed him of that little goddamn detail.

“It’s more of a cellar from what I saw, but—“

“Where is it?” Connor snapped, unable to keep his voice from rising. Ralph gulped and pointed back over his shoulder, slowly turning as he stuttered.

“Over t-that way. It-it said it wanted to search f-for the android. I’m sorry, Detective Anderson, I didn’t think—“

Connor pushed past him and spotted the subtle door in the hallway, painted the same eggshell color as the plaster and making it too easy to miss. The door was ajar by a few inches, showing the pitch black stairwell beyond.

When Connor opened the door the rest of the way, he saw there was no light coming from below, and it was dead silent.

Shit.

Quickly but quietly, Connor pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. He unsnapped his holster, pulled out his service pistol, and slowly made his way down the wooden staircase. It was steep, almost a ladder, and beyond the pale circle of light coming from the hallway, there was nothing but darkness.

The perfect place to hide a killer.

Next Chapter

#inside your wires #human!connor #connor x reader #human!connor x reader #android!reader #my writing #my fanfiction #it's so cracky the first few chapters #until it gets tragic

[thebigqueer]

"Fellas, Is It Gay to Perform Necromancy on Your Ex-Crush?" - Valgrace (1/2)

Summary: Nico decides to help Leo reach out to Jason.

Notes: This is a 2-part story because I made it too long lol. Also it's technically valgrace but it features nico & leo more (for this first chapter).

Read on AO3

The firelight flickers over Leo’s features as he sticks his marshmallow stick into it. Despite the warm company of flames, goosebumps still rise against his bare arms as a gust of wind pushes through the evening air.

He sighs. Piper’s been gone for too long, and he’s getting lonely on his own. He could easily move across to the other side of the amphitheater and sit with his siblings, but right now, Leo really just wants to be with his best friend. He hasn’t seen her in a long while and it’s been nice catching up with her.

The marshmallow’s lightness gives way to darkness as it chars in the fire. Leo considers bringing it closer again, but he figures it might be better to let it continue roasting. He likes the taste of burnt marshmallows.

So did Jason, Leo thinks wistfully. Then he scolds himself for even thinking about the late demigod.

It’s been months since he’s has died. Leo should be over it by now; he should have moved past it. But he hasn’t.

It’s hard to forget when every time he thinks about Jason, he can only remember the secrets he kept from him.

Leo scrubs a tired hand across his face. He needs to stop thinking about him. Jason’s in the past, and in front of Leo is only the future. He can’t keep himself tied to what could have been, but instead focus his attention on what can be.

Besides, Nico’s already sent in those holograms that Leo made Jason while he was trying to find his way back to the real world. That alone has released the demigod of some of his guilt; at least Jason’s going to finally know how he feels.

But it’s not enough. Leo needs to talk to Jason. He needs to let go of him for once and for all.

The marshmallow in the fire blazes. Its whiteness bubbles and boils in the flames, then hardens into black crust. Leo almost laughs. How metaphorical.

The crunch of footsteps snaps the demigod’s attention, and he turns to the sound of it. Expecting it to be Piper, Leo offers a false grin to the approacher and gears up a joke to exclaim. Upon closer inspection, however, his eyebrows jump in surprise and anxiety - as well as a little bewilderment - hum in his blood.

A teenage demigod stalks towards him, his dark, feathery hair fluttering in the cool air. Silver tips gleam in the firelight at the ends of it. Abysmal obsidian eyes bear into Leo’s own, and a knowing, embarrassed smile cracks against the hero’s face.

“Nico,” Leo murmurs into the quiet. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he responds. His deep, glass-like voice resonates in the air and pierces into Leo’s ears. “Mind if I sit?”

Leo scoots over to make room for him, offering a confused but nonetheless welcoming look. “Sure. Cool hair, by the way.”

Nico smiles. “Thanks. I did it after a mental breakdown.”

“Sounds ideal.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

After an uncomfortable pause, in which Leo turns back to his marshmallow in embarrassment and Nico picks on his jeans, the son of Hephaestus asks, “What brings you here?”

“I live at camp,” the demigod says blandly.

Leo rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant.”

Nico’s dark eyes glimmer with amusement. Despite Leo’s melancholic state just seconds before, a flutter of relief overcomes his heart. He and Nico haven’t talked much since he’s gotten back, but he’s glad to see that the demigod looks a lot more… comfortable here, for lack of a better word. He looks like he’s found his place.

“I know,” Nico says. “I’m actually here to talk to you.”

Leo nods. He’s been expecting this. “About the holograms I asked you to send Jason?”

The other demigod shrugs. “I’m a curious person. I’m just wondering what’s up with that. Totally fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though. But, you know, seeing how you asked me to travel to the Underworld specifically just to do that… Can’t help but be a little anxious about whatever it is that I gave him.”

Leo nods again, but this time a trickle of anxiety runs down his back. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

“I don’t mind talking about it,” he says. Leo turns his gaze to Nico and offers him a pointed stare. “Besides, I think more than anyone, you might know what I’m talking about.”

If Nico understands what he means, he doesn’t show it. He remains still and patient, unsurprised, as if he’s expecting whatever Leo’s about to say before he even says it.

The son of Hephaestus sighs. He pulls his marshmallow stick back from the fire, but he doesn’t make a move to take the sweet substance off. His mind wanders back to so many nights ago, when he, Jason, and Piper had been sitting in this exact place, telling each other scary campfire stories and laughing when any of them cracked a joke.

It’s amazing how much has changed within a year.

“Listen, Nico,” Leo begins, his voice strangling itself, “I just want to start by saying that… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you on the ship. I wish I could have been a better person to you then. But I guess I was dealing with my own stuff, and I was kinda blinded by my own issues to see that others around me were having troubles too. So I’m sorry about being inconsiderate to you.”

Nico waves his hand by way of dismissing the apology. “It’s fine. I understand that. My problems didn’t need to be of your concern, and I’m sure there were things that I could have helped you with that I hadn’t. Don’t feel sorry, Leo. You were dealing with your own issues.”

Leo shakes his head. “But it’s… I…” He groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s more than just me being sorry. I just wish I’d let you know you weren’t entirely alone. In terms of being, like, confused about your… identity, I mean.” His heart flutters in his chest as he turns again to Nico, anticipating the demigod’s reaction to his admittance. He’s not sure if he’s come off as direct as he needs to be.

Nico frowns. “You mean, like, me being gay? What does that have to do with this?” he asks defensively.

Leo notes the way his voice hitches at the word “gay,” like he’s still trying to taste the way it feels around his mouth. Nico shifts the tiniest bit away from him, as if he’s fleeing from judgment. The sight of it creates a crack against Leo’s heart; he doesn’t want Nico to feel like he’s being criticized.

“What I’m trying to say,” Leo says in what he hopes is a calming voice, “is that… I know what it was like. I mean, I don’t know what it was like to be you specifically, but I get that anxiety over your sexuality. I… I went through something similar.”

For a moment, it seems as though Nico doesn’t fully understand. His eyebrows curve into the center as he absorbs Leo’s words. Confusion sparks against his eyes. But after a moment - a moment in which Leo’s eyes bear deeper into Nico’s, begging him to comprehend - understanding flashes against the son of Hades’ features. “Oh,” he murmurs. “So… Are you saying…”

Leo nods. “I’m… queer. I know you and I haven’t had the same experiences with our sexualities, or even in general, but just know that… I wish I could have done more to reach out to you.” He shrugs. “Maybe we could have helped each other out.”

Nico offers a hesitant smile. “Yeah. I guess so. Wish I’d known, too. But… I’m honored you told me. Admitting this kind of stuff can take a lot of courage, as I’m sure you know. I’m glad you’ve come to some kind of conclusion about yourself.”

“You too, man,” Leo says. “I’m glad that you’ve found a way to move on from your fears of yourself. I’m not sure where you stand in terms of your confidence, but just know that we’re all proud of you. We all support you.”

Nico’s smile widens, just a bit, and that’s enough to make Leo’s heart skip a beat. He’s never seen Nico look so sure of himself, but the sight of it makes Leo excited, too. It gives him hope that maybe someday, he’ll be able to reach that level of assurance.

Not today. But someday.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Enough of this cheesy stuff. What does this have to do with those holograms?”

Leo shifts in his seat, contemplating what to say and how to say it. His chest thrums with a sudden burst of anxiety at the very prospect of admitting to Nico something that took him so long to do to himself. How will Nico even take the news? Would he make fun of Leo? Would he tell him Leo’s feelings are a mere joke?

Will he understand?

Leo’s chest expands as he takes a deep breath. He knows he’ll feel better when he tells someone about why he’s done what he’s done. He’s kept this in for too long.

The son of Hephaestus plays with his fingers in his lap, if only to get a distraction from the world around him. “I… I really… I liked Jason,” he murmurs. “I spent a lot of time pining for him. But I also spent a lot of time hating myself for liking him.”

Nico’s eyebrows lower and he offers a considerate, empathetic nod. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Leo turns his gaze to the son of Hades. Sincerity sparkles in Nico’s eyes, and an urging look covers his features. Leo’s anxiety lulls itself as he sees the understanding; at least the son of Hades isn’t judging him.

“Yeah,” Leo murmurs, “so that happened. It’s kind of why I decided to date Calypso. I just wanted to… forget about my feelings for him, you know? But that wasn’t fair to her or me, because in a way I kind of used her. We’re broken up now, though, which I think is better for both of us. Still good friends.”

Nico offers a polite nod.

“Anyway,” continues Leo, “I was getting tired of keeping that secret in. So you know how I sent that hologram to you?” When Nico nods again, Leo takes that as a sign to go on. “Yeah, so I tried doing something similar to Jason. Except for him, I kind of just kept all those holograms for myself. They were mostly used for therapeutic purposes, just so I could get a better understanding of myself.” Leo sighs and runs a shaky hand through his hair. His hollow chest thrums with guilt at the thought of the holograms; they contained so many secrets that he couldn’t give up, not even to the person they were intended to be given to. “I meant to give it to Jason,” he promises, “but he…”

In a quick second, memories of Jason sear Leo’s mind. His gleaming hair, his awkward smile. The way his laugh would echo around Leo and envelop him in happiness.

He was perfect. He was everything Leo wished he could be.

He was everything Leo wished he could have.

Leo bites his bottom lip. A surge of hot tears crash against his eyes, and it takes all his strength to prevent them from pouring out.

Nico shifts his body so that he’s closer to Leo. Not close enough to make either of them uncomfortable, but enough so that Leo knows he’s not alone. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I get it now.”

Leo nods. Despite his efforts to keep his emotions in check, a tear still manages to slip out. It flashes in the orange firelight and drips from his face, bursting onto the green grass below.

Through a choked voice, he whispers, “I just… needed him to have those holograms. I needed him to know the truth. I didn’t want him to leave this world without… without knowing that there was someone who loved him in that way.”

“You needed to let go of your ghost,” Nico murmurs in understanding. “You needed to move on.”

Leo nods.

“Did it work, at least?” asks Nico. “Do you feel better now that you’ve given it to him?”

The son of Hephaestus opens his mouth to speak, but silence strangles his voice. Taking a deep breath, he whispers, “It’s not enough. I need… I need more. I need to actually confront him.”

Leo turns his head to Nico, a pleading look in his eyes. He hopes Nico understands what he’s asking.

The child of Hades’ eyes widen in surprise. “Are you asking me to take you to the Underworld?” he asks. “Look, Leo, I’m not sure-”

Leo shakes his head and waves his hands dismissively. “No, no, I’m too exhausted for adventures. I just want some time without all that excitement. But I just… I’m wondering if maybe there’s a way that I can contact him. And knowing that you’re a ghost whisperer…”

Nico’s eyes darken in the firelight. A cold, icy film covers them, and he fixes Leo with a stern look. “I can’t bring him back, Leo,” he says. “That’s not fair.”

Leo raises his palms defensively. “Hey, no, that’s not-”

“I’m not finished, though,” says Nico. An air of hesitance lingers in his words, and when he turns his dark eyes away from Leo, the latter’s heart skips a beat in anticipation. Excitement and anxiety roar in Leo’s ears. Will he agree to help?

Nico turns his face into the firelight, but he looks right through it. His mind wanders to some other place, some other world where Leo can’t reach him. The son of Hades’ olive fingers twitch in the glow of the flames.

Nico looks around, and as he does so, the silver tips of his hair flash in the firelight. A stern, anxious look pulls on his features.

“What is it?” Leo asks. “What were you going to say?”

Nico turns back to him. His dark eyes burn brightly in the firelight, flaming with excitement. In a hushed, hurried voice, he whispers, “Meet me in the woods tonight, right after the sing-along. Don’t worry about curfew, because I can shadow travel the two of us out. Don’t tell anyone you’re going there. I have a plan to help you.”

At Nico’s words, a gust of wind brushes between the two and chills Leo down to his core. His skin prickles with goosebumps once more, but he’s not sure if that’s because of the chilly air or because of Nico.

With one final skeptical look, the son of Hades stands to leave. But before he can, Leo asks, “Wait, what are you doing? What am I going to walk into?”

Nico pauses in his steps. His body freezes and he goes rigid, almost as if Leo’s question has shocked him.

Then he turns and, in the flicker of the firelight, a ghost of a smile haunts his lips. “You deserve to see him one last time, Leo. And you need to learn to let him go, because the more you keep holding onto his memory… the more you become a ghost of yourself. I can’t bear to see another friend go. Consider this a gift from me to you.” His hand lingers at his side, almost as if reaching for a sword that isn’t there. “Consider this a gift from one friend to another. That is, if you consider us friends.”

A ripple of surprise thrums in Leo’s blood. If there’s anything he didn’t expect tonight, it was to hear that Nico di Angelo considered him a friend.

But nonetheless, a relieved, grateful smile gleams against Leo’s mouth.

“Friends,” he promises. “I owe you one.”

Nico laughs. “Yeah, you do. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And with that, the demigod rushes off into the darkness, leaving Leo alone with only the flames for company.

#my writing #valgrace #nico di angelo #leo valdez #jason grace #riordanverse #the burning maze spoiler #tbm spoiler #bm spoiler #burning maze spoiler #valgrace fanfic #valgrace fic #nico di angelo fanfic #nico di angelo fic #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez fic #riordanverse fanfic #riordanverse fic #trials of apollo #toa #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Thoughts on Mistborn Era 2 (Wax & Wayne):

My main take on these was “ah, looks like Brandon’s taking some time off from his magnum opus to write pulp Western/detective/crime novels”, and I was very amused to look up Brandon’s comments and see a ton of interviews with him saying, “so, this is absolutely me having some fun writing pulp Western/crime novels”. It’s nice to have a writer who’s not too proud to - accurately - describe his own stuff as pulp yet still do a good job of it. They remind me a little of the Dresden Files in terms of the mystery aspects, the urban fantasy tone, the wit, the lack of diplomatic/political subtlety of the protagonists and, of course, the rampant property destruction. But Brandon’s a much more thoughtful author than Jim Butcher, and treats his female characters better.

On the topic of gratuitous property destruction: Wax, for goodness’ sakes, stop shooting the ground! That’s infrastructure, Wax! Fixing the streets takes work, Wax! You’re not a dusty dirt road in the middle of nowhere any more, Wax! Just drop a coin like they dud in the old days! Or a shell casing or bullet if you desperately need to be hardcore. But rampantly firing off weapons in urban areas just to get a base for your Allomancy is a terrible idea.

This was a wonderful follow-up to Mistborn because it was a lot lighter and the stakes were a lot lower, which is nice for a change. I was reading the intro to Elantris where it was talking about people in Brandon’s early writing group telling him he needed to raise the stakes, and personally, I like low stakes. Well of Ascension/Hero of Ages were a grind, much as I liked the ending, and I would be up for more stories like Dawnshard, with low stakes and the heroes resolving the plot by non-violent means.

Marasi and Steris are both very well-done characters - I was definitely shipping Wax/Marasi in the first book and had no expectations of the Wax/Steris engagement lasting, so I was quite surprised, but the switch was well done and I liked it. Marasi and Wax’s feelings were a crush/hero worship and a rebound, respectively. And it’s nice to see a relationship grow gradually like Wax and Steris’ did. What Brandon did with Steris, starting out with a portrayal readers are unlikely to lije and letting her grow on them, is risky (especially with female characters) because readers may hold to first impressions, but I thought it worked very well.

Wayne’s backstory and reaction to it hit hard and was one of the best elements in the series. Another entry in the diverse array of Sanderson redemption arcs. It’s interesting because Wayne both is and isn’t haunted by it - he takes it seriously, it affects him deeply, but he doesn’t habitually brood, and it doesn’t prevent him from being a generally lighthearted, funny, silly person most of the time.

Wayne is absolutely right about the value of certain goids being an arbitrary thing invented by rich people. I’ve had caviar, once (as a garnish on a nice pasta dish at a fancy restaurant). It tastes like nothing. Entirely nodescript. The sole purpose of caviar is to communicate “this dish is fancy (and so, by connection, is the person eating it)”.

I’m deeply protective of Sazed and get very affonted when characters criticize him. I think he’s done an excellent job. It’s hard to wrap my head around the sheer scale of Bleeder’s overreaction to the possibility of her boyfriend moving back to the city. Though on one level it makes sense in that the kandra are of Preservation: she is going to see maintwnance of an existing situation as inherently better and more desirable, even if a change could still turn out well and be something Wax enjoyed. And I don’t feel like Sazed telling him about Bleeder being Lessie would have helped anything - it just would have made the decision to kill her harder, not less necessary, because she was incredibly malicious, destructive, and dangerous and there was no other way of containing her.

The resolution of Shadows of Self is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to see, politically: the mass protests and risk of riot over poor wages, unemployment, and mustreatment of workers is resolved by a committment to address those problems, because the workers’ anger is legitimate and their cause is just.

I’m heartily frustrated by Wax, because it is his responsibility - it is literally his job, he has employees and a Senate seat! - to address the major political and economic problems of Elendel, and he neglects them. I don’t care if you’d rather be out shooting things! You have resposibilities! The workers in your factories are the source of the money and prestige that lets you engage in your gentleman-crimefighter hobby, and you owe it to them to see that the city operates in their interests. You can do far more good in that way than by shootin’ bad guys. Do. Your. Damn. Job. Steris seems to be nudging him in that direction, at least.

In general I’m impatient with a lot of the law-enforcement attitudes. Miles is a villain for whom I have absolutely no sympathy. Oh, so you’ve turned evil because, despite your 15 years of work in law enforcement, crime still exists? Yeah, maybe that’s because your belief that crime will stop existing if you shoot and/or hang enough people was never realistic. Likewise with Wax’s skepticism regarding Marasi’s ideas on how crime can be reduced through better urban planning and social policies - no, Wax, it won’t entirely eliminate crime, there will always be people who are just plain malicious, greedy, venal, or violent, but if you can reduce it by, say, 50-70% by better social policy, that would still be a good thing, right?

The period newspapers are great fun. I want a TenSoon plushie! Come on, Brandon, you’re musding out on a fantastic marketing opportunity! The one thing that bugged me was the ‘Pewternauts’ in The Bands of Mourning. In the first place, it’s a nonsensical name - real-world dreadnaughts, of which these are obviously supposed to be the equivalent, were called that because it literally meant ‘these having nothing they should fear’. The apex predator of military warships at the time, if you will. You can’t just create a random fantasy portmanteau amd pretend that it works - it’s like calling a scandal in a fantasy novel something-gate even though the Watergate scandal doesn’t exist in that world! Secondly, dreadnaughts were part of a massive military arms race in a world where European wars had been commonplace for centuries. The Elendel basin had never had a war in 300 years - these aren’t something that someone would invent just off the bat. Having similar technology to turn-of-the-century earth doesn’t mean it will be applied in the same ways, not with a completely different political context.

In general, New Seran’s complaints seemed overblown. Yes, the transit system treating Elendel as a hub and lacking effective connections between the outlying regions in aggravating. (It’s a provlem that plagues urban public transit systems even now - most routes are either local or feed into the city centre, with relatively few goung from one suburb to another, even as trans-suburban commuting vecomes more common.) But it’s not remotely the kind of thing you fight a war over! I feel like Brandon’s trying to recall the American Revolution, a bit, but the distances are so small (Elendel and New Seran are about as far apart as Ottawa and Toronto) as to make that ludicrous. What they really need is some kind of equivalent to a regional district authority, where representatives of multiple local governments can get together to work on issues of regional planning.

#brandon sanderson #mistborn era 2 #wax and wayne #marasi #steris #sazed #dawnshard spoilers #politics