#a touch of woodworking making that leg

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I beg of you, your the only person who wrote such a good zayne story 😍 it makes everything tingle, can we get a story of us sucking him off PLEASEEEEEE

⋆｡°✩ PWP Smut, Banter, Oral (M-receiving), no pronouns. Please let me know if I missed something, and I'll fix it.

Your nerves are on fire, each one a tiny beacon for arousal to run its rickety, lurching course through you. Overwhelmed, you bring your hands up and brace them against the headboard of the bed, clasping them into tight fists to calm the adrenaline rolling like waves through your veins.

It’s been too long since you felt this way, burdened with trembling limbs and stomach-knotting excitement, something that could only be accomplished when you have a certain surgeon between your gripping thighs. It’s been too long since you’ve seen Zayne, let alone have his hard, defined abs taut where you cradle his stomach.

He props his shoulders on dark blue satin pillows, his head in the perfect position for you to look at him. The unyielding gaze he holds does nothing to calm your heaving chest or aching nether regions as you take your time soaking and drinking him in.

Zayne has already changed so much since you last were with him. Your eyes are anchored to the widening of an already broad physique and the stretch and bulge of his biceps when he runs his hands down your back and over your ass to grip at the meat of your thighs. The golden glow of the nightstand lamp setting off against dark hazel eyes and battle-worn skin tempts you to squeeze his slowly fluctuating chest.

Before you can seal the deal on your spiraling dirty thoughts, Zayne catches your intentions, as if the position you were in didn’t already make it obvious. It’s a game that both amuses and frustrates you at the same time.

“It seems someone worked themselves up rather quickly.”

Lifting your sight from his chest, you meet a playfully mocking glint hidden behind a firm gaze. To keep your annoyance, or impatience rather, from showing, you set your attention on the intricate designs of the headboard.

“Just admiring the finish on the wood,” you excuse. “Lacquer?”

Zayne lifts a hand and pinches at your chin to force you to concentrate on him causing you to take your first shuttering breath that night. With piercing eyes, he searches for something in your face, so hauntingly that it makes you throb, and you silently hope he doesn’t feel your legs clamp harder at his waist or how much you're beginning to leak.

He doesn’t need it. As always, Zayne finds what he wants. His voice is inquisitive but the look in his eyes is teasing when he finally asks, “Are you sure that’s what it is? Your pupils are dilated, and I don’t think you’re one to really care about woodwork to that degree.”

You huff at his observation, always the smart-mouthed one. Could he blame you for being hot and bothered when you have an undeniably attractive man under you, especially when you haven't been able to touch him in weeks? It’s so hard with your schedules. Even now, it’s thanks to an unexpected sick day that your schedules managed to align. So, yeah, maybe you were more worked up than usual, but Zayne was a lot of things, stern, serious, reservedly kind, and very much aware of his commanding good looks and the effect it has on you.

Luckily, you’re not the only one who is having trouble maintaining a calm visage. His face holds a barely recognizable flush, his chest strains with too-deep breaths, and his large, scarred hands squeeze the back of your legs to an almost painful point before he swipes your tender skin with manicured thumbs.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the tepid atmosphere is growing too tense for both of you. Who admits to it first is anyone’s guess, but it’s not likely to be Zayne without some encouragement.

So, you prance your fingertips across his angular jaw before drawing a seductive line from the point of his chin through the center of his pectorals, a line you plan to use to start your reacquaintance with his body very soon. The sticky heat radiates from him and seeps into you, knotting the aching twists in your lower stomach even tighter.

“You’re one to talk,” you remark, displaying your own mischievous thoughts. Your hand finds a place to roost over his left side and sprawls open over his heartbeat, reading the steadily rising pace. “I can hear you breathing from here, and your skin is so hot and sweaty.”

For someone whom others wrongfully describe as cold, something about him is smoldering when he rakes his eyes over your body. It’s hungry, and you’re so ready to devour and be devoured, as he forces himself to meet your face again.

“It’s the fever.”

Holding in your laughter, you smack your lips at him. “Didn’t you say you were feeling better today? You didn’t lie to me, did you, Zayne?”

The man doesn’t respond, usually a sign that he was thinking but the only thing on his mind was your hand running orbits around his nipple, outlining the smooth round expanse circling it. You grope lightly at his chest, marveling how full it makes your hand, before cascading that touch lower and lower.

The girth of his cock twitches against your ass, and you think you almost got him as he begins to ripple under your exploration; alas, he manages to keep in his sighs until you start to comb through the delicate valley of shallow black hair that curls from his lower stomach and disappears under his sweatpants.

“I knew you would blow it out of proportion otherwise,” he plays off, releasing another low groan. “It didn’t seem to stop you from marching right over, however.”

“Oh?”

Pitifully pouting, you roll onto your side next to him, press your chest into his arm, and lean in to kiss under his ear.

“You don’t like me taking care of you?” you whine with a pathetic infliction and a whimper, all the while adding pressure as you begin to massage his groin over his briefs, close enough he can feel the sensitive flesh right above the base of his cock imprinting with your touch but not quite where he wants it or how he wants it. “That’s so mean.”

Playfully, you blow against his ear, and there’s the smallest shudder that makes your heart pound hard. There’s nothing like seeing him slowly give in, trying to act in control when his cock readily jumps and stiffens as if to reach your hand. The reaction encourages you to shuffle your hand under his briefs in a few ticklish swipes only to be met with disappointment when his voice catches, hiding a guttural sound you could only curse him for not letting you hear when you wrap your fingers around his cock.

It frustrates you how he won’t even give you an inch of nonresistance, but his cock pulses at your touch, and you smile to yourself at how he couldn’t hide the eager hard-on that you were quickly encouraging with only a few twists and pets.

“When you forced me to let you take care of me,” he begins, pausing only to hiss softly when your fist tightens, which causes the warm slick of precum to seep into his pants and a brief fluttering of his eyes before he recollects himself. “I assumed that meant you’d make a wreck of my kitchen like last time.”

Slowly, you slide your calf over the top of his knee.

“My soup made you better though.”

Zayne groans as you pull him free from his clothing, holding onto his cock as it springs from too-tight confines. Your thumb follows the thick pulsing vein running up the side of his cock before tracing his dripping slit. His head slides back against the pillow, tilting back as he quietly gulps, and his thick throat stretches with the swallow.

“At the cost of my best pot.”

“A win's a win,” you mumble against the crux of his neck, which turns into a sigh when his arm makes space to slide under you, wrap around your upper hip, and squeeze at your ass.

“Now, I see you only had one thing in mind when you came over, after all.”

“That’s not it,” you mewl, squirming when he pinches your cheek harder.

“Are you saying you didn’t come over to take advantage when you have me like this?” he asks.

“You make it sound so calculated!” You shake your head. “I just know this will fix you up in no time. Besides, I missed you.”

There’s a short and irritatingly self-satisfied chuckle from him that makes your chest vibrate with the makings of a moan as his deepening voice rumbles in your ears. “I’m in your capable hands then,” he finally relents, not that you expected any other outcome, and you make your move to flip on top of him again.

There’s a snap somewhere finally releasing any inhibitions when your lips meet. It’s passionate, filled with every desire that’s been burning in him since he’s seen you. Zayne can be gentle, but he can also be bruising. Sometimes he’s a mix of both like when his tongue glides on top of yours and his teeth graze against your bottom lip during the short moments you break for air before capturing each other’s taste again.

You moan into his mouth when he cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer, deepening the kiss to the point you're becoming dizzy. It takes some strength to break free from the passion of it all, but you want more of him, and you’re not willing to wait anymore. So, you pull away and allow your mouth to collide against his collar before he has time to capture you again. Zayne’s eyes glower, half-lidded as he watches every pucker of your lips and every kiss and bite on his body.

Zayne slides a palm up the small of your back, the other going to rub the crux of your thigh, dipping inward to stroke at the yielding flesh right at your center. You moan against him, doing your best not to start dry humping him like you’re in heat whenever his cock pulse against your lower belly, but the scent wafting from him was becoming too much. So, you quickly begin to make your way to the promised land, trailing kisses along the way.

“I missed you,” you puff out softly before wading your tongue across his nipple then under his chest and to his stomach. Releasing his cock, you slide your hands down his sides, making sure to keep them aligned with the movement of your kisses. “You don’t know how much.”

Zayne brushes his fingers along your hand, following down your arm before gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb gliding over your cheek in a tender return of your sentiment as his once proud demeanor in his eyes softens with the smallest of glances from you.

“Is it more than I’ve missed you?” he whispers, and when you nod, he smiles. “I don’t think that’s possible.” Seeing you like this, so beautiful, all his, is a luxury. “I never tire of seeing you.”

Feeling a rush of shyness overtake you, you muffle the small sigh of his name against his stomach. Butterflies filling your stomach, you slide further down and kneel, your knees digging into the end of the bed as you sit back on them, your ass in the air as you hover your face over his lap. He’s so big that you’re never entirely sure where to start. You could go for where he’s most sensitive or—

“You can always use your hands instead if you don't think you can fit it all in your mouth,” he instructs half-jokingly, causing you to grow flustered at your overthinking.

“This isn’t the first time, I know how—” You clamp your mouth shut when you remember the first time you tried, something you’re sure he wouldn’t let you forget. “Don’t,” you order before sliding your tongue over his tip to clean away the pre-cum.

Your tongue laps along his glans as you slowly take his head into your mouth. It’s only when you finally get to work, sliding your mouth halfway down then back up that he finally stops his teasing and lets you have your way with him.

There’s an audible sound of relaxation when you squeeze his base with your palm and purse your lips around him. There’s a certain pride that comes with knowing you’re the only one who can see him like this, with his shoulders lax, eyes closing in bliss, and jaw slightly slacked as he groans. It’s not an easy sight to imagine on someone as stern as Zayne but the look of arousal was also something that seemed like it was made for him, which only causes your legs to squirm with need when it evolves into a low grumble from his chest.

You push it a little further to turn it into a growl by relaxing your throat and allowing it to press against the back, pulling back up and slurping the sheen of saliva clean from him before lapping your tongue over the tip. When you repeat the process, his hips twitch and buck, causing you to whimper when you feel more liquid scalding down your throat.

With a quick reposition to sit up more and force you closer, he presses both hands to cup at your cheeks, lifting your head partway up as he lightly strokes your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Briefly, you look at him, heart fluttering a bit at the flush dusting the bridge of his nose and the wetness of his parted lips.

“You’re so good,” he breathes out, a chilly flow emanating from him, “so good for me.”

Blinking away the water in your eyes, you moan around him, the vibrations rolling down his heated flesh as you suck your cheeks around him as he holds your face. One hand goes to the back of your head, and you bob once again with the encouragement of his hand pressing down on your head.

“Fuck,” he hisses out when you pop him out your mouth and brush your lips down the side of his shaft. You pepper it in kitten kisses before nipping lightly. You squeeze around his tip, making it your mission to keep your thumb grinding his slit and blushing head while you cup and suck his balls.

When you feel them strain and tense, not once but twice in your mouth you have enough warning to know he’s about to cum. It’s with one last stroke of his shaft and one last quick suck around his head that he paints your mouth white, the excess seeping from your mouth and flooding over his length.

You take your time cleaning your mess, like you promised. It’s with slow, deliberate movements as you allow him to ride out his much too quickly fading high, the last throbbing spilling the last drops of his finish on your lips. You release him with a pop and a sigh.

“How messy,” he quietly remarks, causing you to tense as his thumb ghosts over your lips. “You missed a spot,” he explains and slides the finger into your mouth for you to readily close around. He wipes it clean against your tongue before sealing your mouth with a kiss. He slides his finger free from your kiss, and you can feel the lingering wetness of your saliva against your face when he holds you in place to kiss you more passionately.

His strength starts to become too much when he grips your shoulders, pushes you towards the bed, and pins you on your back.

Breaking the kiss and pushing against his arms, you puff out, “Wait, I’m supposed to be in charge today.”

“Sorry to change your plans, but I don’t think I can hold back anymore,” he explains with a growing smile that makes shivers climb up your spine from the sheer hunger in it. “Allow me to show you how much I missed you as well.”

#zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #zayne smut #lads x reader #lnd x reader #zayne love and deepspace #adelssmut #notsfw #sorry for the wait hon #i kept getting posting anxiety

[atinylittlepain]

after that episode i need all the joel fluff i can find, like i need an overdose to make up for the heart wrenching pain i am in at the moment

i'm right there with you, babe :( one order of pure fluff coming right up. i did set this in my Unexpected Expectings universe, but it's still lovely on its own I think

gif by @a7estrellas

Talking Shop

Joel Miller x pregnant!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

She keeps Joel company while he works on a crib for their baby, but she's not really interested in the woodworking.

warnings | 18+ pregnancy, that's it, this is just sweet and simple

...............................

“Are you even listening to me?” “Mmhmm.” Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands on his hips as he shoots her a questioning look.

“What’d I just say then?” She huffs, slumping back onto her palms where she’s sitting on his workbench. So maybe she hadn’t been listening to him waxing poetic about woodworking, she was a little distracted by the push and pull of his muscles under his sun-drenched t-shirt as he worked away at sanding more wood for the crib. For their crib. 

“Um, something about towels?” He smirks at her, shaking his head as he shuffles over to stand between her legs. It’s a warm day in Jackson, summer wrapping up the town in bright rays and heat, and she feels a little dizzy looking at the sweat-darkened neck of his t-shirt, taking in the scent of cedar sawdust and musk that could only be her man. He rests his palms on her thighs, squeezing lightly.

“Not quite, mama. I was saying that I’m gonna use dowels to put the crib together. It’s safer, and sturdier. Gonna last a lifetime that way.” She hums, bringing her hand up to scratch lightly at the scruff along his jaw, basking in the way he leans into her touch.

“I was pretty close. Cut me some slack, huh? You’re a little distracting, Miller.” He chuckles at that, dipping down to steal a kiss that she chases after, deepening it in a way that has him groaning low from his chest. He pulls away with a smack, a dopey grin settling on his face.

“Oh yeah, I’m the distracting one.” She goes to reply, but is cut off by the feeling of a quick flip in her belly. She gasps, and Joel’s face crumples in concern, but she just takes his hands, guiding his palms to rest over the swell of her stomach. The flip comes again, but this time, Joel’s eyes widen, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as his eyes dart between her equally amazed expression and where his hands are resting on her belly. Another flip comes and he lets out a deep, rumbling laugh, his eyes crinkling up and a broad smile stretching across his face.

“Is that– is that what I think it is?” She giggles, nodding lightly.

“At least someone’s excited about all your woodworking talk.” As if on cue, another kick comes and they both laugh. Before she can figure out what he’s doing, Joel is already sinking down onto the floor with a groan.

“Joel, your knees–” He shushes her, his face now level with her belly.

“Listen, kid, your mama might not think it’s very interesting, but when you get here I’ll tell you all about dowels and bevels and fretwork. Gonna have you carving before you can walk.” She can’t help but laugh, running her fingers through his hair as he grins up at her.

“Lemme tell you something else while I’m down here. Your mama is an absolute menace–” She scoffs, tugging just a tad unkindly at his curls to get him to stand back up.

“Alright, I think that’s enough talk for one day.” He chuckles, stealing another chaste peck from her as his palms come back to squeeze at the plush of her thighs.

“Just telling him the facts, darlin.” She huffs at that, bringing her palms to rub over his chest.

“Still hoping it’s a boy, I see.” His grin is back as he shrugs.

“Just got a feeling, I guess.” All she can do is shake her head, pulling him in by his thin t-shirt for another kiss.

It is so definitely not a boy.

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller blurb #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #unexpected expectings

[allur1ngs]

✮ play the game (i.)✮

TW: unedited, fluff, some angst, no smut but some smutty-type descriptions ?, CLIFFHANGER (i apologize), italicized words in this chapter indicate a flashback, the image in the center is not meant to depict reader's body type, or any physical appearance, it is simply for visual purposes!!

SUMMARY: while preparing for your upcoming wedding, trouble begins to brew. from your engagement being leaked to a mysterious letter, and an ex who has come out of the woodwork, determined to reclaim you—bada must navigate through it all—fall into your ex’s clutches, lean into the fire that is her conviction, and play the game.

WC: 9.7k

A/N: find more information about this au on my masterlist! here it is!! well, part of it. this is part 1 of 2 parts, the second of which i’ll hopefully be releasing soon. hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter, despite it leaving you on quite the cliffhanger :)

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada or team bebe’s actual character, values, or attitudes, and any reference to real-life establishments is completely fictional. please keep this in mind!!

Warmth is the first sensation you experience every morning. It’s a perpetual state of comfort—endless strings of sunlight and heat beating down on your chilly body. The pocket of warmth next to you presses closer to you, spreading the heat until every expanse of your skin is caressed by it.

This is what heaven feels like.

A feather-like touch against your neck makes you stir from your sleep, the small puffs of air you were releasing picking up their pace.

“Good morning.” Bada’s voice rumbles, a small rasp weighing down her tone. She drags her nose up and down your throat, making you let out a small, instinctive giggle. “Oh, that’s a nice sound.” She smiles against your skin, now placing small kisses on your throat.

“That tickles.” You mumble, blearily reaching out to wrap your arms around your fiancée’s neck.

“That’s the point, honey.” Bada laughs, placing one last kiss on your skin before pulling away. She stares at you with stars in her eyes and a wide smile, taking in your sleepy disposition–the way you flutter your eyes, trying to rid yourself of the lingering curse of sleep, the way you stretch your arms out ever so slightly, flexing them after their hours of infrequent use–you’re stunning.

“Bada.” You say, tilting your head to the side with a small smile. “Are you there?”

“Sorry, I was just admiring how beautiful you are.” Your finacée admits boldly.

Your smile turns shy as you look away from her, shaking your head. “You’re the beautiful one here.” Bada is beautiful. Painfully so. 

Although she still hasn’t gotten up from bed, her long, straight hair is somehow knot-free, and cascades down her shoulders like a steady stream of crystal water falling from a fountain. Her pink lips are plump like they always are, stretched into a wide and fond smile. Her eyes sparkle under the dim lighting of your shared bedroom, pools dark brown alit with a passionate love you’ve never encountered before you’d met her.

And her body…it’s truly unfair. 

Your finacée decided to wear a wife pleaser–as she so eloquently stated, “It’s not a wife beater when I wear it, it’s a wife pleaser”–the white clothing hugs her frame deliciously, outlining the sharp lines of her lean abs and showing her lack of bra, her nipples perking against the fabric. Not to mention the lack of sleeves allows you to ogle her arm muscles, the valleys of muscle fibers straining as she hovers above you. And below the ridden-up cloth of her wife pleaser is a pair of black boxers peeks over her matching black sweatpants, the strings untied, of course. They dangle between her legs tantalizing, almost putting you in a trance.

“I appreciate the compliment, although I’m going to have to agree to disagree with you,” Bada says cheekily.

“I can never win against you, can I?” You joke, twisting one of Bada’s locks between your fingers.

“In every other facet, you will always win against me.” Bada laughs. “But when it comes to this one, I’m going to remain firm.”

“Well, who says I’m going to give up?” You rise from bed, pecking your finacée’s lips sweetly.

“Oh, I know you won’t.” Bad pecks you back, placing her hands on your hips. “That is one of the many things I love about you.” Your finacée pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her expression before she shifts her attention onto you again. “I love you.” She says, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips.

This had become a sort of ritual for you and Bada. Ever since she’d accepted and admitted her love for you, she made a promise to herself to always remind you just how much she meant those three words she’d uttered that cold night. A kiss and an “I love you” became mandatory in the morning–non-negotiable on your fiancée’s end.

“I love you too.” You respond with a sweet smile. “By the way, what time is it?”

Bada glances at her bedside table, locking eyes with a digital clock. “About eight-thirty.”

“We should get up then.” You move towards the edge of the bed and sling your legs off the side of it but you’re stopped by strong arms wrapping around your sides.

“It’s still early.” Bada mumbles, pressing her chest against your back and placing her head in the crook of your neck. “Stay in bed with me.” She slides her hands down your front, slipping them past the waistband of your pajama pants, cupping the heat between your legs.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, summoning all your willpower not fall victim to your finacée. “You’re being unfair.” You huff, feeling her fingers rub circles against your panties.

“Am I?” Bada smirks, dragging her fingers up and down slowly–

“Alright, that’s enough.” You stand up, breaking away from your fiancée’s hold. She tumbles back dramatically, plopping onto your shared bed with a sigh.

“I can’t believe it. My bride-to-be doesn’t love me.” Bada says, wearing a fake hurt expression.

You roll your eyes playfully at your finacée, moving to brush away some strands of hair that’d fallen onto her face. “I’m making you get up because I love you. If I don’t get you to eat breakfast at a reasonable time, you’ll head straight to your office and pick at your food.”

"You know me too well," Bada sighs, casting one final contemplative glance toward the ceiling before gracefully rising from the bed.

"I do." you reply playfully. "Now, get ready. I'll be awaiting you in the dining room." Moving to your fiancée's side, you lean in, bestowing a tender kiss upon her lips. She responds with a smile, attempting to prolong the embrace until you gently withdraw. She pouts, seizing hold of your arm and lingering until you grant her another kiss before she lets you go.

"I love you," she calls out as you make your way towards the door.

"I love you too," you respond with a smile, departing the bedroom. Stepping outside, you turn to your left.

"Good morning," Hyo greets you with a brief nod.

"Good morning, Hyo," you acknowledge, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen, your vigilant bodyguard trailing behind.

Upon reaching the kitchen, you warmly greet the staff before assisting them in plating breakfast. The sumptuous meals are carefully arranged on the resplendent dining room table. The Bebe girls are already seated, engaged in lively conversation.

"Good morning, unnie!" Soweon greets you with a sweet smile.

"Good morning, Soweon," you reply, placing her breakfast before her and mumbling a gracious "you're welcome" in response to her cheerful thank you.

Similar fond good mornings follow from the rest of the girls as your fiancée enters the dining hall, still clad in her wife beater, now accentuated with a sports bra. Unconcerned, she hasn't bothered to secure her sweatpants—a playful tease.

"Morning, Boss," the girls collectively greet Bada, bowing their heads slightly in acknowledgment.

"Good morning," Bada declares, taking her seat at the head of the table, with your designated spot adjacent to hers. Placing her breakfast before her, you settle into your seat. "Anything to report?" your fiancée queries, nodding at Lusher.

"Nothing significant, just some... mail," Lusher stands, presenting a stack of mail before Bada.

Absentmindedly sifting through a few, Bada's attention is drawn when Lusher hands her a separate piece, already opened. With a puzzled glance, Bada takes the letter, and as she reads, her expression gradually hardens. Her eyes, cold and unwavering, fixate on the paper stained with inky black words.

Lifting your gaze from your breakfast, confusion courses through you. Before you can inquire about the contents of the letter, Lusher interjects.

"Ah, I forgot to mention that the article released a few days ago continues to gain more and more traction." She places her phone before you, displaying a familiar article on the screen.

The title reads, "Famed Chaebol Bachelorette Lee Bada Caught Sharing Intimate Moment with CEO of Asan Medical Center’s Daughter."

 Bada scowls as she glances over your shoulder at the article. "Filthy reporters."

Over the past two days, an overwhelming surge of media attention has descended upon you. It all stemmed from a delightful date night with Bada that turned sour when you awoke to your phone inundated with notifications. The article delved into your family's "official" business, the largest and most prestigious chain of hospitals in South Korea. The reporter had been relatively generous in their depiction of you, highlighting your high rank in the esteemed private high school you attended. However, they pointed out your lack of a complete college education, concluding the article by questioning your worthiness of the seemingly untouchable and most desired woman in South Korea—Lee Bada.

For better or worse, that sentence remained etched into your mind, a brand seared into your brain matter. Bada had been quick to reject the article’s implications. “They speak of you like you are only your material achievements. You are more than just that–you are intelligent and beautiful woman–the only woman that I would ever desire to have by my side.” She’d stared at the words with sharp and distainful ireses, as if they were her greatest enemy. “They do realize that you have more college education than I do, right? Their idiocy never ceases to astound me.”

Nevertheless, the digital words spread across numerous news websites and social media platforms, catapulting you into overnight stardom.

Initially, the attention was positive. Curious netizens found your Instagram account, showering your posts with likes and leaving comments like, "She's pretty, I understand why Bada chose her," and "Her family is influential; they'd be a strong couple if they got married."

Yet, like an inevitable rain on a sunny day, the negative comments followed. They read, “This type of lifestyle will lead you down a path of gluttony. Find the Lord to escape your sins,” another said, “You’re kidding me? After all these years of rejecting countless marriage proposals, Bada finally decides to marry another snooty rich girl?” With so much negative and positive attention on you, it was natural you started to get overwhelmed. Still, you kept your Instagram public, refusing to yield under the harsh comments and criticism you were receiving, instead holding your head high. You are Bada Lee's fiancée, and no matter how much they wished to be in your shoes, they never would be.

"How are you holding up?" Bada's voice interrupts your thoughts. Her cold hand rests against the meat of your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze. "We're working on getting the article buried—"

"Don't," you interject. Bada looks at you with surprise, prompting you to continue. "I won't cower under their attention. I'm proud to be your fiancée, and I don't want to hide it anymore."

Time seems to stop for Bada. Your posture is confident and self-assured, your eyes free of fear, whispering a challenge. They say, "Look at me. Pick me apart if you must. I'm ready."

"Is it possible to fall in love twice with the same woman?" Bada wonders. Well, it must be possible because she just did. The way you boldly stand against criticism, claiming the title of her fiancée, makes her heart burst with emotion. How could she have ever thought she could hide her feelings for you? It's simply not possible. She will always fail. She will always succumb to you.

"I'm in love with you," Bada declares, she squeezes your thigh again, then places her other hand against your cheek, leaning in for a passionate kiss.

Surprised, you reciprocate the gesture without a moment's hesitation. Cheche and Kyma boo playfully, while Lusher, Tatter, Minah, and Hyo share expressions of contentment. Soweon, witnessing the tender exchange, releases a wistful sigh, harboring hopes of one day experiencing a love akin to yours and Bada's.

As you withdraw from your spouse, a shy smile graces your lips. "Not to interrupt your sweet moment, but your cousin should be arriving soon," Hyo interjects, concluding her breakfast and handing the empty plate to the staff.

"Oh!" You exclaim, offering your bodyguard a grateful look. "I almost forgot—"

"Your cousin, Miyuki, correct?" Bada suddenly inquires.

"Yes," you affirm. "She's visiting from Japan and will be staying here until after our wedding."

"Are you two close?" Bada wonders.

"We used to be," you admit. "My aunt wanted Miyuki to learn more about her side of the family, so she left for Japan when we were teenagers."

"You must be excited to see her, then," Bada observes, a warm smile gracing her features.

"I am," you respond, returning the smile. "But I should start preparing for her arrival." Standing from your seat, you hold your plate in one hand and place a kiss on your fiancée's cheek. "I'll see you all in a bit," you bid farewell to the girls still immersed in their breakfast.

"See you later, unnie!" Soweon calls out as you and Hyo exit the dining room.

Bada maintains a smile as she watches your figure in the distance. However, the moment you are out of sight down the hallway, her expression instantly transforms, the warmth replaced by a chilly demeanor. Retrieving the note from her sweatpants pocket, she tosses it onto the dining room table, prompting the girls to freeze and look up at her. Lusher, with a discerning expression, forms her lips into a thin line.

"Find out who wrote this letter," Bada commands.

The girls promptly rise, nodding in agreement and offering a slight bow. Lusher takes the letter and hands it to Minah. "We'll locate them."

"Now," Bada emphasizes.

Without another moment of hesitation, the girls exit the dining hall, a letter in their clutches.

"Miyuki!" you eagerly greet her at the doorstep of the Lee mansion.

"Hello," Miyuki stands on the cobblestone driveway of your home, her long, silky black hair cascading down her shoulders. She appears different from what you remember—Young Miyuki exuded a cheery, youthful glow at all hours. Soft pink cheeks and wide brown eyes defined her. The Miyuki before you now is almost ghostly pale, with dark clothing accentuating the lack of color in her cheeks and skin.

Miyuki nods, approaching you with a small smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it, cousin?"

"Only ten years," you joke, throwing your arms around her in a hug.

Surprised by your affections, Miyuki glances down at you awkwardly but nevertheless reciprocates your hug. "It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you again as well," you say cheerily. "Come in; we have so much to talk about." You gently guide your cousin inside the Lee mansion, with Hyo holding the door open for both of you. "I hope you didn't have trouble entering through the gates, by the way."

"Checking my belongings and patting me down was a bit excessive, don't you think?" Miyuki comments, her eyes surveying the interior of your home—the gold embellishments, the sweeping spiral staircase, and the diamond-teardrop chandelier.

"I'm sorry, but it's a necessary precaution—safety reasons, I'm sure you understand—"

"But we are family, aren't we?" Miyuki pushes, stopping just shy of the door.

You give your cousin an awkward smile. "She's much different than what I remember," you think. "My fiancée, Bada, takes the security of our home very seriously."

"Where is she, by the way? Lee Bada, I mean," Miyuki asks. There's a concealed emotion in her eyes that you barely miss as you instinctively turn to look at the winding staircase leading to the second floor. "I'd like to meet my soon-to-be cousin-in-law."

"She's working right now but might take a break soon." You take a step forward, motioning in the direction of a split hallway. "I can show you around the garden while we wait."

Miyuki nods, trailing after you while Hyo maintains a discreet distance. However, Hyo's presence seems to pique Miyuki's interest—or annoyance—prompting her to turn to you with a raised eyebrow. "Why is she following us?"

"Oh, this is my bodyguard, Kim Hyo." You stop to point at Hyo, who awkwardly waves at Miyuki. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce her. I've just become so used to her presence—"

"It's alright," Miyuki interrupts. "Will she be trailing after us the entire time?"

"Yes," you answer, walking through the hallway with a quickening pace. Thankfully, Miyuki doesn't say anything else, choosing instead to stay quiet and follow you. Reaching the door to the garden, Hyo is quick to step up and open it, allowing you and your cousin to walk through. You thank her, while Miyuki says nothing.

Stepping into the garden, tall green hedges reach toward the bright blue sky, creating a path through the cobblestone laid in front of you like a tunnel. Walking forward, the hedges start to part, revealing a large white porcelain fountain—three tiers high. Crystal-clear water falls from the porcelain, dripping down in a steady stream, the soothing sound music to your ears. Near the hedges are patches of flowers on each corner of the pathway.

You step aside, motioning to the stone bench adjacent to the fountain. Miyuki quickly sits down while Hyo stands with her back to the leafy hedges.

"So, I'm assuming you've received the invitation to my wedding?" you inquire.

She hums, "It's in December, right?"

"Yes, has my aunt and uncle said anything to you about coming?" you ask.

"No, my mother hasn't," Miyuki shakes her head. "She's been very busy lately, but I'm sure she'll carve out some time to come, even if it is just the day before the wedding."

You turn to face the fountain, watching droplets splash into the water basin, becoming one with the large pool of water. "And my uncle?"

Miyuki remains quiet for a second, gazing at the water fountain as well. "Up to his usual business. Drinking and gambling our money away."

A deep-seated sadness blooms in the pit of your stomach as you shift your posture toward your cousin. "Miyuki..." you place your hand over hers, which are clutched tight in her lap. "I'm so sorry."

Your cousin doesn't spare you a glance, only eyes the garden in front of her, thoughts racing around her mind like a relentless storm, which only leaves wreckage and heartache in its wake. "It's fine," she says, but there's a noticeable shakiness in her voice. "My father has always been this way. There's nothing your sorry can do to fix it."

You close your eyes and sigh. "Still, I want you to know that I've always sympathized with your situation. Your father may be my blood, but I can never see past the things he's done to you and my aunt."

Miyuki looks to her right, briefly catching sight of Hyo who is standing a few feet away from you both. She suddenly removes her hands from her lap, instead moving them toward her hipbone, prompting you to stare at your cousin with a hurt expression. "So, what is the date of your wedding? I noticed the invitations had no date other than it being in December."

You clear your throat, recovering from her actions and take your hand out of her lap, instead placing it on yours. "The date will not be released until two weeks before the wedding."

Miyuki finally turns to look at you, now wearing a bewildered and confused expression. "You're not going to tell your guests the wedding date?"

"I know it sounds a bit ridiculous—"

"A bit?" Miyuki snorts.

"—But this is a necessary precaution. Bada proposed that no one should know until the day comes nearer, just in case someone decided to leak the information to the public—"

"What would that matter? I'm sure with Lee Bada's money, she could surely pay for some extra protection."

"It's not as simple as that." You start to argue back, frustration building in your gut. "I'm sure you understand that Bada's line of work is very dangerous, and she's made many enemies along the way—"

"It sounds to me like—"

"Sorry to barge in mid-conversation." You and Miyuki turn to look at the new voice that cut her off, both of you surprised to find Bada standing near the path to the garden, her black suit a stark contrast to the bright florals surrounding her.

"Bada!" You stand up, a wide smile naturally finding your lips. Mentally, you thank your fiancée for having divine timing and entering the conversation right when you were starting to feel a bit fed up with your cousin.

"Hello," Bada walks to your side without a second thought, her height almost matching the hedges surrounding the garden as she leans in to press a sweet peck on your lips.

"You're taking your break already? I must have not been paying attention to the time—" You ramble.

"It's four in the afternoon." Bada looks at you with a fond smile, taking your right hand into hers before running her thumb across the ridges of your fingers. "I looked around for you until I remembered that you said you'd be in the garden."

Miyuki watches you and Bada interact silently for a moment before she clears her throat. This grabs your and your fiancée's attention, your mood slightly souring as you face your cousin again.

"Right, I should formally introduce you both. This is my cousin—" You begin, but a voice interjects.

"An Miyuki." She takes a step forward, offering her hand as she stares at Bada through her lashes.

You close your mouth, choosing to say nothing.

Bada stares at Miyuki for a second, the smile she'd once worn settling into a thin-lipped, neutral expression. She takes your cousin's hand in a friendly handshake. "Lee Bada."

Miyuki shakes your fiancée's hand for a minute, and Bada begins to pull away, she holds on for a second longer, the action just barely going unnoticed by you.

Hyo, who'd been silently watching from the hedges, catches the movement with her sharp gaze. She cocks an eyebrow up.

Bada quickly retracts her hand, placing it behind her back before she turns to look at you, discarding your cousin's presence for a moment. The edges of her vision blur away; all she can see is you and your unreadable expression. "Before I interrupted, you were speaking about the wedding, weren't you?"

You clear your throat and wear a shaky smile. "Yes, we were."

"Will you and Mr. and Mrs. An attending, then?" Bada faces your cousin. A cool breeze passes by, making you press yourself into your fiancée’s chest. Ever attentive, she quickly rubs her hand up and down your arm, trying to relieve the chill ghosting against your skin.

Miyuki purses her lips, as if she’s in thought. “It would be nice to know the date of the wedding so we can plan accordingly.”

“That will not be possible,” Bada replies without missing a beat. “I apologize, but the exact wedding date will be withheld from all public and private knowledge. At least, until the wedding approaches. And I am more than willing to pay for a private flight so that your parents can attend.”

A hidden emotion flashes in Miyuki’s eyes before she releases a small sigh. “I would understand withholding the date from friends or acquaintances, but I am family–”

“And while both I and my fiancée wish to see you at the wedding, we will not be releasing the date.” Bada sees you shift in the corner of her eye, your pupils practically sparkling under the sun at her words. “Please understand.”

Miyuki remains silent for a moment before huffing an amused laugh. “You are exactly who I thought you would be, Lee Bada.” She takes a step toward you both, a smile on her lips. “I will speak to my mother and father about visiting during December.”

Bada bows her head politely, “Thank you.”

Miyuki says nothing, then glances at the entrance to the garden. “I should get going.”

“Oh, but you just got here.” You frown only with half-sincerity.

“I arrived in Korea just yesterday, I’m still quite jet-lagged,” Miyuki responds. “I hope to see you again soon, cousin.”

“Let me show you out–” you begin, but she cuts you off.

“It’s alright, I’m sure you want to spend time with your spouse.” Your cousin motions to Bada, who remains quiet, her inner thoughts concealed behind a layer of ice.

You open your mouth to say something, but Miyuki is already turning on her heels and heading in the direction of the entrance of the garden. You frown, your eyebrows furrowing as you take a step forward. “Mi–” You’re about to call out her name, but Bada holds onto your arm gently, stopping you from advancing toward her. You look back at your fiancée, confusion written all over your visage.

She shakes her head, then nods at Hyo. Your bodyguard glances at you hesitantly before she steps away from the garden hedges and trails after your cousin, making sure she finds her way out of the labyrinth that is the Lee mansion.

“She is…strange.” Bada suddenly pipes up, her words clipped as she zeros in on the end of the garden path and the doorway to the inside of the mansion.

You purse your lips, a melancholy feeling building in your throat and the pit of your stomach. “She was much different when we were children…”

“Every year added onto our lives tests our character,” Bada mutters, the words leaving her lips like whispers of archaic knowledge. Then, she glances down at you, noticing the storm of emotions behind your eyes. “Hey,” she places her hands on either side of your face, wearing a small, comforting smile. “why don’t we spend the rest of the day together?”

Like the flip of a switch, your expression immediately brightens, a large smile growing on your lips and your eyes widening. “Really? Don’t you have work to do?”

“I can get it done tomorrow.” Bada rubs her thumb against your cheek, mirroring your wide smile. “I’d much rather spend time with you.”

You press your cheek further into the palm of Bada’s hand, enjoying the small chill coming from her skin. Although the rest of your fiancée is warm and comforting, you’ve noticed that her hands run cold–or more accurately, her fingers carry a slight frost. Especially now that the seasons are changing, morphing from the bright life of summer to the path of rebirth that is autumn; shades of dusty brown, muted yellow, and fiery orange.

Before she touches you Bada always rubs her hands together and blows warm air into the palms of her hands, accumulating a small heat to run up and down your skin. Every few minutes she takes her hand back and blows more warm air into it until the frost blooms ebbs away into a comfortable temperature. But right now, standing in the brisk breeze of the garden, Bada’s natural chill comforts you. 

“I would love to spend the day with you.” You whisper back, the subtle warmth in your cheeks contrasting your faincée’s frost. “What do you think about us going to a cafe?”

“A cafe?” Bada cocks her head to the side, a surprised look overtaking her features. “Is there any particular reason you want to go?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it recently…” you trail off for a moment, wearing a bashful smile. “we’ve been going to a lot of high-end restaurants and venues for dates–” you hurridly meet Bada’s eyes, quickly adding, “not that I don’t like them, by the way, I appreciate the effort you put into making reservations and taking me there, I’ve loved all our dates.” Carefully analyzing your fiancée’s expression, she shows no sign of taking offense, and is in fact smiling softly back at you, nodding. You take that as a sign to continue, “But maybe we could go to a cozy, small cafe instead of somewhere fancy?”

Bada wears a thoughtful look for a second, her eyes looking upward toward the blue sky before she speaks. “That sounds wonderful, honey. And I think know the perfect cafe.” She takes a small glance behind you, seeing Hyo finally walk back into the garden. “Get Lusher, and pull the car up.” She tells your bodyguard, making her pause mid-step, mutter a “yes boss,” and turn around to walk back into the Lee mansion and head towards Lusher’s bedroom.

“Oh, this is perfect timing!” You pipe up, your eyes lighting up in realization. “The wedding planner and I came up with some ideas that I wanted to run by you.”

Bada takes your hand, weaving her through yours before she slowly starts to guide you out of the garden, through the Lee mansion, and to the steps leading to the driveway. “Tell me all about it over coffee, baby.”

“The name of the cafe is Cafe Layered. It’s small but cozy, and I’ve heard that the pastries they make are made fresh every morning.” Bada shifts in her seat so she can face you better, the world outside blurring as the Porsche you’re in rolls through the streets.

“Oh, I think Jae has mentioned that cafe before.” You nod. “She spoke very highly of the desserts.”

“Then I’m sure we can expect equally as good drinks.” Bada smiles.

Silence overtakes the warm air permeating in the car. The atmosphere is sweet and comfortable–no words having to be uttered as the low hum of the Porsche’s engine buzzes in the back of your ears and mind. In that moment, you feel nothing but peace and elation. To be with your lover, spending the day with her rather than wandering the Lee mansion like a ghost, is the truest form of harmony you’ve ever experienced.

Until the car eases to a stop. A parking spot is conveniently open up right in front of Cafe Layered's entrance, which provides Hyo with a convenient space to park the Porsche. She does so with a smooth movement of her hands, pushing the clutch into the park feature. The rumbling in the background instantly fades away, and with it does your peace.

Bada quickly exits the car, swiftly circling it to open your door. However, just before she does, a subtle tension grips her, a fleeting sense of unease. Standing upright, she turns her attention to Cafe Layered's entrance. Peering through the window, she observes patrons indulging in mountains of delectable pastries, steam rising from the fresh bread. Everything appears ordinary, and yet...

"Boss?" Hyo stands on the opposite side of your car door, glancing inside to find you wearing a perplexed expression as you gaze at your frozen fiancée.

"Bada, why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" Lusher emerges from the car, scanning the street vigilantly, but there's no one in sight, the surroundings almost desolate except for the cafe patrons.

"Keep an eye out," Bada commands tersely, suspicion etched across her face. She places her hand on your door's handle, hesitating for a moment, then opens it, extending her hand to assist you in exiting the low-slung car.

Suddenly, chaos erupts.

Reporters and paparazzi emerge from behind parked cars and nearby corners, wielding their bulky cameras aimed squarely at you and Bada. A barrage of flashing lights ensues, the incessant clicks ringing in your ears. The paparazzi advance, nearly brushing against you before Hyo intervenes, scowling as she orders them to retreat. "Back up!"

Taking a more aggressive stance, Lusher extends her arms and pushes against the midsections of the reporters, berating one who refuses to step back. "What's your problem? Did you leave the house like that on purpose, or are you sleepwalking?" She scrutinizes the paparazzo's attire, prompting him to blush before fleeing down the street, presumably in search of his car.

While the girls try to hold back the paparazzi, Bada positions herself in front of you, shielding you from the cameras and the blinding flashes. She wears a look of pure anger and frustration as she glares into the void before her. "How did they know we would be here?" she snaps, but upon glancing down at you, her demeanor softens. "Are you all right?" She cups your face, forehead pressed against yours as she searches your eyes. "We can leave if—"

"No," you assert, your expression hardening with resolve. "I said I wouldn't be a coward, and I will not."

Bada scrutinizes your countenance, searching for any trace of hesitation or fear, finding only fierce determination in your eyes. She gives you one last, gentle look before pulling away, interlocking her fingers with yours. Bada takes the lead, stepping forward to face the onslaught while you follow a bit behind.

Initially, everything goes smoothly. Hyo and Lusher create a path through the crowd, allowing you and Bada to progress. However, as soon as you step through, the paparazzi swarm like vultures.

A reporter shoves a microphone in your face. "Can you tell us anything about how you and Ms. Lee fell in love?" Startled, you step back, narrowly avoiding the microphone. Bada steps in, forcefully pushing the reporter away. "Don't touch her," she warns, tightening her grip on your hand as she guides you, attempting to keep you close.

Despite the effort, the crowd surges forward, pushing into your side. "Back up!" Hyo shouts, attempting to maintain order.

Bada, evidently fed up, shoulders her way through the crowd, confidently striding forward. "Go straight inside the cafe and don't come out until they leave, okay?" she instructs, looking back over her shoulder at you, her words barely audible over the clamor.

You nod, signaling Bada to continue forging a path until the entrance to Cafe Layered is within reach. She opens the door, positioning herself behind you to block any potential shoves or pushes.

Entering the cafe, you hear the bell chime, announcing your arrival. Curious glances from customers meet your eyes, but they quickly avert their gaze, murmuring among themselves. Taking deep breaths, you attempt to steady your racing heart and nerves. While you expected some media attention, the chaos far surpassed your anticipation.

Allowing yourself a moment's respite, you take a step forward, spotting a vacant table with two chairs across the cafe. Outside, Hyo and Lusher continue their struggle against the paparazzi as Bada engages with the reporters.

"Ms. Lee, do you have a comment for us about your engagement—?"

"Yes, I do," Bada interrupts, her tone frosty with anger. "All I will say is this: leave my fiancée alone. Show her some respect, and stop harassing her or prying into her private life."

Inside the cafe, you manage to take a few steps toward an open table before someone bumps into you from behind. Stumbling forward, you barely regain your balance, turning to face the perpetrator.

It’s another paparazzo. He stares at you with a mix of nervousness and excitement as he balances an iced coffee in one hand, and his camera in the other. Intent on capturing a photograph, he lifts his camera, but a swift intervention comes in the form of a hand abruptly blocking the lens, and pushing his equipment onto the floor.

Instinctively stepping back, you gasp as the paparazzo's camera crashes to the floor with a loud thud. The man looks shocked, glancing at who had slapped the camera out of his hand.

A tall figure steps up, their dark brown suit blocking your view of them. "You should be careful of how you handle such expensive equipment," They interject, their voice low and raspy

Frozen in your spot, a chill runs up your spine. "That voice," you think, "I recognize it. But from where..." Hidden deep within your mind, dormant memories from years ago lie in wait, eager to be recalled.

The paparazzo's mouth falls agape in shock as he hurriedly tries to salvage his ruined camera, offering muttered apologies under his breath. "I apologize, Ms.–"

"Apologize to her," the authoritative figure sharply interjects, motioning over her shoulder at you.

You gaze at the back of their head in astonishment, the inflection of their voice so familiar yet just barely out of reach in your memory–

Then, the tall figure pivots to face you.

A scalding sensation courses through your entire body, as if touched by a burning flame. Finally, memories flood your mind–whispered promises, secret touches, and years of unfulfilled yearning. These are the moments that permeated the years of your adolescence, leaving you awake at night, pondering the haunting question, "what if?"

"Hyunjae?" you breathe, your eyes widening, a tempest of conflicting emotions stirring within their depths.

Her lips curve into a smirk – that infamous smirk unseen since that fateful night four years ago. She’s wearing a crisp, dark brown suit with matching dress pants covering her long legs—the white dress shirt under her shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of her pale skin. Strands of her glossy, long black hair cascade in front of her face as she tilts her head, looking at you from head to toe. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Princess?"

“Wha–” you struggle to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence when suddenly the paparrazo rushes towards the door of the cafe and bolts out of it, bumping into people in his wake.

Back outside, the humiliated man’s haste and inconsiderate actions cause him to bump into a woman who’d been innocently passing by, and trying to get through the crowd of media blocking the street. She stumbles forward, brushing shoulders with Hyo, who quickly turns around, grabbing the woman out of instinct to keep her from falling.

She whips around to stare at Hyo, her eyes wide and her breaths heavy. “Thank you.” She whispers, regaining her balance and standing up straight.

Hyo flounders, staring at the woman in front of her in wonder. Her medium brown hair cascades down her shoulders, he tresses almost reaching her elbow in length. Her skin is soft and pale, her cheeks dotted with hints of a pinky blush–and her lips are the color of a ripe peach, ready and waiting to be plucked from a tree branch.

The woman stares back at Hyo, admiring her silently as well. “I like your sunglasses.” She comments, her eyes sweeping over the dark shades.

“Oh.” Hyo reaches up to touch her sunglasses, a sudden rush of heat rising from her cheeks. “Thank you–” she clears her throat, trying to compose herself. “I like your…your hair—”

“Hyo, stop flirting and help me control these guys!” Lusher screams at your bodyguard, making the heat in Hyo’s cheeks reach the temperature of a burning furnace.

Hyo turns back to the woman, then looks down, realizing she’d been holding onto her the entire time. She quickly lets the woman go, apologizing. “Sorry, I have to—”

“Was that what you were doing?” The woman cuts off Hyo, her lips stretching into a small smile.

“Pardon?” Hyo says, a mix of confusion and anxiety written all over her face.

“Were you trying to flirt with me?” The woman clarifies, a small giggle falling from her lips.

The sound is like a ringing bell, a melody that pulls at Hyo’s heartstrings like a harp. Yet, despite the flurry of butterflies in her stomach, Hyo clears her throat and straightens up. “Were you trying to?”

The woman’s smile brightens, her eyes closing as she lets out a full laugh. “You got me.” 

Hyo mirrors her smile, but then out of the corner of her eye sees Lusher struggling to keep a paparazzi from rushing into the cafe to get to you. Her smile instantly fades, and her mind screams at her for losing sight of her first priority. “I have to do crowd control, but please have a good day.” She says, her tone noticeably curt.

The woman seems to deflate at Hyo’s words, but she’s quick to recover. She grabs Hyo’s arm and lightly pulls on it, bringing her closer. “Thank you, you saved me from a nasty fall.” She whispers, looking between your bodyguard’s eyes.

Hyo licks her lips instinctively and nods. “You’re welcome.”

With that, they part, their hearts crying out for the other as the woman walks down the desolate street, and Hyo turns back to the crowd, helping Lusher.

Inside Cafe Layered, you face the ghost of your past.

“What are you doing here, Hyunjae?” You demand, your eyebrows furrowing so deeply a crease forms between them.

“Ouch.” She hisses playfully and touches her chest where her heartbeat is located. “Not gonna call me Hyunie anymore, Princess?”

“You lost the right to that nickname years ago, and you know that.” You snap back, eyes set into a harsh glare.

“Yes, I agree.” Hyunjae admits, her smile turning melancholy. “But I’ve come back to make everything right.”

You stare at Hyunjae incredulously, almost laughing in disbelief. “You think you can just come back after four years, apologize, and then suddenly everything will be okay?”

“I never said I was just going to apologize.” Hyunjae takes a step forward, ghosting her hand over your cheek, every part of her longing to touch you again.

You step back like her phantom touch burned you. “Don’t—”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjae interrupts you softly, her voice filled with sadness, yearning, and regret. “Everything I said to you back then were nothing but lies.”

“That doesn’t matter now.” You look away from her, your eyes cast onto the floor as whispers of the words she’d said to you all those years ago echo in your mind. Internally, you weep for your younger, naive self. “I have a life, I have a—”

“Oh.” Hyunjae leans in close, and for a split second, you think she’s going to kiss you. But she doesn’t. Instead, she inspects the edge of your shirt, making you look down at it out of instinct. There’s a small blotch of liquid darkening your shirt that you hadn’t noticed. “That pap spilled some of his coffee on you.”

You frown, sighing at the stain but shift your gaze back to Hyunjae, who’s now reaching into her suit jacket pocket. She pulls out a white cloth—a handkerchief—and leans in close again, dabbing the area of the coffee stain on your shirt.

You stare down at Hyunjae in shock, but your shock only doubles when the bell to the cafe chimes, and Bada walks in.

She’s huffing, her expression incredibly sour as her eyes sweep over the cafe in search of you—

And when her eyes meet yours, the world stops. Her dark brown irises snap from your surprised look to the woman hovering over you, touching your shirt with her handkerchief. A fierce emotion flashes in Bada’s eyes as she advances towards the small corner you and Hyunjae are tucked into. “Who are you?” Bada snaps, stepping to your side and in front of Hyunjae.

Hyunjae doesn’t answer, she just smiles and continues cleaning your shirt until the coffee stain dissipates. “There,” she mumbles, standing up.

Now at her full height, she matches Bada’s stature, mildly surprising your finacée. But that doesn’t deter her glare. As Hyunjae folds her dirty handkerchief, Bada catches a cursive letter “P” sewn into the fabric before it’s tucked out of sight.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to go.” Hyunjae completely ignores Bada’s presence, instead staring at you like you’re the only woman on Earth. “I’m glad I got to see you again.”

Before you can say anything, Hyunjae quickly leans in again and wraps her arms around you in a hug. 

“I’ve always loved you.” She whispers into your ear, her words inaudible to Bada who watches in surprise and unbridled anger. “Never forget that.” While Hyunjae holds you, tears of grief build in your eyes. You’re far too shell-shocked to move or respond, instead, your eyes move to your fiancée, who upon seeing your tears steps forward and pushes Hyunjae off of you.

“Don’t touch her.” Bada glowers at Hyunjae, making a point of holding you close to her side. “Who are you?” She repeats, but this time her voice is dripping with offense. 

Hyunjae only smirks, shoving her hand in her pockets as she steps to the side, now shoulder to shoulder with Bada. “I’m an…” she trails off, her eyes sweeping over you, “old friend.”

Without missing a beat, Hyunjae strides towards the door of Cafe Layered, bumping shoulders with Bada as she passes by you both. Seconds later, the bell chimes, signaling Hyunjae’s exit.

Bada grits her teeth, her tongue poking at the inside of her cheek in irritation and fury. However, before she can stew in her anger any longer, she turns to look at you, grabbing the sides of your face, worry flashing in her eyes. “Did she hurt you? I can’t believe she fucking touched you—” Bada tries to control herself, but her words hold nothing venom. “Who really is she to you?”

You stare into Bada’s eyes, a single tear dripping down both of your cheeks. “That was Park Hyunjae. My ex.”

Bada stills, her eyes doubling in size. An ominous, almost looming fear scratches at the back of her mind—a foreboding feeling. The way Hyunjae had touched you—like the intimate touch of a lost lover—makes a bubbling envy invade your fiancée’s body. Venom, is perhaps what it is, an already mounting hatred for the woman she’d just met. “Your ex?”

“I haven’t seen her in four years, but then a paparazzo got in—” Your breaths become slightly labored as you struggle to form a sentence with your heart hammering in your chest. “I’m sorry—”

“Honey, it’s okay.” Bada places her hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you down. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

Before you can respond, the sound of Bada’s ringtone fills the air, making her scowl. She digs into her pocket to grab her personal phone, using her other hand to grab yours and interlock your fingers together. She accepts the call without glancing at the caller ID.

“Hello?” She answers gruffly, her eyebrows furrowed as she stares at the floor. 

“Boss!” Minah relieved tone calls out on the other line. “You picked up—”

“Minah, what is it? I’m in the middle of something right now.” Bada glances at you, sending you an apologetic look before she frowns at the crystalline tears dotting the corner of your eyes. She reaches over to carefully thumb them away while Minah starts talking again.

“I found out who wrote the letter.”

At her words, Bada stills, her gaze sharpening and her posture unconsciously straightening. She stands tall, exuding the same intimidating disposition she’d held with Hyunjae. “Tell me.”

“You have to come home.” Minah insists. “There was a problem with the newest shipment of…products.”

“What do you mean there’s a problem?” Bada presses her subordinate.

“Trust me, you’re going to want to see this.”

Bada inhales deeply, trying to calm the raging fire plaguing her mind. “Fine, we’re heading home now.”

You glance at your finacée in confusion, who only shakes her head in response. She takes your interwoven hand and places an apologetic kiss against your knuckles.

“I’ll see you soon, bye.” Bada promptly hangs up the call, then turns to face you. “I’m sorry, we have to go home, there’s been an issue—”

“It’s alright.” You cut in, trying to muster a smile to soothe Bada’s worries. “I don’t think I want to stay for coffee anymore.”

Your finacée wears a disappointed expression, the lines in her forehead creasing as she releases a sigh. “As soon as I’ve dealt with the issue we can discuss the wedding plans.”

You nod, quick to add, “Don’t worry about it, the urgent and more time-consuming parts have been sorted out—there are only a few things left for us to give input on.”

“Alright.” Bada glances at the door, relieved to see that the paparazzi and the reporters have left, leaving Lusher and Hyo standing by the doors, carefully examining each passerby. “We should go.”

Together, you and your fiancée leave Cafe Layered, hoping to leave behind the acrid taste Hyunjae had left on your tongues and minds. Still, even during the silent ride home, she looms over you all like a dark cloud, casting a shadow on the lingering echoes of unspoken words and unresolved tension.

“Boss!” The second Bada steps into the Lee mansion, Minah and the other girls stride toward her, their lips tugged downward into uneasy frowns. “We have a lot to show you.”

Bada eyes the girls, then glances at you, a sigh leaving her lips. “I have to—”

“Go.” You give your fiancée a light push, and an understanding smile. “I can tell it’s important.”

Bada takes one last look at you and pecks your lips before nodding at the girls. Her, Lusher and the other girls take fast strides towards the spiral staircase, their footsteps echoing eerily through the hallway when they reach the second floor, you and Hyo staying behind.

“Debrief me.” Bada demands, her face cold and expressionless as they approach the armory room. 

“Well, while I was tracking down who wrote the letter, Kyma and Soweon went to check on the shipment were meant to be delivering to Hanwha Aerospace, but when they opened the crates—” Minah stops in front of the armory room and punches in a code into a keypad, scans her fingerprint as well, which makes the airtight vault’s door pop open. She takes the handle and gestures into the room, looking apprehensive. “You should see for yourself.”

Bada walks into the armory without a second thought, catching sight of an open crate in the middle of the room. She approaches it with a slightly raised brow, leaning her tall frame forward so she can see inside.

The sides of the crate are packed with black cushioning, which prevents the guns from moving around—but the pistols inside are what grabs Bada’s attention. She picks one up, examining the weight of the gun in her hand—playing a little hot potato with it as she shifts the gun back and forth from the air to the palm of her hand.

On one of her toss ups, she suddenly and swiftly grabs the gun, clicking off the safety and pulling the trigger at the wall, her eyes narrowing when she feels resistance.

“The pin.” Bada states, lowering the gun and scrutinizing every inch of it under her heavy gaze. “It was sabotaged.” 

“We noticed right away.” Soweon speaks up, her lips set into a deep frown.

“Are all of the guns like this?” Bada flips the gun around a few more times, looking for any further indication of sabotage.

“Yes.” Kyma answers.

“I checked all of them for fingerprints but nothing came up. Whoever did this are professionals—”

As the last word leaves Minah’s mouth, Bada dissembles the gun by sliding out the magazine, when something catches her eye. There, engraved into the metal, is the letter “P”.

Bada’s mind immediately goes back to the cafe, remembering the “P” sewn into Hyunjae’s handkerchief, and your words, “Park Hyunjae. My ex.”

“We still have no idea who did this, but—”

“Don’t waste your time investigating.” Bada cuts in, her voice full of irritation and anger. “I know who did this.”

The girls all glance at each other in confusion before Lusher steps up. “Who is it?”

Bada drops the ruined gun into the crate, then turns around to face the girls. “My fiancée’s ex.”

Finding Park Hyunjae was easier than it should have been. One search of her name in the database, and her address was revealed to Bada and the girls. Clearly, she’d made no attempt to conceal her existence, which meant that they were more than likely walking into a trap.

And yet, with a bold display of confidence, the Bebe girls and Bada stand outside the door of Hyunjae's mansion. The lack of outside security isn’t lost on the girls—yes, this was most certainly a trap.

“The door.” Bada points at the doorknob, and motions for Tatter to step up. While Tatter gets out her lock pick and gets to work, Bada turns to look at a building across the street, seeing Lusher sitting at the top of it with her sniper rifle sweeping through the windows of Hyunjae’s mansion.

Bada holds up a fist and then one finger, which grabs Lusher’s attention. She moves away from the sniper rifle and holds up a fist, a confused look on her face.

“How many?” Cheche asks, noticing Bada’s furrowed eyebrows and deep frown.

Bada looks at her, eyes relaying absolutely no emotion. “Zero.”

The girls still in their spots, all turning to look at their Boss.

“They’re waiting for us.” Kyma clicks her teeth.

“Has that ever stopped us?” Tatter objects, continuing her job on the doorknob.

“No.” The girls call out in unison.

“And this will not be the first time.” Bada nods. “She fucked with our business and my finacée. She needs to pay.” 

The girls nod firmly, each of them picking up their guns and standing at attention, ready for the upcoming battle.

And when the sound of the doorknob clicking fills the muted air, it’s like the battle cry that signals the girls to charge forward. Tatter goes first, pushing the door open with considerable force—the rest of the girls following after—Bada being the last one in. 

But when she steps onto the cold stone flooring of Hyunjae’s mansion, she sees something she never expected to.

Lined up like soldiers, rows of men and women stand before the stunned Bebe girls and Bada. They stare forward, completely disregarding the sight of the girls. It’s an eerie display of power, something that for the first time in years, makes a prickle of alarm run up Bada’s spine.

“You made it.” Hyunjae steps up from behind one of her men, a relaxed smile on her lips. “I expected you to arrive sooner, but—”

“What do you want from me?” Bada interrupts, stepping forward so that she’s as close as she can be to Hyunjae.

Your ex stares at Bada in silence for a moment, before her lips curl into a smirk. “Everything.”

Bada glares at Hyunjae, her grip on her pistol tightening.

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Your ex starts walking away, turning her back to her enemies with complete disregard to her safety. When Bada doesn’t make a move to follow her, Hyunjae pauses, turns around, and looks at her, now frowning. “Are you just going stand there?”

Bada remains silent, contemplating her options. 

“They won’t do anything to your lackeys.” Hyunjae nods at her men. “…As long as you come with me.”

Your fiancée glances at the girls, who all give her hesitant looks. Deep down, Bada knows her best bet is to start a shoot-out with Hyunjae. She could take her chances and finish her here and now—stop her from laying a hand on you—but a nagging curiosity eats away at her being.

Just how serious had you and Hyunjae been? Why has she decided to show up now? Why? Why…?

Bada takes long strides toward Hyunjae, now standing in front of her. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Without wasting another moment of precious time, Hyunjae takes the lead and walks down the proceeding corridor. Bada keeps a safe distance from her, paying close attention to every turn and curve they take. 

Eventually, they arrive at a door, which Hyunjae quickly opens and enters, Bada close behind. The door swings shut after them, keeping them hidden away from the lackeys and the girls at the entrance.

“Lee Bada—”

“Stay away from my business, and most importantly, my finacée.” Bada snaps at Hyunjae, her words sharp like a blade which cuts deep wounds into Hyunjae’s skin. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

Your ex chuckles under her breath. “So the rumors are true. You are engaged to the love of my life.”

Bada’s expression hardens. “My finacée.” 

“My first, and only love.” Hyunjae runs her digits along the desk in her office, feeling ridges of the sleek wood catch against her fingertips. “Did she tell you how we met? How we fell in love?” 

Bada remains quiet, her lips thinned into firm lines. She stands tall and proud, although somewhere in the hidden confines of her heart, their strings are being pulled and tugged, played like a cruel harp with every utterance Hyunjae releases.

Your ex smiles down at the floor, taking Bada’s silence as an answer. “I expected as much.” She circles around her desk and sits in her chair, spreading her legs wide to get comfortable. “We met in high school. She was a  year younger than me, but thrice as wealthy.”

5 years ago

The air is hot and sticky, filled with giggles, screams, and whispers. There’s hardly any illumination in the living room, save for the strobed red lights that cast a lustrous shadow on the bodies of partygoers. Surrounded by a sea of well-dressed attendees, Park Hyunjae sticks out like a sore thumb.

In her worn-out leather jacket and unbuttoned black dress shirt, she clings to the walls of the living room, observing the “jewels” of Seoul float around like dying embers.

But if they might be dying embers, Hyunjae would be their ash, which wishes and yearns to become coal.

“Not a party person?” A voice fills Hyunjae’s ears, a symphony like no other.

She startles, turning to face the girl beside her. 

…Amongst many imitations of fine jewels, one precious stone shines bright.

“Sorry.” You offer Hyunjae an apologetic smile. “I saw you standing here alone, so I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” Hyunjae cuts you off harshly.

“Did I?” You smile brightly at her, despite the stoking fire inside the stranger standing beside you. “Should I go, then?”

Hyunjae stands stock still, allowing a long pause of silence to pass between you two.

“I’ll stay.” You place your shoulder against the wall, the light in your eye twinkling. “What’s your name?”

The following two words sealed your inevitable love. “…Park Hyunjae.”

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#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #bada lee x reader angst #bada lee x reader fluff #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 3

Summary: Returning to the senator's home, the Bad Batch quickly realizes that they are under attack. They have to act fast if they want to catch the shooter.

Warning: assassination attempt, destruction of furniture, various weapons used, sniper/shooter mentioned, someone getting shot, slight talk of blood, slight moment of panic for reader, concussion symptoms discussed but not confirmed

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist

Only a few hours later, the sun had dripped below the line of the horizon and the moon began to rise into the skyline. Though the hours of the night fell over Coruscant, it was a place that truly never slept. The planet's skylanes directed the air-traffic of airspeeders via auto-navigation system that moved the speeders along preprogrammed routes.

In the Senate District, Senator Rayna possessed an apartment in one of the high-rises. Her place was situated on Level 60, which meant it was a little over halfway until one reached the top of the high-rise. Upon entering the apartment, there was a large spacious living area adorned with fancy plush couches, custom woodwork tables, and dainty priceless knickknacks.

A single bedroom was located near the back of the apartment. In the living room and bedroom, there were grand windows that overlooked the vast expanse of the city. It was quite similar to the architecture of her office not six blocks away. These windows were installed to promote plenty of sunlight during the daytime and a scenic view of the city lights during the nighttime.

It was a quite spacious and luxurious space; a fitting living situation for the planet's senator.

Walking into the apartment by following the senator, the Bad Batch took a moment to take in their surroundings. They felt out of place like they didn't deserve to even step foot into the apartment. Everything looked too expensive to touch.

"Smells weird," Wrecker noted. His nostrils flared at the odd scent.

"Because it's clean," Echo retaliated.

The senator only smiled at them. She gestured towards them with a wave of the hand, silently inviting them to take a few steps further in. She saw the door close behind them.

"This is my place. I don't really spend a lot of time here," Senator Rayna insisted. She took note of how each of them were looking at something different. Whether they were glancing out the window, examining a random figure on a table, testing the feeling of various textures, or looking directly at her.

Given that she was finally home for the day, Y/n had lifted her leg behind her until she felt her shoe come in contact with her hand. She steadily removed her heel before mimicking the notion with her other leg. Once her shoes were removed, her stance dropped down another inch in height.

The senator proceeded to remove the tie from her braid. She weaved her fingers through her hair to undo the braid and work out any knots. As her hair began to fall around her face, Hunter felt this fire ignite in the pit of his stomach. He thought her hair looked much better down.

"We'll give you some privacy," Hunter quickly noted.

"Make yourselves comfortable. There is food on the table if you're hungry," Y/n stated. She gestured to the table where a bowl of fresh fruit lay.

"I'm always hungry," Wrecker claimed. He eagerly made his way over the the table and grabbed the nearest fruit. He stuffed it into his mouth without hesitation.

With that, the senator went to turn towards her private quarters. She did not catch the way the sergeant's eyes followed her form as she entered her room or how they stayed on her until the door was fully closed. His mind was still lost until one of his brothers spoke up.

"Your thoughts are painfully loud," Crosshair grumbled from across the room. He was currently standing beside the large window, which was an indication that he found a decent perch for a sniper's view. He began to assemble the parts for his rifle.

"I don't know what you mean," Hunter lied through his teeth. Looking over his shoulder, Hunter had a feeling that Crosshair was rolling his eyes at him from behind his helmet.

"Oh please. Don't play innocent," Crosshair scoffed. He proceeded to remove his helmet, setting it down on a table beside him. He plucked a toothpick into his mouth. "You're practically drooling all over her."

Meanwhile, the other three clones watched the brothers interaction. Their gazes switching between the two of them. They often didn't get along so this was nothing new to them.

"You jealous?" Hunter teased. An all knowing smirk graced across his lips. He always knew how to push his brother's buttons.

"Not in the slightest," Crosshair went to cross his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall behind him. He further explained himself. "Not my type."

"What? Coruscanti?" Hunter wondered.

"Politicians," Crosshair corrected him.

"Fair point," Hunter agreed. He redirected his attention to look back at the closed door.

"Be careful, brother. Don't get too attached," Crosshair warned. His voice sounded like it was laced with venom, but his words rang in his brother's ears.

Ignoring this comment, Hunter went to approach the window in the living space. His gaze lowered towards the city below them, looking at all the airspeeders moving rapidly. He remained stationed by the window, but his senses picked up what was happening next door.

Behind him, Wrecker continued to consume the entire bowl of fruit greedily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, somewhat content with the quality he had eaten. Then there was Tech who was currently fidgeting with his data pad. He made some minor adjustments with a miniature screwdriver.

By the window, Crosshair had just finished setting up his sniper's rifle. He opened the window before carefully lifting his long rifle to rest on the ledge. He peered through the scope to examine the city. Finally, Echo was still taking in some of his surroundings. He found himself walking around the spacious room, glancing at little figurines and art pieces on the walls.

For a brief moment, Hunter silently wondered if he should tune out what he was hearing. He glanced down at the helmet in his hands, which was customized to help him drown out noises if he switched a setting. Tech had made this feature for him a long time ago. This helped the sergeant when his senses grew overloaded, bringing him a sense of calm and comfort.

After some contemplation, Hunter chose to not put his helmet on. He closed his eyes to focus in on the sounds he was hearing, permitting his heightened senses to take over. The first thing that he noticed was a soft humming voice coming from the other room. His lips twitched into a smile.

The sergeant also heard the soft patter of feet making its way across the bedroom, accompanied by the soft swish of a fabric. As the footsteps grew a little louder, Hunter turned his head to face the door as he presumed she was walking towards it. Sure enough, the bedroom door opened to reveal the young senator wearing a long white nightgown. A blue silk robe hung over her shoulders.

Without thinking, Hunter's eyes dragged down the entire length of her body. He tried to commit the littlest of details to memory. He quickly placed his helmet over his head in hopes of hiding the way he was staring at her. He cleared his throat.

Opening the bedroom door further, Senator Rayna invited him into the confines of her room to speak privately with him. He silently obliged to this, shifting forward in order to enter her room. They left the door open, but kept distance away from the doorway for the privacy they sought. The two of them turned to face one another.

"So what's the game plan for tonight?" Senator Rayna intrigued. She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to maintain a modest appearance for her sergeant.

"We think it would be safe for us to stay here one night," Hunter stated plainly. "Get a feel of things. Make sure you can get some sleep tonight," Hunter added.

"Alright," Y/n agreed with a firm nod of the head.

"Tomorrow, we will only have one person stay with you. We'll rotate and take turns," Hunter further explained. "Clone barracks are only three blocks away should we need to call for backup."

Upon hearing this, Senator Rayna felt the air getting sucked out of her chest. She inhaled sharply. Her body grew quite tense. Almost immediately, Hunter saw the uneasiness in her expression. He heard how fast her heartbeat picked up. He was quick to reassure her.

"Not that we expect to call for backup regularly," Hunter tried to bring up her spirits.

"No, but it is good to be prepared for anything."

"I agree," Hunter nodded.

Unbeknownst to them, a masked figure had made their way to the rooftop of a building across the way from the high-rise. With a large package in hand, the mysterious person made their way to the ledge of the rooftop. They peered over the edge to look down at the steady flow of traffic.

Setting down the package and unlocking the box, the pieces to a rifle lay incased within it. They quickly began to assemble the sniper rifle, clicking the parts into place. Now looking over the side of the ledge, the sniper raised it's weapon to rest on the ledge. They focused the scope to get a better view.

The scope's view shifted past the various windows of the high-rise, searching for one in particular. It eventually settled on the right window, spotting the infamous senator standing in her own quarters. It looked like she was talking to a clone though it was awfully hard to see his armor.

The sniper took the time to watch the clone turn around in his place and begin walking towards the door to the room. He only got a few steps away before the sniper proceeded with their original plan.

Lowering the scope slightly, the unknown sniper fired a single shot at the window. However, it wasn't a blaster shot. It was a small magnetized explosive. The explosive latched onto the surface of the window without difficulty, activating a timer that blinked red.

In that exact moment, Hunter can to an abrupt halt in his steps. He could hear the steady beeping sound of the explosive from outside the window. He surveyed his surroundings, searching for the source of the noise.

"Sergeant?" Senator Rayna inquired from behind him. "What is it?"

Upon realizing what the sound was, Hunter only had one second to act quickly. He spun around on the heels of his feet and ran directly for the senator. Next thing she knew, a body had forcefully slammed into her and tackled her to the ground. She felt her head hit the floor hard, but she didn't think that mattered at the moment.

Because the explosive had suddenly detonated and destroyed the window glass. A million shards of glass threw across the room, landing as far as the other side of the bed. With the shock from the explosion, Hunter did his absolute best to use his body as a shield as he lay on top of the senator. He covered her head with his hands, keeping her face tucked into his chest.

In the other room, the other clones had seen the explosion through the open door. As if this was a battle simulation, they drew their weapons and quickly got into their respective positions. Wrecker had grabbed the large wooden table and hoisted it up onto its side. He dropped down to take cover behind it with Echo and Tech following suit.

By the window, Crosshair had the smallest bit of coverage by a pillar. He peered through the scope of his own rifle, desperately searching for where the explosive could have been fired from. His scope focused on every single rooftop.

Wherever the assailant was, they suddenly began firing blaster rounds into the now open window. The blaster shots began striking the back wall where the senator had once stood. They hit nobody.

Hearing the blaster fire directly above him, Hunter could only heavily rely on the protection provided by the bed beside him. He could hear it drawing closer as it now grazed the blankets on the bed. Attempting to keep the senator safe, Hunter pressed his body further into hers and squeezed her tightly. He could feel how desperately she clung to him.

Finally, Crosshair's scope was able to find the exact rooftop where the assailant was located. He could barely see a figure peeking from the ledge, but he saw the rounds firing from the weapon. He fired a single shot, which struck the ledge right below the weapon. The assassin quickly cowered out of view.

Knowing this was far from over, Hunter went to press the comm attached to his wrist. He spoke over the comms. "Bad Batch Plan 100," Hunter ordered.

Receiving their orders, Wrecker and Echo seized the opportunity to leave the apartment in order to pursue the assassin across the street. The two of them began running as fast as they could. The plan entailed them hurrying to capture the assassin while the others tried to distract them in the meantime.

Suddenly, the unknown assassin popped their head over the ledge once again. However, this time, they fired a single shot towards the window in the living room. The explosive latching onto the window once again. With little time to waste, Crosshair took cover right beside his brother who was still behind the table. The explosion shattered the glass, sending it across the room.

Now, the assassin began firing blaster rounds through both of the open windows. They seemed to be alternating between the two rooms, firing a round of shots before switching to aim at the other room. The shots kept coming with the clear intention of trying to hit someone.

"Tech," Wrecker's voice sounded over the comm channel. "Where is this guy? Have you gotten a lock on his location?"

"I'm working on it," Tech replied back.

He sneakily peered around the edge of the table. He pressed the side of his helmet which dropped the scanner over his eyes. A very distinctive red heat signature appeared on his scanner on the same rooftop. The smoke spewed out of the tip of the rifle, signifying it's overuse.

"West Tower Level 64 Mark 329," Tech called out.

"Roger that," Echo replied through the comms. "In pursuit."

Switching targets, blaster fire began pouring through the living quarters. It began striking the back walls, destroying the paintings, and ripping holes through the furniture. In response, Crosshair and Tech remained hidden behind the table in hopes that it would continue to provide them with protection. They couldn't hold out forever.

Recognizing that the blaster shots weren't coming through the room at that specific moment, Hunter carefully placed his forearms on either side of the senator's head. He pushed himself upwards slightly, pulling his armor plated chest off her own and peering down at her small frame.

The small specks of glass were sliding off his back and falling to the ground around them. He could feel his muscles aching in pain, which pulled a soft groan out of his mouth.

"Are you alright, senator?" Hunter inquired after her well-being. His ears were burning from the sound of the blaster fire streaking through the room next door. "I need you to use your words, sweetheart. Are you alright?" Hunter asked once again.

"Y-Yes. I-I-I'm alright," Senator Rayna stumbled over her words. She nodded franticly. It almost felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest from how rapidly it was beating.

"Everything is going to be alright," Hunter reassured her. "I'm gonna get you out of this."

Peering around his own body, Hunter spotted his two brothers in the other room. The two of them took turns firing shots around the table they had taken refuge behind, shooting blindly at the assailant on the rooftop. They took cover again just as the blaster fire was returned to them.

"As much as I enjoy this position," Hunter spoke while turning back to face the senator laying under his body. "I need to go help my brothers."

"What about you? You're going to get shot if you go out there," Y/n exclaimed.

"Don't worry about me. Our mission is to protect you and that is exactly what we are going to do," Hunter replied.

Finally, Hunter further lifted himself up until he wasn't laying on her anymore. He brought himself into a crouching position for a brief second before switching to lean against the side of the bed for more cover. He retrieved the blaster from his holster.

"Stay here. Stay low," Hunter ordered.

When Tech went to look around the table, he felt a single blaster shot whiz right past him. He just barely managed to dodge the shot, sitting back against the table to maintain coverage for the moment. That shot was much too close for Hunter's liking.

"Wrecker, Echo," Hunter called for them over the comms. "How are we coming along here?"

"We are nearly at the top," Echo replied. He glanced up at the long staircase, guessing that they only had a few more floors to go. They had been climbing the long staircase for a few minutes now.

"So many stairs," Wrecker panted from behind him. He went to lean his body against the railing, wanting nothing more than to take a short breather. The two of them continued to climb the staircase, getting higher and higher with each step.

"We need to do something; we can't just sit here." Crosshair explained from his position. While Tech agreed with him, there was little any of them could do until the others reached the shooter.

By lifting his head, Hunter spotted the light hanging from the ceiling in the other room. Without hesitation, he raised his blaster to shoot the light out. The sharp shards of glass shattered around the light, falling to the floor. Naturally, Crosshair and Tech flinched from the sound of glass breaking directly above them. They covered their heads to protect themselves.

"What the hell are you doing?" Crosshair shouted at his brother from the other room.

Ignoring his comment, Hunter proceeded to shoot out the light hanging above the bed. The sound of glass breaking filled the room and blaster fire halted momentarily. Both of the rooms were now protected under the veil of darkness.

"Can't shoot if you can't see," Hunter explained. Even though Crosshair rolled his eyes at his remark, he only did so because he knew he was right.

Sure enough, the shooter had a hard time finding a target in the darkness. They moved the rifle to point at one room before switching to point at the other room. The shooter tried to look for any sign of movement, eyes narrowing behind the scope.

Seizing the opportunity, Hunter moved upwards until he was just peeking over the edge of the bed. He pointed his blaster, firing a couple shots in the general direction of the shooter. Though Hunter's shots missed the target, they did get dangerously close to the shooter which caused them to cower behind the ledge once again.

The sergeant returned to his position behind the bed, thinking carefully about their next move. He knew that the shooter wasn't hiding anymore and had gotten back behind the scope. Then it suddenly clicked in Hunter's head: the shooter was watching for movement.

Formulating a plan, Hunter realized that he might actually be able to take his guy down if he played his cards right. He'd have to distract the shooter, fire his shot, and hope that the others reached him before he could get away. He knew what he had to do. He turned to face his brothers in the other room.

"Stay down," Hunter commanded them. They gave a nod.

Now, Hunter went to pull his vibe-blade out of his wrist holder. He reared back and tossed the blade into the other room. The blade was propelled forward and lodged itself into the wall on the far side.

Upon seeing the movement through the corner of their eye, the shooter quickly moved their scope to face the other room. Their eyes searched desperately for a target and their finger shifted to the trigger.

With the shooter distracted, Hunter rose to stand at his full height. He aimed his blaster and pulled the trigger to fire a single shot. The blaster shot managed to strike the shooter directly in the shoulder, sending them to the ground. A wave of relief washed over him.

A moment later, Wrecker and Echo burst through the rooftop door with their blasters drawn. They looked around the rooftop to survey the site. From the high-rise, Hunter watched his two brothers walk around cautiously. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Talk to me," Hunter asked them.

"That's just it," Wrecker replied. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "There is no one here."

The shooter had disappeared behind the ledge when the sergeant shot him, but he couldn't imagine him getting too far with his injury. He would have seen him stand up so he must have crawled away. It didn't make any sense.

"Search the place," Hunter ordered them. Echo knelt down by a small patch of blood on the ground. "He couldn't have gotten far."

Knowing Wrecker and Echo could handle themselves, Hunter decided to direct his attention back to the person he was assigned to protect. He saw that she hadn't moved from her position, laying on the glass riddled floor and propping herself up on her forearms. Her eyes twinkled with fear.

Approaching her, Hunter heard the glass breaking and cracking underneath his boots with each step taken. He knelt down beside her, knowing that she was feeling extremely uneasy. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder in hopes that it would bring her some comfort and calm her nerves. He also removed his helmet to set it down.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Hunter questioned.

"I-I'm fine," Y/n's voice quivered. She pulled herself into a sitting position with the sergeant making sure she didn't hurt herself on the glass.

For some reason, Senator Rayna couldn't seem to bring herself to look him in the eyes. She could feel her heart beating so loud in her chest that it was almost painful. She tried to use every muscle in her body to stifle a whimper from escaping her lips so she covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself. But the tears began swelling in the corners of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She was so overcome with emotions that she was falling apart.

"You don't have to be," Hunter reassured her. He stared down at her with the utmost sympathy behind his eyes.

Wrapping her arms around herself and drawing her legs to her chest, Senator Rayna began rocking back and forth subconsciously for comfort. Her head dropped down until her chin touched her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut just as the sobs began to rack over her body, causing her shoulders to shake violently.

Knowing words would bring little comfort, Hunter brought his arms around her body. He had one arm looped behind her backside and the other one slipped under the crook of her legs. He hoisted her body into his arms, rising to his feet in order to carry her. He went to turn around in his place and entered the other room.

"We can't stay here tonight," Hunter explained to them. "We'll go to the Marauder for now."

"We'll lead the way," Tech agreed with a firm nod of the head. He made sure to keep his blaster drawn just in case they ran into the assassin.

"Rendezvous at the Marauder," Crosshair spoke through the comm system for the others.

"Copy that," Echo replied. "No sign of our shooter."

As they made their way to the platform, Hunter glanced down at the weary senator in his arms. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still red and shiny from her tears. Her head was resting against his solid chest plated armor and her hand was pressed against where his sternum would be. He readjusted her slightly in his arms, lifting her up a little more to take sure he wouldn't drop her.

With great caution, the Bad Batch made their way to the landing platform on the other side of the high rise. They secured the perimeter as well. The ramp lowered for them; they ascended into the ship's main hull. They made sure to secure the ramp behind them, locking them in for the night.

Entering the cockpit, Hunter brought the senator over to one of the chairs beside the control panel. He lowered her body into the seat as carefully as possible. He took a single step back away from her to allow his younger brother access to assess her.

Now Tech kneeled down right in front of the senator with a medkit in hand. He riffled through the box in attempts of finding the tools necessary for a thorough examination. When Tech lifted his head to look at the senator in front of him, he faltered slightly upon seeing her red eyes. He quickly rifled through the medkit again before retreating a single tissue.

Slowly, Tech offered the tissue to the senator which she gladly took to wipe her tears away. The other clones watched the interaction from a few steps away.

"I am going to perform an examination to take sure you are unharmed. Will that suffice?" Tech inquired. She nodded her head in agreement, but didn't look him in the eyes.

For a brief moment, Tech took his time looking over her body. He gently lifted each arm to inspect under it before switching to the other one. After checking every seeable part of her, Tech had come to a conclusion. He typed the data into his device.

"You are unscathed. I am surprised you weren't hurt from the glass," Tech noted. The senator's eyes slowly drifted up to the sergeant who sent her a small smile.

Carefully, Tech took hold of the senator's wrist. He pulled the sleeve of her nightgown back to reveal more skin on her wrist. He pressed two fingers there to feel her pulse. He waited a minute before recording his findings on his data pad once again.

"You're heart rate is rather fast," Tech concluded. "Understandingly though."

Reaching back into the medkit, Tech pulled out a small flashlight. He clicked the button the activate the light, raising it slightly to shine it in the senator's eyes. He hummed quietly to himself.

"Are you perhaps feeling dizzy or are you having trouble seeing?" Tech wondered. He put the flashlight back into the medkit.

"No," Y/n spoke softly. "Why?"

"Hunter says you hit your head," Tech stated. He recalled their brief conversation when they were walking back to the ship. It was the whole reason why Tech decided to do an examination in the first place. "I am merely making sure you don't have a concussion. Though we can monitor your vitals in the next couple days to see if any symptoms arise."

"Right," Y/n nodded.

"Everything appears to be in order. My only concern is the severe sleep deprivation," Tech explained. He saw the heavy bags under her eyes. "You need sleep."

"I-I don't know if I can. Not after that," Y/n tried to make them understand.

"You can sleep in my bed," Hunter offered. "I'll take the first watch."

"That will do nicely," Tech agreed.

After a few minutes, Hunter escorted the senator into the back room where all of their bunks resided. Luckily, Hunter's bed was the lowest one with Echo's bed directly above him and Tech's bed right above that one. He pulled the blankets away, which allowed the senator to crawl into bed.

Hesitantly, Senator Rayna laid down with her head resting on the pillow. Her sergeant brought the blankets up to cover her body, checking to make sure she was extra comfortable. It did feel nice to be in a bed even if it wasn't her own.

"Just try to get some sleep," Hunter requested. She nodded her head in agreement. He took a single step back. "We will be in the cockpit if you need us."

Just as Hunter turned to walk away, Senator Rayna sat up in the bed. She called his name frantically. He looked back at her expectantly, raising his eyebrows in question.

"T-Thank you," Y/n sputtered. "For saving me."

"Just doing my job, ma'am." Hunter stated professionally.

“Please,” Y/n spoke softly. She wanted to roll her eyes because she was so used to being addresses like that. “Let’s not worry about formalities.”

“Alright,” Hunter agreed with a curt nod. “Get some sleep, Y/n. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

The door to the bunks slid open which granted him access to step into the cockpit. He left the room without another word. The door closed behind him and the bunks fell into a soft darkness.

Slowly, Senator Rayna proceeded to lay back down on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chest. Shifting to lay on her side, her head sunk into the soft pillow and her hand slipped under it for extra padding.

The sergeant's natural scent invaded her senses, bringing her an odd bit of comfort. It smelled rather woody, which was fitting for his personality. Even though the bed was stiff, the senator found herself drifting off to sleep and dreaming of the sergeant.

In a dark alleyway, the wounded assassin was resting his body against the wall. He nursed the wound inflicted to his shoulder, wincing in pain. The rag he used soaked up more blood and the stinging sensation grew with the smallest touch.

This particular person wasn't well known in the galaxy for bounty hunting because he was still new to the scene and was trying to make a name for himself. He pulled off a few jobs until he finally found someone who'd be willing to pay a hefty price for his services.

The first few attempts were orchestrated to instill fear into the senator with the enemy's desire ultimately being her resignation. However, Senator Rayna refused to step down from her position in the senate. She was stubborn after all.

The next attempt ended up taking the lives of her guards, which meant that she would be without protection. This made it the perfect opportunity to strike, but now, there was a new problem presented before the enemy.

Lazily, the mysterious man pocketed the dirty cloth and placed a bacta patch over it instead. A moment later, he proceeded to retrieve a device out of his pocket. He pressed a button on the side which ignited the familiar figure of Count Dooku.

"Is the deed done?" Count Dooku inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

"Afraid not," the assassin hissed from the pain in his shoulder. "She's got a new security detail with her now. A batch of clones like I've never seen before."

"A poor excuse for failure," Count claimed.

"You didn't see them. They're smarter, stronger. One of them protected her before the bomb detonated."

"Hmm," Count Dooku hummed to himself. He pondered carefully as if trying to understand what he was now up against. "How many are there?"

"Five, sir."

"This creates a unique dilemma," Count began. He stroked the beard on his chin in thought. "The senator is scheduled to present her at the end of the quarter. I had hoped to have her silenced before she'd be able to sway the senate's vote."

"I-I can take her out," the assassin reassured him; the eagerness to prove himself was the main thing driving him.

"No," Count Dooku shook his head in denial. "I will contact you when the time is right to strike. Until then, lay low and learn more about these clones."

"You have my word, Count Dooku."

CHAPTER FOUR HERE

Taglist:

@justhavingsomefun1 @totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana

#the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper hunter #tbb hunter #bad batch hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x senator #crosshair #tech #echo #wrecker #the marauder ship #tbb hunter series #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter angst #tbb hunter x fem!reader senator

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LIV

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter on AO3 here.

A blast of heat greeted you as you stepped into the House of the Hearth. Early twilight cast shades of pink and orange against warm wooden paneling, echoes of laughter dancing down the halls. You could already smell dinner wafting from the far reaches of the large house. If you closed your eyes, you could just make out the out-of-tune violin being practiced upstairs.

Arlecchino’s passing comment at the bank was followed up with a proper invitation. One you knew better than to avoid or turn down. Zandik didn’t entirely seem pleased but even he knew you were more bound by social conventions. If you were to stay, you might as well attempt to make other bonds.

You knew little about this particular division of the Fatui other than Zandik’s remark about espionage and that loyalty was an interesting facet of cognitive development for children.

A housekeeper took your cloak and lead you to Arlecchino’s office at the back of the house. Wide windows dressed in heavy drapes provided a view to gardens long-since buried in snow and trampled through by both wildlife and children. The furniture looked only slightly out of place and bore the uniquely detailed style typical of Fontainian woodworkers and upholsterers. The table between the couches held a tea set that was, although plain, clearly made from one of the best guild-families; it was accompanied by a large stand of desserts, colorful, fresh, and familiar.

Around you, floor to ceiling bookshelves held various tomes, the age of some betraying the woman standing behind her desk. Another oddity you were beginning to recognize among the top-ranked Fatui leaders.

“Perfect timing, maestra, although I’d expect as such from someone of your skill,” Arlecchino said, her smile softly carving her face. “Make yourself at home.”

You settled into the sofa nearest you, the fire in the hearth on your left spilling its warmth onto your feet. The Harbinger handed off a letter to the housekeeper before she took a seat across from you, legs crossed as her hands reached for the teapot and poured.

“Before I recount the important details of Fontaine’s changes, there is one that I feel you, and many others, were owed a long time ago.”

She picked up a cup and saucer and held it out to you, black fingers curling so her nails wouldn’t scratch you. You took it, the smell of lavender teasing your senses, and watched as Arlecchino pulled something from inside her jacket and placed it on the table.

Metal glinted in the firelight and your blood iced over. You turned your head to look the Harbinger square in the face, eyes narrowed.

“I thought your compositions sounded familiar but your piano playing made it difficult to place. Once my children confirmed you had taken to another instrument, it didn't take much more than an ad placed for a cellist in the national orchestra. The Steambird does love its gossip and a renowned cellist leaving the tour in Sumeru after a devastating scene of destruction is quite...attention-grabbing."

Arlecchino took a sip of her tea before she spoke again.

“Not that it truly matters, although the Doctor was always a bit touched with paranoia. You are owed accolades in your own right and if the Doctor is keen on keeping your visage to himself, then so be it.”

“Then why is that signet ring on the table?” you asked, your tea untouched in your lap.

The last you saw of that accursed thing, he was playing with it as you signed your non-disclosure forms and waivers. How many bruises had that thing wrought? How many scars?

A trembling ache sat in your rib cage. Deep down, a part of you hoped you get to slice your claymore through him, bit by bit. Make him regret hurting you, hurting everyone. It was never a conscious thought but when you practiced, sometimes the training mech wore his face in your mind, and you worked yourself to exhaustion.

Zandik never asked. With many things, he didn’t need to. Spite recognized spite and of all people, he knew how to use it to fuel one’s goals.

“When I arrived, I caught wind that he had a new contract with a violinist. Talented young man. Your patron recently took to darker circles, was far more open about his…activities to others. When one gets away with something for too long, they get careless. I'll spare you the rest but the poor boy did not die a dignified death. Even at the end of a spear, your patron whined and blamed others, thinking it would save him.”

Between your fingers, the handle of the porcelain cup snapped and hot liquid spilled across the fabric you wore. Unsteadily, you placed the cup and saucer on the table and reached for a cloth napkin, dabbing your outfit.

You’d wanted to kill him.

Ever since you finally developed the proper strength and had the means, you’d silently hoped that one day, you’d take up the chance. Hurt him for all that he robbed you and others of, for all the pain and lasting marks, for taking your own passion and throttling you with it…

Gone, just like that.

The flood of rage, hot and boiling, faded as relief washed over you, certainty taking hold. He would never harm a single person again. No one would die again.

But maybe if you hadn’t left, that violinist would be alive. Others after you would have been spared. You could have endured it. Wouldn’t that have been better? At least no one else would have...

Vision blurry and shoulders shaking, you were unaware that Arlecchino had moved to sit beside you, her steady hands taking the napkin from you and dabbing the fabric in your place.

“What good is justice when the guilty all walk free?” she whispered soothingly.

You couldn’t cry, not here, not properly. Even if Arlecchino knew who you were, where you came from, you liked the privacy and anonymity your mask gave you. That something kept you from the rest of the world while Zandik got all of you.

You managed a shuddering breath as you focused on the warmth of the fire, Arlecchino’s voice, and the way your boots moved when you flexed your ankles. The Harbinger, satisfied you at least weren’t melting, rose and folded the fabric in her hands gently.

“He was not the first of his kind, nor the last. Many of the children I’ve come across suffered similar or worse. At the very least, he will no longer hurt another.”

Which was all you could have asked for, in the end.

Arlecchino whisked away the broken cup and wet saucer back to the tray, used the napkin to wipe up the remnants on the polished wood, and placed a new one in front of you without hesitation. Practiced motions that only came with experience.

“I—"

“I hated this set anyway,” the Harbinger said as smoothed her pants and sat down. “One cup won’t be missed.”

You nodded but didn’t bring yourself to take the cup just yet. Hands still shaking slightly, you didn’t quite trust yourself not to break this one, too.

“Fontaine loves to pretend they have everything in order and Monsieur Neuvillette tries, certainly. Lady Furina tried but lacked the confidence in her skills and abilities. Plenty of people, including the perpetrator behind the serial disappearances, got away with the harm they caused due to those blindspots. Systems fail, maestra. No one intends for them to, but they do.”

“They failed those victims for a decade,” you said. “They failed every single person who trusted the ones who put a roof over their head.”

The venom in your words was intentional but it was burning you from the inside out; you couldn’t keep it in forever.

You recalled a case where a boy killed his parents when he discovered they were selling the children they took in when they got too old. More and more young women went missing, never to be seen again. Performers, the best of the best, suddenly without the partner they rose to fame with; shared looks across a crowded room said everything one needed to know about what transpired.

“It is why people like us must step in,” Arlecchino sat back and took a sip of her tea. “Play the roles no one else can or wants to.”

“Because Celestia won’t?”

You recalled the long trip from Sumeru, during which Zandik recounted the structure of the world, the true nature of the Heavenly Principles, and the Descenders who tried to dismantle them. Celestia and the Principles were meant to be guides and when those guides failed, when people were desperate and shaken with a fear of something greater than the divine…

That, too, was a system that failed every single time. A usurper who thought they understood the culture of the people they ruled over, out of touch.

The Knave gave an enigmatic smile over the rim of her cup before she took another long sip.

“It brings me great joy to see Columbina find another who shares her passion for creation. I am not sure how you convinced that madman to allow you to accompany him, but I’m glad for it.”

Although you could not bring yourself to remove your mask, the warmth of being seen kept you cozy until you arrived back at the Palace and in the sanctuary of your rooms.

“Where are you taking me?”

All you received in response was a chuckle of amusement as the forearm beneath your hand tensed for a brief second.

From the moment you’d awoken, Zandik had a lightness to his step that only came with a major breakthrough in his research. In the privacy of your rooms, he had been liberal with his affection that morning, flashing a wolfish grin when he pulled you back under the covers. He had a surprise, he said, but it had to wait until after dinner.

You still bore the reminder at the base of your neck, hidden beneath a high collared blouse.

His excitement took the edge off the knowledge that the ball was tomorrow night. Only that afternoon’s rehearsal stood between you and the moment of truth.

As soon as you’d cleared your plate, Zandik tugged at his cravat and covered your eyes with it, careful not to tie it too tight. He slid your veil back on, muttering something about ensuring no one else saw the color in your cheeks, and guided your hand into the crook of his elbow.

You’d lost track after the first few turns and a stairwell down which Zandik carried you himself. Judging by the muted sounds from his boots, you had to be in one of the wings of the Palace, but only on the first floor, same as the throne room and your music room. Most of those corridors had soft runners and there had only been a single flight of stairs. But with the continued turns, you had no idea where, precisely, you could be on the main floor.

The air grew a little humid when Zandik’s steps slowed and the carpet gave way to hard stone again. He said something you recognized as an order just from his tone and receding footsteps. Carefully, you were lead down three steps before a set of doors (mostly glass, you guessed, from the way the material clattered slightly) closed behind you.

You turned your head as you were guided further into the space, footsteps echoing. Around you, the air was heavy but crisp, filled with scents both familiar and exotic. The freshness of a Rainbow Rose lingered amongst an airiness you only smelled once in Mondstadt.

“You can look now; we shouldn’t be disturbed. Now where did…”

Zandik gently touched your hand and pulled away, leaving you standing by yourself for a moment as he walked elsewhere. You lifted your veil and pulled it back before you slid your fingers into the knotted cravat. The fabric slipped down your neck. Tugging your cowl back to free your hair, you looked around the room illuminated only by the moon and the distant aurorae.

A greenhouse.

All glass, you could see the freshly fallen snow and the ice crystals that bloomed over the windows. Beds of flowers you recognized from home were intermixed with Glaze Lilies, their flowers yet to open for the evening, and Cecilias moving to a breeze of their own.

Perhaps a solarium was a better word for the space than a greenhouse, you realized. It was clearly well-manicured and maintained, meant to be seen.

From behind, you heard the telltale whisper of a spin-crystal gramophone and the click of the needle sliding into place. A crackle, and then familiar notes trickled through the air as Zandik returned to you. Your response to the music was almost instant, your ears conditioned over the last few weeks to know the initial note by heart, and you looked at him, confused.

“Columbina helped with the recording device. You’ll be too busy conducting tomorrow night. I thought you should enjoy your hard work properly,” he said.

He removed his mask and gloves before he held his hand out, palm up; your skin met his with the ease at which the sun rose every morning. His touch was warm, his fingers calloused from experiences both chemical and physical, as he led you in the steady one-two-three rhythm of the waltz.

It felt like you were there, in the concert hall, except instead of waving a baton you were observing. Artists often stepped back from their canvases to make sure everything was within perspective and scale. Without the additional depth to the sound only found in person, you could focus the larger parts and the flow of the music.

“The passion of the musicians is palpable, even in a recording,” you said. “Waltzes aren’t complicated; it’s only six basic steps, but having such dedicated colleagues certainly helped…when they were focused.”

Zandik chuckled softly as you flowed through the room. Your other hand, the one not clasped in his, rested on his shoulder blade and you felt his muscles move and flex. The touch at your waist sent a jolt through you when he pulled you closer.

“Are you aware of the litmus test, such as it is, for a perfect waltz?” he asked, blue eyebrow arching inquisitively.

“If there is one, I certainly never learned it. They trained us on the practical knowledge of playing the music, not dancing to it.”

“A shame. It used to be said that a couple dancing a waltz should be so delicate, smooth, and most importantly, swift that the flame of a candle in the lead dancer’s hand should retain its flame the entire time.”

“That’s only as good as the dance partner, though,” you shot back. “Seems more of a party trick.”

Zandik murmured.

You were uniquely aware of your torso pressed against his, the way his fingers wrapped around your hand, how hard and warm he was beneath your other hand. He followed your lead with an exact precision you only ever experienced with a fellow musician.

The time signature was not up for debate and he did not seek to fight it, fight you.

As the solarium spun around you, all you could think of was Zandik’s lips, red eyes beneath blue lashes watching from between your legs, bodies united in a way that, once upon a time, you would have considered shameful. But who was there to judge you now, save the full moon and the man before you?

Your hand left his shoulder long enough to find the expose strap of his harness across his chest and tug him to you as you angled your head to capture his lips. Cautious once, twice, before you became searing hunger and your tongue met his with a fervor that bordered on starved. You interlaced your fingers with Zandik’s, still firmly gripping his harness with your other hand; you were no longer dancing, and instead swayed to the music as it swelled, Columbina’s vocals overtaken by woodwinds.

Zandik’s hand on your waist dipped lower, grabbing your behind and pressing you firmly against him. He loosened his grip on your hand to cradle the back of your head, seemingly determined to coax your very soul from your lips. That creeping ache took root again as Zandik met your desire at every turn, a pit of fire growing in your chest and working down to curl in your lower belly.

Terrifying and freeing all at once.

You broke the kiss, parting only far enough for Zandik to press his cheek against yours. The last of the notes faded out and you could only hear your breathing over the low static of the gramophone. You swallowed audibly as the hand in your hair trailed down to your cheek, Zandik’s bare thumb brushing your swollen lips.

A match, lit after so many failed strikes, burned within you when you met his gaze again; its flame licked at unwavering patience and dedicated curiosity, determined to retain its light.

“I believe there is merit in understanding the movements of the body just as much as the structure of the music itself,” he whispered. “When you’re ready, we can put that hypothesis to the test.”

#dottore #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore/female reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact reader insert #soulmate au #merry christmas here's my last update of the year

[missanthropicprinciple]

I’m doing some minor restoration on my dad’s mum’s writing desk. Dad was a woodworker so we would have been able to do a better job, especially as he had training and experience in antique reproductions. The desk is about a hundred years old, which isn’t that old but it’s showing its age. Dust can badly damage furniture which is part of what’s been happening. We brought it back from England over a decade ago and the wide swings in humidity levels in Minnesota has not helped. Very low and very high humidity levels in this state are not a friend of wood products. Giant cracks and fissures often appear on furniture meaning that part of my dad’s business was going back to people’s homes to make repairs and adjustments. The great thing about this desk is that it is very sound structurally. The legs and joints are in very good condition, the panels are in great shape, and all drawers work. Half the repairs are cosmetic. Some wood surfaces have started to peel but I can fix that with gentle ironing and compression and a touch of wood glue. Some old wood glue needs to be dissolved, so I can apply new glue, and put some wood panels back. Several drawer knobs are missing and some need to be put back. There is what I think is a secret drawer but I can’t get it open. Also, there is no key for this desk, at least not that I can find. All drawers slide well; only one is out of place. I need to go in and vacuum out some old cobwebs and bits. I might find a way to give it a bit of a polish but I won’t be refinishing it or re-staining it. I’ll post updates when I can!

#personal #ok to reblog #woodworking #wood #restoration #antique #writing desk #desk #writing desk restoration project

[wickedsrest-rp]

The sky is quieter, but that doesn’t mean things are going back to normal. Does a place like Wicked’s Rest even have a normal? No, because even though the daily otherworldly blasts have ceased, there’s new problems cropping up. 

Bad omens. Packs of hellhounds are emerging from the woodwork, in numbers far greater than any ranger or slayer can handle alone. Hunters are having to band together to cull these hoofed beasts, and the sudden appearance of so many at once has only ever been a warning of a looming supernatural threat. They’re not the only demonic creatures having a population boom, however—cacodaemons are also arriving on the scene, now only adding to the chaotic confusion that occurs when loved ones start behaving irrationally. Deogen has been straying from its usual haunt around the Wishing Well in Nightfall Grove, and the risk of getting lost in its fog and never making it back out is higher than ever. One thing remains a mystery: where have all the missing people gone?

All of these omens have to be leading to something, don’t they? In this case, there’s reason to suspect they’re harbingers of the enormous, monolithic leg that erupted from the ground, smack in the middle of Wormwoods. Yes, leg. It’s somewhat avian in appearance (or perhaps lizard-like?), being scaled and sporting four long, clawed toes that are so gnarled they almost resemble the branches of a gargantuan, barren tree. Aside from its initial, violent ejection from the ground, the leg has been mostly still. The crowd gathering around it has been anything but, though. Birdwatchers are flocking in from all over the state and beyond to see the leg, adding it to their life list and then checking it off. Wicked’s Rest has, naturally, monetized the leg by setting up a barrier, and charging each person $100 to touch the leg (this, they claim, will help Worm Row’s reputation). Additionally, it has created quite the divide in town: some people want to try and cut it down, to destroy it. Others want to protect it, though it seems like a mixed bag of folks either being terrified of upsetting something powerful, or believing it to be the manifestation of a god that will raise them all from perdition and cleanse the town of evil.

It’s as of yet unclear where the truth lies. But as bad omens continue to pour into the town, there’s little reason to suspect the leg is anything good, and it may in fact be only a preview of things to come.

WHAT ELSE? WELL...

Pieces of rock that look like they came from the Abnormality are jutting out of the ground in the area around the leg. They don’t seem to be encasing anyone like before, but their presence has some people concerned.

The leg has attracted all sorts of birds to perch, from aravo to valravne, and everything in between. This only further entices birdwatchers. There also seems to be a significant presence of various demonic and specter-like entities in the area.

The skyquakes have gotten less frequent, a fact celebrated by pretty much everyone in town. Now they hit about once a week, sometimes less, but the droning does last longer than it did before. The longest one recorded so far was a full three minute stretch, rather than the multiple short bursts. The source remains unknown.

There are dozens of bounties posted in The 3 Daggers for packs of hellhounds (and possibly some black dog variants), all listing different locations where the creatures have been sighted. It’s a good way for hunters to make some extra cash!

Two large sinkholes have opened up in Worm Row and Gatlin Fields. The latter seems to have compromised the structural integrity of the Allgood Death Pit, and has deepened the already-sizable mass grave, spilling remains down into the earth. It has helped with the smell, but no one knows how far down the pit now goes, and most aren’t very keen on going down there to find out.

The sinkhole in Worm Row has claimed a couple blocks worth of apartments that sit very near the Flat itself, and aside from the rubble that still clings to its crumbling edges, seems as deep and dark as the sinkhole in the fields. It’s unclear if the influx of demonic creatures in the town are coming from these sinkholes, but that wouldn’t be a bad guess.

On April 8, there will be a full solar eclipse that will be visible to all in town. Aside from looking awesome, this phenomenon is going to have some far-reaching effects. Supernatural creatures that have an affinity with the sun are going to be feeling especially drained of energy after this eclipse, perhaps even for days or weeks. Conversely, those empowered by the moon will be feeling a little extra pep in their step! Hopefully they can control it. While the eclipse is happening, even those who don’t normally see ghosts or have any connection to the supernatural might be able to peer into another world. Surely no emotional or mental harm can come of that within 4 minutes. 

Believers in the supernatural have been warning others to stay inside when the fog rolls in. It’s hard to tell if it’s normal fog, or if it’s Deogen… and really, it isn’t worth the risk of finding out. This has been especially challenging with the increase of stormy and foggy, wet weather. 

Some people have been blaming the new sinkholes on the local cryptid known as the Moleman. A figure matching his description has been reported lurking in the nearby alleyways of Worm Row, but that can't be true, right? Either way, it’s probably safest to keep your distance.

The authorities mostly disapprove of the monetization of the leg because no one knows anything about it, and it might be dangerous. That hasn’t stopped people from paying to touch it and others from just climbing over the barriers. If you can get close enough to get a scraping of… whatever the leg is made out of, there’s some speculation of it being a helpful ingredient for alchemical amplification of objects—it does seem to trend towards negative effects, however.

#established rp #lsrpg #supernatural rp #horror rp #skeleton rp #original rp #tumblr rpg #spn rpg #potw #plot of the week #season 2

[cryptidwritings]

Dark Water

Chapter 35 : The Talker

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Shit is about to hit the fan.

cw: betrayal, minor character death mention, mention of bodies being cleaved in two, blood, light misogyny

Theodora awoke in her bed with a painfully dry throat. She rolled to her side and pulled her sheet over her shoulder, wanting just another moment to stay warm and sedated before reality beckoned, but it was at her door, and every moment she remained idle was a moment surrendered. She couldn't have that, so she sat up, and took a deep breath; holding it in her stomach for a moment and only opening her eyes on the exhale.

She swung her legs over, and plant her feet on the floor, now remembering Duncan's limp body and Moss' eyes—wide as saucers—staring up at her. Theodora rocked forward, propelling herself up and towards her washing basin, where a clean pitcher of water sat beside it on the small table next to a dwindling piece of soap. Just enough for one more wash.

It smelled of rosemary. Theodora changed her days-old clothes, choosing a pair of cloth pants and her summer shirt, then pinned back her hair before donning her bandana and looping her leather bands around her wrists. She pulled them tight, flexing her fingers once and again to make sure they weren't turning blue. The callouses on her hands glistened in the humidity, and she took another breath.

She exit her room and made her way toward the stairs, stepping over the shrapnel; eyeing the destroyed banister. She grasped it and stepped down, feeling it rock slightly beside her. The woodwork alone would cost more than she had... her mind wandered to some of the trees surrounding her property and hoped she had sharpened the axe- but there was no time for that. Not now.

Her feet stepped down onto the ground floor and surveyed the damage. A mop with rust-colored water was leaning against the wall beside where Kam had gone down, and beside that, her blunderbuss. She picked it up; it felt familiar in her hand, but with the potent smell of burnt gunpowder.

She turned, immediately clocking the brick that lie beside a small blood stain with a stripe smeared toward the stairs. She opened the pantry door carefully; surprised to see all of the crates organized meticulously as if she had done it herself.

Her hand tightened around the doorknob. She pushed a strand of hair from her face then walked towards the bar. It was clean. Two plates sat drying next to the basin. She set the gun on the counter as she opened the salt and gave it a quick sniff before returning it to it's spot.

Then her eye caught two pints with tawny water pooled at the bottom. She filled it, swirling the old rum around before bringing it up to her lips. The drop hit her tongue, and her eyes widened with familiarity.

She set the pint down and spit in the wash basin, turning back to the pub. Her heart beat was loud; as if coming from the building itself. She touched her neck, feeling the pain of the burn on her skin where Reid's fingers had clamped down on her while she struggled against an inhuman grip.

“I still want my money, aye? Plus what that slag bartered me for ye men. I want it all, even if I 'ave ta burn ye pub to the ground...”

The small barrel hit the ground outside. It's top burst off, spilling out, turning the dirt to mud. Theodora leaned against the door jamb, suddenly out of breath as she came to her senses and went to pick it up, frustrated at the shaking in her legs and her unfocused head. She knelt in the dirt, reaching for the barrel as her eye looked into her stable; empty.

Her pub: empty.

Her life...

She breathed, and grabbed the barrel. It felt heavy. She left it just inside the door, passing by the disarray and up the broken steps. So much chaos in a single day. She felt ghostly; walking down the hallway, ignoring her abandoned bloody blade as she stood in front of her door. She brought out the keys, imagining Reid's hand on them, walking in her unlocked room with all of her things. What a stupid mistake.

On her hands and knees, she glanced under her bed at the two crates, pulling them both out. One's wax seal was unbroken; she shoved that back, then turned to the open one. There were so many things she didn't want to be real — Reid's face as his fingers wrapped around her neck being one of them, but that paled to when she took off the lid, and immediately noticed a missing bottle.

There were only two. One for pain, the other for sleep. Theodora had catalogued them while Anne sat on her bed.

Her shoulders slumped.

“Anne...” she whispered, “damn it all...”

...

Talon was a paradise devoid of a sanctuary. Vince watched Burke chase after Anne, amused at his infatuation with someone so plain. She wasn't much prettier than the women in the brothel, and a wife was much more expensive, but it wasn't his job to manage Burke's personal decisions, even if this one was likely the only reason he had mentioned this 'Colonel's son' at all.

He shoved the papers into his breast pocket, then took a generous drink of the lukewarm rum; grateful for a taste of something substantial and not the grog he was allowed on the ship; cursing that a pirate could come up with something he actually enjoyed. He set a shilling on the table and put on his hat.

The crowd kept to the center of town. Those that weren't already drunk were meandering and singing along to mediocre music while earning their sheets. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, then made a turn around the back of the pub and through the trees behind it. The moon was high in the sky, its light cut off at the canopy. He stuck his hand out, feeling gently along the trunks for the ridges of his carvings, leading him to the other side where someone waited; leaning against the small dinghy he had navigated to the secluded beach.

“Captain,” he greeted, coming closer.

Captain Edward Matthews, dressed like a common pirate, threw down the stick he was mindlessly whittling into a sharp point.

“Jacobsen. Everything went well?”

“Aye,” he replied, “Burke brought up an interesting bit of information. He gave up his fee to get me listening.”

“A fox always makes multiple exits,” the captain stepped forward, “what was it this time?”

Jacobsen smiled, “the swab is alive.”

The Captain's brow arched, “alive? Really?”

“Said he was a colonel's son to save his neck.”

They both chuckled, walking toward the dinghy. Jacobsen got it ready to sail while his captain climbed aboard.

“He's got decent instincts,” Matthews mentioned, taking a seat, “his stubbornness will serve us well.”

“My thoughts exactly, Captain.”

“And what of Isidro?”

The boatswain shoved an oar into the sand with a grunt, “the rumor caught like wildfire. It’s only a matter of time before he’s found, then Burke will take care of him,” they shoved off, and Jacobsen sat, setting the oars in place.

“Shame at what a waste he turned out to be.”

“Aye. I think the swab will do well, though,” he glanced at the Captain as he rowed, "he's got a fire."

The captain sat. "I recall you saying the same thing before."

Jacobsen stuttered. "A-aye. There was a spark, but that changed when he went clinside-"

"I remember he came back an insubordinate little shit, until I sorted him out," Matthews stared at the boatswain, "I trust you understand that the swab will be your last chance."

Jacobsen's grip tightened around the oars.

"Aye, Captain."

“Anything else I need to know?”

“Burke was worried for a girl. Probably would have kept the swab a secret otherwise.”

Matthews dropped his hand to swipe the surface of the water as they rounded the uninhabited side of the island. Even the water was warm. He grimaced.

“You think she'll be a problem?”

“Hard to say.”

“Hm,” he shook his hand dry, “Let's hope not. Too many deaths and people start to talk,” he sighed, “When do we collect the lad?”

“Two weeks.”

He nodded, “send someone to make sure Burke does his job. If she is a problem, we'll make it his instead.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Around another stretch of trees and rocks cascading to the sea, and The Cathal was revealed; anchored in the night with a pirate's flag waving on its mast. They were welcomed aboard; the dinghy lifted and affixed.

“Reiss!” The Captain called, looking into the inky black, “where is that scoundrel?”

“Last I saw 'im 'e was in the galley, Cap'n.”

“Very well.”

Jacobsen and Matthews made their way across the deck.

“Ye Captain's aboard! Show some respect!” The boatswain barked at the crew, “lower the flag and raise the mainsail! Do I have to do everything around here!?”

The Captain walked into the galley, stopping three paces in. A silhouette sat ahead of him, but the moonlight was insufficient to illuminate the entirety of the large room, causing it to fade to an unfamiliar darkness behind it.

He squint, “Reiss? Someone light a damn lantern!”

“Aye, Sir.”

A lantern lit to his left, held by a man with a bandaged hand, looking at the Captain from a face freshly carved by a blade over the nose.

“Captain!” Jacobsen screamed from the deck behind, “Captain! Muti-!”

Matthews turned just as the galley doors slammed shut, held by two men armed with pistols pointed at him.

More lanterns lit, one by one around the galley. He turned with them, his throat catching on a familiar smell; strong. The light crawled up the ceilings. Dozens of lanters with as many men, but his own in a heap at the very center.

It was blood he smelled. Gallons of it; swallowed by the boards with shattered glass and spilled grog. The mass of limbs contorting as they were thrown one on top of another; cleaved and bleeding out. Some long dead, others twitching futily.

His blood ran cold when a final lantern flickered with life.

The silhouette was sat in a chair with boots propped casually onto a table. They held the lantern on their upturned hand, hanging loosely from their fingertips as it grew, illuminating them; a woman adorned with streaks of blood on her clothes, and the bottom of her boots stained red.

taglist: @sparrowsage @kixngiggles @honey-is-mesi @annablogsposts

#whump #whump series #pirate whump #whump writing #captivity whump #whump community #dark water by jovi #death mention tw #blood mention tw

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart  Chapter 25

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title:  An Alluring Proposition

Notes: /

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  25 / 27

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Around midday, you went to see where that Ash Man had vanished off to and found him, along with Gawain, in the small field behind the fort.

They were sparring and both were very focused on it as well. Gawain fought like a warrior but tried to always keep a distance. Lancelot on the other hand showed no fear for getting close and personal.

Where Lancelot was distant in day to day life towards others, his true nature shined through in battle.

Gawain, much like his heart, remained wary at all times.

It was interesting to watch it happen.

In a way, the two opposites fitted well together, no wonder they got along quite well.

The knight would block an attack and the Ash Man would throw himself into the spar with more vigour.

The way Lancelot fought, like his feet rarely touched the ground, was much like a dancer.

There was an elegance in his fighting that you’d never seen before.

What had once been a task forced upon him since childhood had now become an activity to have some entertainment with a friend.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the way he moved and the confidence…

It wasn’t until you became aware of your staring that you forced your attention to the grass for a little while. Your face felt hot and it wasn’t the only response your body had to seeing him like this.

Your gaze had glided over him more than once and left your legs a little unstable.

Once they noticed your presence, the sparring stopped and Lancelot said something to Gawain before walking over.

He touched your arm and led you a couple of steps further away “I have something to show you.”

Off in the shadow, against a tree, were a couple of swords made from wood.

He picked one up and presented it to you “The woodworker is making more. They are excellent for practice. See how similar they are to the real ones?”

While he presented you the sword, he noticed you seemed rather…flustered?

The swords were indeed impressive, they were made to look and act as a weapon, but the blade wasn’t sharp.

Lancelot appeared excited, he must have wished he had these during his upbringing instead of having to dodge the steel.

You plucked the sword from his hands to examine it, not even a splinter was on it “Do you plan on teaching the children here?”

He sounded quite pensive about the idea “They would fear me less.”

It sounded like a good plan to you “I think you should. You’re already teaching Percival and planning to teach Neia. If other children see, they will approach you too.”

He gave a witty comment “As you approached me all those years ago.”

That was true…

You handed him back the sword “See. A child’s curiosity is often stronger than their fear. And once they know of your magic, they’ll be coming at you like flies.”

The possibility brought a shy smile to his face “You believe so?”

With a hum, you confirmed it “I do.”

His eyes fell on the sword, clearly considering the idea “I will teach anyone who wishes to learn. The children are the future of the Fey, but we have to build a world that is safe for them.”

“Well said.” You admired the wisdom.

There was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You noticed it and how he was trying not to smirk “What?”

He was not going to speak of it, but now that you had asked…

Lancelot watched your reaction like a hawk “You were staring while I was sparring with Gawain just now.”

This was just an attempt to tease you.

You didn’t let it happen and were forward with the truth “You move well. Graceful.”

He hadn’t expected the truth to be spoken so openly “Thank you.”

It clicked not a second later that that must have been the reason why you had appeared so flustered.

The compliment had meant more than flattery about his skill with the sword.

Should he reciprocate this polite flirtation?

Even now, you often had to look aside or risk staring again. Since living here, he looked healthier.

A healthy color. More calm and yet more energetic.

The confidence grew in him, especially when it came to being around others.

And physically he had gotten much better too, he wasn’t dehydrated like he often would be from all the work he did for the Church.

No, he was taking better care of his health and it was visible to the eye.

His skin, his eyes and even his hair, it all carried a healthy glow.

Your eyes had fixed on him again.

This time he did not hide the smirk “You keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You asked, mentally scolding yourself for how your voice had wavered.

There had been a change in your scent, faint but enough to set his mind into a spin.

Lancelot lowered his voice and leaned a bit closer “You do not have to pretend, I know what is on your mind.”

Any hint of doubt on that disappeared when he, not so subtly, let his gaze roam over you.

You didn’t know where to look anymore after that.

That sudden shyness was quite alluring to witness.

After regaining your confidence, you casually asked “How do you know?”

That curve in the corner of his lips now warned you.

The knowing look in his eyes said it all “The mark is not the only thing responding to me, your body is too.”

It took a moment for it to dawn on you what he had meant and when it did, you resisted the urge to flee from the spot.

His sense of smell couldn’t possibly…

You had crossed your arms in front of your chest, it made you feel quite exposed to know that he could sense something as personal as that.

He saw the instant flicker of self-consciousness in your eyes.

Should he have kept quiet? It was not his intention to cause embarrassment.

When you took one small step away, alarm flashed through his expression.

Lancelot closed the distance at once “Forgive me-”

You shook your head “I know you can’t help it.”

He opened his mouth to speak but the chance was stolen from him when Gawain came to stand between you.

“Mind if I spar with y/n?” Gawain suddenly asked.

You were surprised at the request and willing to jump into action now that the chance was offered.

The Ash Man was slow to reply, betraying his reluctance to approve of it “I do not.” he put the wooden sword in Gawain’s hands “Use these.”

Then another was put into yours.

The knight looked at him incredulous “Lancelot-”

He would not yield on this “She has yet to learn, Gawain. Be careful.”

You wished he would have just let you use your sword instead of letting it sit at your side like decoration.

You gave a quiet sigh at your intended “I will be fine.”

Lancelot dryly answered “Yes, you will be. Because you will not use steel.”

The sword was stolen from your side and planted into the ground a little further away by him.

Then he gave Gawain an expecting look and the knight drew his sword before sticking it into the soil as well.

Of course Gawain did not do it without remarking “I will ignore your lack of trust. Rest assured I would never hurt the future queen of the Ash Folk.”

With wide eyes you stared at them both, Lancelot let the comment slide.

An Ashen Queen…

“Come on, don’t fall asleep on me.” Gawain taunted when you were lost in thought for a blink.

You held the wooden sword just like Lancelot had taught you and surprised Gawain by being the first to step forward and try to strike.

Of course he dodged the wood with ease, it had been a purposely slow hit.

And so the sparring commenced.

Gawain was cautious and couldn’t resist giving some advice here and there.

At one point it turned more into a lesson than a spar, with slow movements that he helped you with.

All of it happened under a pair of watchful eyes.

The knight called out to the Ash Man “I won’t cut off her limbs with this sword.”

Lancelot dropped his attention to the ground.

Had it been so obvious that he was worried and ready to step in if anything went wrong?

Gawain was skilled in battle just like him, surely he had enough control too.

As a sign of faith and trust in Gawain, he tore his attention away from the sparring and noticed Arthur walking over to him.

Arthur came to stand beside Lancelot, after a moment of talking, they walked off together. There must have been something Arthur needed help with or something he wished to show.

  Gawain continued to teach you some basics, how to block an attack and what not to do.

After a little while of this, you voiced your grievance “I wish I could just use my own sword. These wooden ones aren’t bad, but Lancelot gave me a sword and now it feels like he is afraid of me using it.”

The knight heard your concern “He’s afraid you might get hurt.”

You pointed out the flaw in this “I will get hurt if I don’t learn how to fight with my own weapon.” your voice betrayed the sadness it was causing “He promised he would teach me…”

And now it felt like he was growing reluctant…

Gawain took pity on you and went over to where your sword stuck out of the ground, he pulled it free and came to hand it to you “I understand his concern. And I understand yours as well. You’re right, it is best to learn with steel but it is dangerous.”

You looked down as he placed your sword in your hands “Then let’s not spar. Maybe just show me some things?”

Gawain approved of the idea and went to collect his sword as well “Alright. But do as I say and move slow. Understood?”

You nodded and agreed to the terms.

The tricks he showed were easy to learn for a beginner, the swords collided slowly.

After some practice on a certain trick, he allowed the pace to quicken.

Again and again it was the same trick, repeating it over and over until you got the hang of it and were able to do it in normal speed.

And let that be the unfortunate time when Lancelot returned to the spot. Gawain was fast enough to stop.

But you were disarmed, grabbed and then pulled along by a furious Ash Man.

He didn’t manage to get you far before you tore yourself from his grasp.

“Don’t drag me off!” You snapped at him.

His reply carried the fury “It is the only way to stop you from getting yourself killed!”

Did he really believe you were so incompetent? “I am not a child, Lancelot! Don’t treat me as one.”

It slipped from him “Stop behaving as one.”

By walking away, you showed how done you were with listening to him after that.

He did not let it go and intended to follow, it was Gawain that stopped him from doing so.

The knight did not approve of the way he had reacted “Calm down! She was never in any danger. You know I wouldn’t cause her harm!”

Lancelot bit the words at him “Then why go behind my back with this?!”

Gawain kept a calm head “Can’t you see that you are hurting her with this? She just wants to do what we do, you can’t keep excluding her just because you fear she might get hurt. I know you want to protect her. But remember what you said to me once, she is not as helpless as she pretends to be to some.”

He stepped away from Gawain, not acknowledging that he had in fact listened to the advice.

  You were already walking past the stables by the time Lancelot caught up with you “I can’t believe you did that.” you spun around to face him “It’s humiliating! If you had stopped for one second, then you would have seen that we were being very careful!”

His own fury had not simmered down fully “Not long ago, you were struck down by a rock! It is unwise to be doing this! One moment of vertigo and you could have been struck by the blade!”

Why did he always have to be so overprotective? Why couldn’t he just have let you ‘spar’ with Gawain?

Your frustration matched his “No. I trust in Gawain’s ability! Besides, have you forgotten how you vanished in the middle of the night with Red Spear to try and kill Wicklow? How come you can take these great risks, but when I take a little one you act like this?!? I am starting to get the feeling that you just don’t want me near a weapon at all! I can’t rely on you being there to protect me all the time, I need to learn to protect myself!”

He met it with silence, mostly because this was drawing the attention of people who were passing by.

“Forget this.” You quietly muttered, hating to argue with someone.

When you proceed to walk away, he caught up with you.

His hand on your arm stopped you, he appeared calmer “Come.”

You saw him gesture to the stables and he let go.

By your own free will, you choose to follow him inside.

He closed the large wooden door with some difficulty and put his attention back on you “I will not keep you from the sword.”

You were surprised to hear it “You’re saying-”

Lancelot paced around a bit “I cannot always be there to keep you safe, you were right about that. I want you to learn how to wield a sword so well that enemies will fear you at the sight of it.”

There was an issue for him, you could tell “But?”

The confession took a while to come “Your bravery in the face of danger worries me. I fear one day I will lose you to it.”

The sliver of anger still rang in your words “I fear the same for you. But I will not take your weapons or forbid you to spar with a friend.”

He crossed the small distance and stood before you “I am not treating you fairly.”

He came to the conclusion on his own.

You nodded “Please, believe me when I say that I won’t deliberately put myself in mortal danger. I care for you far too much to put you through such a thing. I haven’t forgotten how upset you were when I wanted to go after Wicklow myself.”

Your sword was offered back to you by him.

The apology came along with it “I am sorry for behaving the way that I have.”

You sheathed your sword back in it’s holster “You were concerned for me.”

He wouldn’t hear how it would be brushed off “That does not excuse it. Protecting you is one thing, I should not be shielding you from everything in life out of fear that something could go wrong.”

Finally he understood…because he had listened.

You brought your arms around him and nested yourself into his chest when he closed his arms around you.

He said it so matter-of-factually “I do enjoy to see you stand your ground against me. Your eyes spit fire when you are angry.”

Your eyes narrowed at that audible change in tone, his voice had deepened, his hands were low on your back “Those hands are getting quite low there, Ash Man.”

His breath touched your temple “Too low?”

You teased without shame “Too high.”

The invite could not have been more blatantly obvious.

You hooked your finger into the collar of his shirt, damning the aketon he wore to protect himself, the only thing you could touch was some of his collarbone.

He caught your hand and stated “You are trembling.”

You weren’t even aware until he mentioned it “At nightfall, will I be welcome to visit your room?”

Lancelot offered an excuse for you to use “You fear it will be cold tonight?”

Your honesty took him off-guard “No. I want some time alone with my intended.”

He loved to hear that “I see.”

You scrambled all your courage together and lightly tugged at the aketon “And without this.”

His brow arched, eyes fixed on your face with great interest “Anything else?”

The smugness was dripping from his expression and increased your boldness.

Your gaze traveled over him, slow and in appreciation of what it saw “Yes.”

The next breath was forced into his lungs, his head tilted to the side.

Curiosity was flooding him.

When you released him from the embrace, one hand left your back and cupped your neck, his thumb trailed from your chin down your throat.

He played with words “What is my intended intending to do?”

You thought about it for a moment and got an idea “How is your back, does it still hurt sometimes?”

Where were you going with this?

“Sometimes.” He admitted, finding the truth slip out of him under your enchanting gaze.

The offer glided of your tongue like silk lathered in honey “I will get some salve from the infirmary and make sure it feels better by tomorrow morning.”

You’d never seen his pupils enlarge so much before.

The smug look was replaced with one so innocent that you could hardly wait until tonight.

He cast his attention to the ground for a moment to collect his thoughts and to wait for his voice to return.

Those weeping eyes returned to yours, he traced his thumb under your bottom lip “That is very kind of you to offer.”

You broke free from his touch, wishing to save that building tension for tonight “I think I will go and see if Gawain is still willing to spar with me for a while…”

His thoughts were rather preoccupied now and he slowly nodded “Be careful?”

You smiled “I swear it.”

Now that he seemed more at peace with it, you went to walk past him and out of the stables.

You made it to the door and opened it a few inches before it was pushed shut again by him.

You could feel his presence right behind you and a second later you felt him against your back.

With an arm around your form he held you close.

He nosed your hair and you heard him inhale quietly.

“You smell so good.” He had let his voice drop into that husk.

The shiver that ran down your spin had you turning on your feet and softly pushing him back again “I’d better not hear you tell anyone else that you can sense what is going on with my body.”

His eyes betrayed where his mind was going “It will be our secret.”

It was noticeably affecting him to know what was happening and why…

Still your face burned at thought of it “Swear it!”

The smug smirk curved his lips again “You have my word.”

He’d better keep to his word…

You tapped against your cheek with the tip of your index finger “Now, before I go…”

Had you ever seen him so puzzled before?

When it took too long for him to understand the hint, you playfully reached out and tapped against his lips before tapping against your cheek again.

He chuckled at his slow response and gave what you had asked of him.

It was a miracle he had enough self-restraint to end it with the polite kiss to the cheek, because you got the sense that he wished to do more.

Again you opened the door, with some difficulty from the rusted hinges, and this time he let you walk out of the stables.

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  This time he had let you spar with Gawain in peace.

Afterwards he did mention that he would correct any faults that the knight had taught you later, while Gawain was there to hear it.

It had led to the following conversation.

 ~“And exactly what faults would that be?”~

Lancelot had failed to detect the sarcasm in the knight’s question.

~“Mostly your footing.”~

 Of course that had led to a spar between them again. They could bicker like brothers and Gawain hated how smug Lancelot could be about his skill with the sword, so he always tried to teach the Ash Man a lesson in modesty.

But from experience, you knew those lessons would be forgotten quite soon again.

You left them to their foolishness and headed into the fort.

How odd, you had not seen Percival or Neia since breakfast, usually they would search for you or Lancelot a couple of times during the day. How suspicious…

You made a beeline to Percival’s room, finding it empty.

On your way to Neia’s room, you ran into Arthur and asked “Arthur, have you seen Neia or Percival? I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

Arthur did not recall seeing them either “I haven’t. Have you been to Percival’s room?”

“I have. No one was there.” You were getting worried “I was on my way to see if they were in Neia’s room.”

He touched your elbow “Come on, we’ll go together.”

In a haste, you made your way towards Neia’s room.

The screams of children rang from beyond the door and you feared they were injured.

Neither you nor Arthur moved after you had barged into the room.

Chicken feathers rained down from the air to the floor, hay covered the carpet in the room. Inside where Percival and Neia, who had ruined their pillows in a battle between them.

Arthur quietly blurted out to you “Gawain will lose his mind if he sees this.”

“Uhuh.” You nodded.

The two children looked as caught and guilty as could be, the linen in their hands that had once been pillows were now almost completely empty.

You looked at Arthur, Arthur looked at you, clearly neither of you knew how to respond to this situation appropriately.

Neia jumped down from her bed she was standing on and rubbed her arm.

Percival stood frozen in place and swallowed audibly.

“There’s four of us.” You looked at Arthur pleadingly.

He understood what was being asked “Double the hands, lessen the work.”

You clapped your hands together “Alright everyone, let’s start collecting feathers and hay. Just put them back in the fabric.”

To your surprise, the children did not protest and got to work right away.

The task was actually far less tedious than first expected, it was quite pleasant to spent time with Percival and Neia like this, working together to reach a common goal.

Of course you did mention that you’d prefer this not to happen again, but didn’t jump to a harsh response when they seemed willing to fix the situation.

Once it was done, you took the children out of the room and suggested they played the pebble game instead until it was time for dinner.

They took the idea to heart and went outside to play.

“Thanks for helping.” You told Arthur.

“You’re welcome.” Arthur made a slight bow of the head “Speaking of help, would you mind helping me out with carrying the new wooden swords that the woodworker has finished to the fort? I think Gawain asked for a lot to be made, I got word some were finished.”

It wasn’t a long walk from the woodworker’s shop to the fort so that didn’t sound bad “Not a problem, I will help. Do we go and fetch them now or?”

Arthur was glad to hear it “Oh, now would be perfect. I’ve got some time.”

“Great. Let’s go.” You began to walk with him to the exit of the fort.

                                       ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

  After three trips back and forth from the woodworker, you had to agree that Gawain had indeed asked for A LOT of these wooden swords. After seeing the quantities, Arthur and you decided to store them in the shed next to the stables.

With all that work done, you were done for the day. Thankfully, the children had worn themselves out enough to have gone to bed on their own.

You had grabbed some soup for dinner and decided to slurp that up in your room while letting your legs rest.

It was a risky situation to drink soup while just having changed into your nightgown, if it spilled you’d have your work cut out for you to get the stains out of the white fabric.

Afterwards, you spend some time washing up and erasing the signs of the days work.

You intended to honor what you had offered Lancelot today.

Like a thief in the night, you sneaked towards the door at the end of the hallway. The bowl of salve was in your hands thanks to Pym, you had kept it close to a candle to make sure it wasn’t too cold.

Quietly you knocked on the door and prayed it woke no other.

The door creaked open and made you wince and look around in a slight panic.

Lancelot held it open for you, with a slight head tilt he welcomed you into his room.

Right away you walked in like the place was your own and placed the bowl of salve on the small bedside table, then you took the candle from the dresser it was one and placed it beside the bowl.

“I am trying to keep the salve warm, so it won’t be uncomfortable for you.” You explained.

He arched a brow, smile growing on his lips “How very thoughtful. I assume you were serious with your offer today then?”

Had he thought you’d forget the offer?

Oh, no, you had planned everything to make this as pleasant as it could be.

“I am.” You gestured to the shirt he was wearing “If you are still interested, you may remove your shirt and settle into bed.”

An audible breath of air escaped him, visibly overtaken by nervousness.

You warmed your hands near the flame, and without looking back at him, you patted a hand on the bed playfully “I won’t bite.”

Had you forgotten how you had once bitten him when he had wanted to help you up from the ground back at the monastery?

After fighting back most of his nerves, he pulled the shirt over his head and draped it over the foot of the bed.

There he stood with great uncertainty.

You turned around upon sensing it “Lay stomach down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll do the rest.”

With some directions, it went smoother for him.

For him, laying stomach down wasn’t something he was much fond of, he could never fall asleep in this position.

It was too easy for an enemy to overpower him in his sleep.

Once the salve felt decently warm, you approached the bed and warned him “Don’t be frightened. And if you want me to stop, tell me and I will.”

He gave a nod and dug his fingers in the sheet below him where you could not see.

He had believed you would just sit beside him while doing this. To his grant surprise you straddled his hips instead, placing one knee at either side of him.

Needless to say, he was taken aback and also reminded of how much more comfortable and open you were with matter such as these.

You let one drop of the warm salve drip down on his back and he jolted a bit “Warm enough?”

“Yes.” He sounded quite approving.

It pleased you to hear it “Perfect.”

With caution you began to put the salve where it was needed most first.

There was no haste in you, each scar was giving a first layer of the thin substance until it was absorbed fully into his skin.

He did mention that the scars became less sensitive once the salve was on them. Still you worked with feather light touches of your fingers.

Only after all of them had received their first layer of salve and not a trace of it was left visible to the eye, you poured some in your hands.

You warned him again before continuing “I will be careful. But if it hurts-”

He already felt himself relax significantly “I would tell you.”

The playful praise fell out of your mouth “Very good.”

Down you brought your hands, palms coated in the aromatic salve to relieve the pain and stress from his back.

Of course you couldn’t resist giving a playful pat here and there, he underwent it all without a single complaint.

The muscles near his shoulder and neck were the most tense and were given more attention to sooth them.

He was barely able to muffle the satisfied groan that tumbled out of him.

The kneading of your hands had him silent, you continued to do so long after the salve had run out.

Seeing him so comfortable like this felt like a victory.

Still, you did not expect him to fall asleep and yet he did.

“Lancelot?” You leaned down to whisper and upon seeing him well asleep it took some effort not to giggle and accidentally wake him.

It was a small challenge to crawl off of him carefully and place yourself next to him on the bed.

You moved the sheets over him to keep him warm.

Well, either it had bored him to sleep or he enjoyed it so much that this was the result, you preferred to believe it was the latter.

Whilst laying on your side to watch him sleep, it crossed your mind that this could likely become a common occurrence.

The face of the one you loved to be the first thing you saw when waking up, and the last thing before falling asleep.

You scooted closer, paused, and got even closer.

Finally you were where you belonged, at his side.

It was a string of tiny movements to get close enough to nest yourself against him without waking him. Minutes passed before you were comfortable and let your eyes fall shut.

When they opened again, time had passed and he was still sleeping peacefully.

Thirst had woken you from your slumber, you were parched for some water and none was available in the room.

Just as it had been a challenge to get closer to him, it was a challenge to get out of the bed without waking him.

With weary eyes you trippled out of the room and did your best to prevent the door from making a noise.

It was a small distance to get to your own room, once inside you filled a tankard of water and drank it in one go. After some thought, you decided to just take the jug of water and the tankard with you.

After tiptoeing through the hallway, you were back at his door that you had left open an inch.

With your back against it you opened it more and intended to do the same to close it.

In the darkness of the room it took you a blink too long to notice the shadow figure standing near.

The unforeseen presence startled you enough to spill nearly half the water in the jug over your nightgown.

When you had left he’d been vast asleep, how could you have known that he’d be up now?

“Shit.” You cursed crudely.

His eyes were better adjusted to darkness and saw the accident happen, one touch on your nightgown and he felt how soaked it was.

You pouted at the state you were in now “I thought you were still asleep.”

He sheepishly explained “I woke up and found you gone…” then he offered “There is a towel in there.”

What he gestured to was a small room just large enough for one person to clean themselves.

He lighted a candle and led you to the small space, then placed the candle holder on the tiny table were a bowl of water was and a towel.

Now in the light and near the small mirror, the mess the water had made became visible.

“Oh…” The drenched white of the fabric was exposing what it was meant to shield from sight.

The dim light of the candle offered some modesty.

Quickly you grabbed the towel and tried to dry the gown as best as you could.

With the distraction, you failed to notice the way his eyes were drifting over you.

You scolded yourself “I’m such a klutz.”

It was the absence if a witty remark that pulled your attention to him.

He was leaning against the door frame, eye fixed on a place where the fabric was undoubtedly betraying you.

Had he even heard you speak?

You squinted your eyes at him “I am starting to think you won’t offer to fetch me a dry gown.”

Well, in truth it had indeed not crossed his mind.

It looked like wanted to look apologetic but it was clearly feigned.

You dunked your hand in the bowl with water and proceeded to wave the countless drops in his direction “Go pray. You seem to need it.”

Lancelot did not let the water scare him away “I rather enjoy you like this. Wet and arrogant.”

The ambiguity of his words hit him right after and he visibly felt some regret over his choice of words.

You send him a knowing look, your brow arched “Wow.”

He could feel his nose start to get warmer.

Thank the darkness of the night for letting him keep some of his confidence.

You had expected him to take it back or apologize, but he did neither. That was new…

When you carried on drying the gown off, his eyes lifted from the floor again.

The gown was sticking to your skin on various places “I won’t be able to get this dry. It’s too soaked.”

What a delight to his eyes.

He hummed and stepped into the small space, again he touched the fabric and noted that the towel indeed would not be able to fix this “It is.”

To hear and see him so distracted, made you laugh quietly “You’re not much help right now.”

And he was well aware of it.

The linen towel was plucked from your hands and placed aside on the small table again by him.

With a firm but gentle hold on your arm, he turned you to face him.

His fingers were lacing themselves into the wet fabric over your stomach, his forehead came down to rest against yours “Don’t leave my room.”

The plea was carried in that warm timbre that had your heart vibrate in tune with it.

With the little clarity your brain still offered, you stammered “But my clothes…”

One hand brought you closer, the other caused you to shiver when he brushed it over your jaw and neck up and behind your ear.

His voice deepened as those blue orbs dropped to the curve of your mouth “Do not worry.”

Your eyes drifted between the heavens present in his eyes and the alluring lips he was blessed with.

Lancelot pulled you into him and caught your mouth with his, trapping your lips in the searing kiss.

He rained down on them and every drop nourished the planted seeds of affection that had waited for him, you let it drown out all else until all that flowed between you was the passion it bared.

His hand had wandered so low that it was almost on your rear.

He was used to taking charge, but this?

No.

It would not surprise him if he was told to remove his hand from where it had so brazenly journeyed to.

You paused only to lock eyes with him.

Feeling him brush a hand over your back like that had you purring playfully “Searching me for Fey signs?”

Even now, you would tease him, two could play this game.

Instantly both hands glided up past your waist until they reached your ribs “If I was, I would search here…”

Your breath caught when they followed the curve and felt along and between your shoulder blades.

You had to tilt your head to the side, he was close enough that it was almost an embrace.

It continued, far slower than he had ever done during this procedure.

He lifted your arm and felt along the back of it “And here.”

It was sending shivers down your spine.

Then the tip of his nose followed the curve of your neck up to your ear “I would capture your scent.”

His hand came up to the back of your neck, thumb drawing circles behind your ear “The ears are the easiest to spot signs near.”

Truly, such inspections had not been so slow and intimate, or had they?

It fell out off your scrambled thoughts “Is that what you did with the women at the abbey?”

Was that a pinch of jealousy he heard?

He would not deny it “I did this with all who needed to be inspected.”

But not with enthusiasm, unlike now.

And never this close and personal. Back then, he just wanted it to be over and done with as fast as possible.

You couldn’t resist asking everything that crossed your mind “You could feel it through clothes?”

Where were you going with this?

“Yes.”

“Even through mine?”

“Yes.”

Your coy smile was suggestive “Are you sure?”

When you saw the innocence in his eyes, you almost felt bad for teasing him like this.

Sometimes you needed to remind yourself that he was raised a monk.

You reeled yourself back in and ‘apologized’ by giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek “Forgive me, Lancelot. I wish I had a quarter of the self-restraint you have.”

That ‘self-restraint’ had gotten much weaker the second you walked into his room tonight.

His mind was still catching up “Did you just proposition me again?”

It made your cheeks burn to admit it, especially because it was asked so politely “Sorry.”

His hand left your neck and fidgeted with the sleeve of your nightgown a little.

You could just feel the atmosphere take a palpable shift “I will just go and fetch something dry to wear and return here afterwards.”

Slipping from his touch and out of the small space felt a little awkward.

But you would not have him think that you expected something else to happen other than sleep. Why did you have to tease him with this…

What if it had made him uncomfortable and he feared to say it?

Once you reached the door, the other candle that still stood on the dresser grew a bright green flame the second you reached for the doorknob.

You halted and stared at the candle in disbelief, that candle had not been lighted, the flame had grown from nothing.

“I have been practicing.” The Ash Man stated with pride.

In awe, you stared at the Fey Fire “I can tell.” through the wet sleeve, the mark showed it’s silver glow again “My mark…”

His eyes were drawn to the glow passing through the sleeve “Please, stay.”

Something in his voice sounded quite vulnerable and made you turn to face him fully.

The will to point out that you needed to go and fetch dry clothes left you upon seeing the look in his eyes.

There was something he was trying to say…

“Lancelot?” You quietly spoke.

The floorboards barely creaked under his calculated slow steps.

He took your hand and led you away from the door slowly, and when you did not protest he cupped your face and closed the distance.

Your noses were touching and you tilted your head pleadingly for his affection.

He resisted, barely.

It was a whispered prayer that caressed your cheek “I want to share this night together.” he left no room for misinterpretation “I want you.”

You leaned back at once, speechless by what it implied.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​​​ @linkpk88​​​  @fxrchxldws​​​  @elenaoftheturks​​​ @slytherlight​​​ @beananacake​​​    @crystallizedtime​​​  @moonlightaura03​​​  @angrygardendeer​​​  @have-aheart​​​   @5am-cigarette​​​ @arcanenature​​​  @thewinterskywalker​​​ @notyourwildestdream​​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​​ @koressecretidentity​​​ @nike90​​​​ @n1ghtlux​​​​ @rachlovesactors​​​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​​​ @gipsydanger17​​​​ @heavenly1927​​​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​  @rainyv-skies​​​​

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

#weeping monk #theweepingmonk #weeping monk x you #weepingmonk #the weeping monk x reader #reader x weeping monk #you x weeping monk #lancelot #lancelot x reader #reader x lancelot #lancelot fic #cursed #Cursed Netflix #lancelot cursed #netflix cursed #cursed fic

[crestfallercanyon]

🎄 Tag Game Wednesday 🎁

Thanks for the tag @mybrainismelted ! These are so cute! (I feel bad because I think there was definitely one last week that I’ve blanked on, maybe I’ll go back and do it if I can find it lol). And thanks @jrooc for making the qs!

🔠 Favourite nickname you’ve ever been given: I was called Sunshine throughout most of k-12. It’s nice to think people found me to be so chipper.

🗺️ Where are you located? I’ll give you the same as I have on my AO3 — on a US coastline.

🥶⛱️ What season is it where you are now? Winter

🥳 Favourite tradition this time of year: I adore going on long walks and seeing Christmas lights.

🥧 Favourite holiday food: I’m a big fan of all the different cookie traditions from families and friends. They’re just a sweet little personal treat you don’t get any other time.

☕️ Mulled wine, eggnog or hot apple cider? Eggnog.

🍗 Turkey, Ham or Nut Roast (Or Tofurkey?)? Probably ham?

🏔️🏖️ Would you rather spend the December holidays in:  A cabin in the woods surrounded by snow, or a house on the beach with sun and sand? A cabin in the woods surrounded by snow. I love the cliche classic of it, I love when it FEELS like winter around me during the holidays.

❄️ Are you pro-snow or anti-snow? I adore snow from about December through February. Then I’m good. Don’t need it anymore lol.

⛄️ Have you ever built a snowman? Yes. Not in a LONG time though.

⛷️ Skiing or Snowboarding? Skiing — you have more control. Though, to be honest, I prefer sledding or snow-tubing or even ice skating as I would rather not have my feet attached to long boards where if I fuck up I can swiftly break both my legs.

🎍 Do you decorate for the holidays? A little! Also changed all my coffee mugs to my collection of winter themed mugs.

🎬 Favourite holiday movie? I love the classics — It’s a Wonderful Life, The Preacher’s Wife, White Christmas; but I also am basic and enjoy Elf and watching the silly Hallmark movies too 😂

📖 Favourite holiday fanfic? Um, gosh, I don’t know if I go back and reread any holiday fanfics in particular, but my brain’s a bit slow today so maybe I’m missing something obvious. I, too, though, am enjoying the sam_writes_fics 12 days of Christmas. I’m also POSITIVE there are lots of coldflash (captain cold/the flash) Christmas fics I’ve enjoyed over the years. If someone else knows I’ve read something, I’m sure you’re right and I probably loved it!

🎥 If you were to star in a Hallmark movie, who would be your love interest? Well, going by hallmark stereotype, I am the woman with the overly stressful job who needs to be disconnected from my world, so I would imagine either a man who owns a Christmas tree farm or like a carpenter, some sort of woodworker who is in touch with nature. If I’m supposed to actually cast the person myself? … I don’t typically do that kind of thing, but you can refer to my “tumblr blorbos” for inspiration.

Where would it take place? A small town, surrounded by farms and forest, get back in touch with my hometown roots.

To tag 💕! @michellemisfit , @mmmichyyy , @callivich And anyone else who would like to join!

#weekly tag wednesday #tag games #holiday edition! #open tag #and no pressure to those tagged

[laresearchette]

Wednesday, November 29, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: SLOW HORSES (Apple TV+) SHETLAND (BritBox) THE ARTFUL DODGER (Disney + Star) CHRISTMAS AT GRACELAND (Global) 10:00pm KING CHARLES (CNN) 10:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: CHRISTMAS IN ROCKEFELLER CENTER (NBC Feed)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

CBC GEM ETERNAL SPRING

DISNEY + STAR FX’S AMERICAN HORROR STORIES (Season 3, four-episode premiere) THE ARTFUL DODGER (Season 1)

NETFLIX CANADA AMERICAN SYMPHONY BAD SURGEON: LOVE UNDER THE KNIFE (UK) THE SILENCING

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 7:00pm: Habs vs. Blue Jackets (SN) 10:30pm: Capitals vs. Kings

NBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 7:00pm: Lakers vs. Red Wings (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 7:30pm: Suns vs. Raptors (SN Now) 8:00pm: 76ers vs. Pelicans (SN1) 10:00pm: Clippers vs. Kings

THE OTHER SIDE (APTN) 7:30pm: Every time the team investigates a new space, they smudge and enter with respect for the histories and potential spirits locked inside. But the Port Moody Station Museum is a place with a deadly past, where they learn that a smudge can't always keep.

SWAN SONG (CBC) 8:00pm: Karen's progressive ideas create unanticipated ripples through the company as the first run-through approaches, while the arrival of a celebrity ballerina throws Siphe off balance.

SPIRIT TALKER (APTN) 8:00pm: Tsuut'ina Nation, a strong Dene-speaking community near Calgary, continues to foster its tie to the past through the buffalo. Amidst Shawn's readings, a touching emotional reunion unfolds as a woman reconnects with her long-lost sister.

LAUGHING ALL THE WAY (W Network) 8:00pm: Put in charge of a holiday variety show, an aspiring comedian worries she may not have what it takes, until a famous comedian makes her see how talented she truly is.

GOOD WITH WOOD (Makeful) 8:00pm: Eye-catching coffee tables built by the eight woodworkers, who sweat the details as they create unique, stable legs for their designs.

GHOST HUNTERS OF THE GRAND RIVER (APTN) 8:30pm: The ghost hunters delve into the history of paranormal activity that surrounds the Mohawk Community Centre on their sister reserve of Tyendinaga, including the stories of a witch trial that took place in the 1800s.

BLACK LIFE: UNTOLD STORIES (CBC) 9:00pm: A chronicle of the lives of Black Canadian athletes that delves into their rise and the challenges they faced.

CHILDREN RUIN EVERYTHING (CTV) 9:00pm (SEASON FINALE): After an unexpected change at Gero's, James tries to busy himself with fixing a broken toilet; Astrid thinks she's due for a raise.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #the other side #swan song #spirit talker #good with wood #ghost hunters of the grand river #black life: untold stories #children ruin everything #nhl hockey #nba basketball

[kiwikipedia]

Can I know more about Arvid? I saw him mentioned in @kit-fisto-obsessive ‘s fic and you talk about him some on here but I haven’t seen much of him on your own AO3

GLADLY

I have a couple posts on Arvid here but I don't think I've really put much on AO3 at all of him. I think he only appears in passing mentions such as in dual wield where he's mentioned by Cin.

Anywhooo~

I did an introduction post here with his old design and a new design and some alters here but I can go over it again ehehe

Basically:

Arvid Carin is best mates with Jaro Tapal and the partner of Dex Jettster. He's also an Artisan Jedi Master as the current head of the Woodworking Department of the Division and has trained one padawan, the current Second Hand of the Department— Turu.

He's from another one of my fan-made races, a dragon species that has branching roots in the Fae and Spirits. While there are a few of them across the Galaxy, but he's specifically an Inferno Drakon hailing from the volcanic planet Surlogi.

Like all Inferno Drakon who have chosen to assume a more humanoid appearance and leave Surlogi, Arvid has a number of forms that he can assume.

His true form is a massive, wingless dragon with the full length being about half as long as the temple is wide.

His main form is about 6'9" standing upright without his horns, though he slouches a lot. This is what most people see him as, and while his legs are still humanoid, his feet are definitely still that same clawed dragon look.

His combat form is a bit more draconic, his legs change to be more dragon-like and his hands become more clawed with more scales appearing under and through his skin. he's about 7'10 at that height when fully upright

His "compact" form or resting form is either after a fight or when conditions are met that require him to condense into an almost fully human form just to keep from exploding outwards into his true form. He's about 5'10 - 6' tall in that form but is much hotter to the touch than the other two humanoid forms. Almost scalding.

Save for the last one, Arvid retains his horns and tail in his human forms and has a very high body temperature

Personality wise he's known as a quiet, tired, and reserved individual to pretty much everyone and while true, he is also incredibly kind and compassionate.

His tiredness stems from his inability to find a good way to sleep with horns and a tail along with having just a general insomnia. He spends his waking hours working and often avoids people if possible while he does so he doesn’t lose focus. He enjoys listening to people talk though, so if he’s sought out while working for conversation it’s very one sided but he’s paying attention

While he enjoys children and doesn't mind them clinging to him for warmth, he states he'd be a very bad Master now days, to which Turu assures him that he was a fine Master when They were learning under him. Arvid also states he'd be a bad parent, though it is noted that he makes a decent father figure to Dex's adoptive daughter Onyx.

ofc despite all of this, Arvid is still a dragon and he does have a rather dangerous temper when it gets to that point. Basically:

Arvid Cairn was slow to anger, just like the magma flows his kind were borne from. Slow to anger, yet extremely dangerous when he did.

A forgotten fact to some.

The cracking of bones under his grip was something that wasn’t quite foreign to him— but it had been a long time. Been a long time since he had felt this angry.

I have some other little bits of triva, but these are the big parts.

Theres a lot of describing points that follow fire/volcano analogies lol

#Arvid Cairn (PKWSW) #Penguinkiwi OCs #Dexvid (Ship) #Anon Tag #Penguinkiwi Answers Stuff #Kiwikipedia OCs #<- Easing into a new tag!

[lewis7767]

BLOOD & MONSTERS SCENE 1

EXT. COUNTRY. DAY.

The sun shines bright on rolling hills, no clouds in sight. The only sign of humanity is a cracked and broken cobblestoned road, leading us to a building lost to time. Vines climbed the walls decades ago through which the lettering reads, “St. Anthony’s Hospital”.

Daylight scorches the old brick and cracked woodwork, however it completely neglects the windows. Cold to the touch and unnatural to behold, they are boarded over… From the inside.

A girl cries out in terror.

INT. ST ANTHONY'S. DAY.

Paintings hang the walls of the corridor, the lines are blurred and the art yellowed by time. White on black ceramics make a runway for frantic footsteps and heavy breathing.

A teenage girl turns the corner wearing long sleeve pyjamas, hair falling messily at her shoulders which could be cute but her eyes tell another story. One of desperation and one of fear.

Then we hear it, in the distance heavier footsteps boom along the corridor with purpose. The chase continues around the corner, another and a third as the cracked tiles ring out under the weight of the pursuer closing in.

Sanctuary in the shape of a dark rosewood door waits at the never ending corridor but each passing second the distance between them fades as does hope for the prey as the predator advances.

BANG!!

Suddenly wind grabs the halls like a hurricane violently throwing the paintings ajar and tiles airborne that collide with the ground with a ear ringing shatter. The destruction charges towards the door in its wake lies the exposed floorboards were the girl was once standing, she is gone.

CRASH!!

The door taken completely off of the hinges now lies within the kitchen, beyond that a cast iron pot scraps along the floor before connecting with the girls leg… What’s left of it.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The hunter progresses…

Blood pools from the victims shattered shinbone, despite this she desperately tries and to regain her footing pulling at the old marble counter tops for support before slipping on her own blood and crashing to the ground. She is exhausted, she is bloodied and most of all she is terrified.

With a few more strides and a blood curdling scream we cut to black.

#writing #writers on tumblr #vampire #vampires #screenplay #script #writer #original content #original writing #original work

[toplocaltrimcarpenters]

Trim Woodworking - A Rewarding Job

Trim carpentry is a profession that enables an experienced artisan to come to be economically independent. The craft is reasonably simple to discover, as well as it is possible to start out alone or work in a small shop with one or two employees. As soon as the customer base expands, a trim carpenter can open their own shop or increase right into a bigger service. A trim woodworker normally works 40 hrs a week. This schedule enables them to complete every one of their tasks during the workweek. Overtime is normally just essential in cases of limited target dates. Cut carpentry is a competent career that has a high demand for qualified employees. To find out the benefits of becoming a trim woodworking professional, you can see more here!

Although technology has actually boosted accuracy in numerous construction jobs, it still can't replace the knowledge of a carpenter. Expert woodworkers often work together with other construction experts as well as technology specialists to make sure an excellent quality outcome. This can increase the work protection of trim carpenters who operate in building tasks. The work of a trim woodworker is essentially the same as that of a coating woodworker, yet includes mounting or repairing details that are smaller as well as much less noticeable. The best local trim carpenters contribute to the ended up appearance of a structure by mounting, repairing, and also installing timber details such as molding and doors. On top of that, they create personalized woodworks that serve as accessories to wooden components. 

A trim woodworker should be very experienced in reading plans, and also their expertise of products is essential for success. They should have the ability to read measurements properly on strategies to ensure that the completed product is the proper size. Moreover, they must be educated of electrical systems as well as building codes. In addition, they ought to also recognize just how to run machinery, and also they need to understand just how to review manufacturer instructions. Windows and door trim is one of the most usual kind of trim in a home. These elements are placed along completions of walls to accent the entrances and also departures of areas. 

These components are commonly installed last during construction and also can be as simple or intricate as the house owner desires. As they are probably to attract the eye of underhanded tradesmen, these ending up touches can make a massive distinction. Trim woodworking can be a rewarding career for individuals who wish to function outdoors. It is likewise a very physical profession, as well as it aids construct strong body and minds. It additionally permits varied work environments, with woodworkers working on both commercial buildings and household houses. As well as it is an area that calls for specialized training. 

Historically, woodworkers used various thicknesses of timber for trim. There were no planers in those days, so carpenters usually utilized different densities of wood to develop various designs. The outcome is that older houses rarely feature mitered coverings. Generally, casings have legs that link to the casing head by 3/8 of an inch. While this is not the only difference between both, the head generally runs longer than the legs. Check out this post: https://www.dictionary.com/browse/carpenter that has expounded on the topic.

[modeneseluxuryinteriors]

The handcrafted coffee tables from Modenese, Italy, are a true testament to the brand's dedication to exceptional craftsmanship and timeless design. Each coffee table is a work of art, meticulously crafted by skilled artisans using traditional woodworking techniques passed down through generations.

The coffee tables by Modenese boast an exquisite blend of classic Italian elegance and modern sensibilities. They are crafted from the finest quality materials, such as solid wood, marble, and luxurious finishes like gold or silver leaf. The choice of materials ensures not only durability but also a touch of opulence that elevates the overall aesthetic of any living room or lounge area.

One of the standout features of Modenese's coffee tables is their intricate and ornate detailing. Artisans painstakingly carve delicate motifs and patterns on the table legs, aprons, and even the tabletop itself. These intricate carvings add a sense of refinement and sophistication, making each coffee table a statement piece that enhances the room's ambiance.

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[woodworkingag]

Restoring and Upcycling Furniture: Woodworking Ideas

Restoring and upcycling furniture is a rewarding and eco-friendly way to breathe new life into old or worn-out pieces. With some basic woodworking skills and a touch of creativity, you can transform outdated furniture into unique and stylish treasures. In this article, we will explore woodworking ideas for restoring and upcycling furniture, providing inspiration for your next project. Let's dive in and discover the endless possibilities of furniture restoration and upcycling.

Furniture Refinishing: Refinishing furniture involves restoring the original beauty and luster of a piece through cleaning, sanding, and applying new finishes. This process is particularly effective for wooden furniture with scratches, worn-out finishes, or dull appearances. Consider stripping away old paint or varnish, sanding the surfaces to smoothness, and applying a fresh coat of stain or paint to revitalize the piece. With refinishing, you can uncover the natural beauty of the wood or experiment with new colors and finishes to match your style.

Repurposing: Give old furniture a new purpose by repurposing it for a different function. For example, transform a vintage dresser into a stylish bathroom vanity by cutting holes for the sink and plumbing fixtures. Convert an old wooden door into a unique dining table by adding legs and a glass top. With repurposing, you can unleash your creativity and create functional pieces that reflect your personal style.

Adding Storage: Maximize the functionality of furniture by incorporating storage solutions. For instance, convert an antique trunk into a stylish coffee table with hidden storage for blankets or books. Add shelves or drawers to an old bookshelf, turning it into a practical storage unit. By combining aesthetics and functionality, you can breathe new life into furniture while increasing its usefulness in your home.

Painted Accents: Inject personality and charm into furniture by adding painted accents. This technique is particularly effective for pieces with intricate carvings or details. Consider painting the accents in contrasting colors to make them pop or create a distressed look for a shabby chic style. By selectively painting certain areas of a piece, you can highlight its unique features and create a focal point in your space.

Upholstery Makeover: If you come across a piece of furniture with worn or outdated upholstery, consider giving it a makeover. Reupholstering chairs, sofas, or ottomans allows you to choose fabrics that match your style and breathe new life into the furniture. You can experiment with different patterns, textures, and colors to create a statement piece that complements your interior design.

Wood Inlays and Stencils: Add intricate details to furniture through wood inlays or stencils. Wood inlays involve embedding contrasting wood pieces into the furniture's surface, creating eye-catching designs or patterns. Stencils, on the other hand, allow you to add decorative motifs or designs using paint or wood stain. These techniques can elevate the visual appeal of furniture, making it stand out as a unique and artistic piece.

Hardware Upgrades: Transform the look of furniture by upgrading its hardware. Replace outdated or worn drawer pulls, knobs, or hinges with new ones that suit your style. Opt for unique and decorative hardware pieces that add personality and charm to the furniture. This simple upgrade can make a significant difference in the overall aesthetics of the piece.

Conclusion: Restoring and upcycling furniture through woodworking allows you to unleash your creativity and breathe new life into old pieces. Whether it's refinishing, repurposing, adding storage, incorporating painted accents, reupholstering, using wood inlays and stencils, or upgrading hardware, there are endless possibilities for transforming furniture into unique and stylish treasures. Embrace the art of restoration.