#— in my defence — I had already completed the work

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

you are not gonna be able to guess what lucky circumstances I managed to accidentally get myself into this time lmao I secured myself a spot at a nude drawing class without even knowing it was a nude drawing class. it’s absolutely fantastic tho! the class is usually super popular and spots are hard to get so I was really lucky

[perfectlyoongi]

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who taught you how to play the guitar when you were still teenagers. it took a lot of words from you to convince Yoongi to teach you a mere chord; it took even more words from you to convince Yoongi to teach you a song; but it didn’t take any words from you to make Yoongi’s soul dance every time you played. lost in his thoughts, Yoongi didn’t pay attention to the songs you played; too focused on that comfort that soothed his soul, Yoongi didn’t seem to notice your presence at all. but it was you. the way you looked beautiful holding the guitar. the way you smiled when you made a harder transition. the way your eyes sparkled with pure pride at having managed to complete a song. Yoongi didn’t notice your presence, Yoongi felt your presence. “you can be really annoying when you want, but i think it’s just your way of confessing your love for me. isn’t it? come on, admit it.”

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who picks you up at home every day before work. even though he didn’t live close to you, Yoongi made an effort to wake up half an hour earlier just to greet you in the morning with a sweet smile. for Yoongi, a good day started with you. still driven by sleep, tired from work, you always greeted Yoongi with a small smile and a wink. and Yoongi’s heart beat a little faster at your greeting. with a slow and shuffling step, you and Yoongi walked to your work together, often watching the sunrise in tones of complicity and passion, every day planning the morning of the next day. “good morning. today is colder than normal, do you want my scarf? i don’t mind lending it to you. i just don’t want you to get sick because then i’ll have to take care of you and i don’t feel like it. just that.”

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who thinks about your friendship when he takes the subway with you. coming home from work was an exhausting task; after a long day of meetings, socializing, and tension, you just wanted to rest as quickly as possible. so, every day, Yoongi would pick you up from work and take you to the subway, where he would walk you home. it was a routine of yours that came from your teenage years, it was often the only time when you and Yoongi allowed yourselves to feel and let all the defences put up by both of you collapse — all that mattered was that at that moment, you and Yoongi were together. from teenagers to now. how was Yoongi not supposed to feel something for you? “i think i look at you more than i should. i think when i laugh with you my laughter sounds like love. and i’m afraid because that’s true.”

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who fell in love with you on a late spring afternoon when cherry blossoms adorned your hair. it was customary for you and Yoongi to have a small picnic with the arrival of spring — a good luck ritual you invented when exams were more complicated, a ritual that, so far, had proven useful. but, if this picnic was already your tradition, why was it that late afternoon that you, painted by the sun, sculpted by the breeze, decorated with the cherry tree, gave a little kiss to Yoongi’s soul? would it have been your laugh when a shower of petals drenched you in pure innocence? would it have been your gaze so bright and deep that Yoongi got lost every time he looked at you? or would it have simply been you harvesting the plant that you had planted inside Yoongi a long time ago? “you are so beautiful when the universe praises your essence, it is impossible for me not to fall into your charms. you have power over me, a magic that just comforts my heart every time i’m with you.”

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who stops the feeling inside him from expanding throughout his soul. although Yoongi’s heart had been completely surrendered to you for years, Yoongi thought that it was in the soul that true feelings were lodged; and as such, he could not feel. not when you were his best friend. not when you two have been through so much together. not when you… you. how was Yoongi able to block his feelings? his soul was an empty mold, yearning for a filling that would set fire to Yoongi’s essence and make him realize that life isn’t that bad. his soul was a small candle, made with the most lasting loneliness, plunged in the most continuous yearning. Yoongi just needed to let go, let his soul explore your entire essence. but that would never happen, it couldn’t happen — Yoongi couldn’t lose you. “i’m trying to realize what rivers flow in me and, until then, i just know that i can’t let myself drown in these feelings. not when you’re riding my waves of uncertainty.”

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who starts to see little hearts during his days. it felt like the universe was mocking Yoongi, showing him so many times what Yoongi didn’t like to give. everywhere he looked, little hearts appeared like drops of water, drenching Yoongi in a love he didn’t want to give. it was in the flowers, in their beautiful pattern. it was in the clouds, in their enviable cuteness. it was in the papers torn and thrown on the floor, in their forgotten words. everywhere, Yoongi saw heart, and everywhere, Yoongi thought of you. “my stubbornness doesn't let me accept my feelings, but when the universe is constantly reminding me of you, it becomes kind of impossible for me to forget the feelings i have for you.”

BEST-FRIEND!YOONGI who confessed on a cold winter morning when the sun was beginning to break through the sky. Yoongi said the pink on his cheeks was because of the cold wind that morning. Yoongi said his nervousness was because of a meeting he had later. Yoongi said his lack of words was because of a sore throat. but Yoongi also told you that he liked you. when the shy yellow of the sun began to emerge through the thick clouds, starting to gently paint the entire sky, the entire world, Yoongi sighed, cooled his cheeks with his cold hands, took two deep breaths and just told you “i like you. in a way i’m not supposed to feel. in a way that i’m afraid to admit, but that i really need to get this weight off of me. no. it’s not a burden. it’s a feeling. it’s so light that it just warms my soul. yes. i like you, in a way that warms me inside.”

[v1x-x1]

✧𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏: 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞 - 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮✧

✧|| 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧ 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ||

✧|| 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 ||

“Well?” Heizou asked, gazing into your eyes with a pleading expression. He had just explained to you what he wanted to do tonight because it was all he could think about at work today.

“Well.. I’m not opposed to the idea,” you reply, letting him know that options are open, “I just don’t exactly get what we’ll do.”

His expression immediately brightened once he heard you comply. “That’s okay, my love!” He takes your hands in his; the loving and gentle look that once played in his eyes was now replaced with a devious and almost hungry one.

You barely had time to become accustomed to it before Heizou was dragging you firmly to his bedroom - a place where the two of you have formed countless desirable memories over the time you’ve been together. His grasp was unyielding and despite the fact that he was currently pulling you somewhere like some sort of ragdoll, you felt really safe.

Before you knew it, you were delicately placed on the edge of the bed while Heizou made his way over to his closet - not before placing a small, almost feather-like kiss on your forehead.

When he turned back to you, he was now holding what looked like handcuffs? No. They were definitely handcuffs.

His eyes trailed down to look at you as you sat on the bed with your curious eyes gazing up at him.

“We can start off simple, I know you said you’ve never done this before.” The gentleness of his words reassuring you. He looked down at the item he was holding and then back at you. “Yeah, cuffs are good enough for now.”

Heizou motioned for you to turn around for him, holding your hands together behind your back. The cold metal of the handcuffs sent a shiver up your arms, causing a small gasp to leave your lips.

A low giggle could be heard from behind you as he interlocked your hands together. “So responsive already? Lucky me~”

The thudding of your heart echoed throughout your entire being.

Oh God did he make you feel weak in all the parts of your body and mind; but especially your body. A specific part of your body..

Heizou didn’t hesitate to press his knee between your thighs after having spun you around to face him once more - your defences down because of the physical restraint and how your mind had transformed into a foggy mess.

Your moan was immediately swallowed by the contact of his lips on yours, only resulting in more moans threatening to escape.

His warm fingers travelled from your cheek, down your neck, all along your body until they reached the skin on the inside of your thighs, replacing his knee.

His hand teased your wet clit, making sure to rub painfully slow, causing your hands to twitch in the handcuffs.

Fuck.

The helplessness you were experiencing was only making you wetter. The thought that Heizou could do absolutely anything to you and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it makes your heart race faster and your lust grow stronger.

“H-Heiz-” Your breathless pleas were cut short with Heizou’s free hand covering your mouth.

“Sh…shh, my love, I don’t want to hear your words, all I crave are your incoherent noises, yeah?”

You simply nod and let him continue teasing you while you silently hope and beg for more, using your limited body language.

The continuous rubbing of your clit caused your body to heat up from inside and out. Your hands were aching to touch yourself, needing friction and something inside you to bring back your sanity.

Finally.

Finally.

He moved his fingers further down, circling your hole watching intensely for more reactions. His free hand moved to your hair and tangled between the strands to grip onto it tightly - a choked noise getting caught in your throat.

Because of the new sensation, it caught you completely off guard when two of his fingers entered you quickly, a gasp rushing out of your mouth and your entire body shivering from the sudden pleasure.

Your wrists hurt from the bruising grips the cuffs kept on you because of how badly your hands wanted to roam over Heizou’s body for more heat. More contact.

And that was when another one of his slim fingers went inside you, moving against your spongy insides so fucking well, urging your hands to escape more - of course, your efforts in vain.

With all the sensations of pleasure from his fingers inside you, his lips claiming yours in a deep kiss and the slight pain from the handcuffs digging into your skin, your body trembled with satisfaction.

Yet you still wanted more.

With your noises getting more frequent and louder, Heizou’s fingers moved faster and with great skill to make every movement feel like a step closer to Heaven.

And when you finally reached it - Heaven, ecstasy - you felt your soul ascend until it was grounded by the feeling of him unlocking the handcuffs and pulling your body into a warm embrace.

Taglist: @lov3-ly @velvetyshu @coffeeisbehindyou

lmk if you want to be added or removed!!

[novamariestark]

Take My Stress Away

Summary: Jay hasn't spoken to you for a week and you feel you have lost your brother again. After a bad day at work, you find someone waiting by your car.

Warnings: fluffiness, poorly written medical scenes because I have no idea what they are saying in the show 🤣, angry-ish Jay, brief implied SA (not descriptive), proofread but there's always a mistake after posting 🤣

Word count: 3532

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x halstead!reader

“I don’t know what to tell you, kid,” Herrmann said, pouring you a drink.

You scoffed, “I thought you were my friend, Hermie” you took a sip of your drink and shook your head, “You could have warned me,”

Jay was completely pissed. He stormed out of the room, without looking at you. You followed him, begging him to listen. He didn’t. You did not want this mistake to ruin your relationship with your brother.

Was it a mistake?

Of course it was, nothing is worth losing your family over.

But it was so good.

It’s not like you did it on purpose. In your defence, he said his name was Henry. Maybe you should have connected the dots, but you had two double vodkas and had just done a 12 hour shift. The only thing your brain was able to process was the hot guy sitting at the end of the bar.

Herrmann sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't think (y/n)," he said, meeting her gaze with a look that was part apology, part caution. "You seemed to like the guy. Besides, I didn’t think he was the one night stand type… or any type really."

“He wasn’t anything like Jay described,” you muttered, swirling the drink in your glass absentmindedly. Herrmann watched you closely, seeing the confusion and frustration flicker across your face. "Jay made him sound like some cold, heartless guy. But Henry... Hank,” you corrected with a sigh, “He was different. Charming, even. He made me laugh. For the first time in a long time,”

“Hey!” Herrmann exclaimed, his brows shooting up in mock offense. He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, as if you deeply wounded him, and gestured to himself with the other hand, “I make you laugh,”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. You shook your head, still smiling, and said, "You know what I mean."

Herrmann leaned forward, resting his hands on the bar. "Give Jay some time. He'll come around. You didn't do anything wrong,”

“I don’t want to lose him over this,” you said, your voice quivering slightly. You bit your lower lip, a nervous habit you’d developed over the years, and looked down at your hands, which were tightly clasped around her glass, “I already lost 28 years,”

 “You won’t,” he said, softly, placing a hand on your wrist, “families fight, they make up,”

"Thanks, Hermie,” you said, standing up from your barstool. “I have a shift tomorrow,” you added, grabbing your jacket from the back of the stool. You took the cash from your pocket and placed it on the bar for the drink.

Herrmann took the cash and put it in the register. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a friendly smile.

The words you dreaded the most fall from Maggie’s lips, “Mass cas,” they echoed in your head and before you knew  it, you were in a bay, trying to save a teenage girl’s life.

It was chaos. Everyone was stretched thin. And so were the supplies. The air smelt of sweat and blood, so potent you could almost taste it. You were alone with the girl for what felt like hours until Connor came in. He saw your face and reassured you that you had done a good job, and the girl was lucky to have you. You felt as though you weren’t. It was times like this where you question whether you are cut out for this.

But then, the machine sounded that one tone that you always dreaded. The continuous drone and despite your and Connor’s best efforts, she passed away.

Later you find from Sam that she had a bleed in the brain. Was it your fault? It felt like your fault.

Like he could read your mind, Connor came over to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently, “it’s not your fault.”

He glanced around at the mess the chaos had left the ER in. “In a situation like this, where there are so many patients. Even though we try our best, sometimes things don’t turn out the way we hope.”

The ER was slowly returning to order. The frantic atmosphere had calmed down, like a battlefield after the dust had settled. You moved through the now-quiet space, your mind still replaying the day’s events. You could feel the exhaustion in your limbs, but nothing was as painful as what your heart was going through. Sure you’d seen many people die before, young and old, but it doesn’t get any easier.

You worked alongside everyone, helping to tidy up the mess left behind. The day had clearly taken a toll on everyone, and it showed on their faces. Exhaustion was etched into every expression you saw. When it was finally time to leave, you were relieved.

You put your jacket on, pulling it over your shoulders and zipping it up, then, you grabbed your bag and slipped the strap onto your shoulder. You reached into the front zipper pocket and pulled out your keys, save fishing for them later in the dark car park.

On your way out of the hospital, you gave a tired wave to your colleagues, some of whom were still finishing up their tasks. Will caught your eye and walked over with a smile. "I’m going to talk to Jay," he said, "so I might be a bit late getting home." You nodded and gave him a hug. With a final wave, you stepped out into the cool evening air and just breathed it in for a second. You were ready to head home and felt you could sleep for a week. Maybe a month.

You made your way to your car, each step feeling like it took more effort than the last. Your feet dragged heavily on the pavement, scraping along the pavement as if you were being weighed down by something.

The cool evening air felt refreshing but it offered little comfort to you. As you approached your car, a shadowy figure started to form in the dim parking lot lights. Their posture was relaxed, hands shoved into their pockets, leaning casually against your car. You couldn’t quite make out who it was from a distance, but as you stepped closer the figure became clearer, and realization hit you. The familiar profile and stance matched Henry… Hank.

What is he doing here? Did something happen with Jay? No. Will would have told you. Wouldn’t he?

“Hey” he said as you reached the car, the simple greeting seeming out of place against the backdrop of everything you were feeling inside.

“Hey,” you squeaked out. You were feeling everything in the book, tiredness, sadness, nervousness you name it.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were Jay’s sister?” he asked, his head nodding slightly as he spoke, his brown eyes never leaving yours. If you weren’t so tired, those eyes and that voice would have your body begging for a repeat of last week.

You shrugged as much as your muscles would let you, “Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me you were his boss,” you retorted.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for something you weren’t sure you had to give. You felt like your soul was laid bare and he was looking for a secret you didn’t even know you had.

But then the dam broke. You just couldn't hold it back any longer, and tears welled up in your eyes. Your voice cracked as you spoke, “I’m sorry,” The weight of everything—Hank, the exhaustion, your relationship with Jay, the teenage girl—finally spilled over.

“Hey,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and reaching for you. He pulled you into his arms and surprisingly, you felt relaxed. Safe, He gently stroked your hair, his fingers combing through it soothingly, “Come on, I’ll take you home. You’re not driving while tired,” he said, grabbing your hand and leaving no room for arguments. Not that you had the energy to argue anyway.

You nodded and allowed Hank to lead you to his car. The doors clicked shut as you settled into the passenger seat. The steady hum of the engine filled the silence, and the city lights streaked past the windows, casting a soft glow inside the car. You glanced over at Hank a couple of times before turning to the passenger window, focusing on the passing objects. You bit your lip when you shot a glance at him. Why does he have to be so handsome?

If he wasn’t Jay’s boss, you’d definitely go for it. You wanted him. You scoffed shaking your head. You felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden and he was the apple. You wanted another taste.

The car slowed and came to a gentle stop in front of the building and your sadness reappeared. You were probably the only one here feeling this way. He’d probably gotten over it the second you walked out the district. You probably were just a one night stand to him.

“I’m not a one night kinda guy,” Hank spoke suddenly, breaking the silence. Your head snapped towards him, causing a slight jolt of whiplash.

“I’m not a one night kinda girl,” you replied, managing a small, sad smile. You glanced out the window, dreading what he might say next, “If you weren’t Jay’s boss then, I totally would,” you added, your voice trailing off.

Hank turned to face you fully, one eyebrow raised, “Would what?” he asked, you looked at him, rolling your eyes when you notice the smug smirk playing on his face, “I would too, but it wouldn’t be fair to you,” you scrunched your eyes at him. Fair to you? What did he mean? “I come with a lot of baggage and… I screwed up your relationship with your brother,” he continued, the smirk fading into something more serious. His eyes flicked down to the steering wheel before meeting yours again.

You shifted in your seat to get a better look at him, resting your head against the headrest, “I come with a lot of baggage too,” you sighed, your gaze dropping to the bracelet on your wrist—a gift from Jay when you got the job at Gaffney. You fiddled with it absentmindedly, “As for Jay… neither of us knew,”

His expression softened as he looked at you, “We do know now, and I can’t stop thinking about you,”

Your breath caught in your throat. His quiet words lingering in the small space of the car. His gaze remained locked on yours as the dim interior light cast soft shadows across his face. His hands rested on the steering wheel, fingers tapping lightly in an unconscious rhythm.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either but…”

“I know,” he nodded.

“Thank you, for the ride,” you said softly, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Your lips brushed against his skin, lingering just a moment longer than you intended. You pulled back slowly, your eyes catching his, and the space between you seemed to close. You could feel the warmth from his breath, and before you could speak, he leaned in slightly. Your lips met in a brief, gentle kiss.

Without a word, you leaned back in, your hand reaching up to cup the back of his neck. This time, the kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, a desperate bid to consume each other. You felt the tension in your body coil tightly as your mouths moved together, and a soft moan escaped your throat. and it seemed to add fuel to the fire that had just been lit.

You got out the car, "Jay!" you called for him, "Please, let me explain," your voice was shaky. You didn't know where to start.

Jay's face was a thundercloud as he stomped over, his eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat out.

“Jay, please, just hear me out,” you said, stepping closer to him. Your eyes pleaded with him as you reached out to him. Tears forming in your eyes, “I didn’t know, he didn’t either… but” you paused, looking over your shoulder at him, “I…” you wanted to tell him how you felt but you thought it would make little difference.

Jay’s expression hardened, and a bitter laugh escaped him. It certainly wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but one of disbelief, “You what? Huh? You going to say you love him or something?” His words were laced with sarcasm.

“No, but…” you began, your voice catching as you tried to gather your thoughts.

Jay’s eyes narrowed, “What? Come on. You wanted to talk about it. Let’s talk about it then.” His arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to elaborate.

You took a deep breath, finding the courage to continue. “Jay, I’m not saying I’m in love with him, but I could be. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. Not since...”

He cut you off, “Look how that turned out,” he said, his words heavy with accusation. “You divorced him because you found him in bed with someone else.”

The sting of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You flinched but tried to maintain your composure despite the raw pain of the memory. But you failed.

“I haven’t felt this safe in a long time,” you croaked out, Jay opened his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him, “53…” you said, confusing everyone, “I had 53 foster homes, some nice, some… not. I also had a brother,”

“Had?” Will asked, his voice was soft and gentle.

“H-he died,” you said, your voice quivering as if each word burnt your tongue. “Protecting me.” You took a deep breath, you didn’t really expect to have to talk about this again. the only person who knew was Herrmann after some guy outside the bar wouldn’t take no for an answer, “Our foster father… wasn’t nice. H-he used to um… mainly when Liam wasn’t around,” you paused, risking a look to your brothers, they knew what you were hinting at, “One day, Liam came home early and… tried to stop him. I-I lost him, and now I lost you too,”

Jay’s face paled, the anger in his eyes faltering at your words. Will stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight, comforting embrace.

You buried your face in his shoulder, your breath hitching with each shuddering sob. Will held you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. After a moment, Will pulled away slightly, gently wiping some stray tears from your now red cheeks.

Before you could fully process the moment, another pair of arms enveloped you. Jay pulled you into his embrace, “You will never lose me,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your hairline. You broke down again, this time in tears of happiness. Jay’s grip tightened, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be safe.”

As he pulled away, Jay glanced over your shoulder at Hank, who had been standing silently, observing the exchange. Jay’s eyes were fierce, the protective version resurfacing. “You hurt her,” Jay said, his voice was low, but steady, “I’ll kill you.”

“Wait… what?” you asked, completely caught off guard.

Jay sighed, his expression softening when he turned his attention back to you. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he started, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that he often hides behind his protectiveness. “You’re my sister. I just want you to be safe and happy, and I don’t ever want to see your heart break again,”

“You can’t protect me from everything, Jay," you replied softly, offering him a small smile, "But I know you'll try," you added, a light tease in your tone.

Jay chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, it's in the job description,"

“Hey, (y/n), how about you go out tonight? You had a rough night,” Will said, you looked at him your eyebrows scrunching.

“You kicking me out?” you asked, a fake pout on your lips, Will rolled his eyes, “I don’t think so, Will, I just wanna rest,”

"We could watch a movie, at my place?" Hank suggested with a shrug. You smiled, cuddling on a sofa with him? You thought about it for a bit. That sounds so enticing and doesn’t require any effort.

You glanced over at Jay, seeking his approval with a silent plea and the cutest smile you could muster. Jay sighed as he looked between you and Hank. He rolled his eyes, "Okay, go," he said, waving you off.

You squealed in delight, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You quickly leaned over to kiss Jay’s cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark on his skin

“Hey!” Will exclaimed, feigning offense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyebrows shot up in mock offence. You knew from the playful glint in his eyes that he wasn’t really offended but you played along anyway.

“Best twin brother ever,” you corrected with a playful grin, stepping over to Will. You leaned in and kissed his cheek as well, leaving another lipstick mark. Will chuckled, shaking his head. With a quick wave and a bright smile, you hurried back over to Hank’s car. The cool evening air nipped at your skin as you slipped into the passenger seat, the door closing with a soft thud.

As you settled into the passenger seat, Hank started the car, the engine purring softly to life. The glow from the dashboard lights cast a gentle blue hue over his face, highlighting his strong beautiful jawline. You looked out the window, watching the familiar streets of Chicago pass by, illuminated slightly by the dim streetlights.

It didn’t take long for Hank’s place to come into view. He pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires. As you stepped out of the car, Hank extended his hand, you reached out and took it, feeling a comforting squeeze as your feet hit the pavement. Hank noticed your bag hanging off your shoulder, "Let me take that," he said, sliding the strap off your shoulder before you could protest. You smiled maybe you thought.

The two of you walked up the short path to his front door. Hank unlocked the door and held it open for you, stepping aside to let you in first out the cold.

Hank gestured towards the sofa, "Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab some drinks," He disappeared into the kitchen. You kicked off your shoes and curled up on the sofa, letting out a sigh as you feel the soft fabric against your skin.

A few moments later, Hank returned with some beers, you eyed the beer, “I don’t entertain much,” he spoke as he set them down on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, scrolling through the options. "Any preferences?" he asked, glancing over at you.

You shrugged, "Something light and funny?" you suggested. He nodded and picked a comedy, the kind that you could easily get lost in.

As the movie started, you found yourself leaning against him. The warmth of his body next to yours and the soothing sounds of laughter from the screen made you feel peaceful. You felt the tension of the day melting away.

Before long, the soft flicker of the TV and the warmth of his body lulled you into a state of peaceful drowsiness. Your eyes grew heavy, and despite your efforts to stay awake, you felt yourself drifting off. The last thing you remembered was the sound of Hank's low chuckle and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you.

As you dozed off, Hank noticed and gently pulled a blanket over you. He watched you sleep for a moment, a soft smile on his face, before carefully picking you up. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but didn't wake up. Hank carried you to the guest room, laying you gently on the bed. He turned to leave, but you reached out, grabbing his wrist.

"Stay," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hank hesitated for a moment before he nodded. He slipped off his shoes, you could hear the faint sound of them hitting the floor before he carefully climbed into the guest bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. The cool sheets rustled softly as he settled in. You instinctively rolled over, your body drawn to his like a magnet. Your head found its place on his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt comforting against your cheek.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, each breath a gentle motion that seemed to sync with the beating of his heart. As you nestled closer, the comforting warmth of his body enveloped you once more.

His arm wrapped around you, as if shielding you from the outside world. His fingers brushed lightly against your back. The soft, repetitive sound of his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful slumber, your breathing slowing to match his.

[changenameno]

Shower Head PART 2

(Complete, link to the first part down below ⬇️ )

Summary: You thought you were already ‘finished’. But Sy has other plans. You’re not only going to get dirtier, a certain hotel roommate might crash your bath time. But maybe you don’t mind?

 

Paring: Syverson x Fem. Reader, Walter Marshall x Fem. Reader

 Warnings: MDNI, 18+, daddy kink, size kink, p in v, bathtub sex, brief voyeurism, pet names, praise kink, spanking (like one time), rough sex, anal sex, overwhelmed reader, penetration in both holes at once, threesome

Word Count: 3.7K

 

A/N: Again, just VERY shameless smut. Writing this second part because @uunotheangel asked (I hope you’ll like it?) and also I can’t get Sy out of my mind among someone else…

Any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy ❤️✨

 

! Neither Syverson nor Walter are my creation!

 

🍑 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

 (In case you’ve missed PART 1)

 

 

PART 2

 

As Sy stepped into the bathroom of his own hotel room, you noticed that it seemed a lot more spacious than yours. There were two sinks, along with a big bathtub and a shower. That made you frown, why was his room so much better than yours?

 

It didn’t escape his notice that you angrily glared about the room, he chuckled, “What’s the matter, sugar?” You immediately turned your head to glare at him instead, as he very well knew, what the matter was.

 

“Alright in my defence, I didn’t book the room. Not payin’ for it either. S’ supposed to be a work event.”

 

 

That confused you further, so you leaned back a little in his arms to be able to look at his face better, “What do you mean work event?”

 

 

“Sort of like team building or somethin’.” Apparently that was all you were going to get, because Sy leaned down over the tub to put the stopper in and then turned the water on.

 

He sat down on the toilet seat with you on his lap, waiting for the water to fill the tub. You were straddling his meaty thighs.

In any other situation you might have begun shivering but not with him as you were sufficiently warmed by his body alone. He was a furnace, which certainly came in handy right now. You scooted a little closer to his chest, enjoying his warmth, burring your head into his neck.

 

 

Sy’s hand was lazily stroking up and down your spine, while the other rested on your ass, pressing you against him. You signed, placing soft kisses below his ear, when you suddenly noticed that something else began poking into your rear.

 

 

A little exasperated you lifted your head, staring into his sparkling, blue eyes as he smirked, answering your unasked question, “What can I say? I’ve got a naked, little minx straddlin’ my lap, what’d you do?”

That last part of the question didn’t make a lot of sense to you, until another voice sounded from behind. Making you whirl around, staring at the intruder as he playfully replied, “Well I’d invite my mate to join. Wouldn’t you?”

 

 

You were so taken aback by the sudden appearance of the other man, you didn’t even try hiding your naked body from his curious eyes instead you just gaped at him. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt and blue jeans, burly arms crossed in front of his broad chest, as he leant against the doorway. His dark curls were falling into his face, sly smirk surrounded by a beard.

 

 

His deep blue eyes rested on your face, seemingly waiting for a reaction from you. But you were still preoccupied with wrapping your mind around the situation, frozen on Sy’s lap indefinitely.

 

Not until he softly bounced you up on his lap did you finally react to the second man, stuttering out, “Wh-what, who…who are…?”

 

 

They had the audacity to laugh at your adorably flummoxed state. At last Sy answered amused, “That’s Walter. He’s a colleague of mine and coincidentally my best friend. Also here for the team buildin’. Didn’t I mention that I share I room with him?”

Your eyes flew to his, raising your brow, sarcastically replying,” Oh yeah. Of course, you’ve mentioned Walter, right after you locked the bathroom door apparently.”

 

 

“You really are a little minx, aren’t you?” When you turned back to Walter, he winked at you, still very much amused, then he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Your eyes were carefully fixed on his approaching figure. When he was in arms reach he stopped, squatting down in front of the toilet, looking up at you “But to get serious for a second. I’d very much like to join you for a bath. Would that be alright with you, darling?”

 

 

His whole demeanour was so trustworthy, you felt yourself nodding, wanting nothing more than this other handsome man to join you and Sy. As he got up, he shook his head lightly, sharing a look with Syverson, before glancing back at you, “Ah no darling, I’m afraid we’d need verbal confirmation going forward.”

Because you stayed silent, Sy added, “Could ya do that for us, sugar?”

 

 

In your daze you nearly nodded again, before catching the movement and replying out loud this time,” Ye-yes.”

 

“Yes, what?”

 

“Yes, I…I’d like Walter to join us, please.”

 

“Mmh what a polite, little kitten we’ve got ourselves here.”

 

 

Walter stood up, turning to the tub and shut the water off, as he deemed it full enough, especially for three people. Sy bounced you up on his thighs again to shift your attention back to him, whispering in your ear “Walter is gonna get a little warm with all these clothes on, don’t ya think? Wanna help him, love?”

 

 

You bit your lip, slowly sliding down from his lap, turning around to face Walter, though hesitating a moment too long. As a huge paw slapped your ass suddenly, making you jump and shriek at the stinging pain, “Get goin’, daddy is watin’, sugar.”

 

 

Heat spread through your entire body at Sy’s commanding husk and his choice of words had you swallowing thickly. Walter gazed hungrily at your naked body, admiring your beautiful form.

Standing before him, made you realize that he too, was quite tall. You let your hands glide over his arms, up to his shoulders, staying there and waiting for him to initiate the next move. You didn’t have to wait long, as he smiled and dipped his head down, stopping a hair’s breadth of your lips. Overcome with a deep seated desire you quickly pressed yours to his. Walter’s hands landed on your waist, drawing you closer, reciprocating the kiss. Groaning when he felt your soft skin beneath his fingertips.

 

 

His kiss felt different to Sy’s, slower somehow but just as hungry. Then his tongue slipped out, gliding over your lower lip begging for entrance, you moaned, letting him in. Your tongues fought for a moment, though he won, dominating and deepening the kiss.

 

 

When you two separated, a loud splash made you turn. Sy had entered the tub, grunting deeply as the warm water surrounded his body, his delicious deep rumble making your nipples harden. As if on command, your hands moved on their own, grabbing onto the rough fabric of Walter’s sweatshirt and started to pull it up. He lifted his arms, assisting you. Slowly his chest came into view, it was covered in dark curly hair which lead down to a significantly tented crotch. He encouraged you, by placing your hands on the waistband of his pants, “Don’t be shy, darling. Go on, open it.”

 

 

You needn’t be told twice, swiftly opening his fly, fingers disappearing into his boxers, dragging the remaining coverage down his painfully thick thighs. Walter’s stiff cock sprang free, slapping against his navel. Your eyes widened as he stepped out of the jeans. Walter’s cock wasn’t as thick as Sy’s but his was definitely a bit longer. Thinking about taking them both, had your cunt fluttering so much, you were convinced your juices were running down your thighs by now.

 

 

Walter’s hand took your smaller one, leading you to the tub, and ever being the gentleman helping you step over the rim and inside. Sy had been watching you the whole time, stretching out his own hand to pull you down into the water and onto his lap once more, letting his hands rest on your hips. You moaned when your body was covered by the warm water, submerged to your bellybutton. You straddled his thighs, trapping his monstrous cock between your bodies.

Small waves rippled the surface as Walter joined you. Even with you three inside the tub, surprisingly no water sloshed over the edge.

 

 

Walter had kneeled down behind you, his hard rod insistently pressing against your arse. Hands touching your upper arms before wondering more to the front, cupping your boobs, kneading them roughly and using the momentum to pull you more against his chest. Mewling you tipped your head back, arms wrapping around Walter’s neck.

 

“That’s it, such a good girl. Just relax, darling.”

 

 

You briefly wondered why he’d said to relax, but then you felt Sy’s cockhead rubbing through your folds. This time he shoved you down, driving inside to the hilt, making you cry out at the sudden fullness. If he hadn’t fucked you already, he surely would have torn you apart with his fat cock. You squirmed on his lap, trying to lift your hips, as your pussy had trouble to relax and accommodate him.

 

He grunted deeply, “Sh, sh be good for daddy. Breathe, breathe. Yeah just like that”. You ceased your squirming, actively letting out the breath you were holding, somehow sinking even deeper down his length, settling against his balls. “That’s it, atta girl.”

 

 

Walter couldn’t hold back any longer, you looked too delicious, mewling as your pussy was stretched out so thoroughly, so he began moving his hips, rubbing himself against your ass, nibbling at your earlobe.

 

Gruff voice, growling,” Can’t wait much longer. Sorry, darling. Think you can take me in that delectable little pucker of yours?”

 

 

Even though Sy’s big cock already felt like a lot on his own, you really wanted Walter’s inside you as well, craving to be filled by both men. Imagining the way they’d stuff you so perfectly, it made your mouth water and your head bob wildly in agreement.

 

 

Slap.

 

 

“Ouch,” you howled as Walter had slapped your right tit, skin tingling. Your traitorous pussy clenched around Sy’s throbbing cock inside you, though you still whined half-heartedly, “Argh, what was that for?”

 

 

Sy huskily answered, “What did we say about verbal confirmation, sugar?”

 

You understood now. “Oh, erm… ‘m sorry daddy,” you apologised, blinking up at Walter. Who growled, repeating his previous question more urgently this time, “Your ass ready to take me now?”

 

 

Knowing it would antagonise him further, you slowly circled your hips, grinding against him teasingly, “Yes daddy. Please, need you inside...”

 

His deep blue eyes, held a storm of desire inside as he cursed, “Fuck, you’re too exquisite for your own good, love.”

 

 

He placed his large hand on your shoulder blade, pushing you forward so your rear end was out of the water and you were laying chest to chest with Sy. Who in turn, groaned as the movement had him slide against your gummy walls. You had wrapped your arms around Sy’s neck, head hanging low, lips grazing his ear lightly, as that was more comfortable in the new position.

 

 

Walter’s free hand had grabbed his cock, placing the head against your puckered rim, beginning to push inside. The warm water had helped you relax, but you weren’t very prepared for his size. You whimpered as he slowly filled you. When you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, pleasure dwindling into pain, a rough thumb began rubbing your clit. Making your hips buck forward, at the sharp lightning of pleasure cursing through you. Someone’s hands immediately flew to your hips to hold you still.

 

 

Panting loudly, Walter pressed out,” Hell, you’re so fucking tight, not sure I’ll fit.”

 

 

Sy continued expertly petting your little pearl, though adding earnestly, “Mmh yeah wait, pull back out. I-…” Protesting vehemently, you interrupted him with a loud mewl. “N-no I…I can take it…don’t stop!”

 

He chuckled,” Appreciate your enthusiasm, sugar. But-…” You interrupted him again, pleading eyes locking onto his, as you whined louder when you felt Walter pull back, “No! No pl-please, I want it. I can take it…”

 

 

Sy’s gaze softened even more as he tried to calm you down, “Love, relax. I’m not sayin’ no. I’m just sayin’ not like this, we need lube.”

 

 

That instantly made you feel better, because you had previously believed they wanted to stop entirely, and that had put you in a bit of a frenzy, as you didn’t want to stop. Breathing coming easier as Walter had pulled out completely by now. You were shocked that you hadn’t noticed how tightly wound your body had become because of the second large intrusion. Very thankful that they’d looked out for you, caring about your wellbeing.

 

 

Sy’s hand stroked over your cheek, “Better isn’t it?”

You breathed back,” Yeah.”

 

 

Walter declared, “Be right back.” And with that he left the tub. You laid your head onto Sy’s chest, watching his retreat, focusing in on his dripping wet body or more truthfully his juicy ass.

 

“You alright, sugar? We can stop if it’s too much.”

You lifted your head to be able to peer up at him, met with a very concerned face. Smiling reassuringly you answered, “I’m fine.” As he only raised his brow sceptically, you added, “Promise. I feel very cared for by you two.” You saw he wanted to protest, so you leaned up, pulling him in for a kiss to shut him up. He seemed to relax, as did you, very content with where the evening was headed now.

 

Just as you two separated, Walter returned bottle in hand, pulling the bathroom door closed behind him, for the second time this evening. He quickly made his way over and stepped into the water, sighing at the temperature change.

 

 

Kneeling behind you once more, his hand grabbed your chin, turning it gently to gaze at your face, “Are you sure you want to continue? We can stop anytime.”

 

Warmth pooled in your belly at the gentleness with which they handled you. Beaming at him, “Yes I’m sure and I want to continue, please.” He searched your face for a moment, then nodded, “Alright, darling.”

 

You couldn’t help but squirm happily on Sy’s lap, turning your head back to him. Without warning Sy lifted him, and therefore you, out of the water, sitting down on the generous edge of the bathtub, leaning his back against the wall. Hissing as the cool tiles touched his back.

 

 

His hands rearranged you a bit, so you straddled his thighs like before, but he’d spread his legs further apart this time, giving Walter the space he needed. Which he immediately acted on, rising out of the water as well, stepping so close to you Water from his body started dripping down onto yours. Teasingly tickling down your spine.

 

Walter licked over his lips, taking in the erotic scene in front of him, your knees spread wide, ass enticingly calling to him, as you wiggled on Sy’s lap impatiently. Laughing quietly at your eagerness, he opened the bottle of lube, applying a generous amount to his angrily throbbing cock. Sliding his hand up and down for good measure, enjoying the two pairs of eyes that rested on him.

 

 

Until Sy grunted, “Get on with it. That sweet cunt is squeezin’ me like crazy and I really wanna start moving.”

 

 

Walter’s fingers landed on your hole, starting to lubricate it. Sliding up and down, then carefully pressing two long, wet fingers inside. This time it didn’t burn, even when he pushed in to his knuckles, instead your own juices actually ran down your spread thighs, dripping onto Sy’s balls, as he still was buried to the hilt.

The second Walter began scissoring his fingers, moving them in and out, you clammed down hard on both ends, coming unprompted with a loud moan.

 

 

Sy’s hands tightened on your hips, knuckles turning white. Walter cursed, “Fu-fuck. What a good girl, coming on daddy’s fingers like that.” You just moaned some more as he kept fingering you for a while longer.

 

 

When he finally pulled them out, something much bigger pressed to your rosebud. You felt him entering you, pressing deeper and deeper inside. All three of you panting loudly. Your fingers dug into Sy’s shoulders, head falling back onto Walter’s chest, as you were certain his cock was breaching new territory. Reaching so far inside, you were surprised your belly wasn’t protruding.

 

A loud groan later, and he was finally completely inside, “Arrgh you feel amazing. Gripping me so tight…”

 

 

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to, only concentrating on relaxing your muscles around both their cocks. The sudden pleasurable taps to your clit igniting your body, definitely helped. Sy’s rough thumb was dancing through your weeping pussy. They let you squirm around between them, both men enjoying your quivering, hot channels, grunting with every little spasm of your body.

 

 

“That’s it, darling. Taking us so well.”

 

 

Nearly losing your mind, with the bliss of having them both inside but not yet moving, you barked, “Move. PLEASE…”

 

Apparently that was the magic word, as you felt Sy’s fat cock slide out, till only his tip remained inside, then he slammed all the way back, making you cry out as Walter’s cock also began moving. Though opposed to Sy’s thrust, so if one left your body the other was there to fill it up again.

 

 

Every thrust, forced another moan out of your mouth.

“What a good girl.”

 

 

So overwhelmed by pleasure you didn’t even know who said it, but you managed to push back your hips, back arching. You were having the most amazing time, between their bull-sized bodies, ramming into yours without abandon. Hitting every single sweet spot of yours.

 

Powerful hands were roaming your body, one pair kneading your tits, the other guiding you by the hips, helping them rut into you more efficiently. Intensifying your pleasure and desire further. Panting and whimpering for them.

 

 

Your eyes, long been closed, flew open when both men had pulled out just to thrust their thick cocks back inside simultaneously. “Mmmmh, soo go-good,” you cryed out. “So… so biiig.”

 

Sy cooed, “Aww look at you, completely fucked out…”

Walter quipped in, “Not that we’re faring any better… Sweet body of yours… too fucking tight…”

 

 

They picked their pace up after that, making you so delirious, only jumbled, unintelligible words left your mouth. A tension continuously began forming inside you, every push of their strong hips, bringing you closer to the umpteenth orgasm of the evening.

 

 

Thankfully they seemed to be just as close to their own release as you were, going by their ever increasing pace and loud grunts, followed by Sy’s shout, “Not gonna last much longer!”

 

 

More or less trapped between them, you bounced around like a rag doll, not having to do much, as their cocks ploughed away at your dripping holes. When a bearded mouth latched onto one of your nipples while the other was pinched between two calloused fingers, you started to see stars. Tension inside snapping, with a screech, nails digging into skin, “Nnngh, com-coming…!!” Your whole body went rigid, back bowing even more as you came.

 

 

A thick warm arm wrapped around your middle, two pairs of hips continuously meeting your body, not only prolonging your climax but coaxing another out.

 

 

“Arrgh, darling, that’s it…”, and without further delay both crashed a last time into you as deeply as they could, cocks pulsing violently before spilling their hot seed inside.

 

Your body still jolted from the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had to date. And as your sensitive pussy still clenched around Sy, he mumbled tiredly, “Okay…gotta pull out…still too damn tight…”

 

 

Walter let his cock slip out first, taking your hips, carefully lifting you up and off Sy’s dick. You whimpered softly at the sudden emptiness, as both had left your body. Walter didn’t let go, supporting your weight, as you leaned into him. A hand of his glided down your chest and between your shaking legs. Cupping your mound as he whispered, while biting your shoulder gently, “What a beautiful mess.”

 

 

Before you grew too sensitive he pulled his hand back, showing it to you. It was drenched in your juices and their sperm, as he brought it to your mouth, you obediently opened and licked it clean. Tasting yourself and their salty, tangy seed. Smacking your lips together once you were finished cleaning up his hand.

 

 

“Good girl, “Sy praised you, hooded eyes resting on your form.

 

 

As all the energy had been fucked right out of you, you couldn’t do much. Not even standing on your own. Of course they knew, so they manhandled you out of the tub, gently cleaning you up, placing you back inside as soon as it was filled with fresh, steaming water.

 

 

The warm water did wonders on your sore muscles, relaxing you so much in fact, you didn’t even know which chest you were currently lying against. Nor whose chest your feet were probed against, or who was massaging them.

 

 

Until the chest behind you rumbled, “You were amazing, love. Hadn’t had that much fun in years.”

 

You couldn’t open your heavy eyelids, but you managed to chirp out, “Yeah, me neither.” Then a mighty yawn betrayed your tiredness even further, sleepily curling into Walter’s hairy chest.

 

 

Sy drawled softly, “Mmh, you were perfect, sugar.”

When they saw you trying to fight off the sleep that wanted to claim your exhausted body, Walter added, “Sh, just relax, darling. We’ve got you.” You felt so safe with them that you did as he said, dozing off.

 

 

Only waking again, when a soft blanket was thrown over your body, mattress dipping behind you.

 

They had not only cleaned you, dried you off and laid you down on your bed. No. To your delight they had also decided to join you, cuddling into your body. The only indicator that you were awake, a soft, content, “Mmpf” breathed into the chest your head was resting on. Not wanting to open your eyes, you wiggled weakly into the warm body spooning you, to find out who was who.

A hand gripped your naked waist from behind, stilling your movement, followed by a deep, drowsy huff, “Go back to sleep, sugar.”

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 6)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nudity. Language. Mentions of sex.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Hello there! We're back in Morpheus' POV for this chapter. I've really enjoyed exploring the softer side of Morpheus with the aftercare but still keeping those foreboding undertones. Hope you like it too. Let me know what you think! All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

Morpheus can see he has pushed your body to breaking point.

The only movements you are able to make are those that are involuntary. The intake of breath, sharp and shallow. The blink of eyelids, slow and drowsy. And the aftershocks feathering along the walls that still hug his softening cock.

The rapture of his own high vibrates in every cell, the humanoid form he takes being the epicentre, with waves of it expanding out across the expanse of the Dreaming, bathing it all in euphoria. He smiles faintly - anyone asleep during your union would have been privy to it in some aspect. Flashes of noises and sensations perhaps, or images of you entangled with him.

With a tender gaze, he looks at your exhausted form. He takes time to notice the details that others might have overlooked. The gradient of the dip of your navel. The vellus hair gracing your skin. The delicate lines on your face brought on by years of smiles. Every inch of you is perfection, the starshine streaming down enhancing your already incandescent air. Soulmate or not, you are the most remarkable person he has met.

There is no denying that you are to be his muse. Now that he has introduced you to his world he can resume work on creating new dreams, and your temperament and features are inspiring him already. His dreamers will be spoiled once the concepts are given life and sent forth into the Dreaming.

He is pulled away from observing your body by the sudden overflowing of silent tears. In the glow of the room, as they track down your cheeks, their lustre is like pearls washed up on a lonely seashore.

He's searching your expression for an indication to the source before they get close to wetting the sheets, cupping your face instinctually as feverous fear infects him. Is pain afflicting you?

His initial assessment gleans that they are falling despite there being no tangible signs of pain or sorrow, anger nor disgust. Further investigation is required.

He drops his register to the mellowest he can manage, whispering your name first, next asking, "Are you alright?"

You dip your chin in a solitary nod. A truthful nod.

You then take a deep breath, voice hoarse as you speak, "I just -"

Words fail you and you look down at your chest in lieu of finding the desired descriptors, hoping that he would catch on.

Your soul.

You make a little high-pitched sound in the back of your throat as he places a palm over its housing. Still very sensitive. With good reason.

Those last layers of defences that had been protecting you from the intensity of the soul bond had been steadfast in their resistance. Of course, they were never going to prevail over him, being the Endless that he is, yet the challenge could not be denied.

And now the conquest was over. He had you exactly where he wanted; physical form in the Dreaming, the Fates' prophecy fulfilled, soul tie complete.

He zeros in on your soul, using his aptitude for the metaphysical to see it in its actual form. The ball of light, two centimetres in diameter, that not too long ago was shattered, now criss-crossed with threads of rich blue, reminiscent of Kintsugi pottery. A mark of the small amount of his power - power that he'd quite literally fucked into you, that was slowly spreading out from your soul through your body, altering as it went. Only time would tell as to what enhancements it would bring if any.

His own soul was cleaved open at the end too, now infused with your essence; twines of seafoam green that he can feel rebalancing the constitution left so weary and depleted by his imprisonment.

It also appears that your mortality has been removed in the process; you are as eternal as he is now. He's against broaching this with you presently, feeling it would be misguided to do so. At this point in time you deserve the most diligent and gentle aftercare. It was your first time; you had trusted him with your wellbeing and that meant the moments after as well.

He will make his touches and movements so very delicate from here, continuing to keep his focus on your facial expressions and body language as much as possible.

Beginning with how he rises out of the position he had held over your body, giving him the ability to ease your crossed ankles out of the firm grip around his waist. Reluctantly, he withdraws himself from the warmth of your core, more trembles breaking free from the fluidity of the movement.

It makes you whimper loudly, the unintended stimulation and the way he guides your legs down to the mattress, as the recognition of how locked up your thigh and calf muscles are bark in your nerve endings.

"Would you allow me to clean you?" He asks, gesturing to the fluids that are now leaking from your cunt.

You seem surprised yet you agree nonetheless.

He conjures a bowl of water and a linen cloth, setting the former to the side of your right hip. The display has you propping yourself up on your forearms, fascinated by the shaping of form that comes so naturally to him. He moistens the fabric, pitter patters emanating erratically as he squeezes out the excess.

"I will stop if it is too much." A promise made while holding eye contact before beginning a gentle yet meticulous cleanse, re-dunking the cloth when needed.

Aside from a couple of flinches early on when he brushes over your clit, you cope with the touches very well, and Morpheus shows he acknowledges this in the murmured praises he looses with the completion of each swipe.

A stumble in your breathing has him stopping immediately though, drawing his attention to your startled face, eyes wide as you take in the pinkish tinge of colour in the water.

"Shit. I'm so sorry. I can finish taking care of it," your voice is warbled as you try and fail to close your trembling legs.

He puts a steady hand on your knee. "You have no reason to apologise."

A little dimple forms between your eyebrows, lips pulled thin by a grimace; evidently you are unconvinced.

"I want to take care of your needs. Please let me," he says with gentle candidness.

You blow out an unsteady breath as you struggle to look at him, attention darting all around the room, actively choosing to go anywhere but towards him.

These hallmarks of humiliation, vulnerability, they unreservedly rile him. Who had made you feel like this was unacceptable? No doubt your world's societal norms. Though Morpheus has seen improvements in them in recent years, there are lingering, foolish ideals on what was decorous when it came to the human body.

He relays his thoughts on the matter, "It is a natural occurrence, as natural as any other bleeding from broken skin. There is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N."

He lets the reassurance settle in as he rubs his free hand up and down the outside of your left thigh.

"You know I speak the truth," he adds when you still remain silent.

Eventually you let your head slump back. "You're right."

His chest swells with pride at his successful reframing. "May I continue?"

You make a noise of affirmation.

Once he is done, the bowl and cloth de-materialise along with the patches of fluid that had been glistening on the sheets.

He leaves the space between your splayed legs, pausing as he kneels next you. You look like a ragdoll that has been dropped from a great height, limbs askew and head limp. He wishes to scoop you into his arms and re-arrange you, cocooning your beautiful body in the most luxurious fabrics his mind can create. So he does just that.

With a hand flat between your shoulder blades and another under your knees, he moves you to lay further up the bed, fashioning a sumptuous silk sheet to settle over you, a twin of the one tucked over the mattress. A knitted cashmere throw weighs down the sheet to seal in warmth. The last step is a plump pillow; he cradles your head carefully as he positions it.

"Thank you," you say shyly as he puts his head on an identical pillow, laying on his side so he can watch you.

"You are most welcome, my soulmate."

A beat. "Is there something I can do for you, Morpheus?"

He feels a thrill go through him, lust rising once more. Hearing his name on your lips is everything. Undoubtedly it always will be. He's instantly grappling with the urge to fuck you again and it is by sheer force of will he just manages to leash his lust.

"All I require is proximity to you," his words sounding much more gallant than he feels.

With visible effort, you roll onto your side, intent on providing him with delightful closeness despite the aches. Face to face, he decides now is time for a debrief.

"Is there anything you wish to discuss about the acts we performed together?"

You fiddle with your fingers, tentatively asking, "Did I do okay?"

The question is so endearing, it makes his chest tighten.

"Yes. You were, are perfection."

He catches the bashful glance your throw towards him and he draws even closer.

You had done so very well, taking everything in your stride since he found you in the waking world. Gone through a myriad of emotions, dealt with intense, sometimes painful physical reactions. And the sex... Well.

He runs a hand from your temple to jaw a few times to distract from the ever-mounting desires, thankfully taking the edge off with the affections.

"It is true. You are so trusting, communicative, generous. Receptive."

You huff out a noise of amusement. "How do you know that I wouldn't respond like that to everyone?"

Possessive jealousy drives a dagger into his heart, stiffening every part of his being, hackles rising as the sickening idea of anyone else touching you takes form in his expert imagination. Your question had been teasing - obvious from the impish quality in your eyes yet he cannot stop the rage that flares at the idea.

He extinguishes his temper, pushing it into the usual spot deep within, speaking with a level and authoritative cadence.

"You were not meant to be touched by anyone but me."

He holds your gaze resolutely, fascinated by how your pupils dilate from the covetous statement, fingers digging into the softness of your behind to add further weight to his claim.

"You derive pleasure from hearing me say that."

"Yes," you confirm, a telling half-smile appearing. "Though it would appear I am not the only one."

You nudge against the growing erection hidden by the sheets with your knuckles. The simple touch is a catalyst, his restraint almost breaking, eyes shifting to match the backdrop of the night sky above you both.

"Not right now," you assert.

His answering glare makes you raise your eyebrows. But you do not back down.

"Very well. I will keep myself contained. For the time being."

You press a sweet, quick kiss to his cheek. "I appreciate you enduring such hardship."

You laugh a little at the end of the teasing sentence. It is an effervescent sound, one that makes him feel so alive. When was the last time he truly felt like that?

He would do anything to keep you laughing like that, make you happy.

Inspired by that sentiment, he drapes an arm over your body and pulls you closer. You sigh in contentment, smiling warmly at him.

A crescent moon rises to accompany the stars in the ceiling sky. The slip of light it reflects is as peace-giving as your skin against his. Quiet descends.

Finally - after the frenzied events of the past couple of hours, the delirium that had ensnared the both of you in body and mind, spurring him to reveal the truth to you and initiate the binding of your souls - finally everything stills.

And in this stillness, after a considerable number of minutes, Morpheus begins to register the results of the soul bond between you; a direct line broadcasting your every emotion to him even though you are awake.

They are not particularly stable right now, kaleidoscopic in how quickly they evolve from one to the next. He is accustomed to knowing humanity's emotions, exposed to every facet of them for millennia yet this is different. With the dreamers there is a certain level of detachment. Being his soulmate, the impartiality is gone.

He is peering around the curtain.

And the emotions you are feeling are about him, directly influenced by him.

Exhilaration, fondness, trepidation, pensiveness.

His eyelids flutter at the intimacy, mouth dropping open with a shaky sigh.

"What is it?" You ask immediately as worry enters the mix. How adorable that your reflex was concern for him.

"Our soul bond is strengthening. I can feel your emotions."

You blink, stimulated by the notion first, then disappointed. "I can't feel anything coming from you."

"Give it time," he reassures.

"How much time?"

A little smile quirks his lips from your charming impatience.

"A few hours. Perhaps more."

Curiosity dances in your eyes as well as your mind; you study him closely, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. "What's it like?"

"It is quite diverting."

In fact, it is the sort of thing that has potential to consume his every thought. He will have to be cautious of how much time he is dialled into the bond. As long as he makes the rules now then he will be okay. No over-use. No over-reliance.

A brush of fingers across the back of his hand, the inside of his wrist. "Tell me what you're feeling, Morpheus," you whisper.

He pulls himself from the compelling information flowing from you and takes a reading of his own internal state.

It's tempting to lay it all on the table. To tell you of the powerful emotional reactions happening. But he won't. The emotions must be compressed into something more regulated. He chooses the words carefully:

"I am wholly contented."

Joy and relief swirl from you and you kiss him. The softness of your lips help soothe the fierce feelings and when you part, Morpheus is fully reigned in.

He notes that your eyes are drifting now, glassy with oncoming sleep.

He rubs a thumb across your cheekbone.

"It is okay if you want to fall asleep," he murmurs. "My only request is that you permit me to hold you, so I may monitor how things progress."

There is much acclimation to be made. The scalding heat that had been rampant under his own skin has only just dropped to a simmer, let alone all the things to come. He must not leave your side until your body has adjusted to the energy within you.

"I wouldn't say no to sleep," you say with a lethargic smile.

He eases you into a nearer proximity. An arm slung across your middle. Legs tangling together. You nuzzle against the skin of his neck, inhaling deeply as if his scent could knock you right out.

"Good night, soulmate."

He kisses the top of your head, replying with the same.

You place a palm over his soul. "Thank you, Morpheus. For answering all my questions and being so patient with me."

"It is the least I can do, Y/N."

Morpheus keeps still as you sink into subconsciousness. Not a hard feat for him; he mastered that art long ago. Crossing the threshold into sleep is smooth for you, exhaustion efficiently picking the lock.

As soon as you are fully under he peers at you, cheeks already rosy from the warmth of the sheets and his body, lips parted. You appear serene on the surface - he decides to lean into that link one last time for tonight.

Yes. There it is. Evidence that you feel safe and happy. He has done his job well. Now to maintain this level of performance. For your sake as well as his own.

Your presence is the first rain after a drought. A lighthouse on a treacherous stormy night. You are an antidote to a poison that he hadn't realised he was choking on. You are healing him, just as he knew you would.

And there are measures that must be taken to keep it that way.

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

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"Controlling my feelings for too long. Forcing our darkest souls to unfold. Pushing us into self destruction. They make me, make me dream your dreams."

[prettyoatmeal]

konig dating headcannons?

König Headcanons While You're Dating

YES!!!! I was actually just working on them before you'd asked this so I'm glad I could quickly finish this up in time to send a reply. I'm the biggest König fangirl so I already had this sitting in my drafts for a bit.

Just like the last one, there will be SFW and NSFW headcanons with a Gender Neutral reader.

Genre: Fluff, smut under NSFW cut.

Warnings: Mentions of König's social anxiety.

Enjoy!!

Masterlist here!

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

You'd needed to be the one to tell him how you felt. His anxiety denied him to ever open up in a way like that. What if you didn't feel the same? You wouldn't want to be his friend anymore then he'd be stuck with no one to talk to. You were the one person that could bring him complete comfort so that was difficult for him.

Getting to know him over the time allowed him to feel more comfortable around you and vice versa. He's a stud. A 6'10 killing machine, but his personality didn't depict that at all.

He was gentle and caring, not at all like the persona behind his mask. Not like the one that goes on missions and slaughter sprees.

He worried too much about falling for his only friend that his heart couldn't take it when you finally told him you liked him.

His heart was beating so fast, you swore you could hear it thumping against his chest.

He tried keeping his composure, but the excitement in his voice was not able to be hidden.

"Date? Tomorrow night?"

Thats where the beautiful relationship blossomed.

After you'd been dating for a while, his true colours would start showing.

He'd cook for you, clean for you, pretty much do all the housework so you wouldn't have to lift a muscle.

Of course you still helped, you couldn't have him doing all the chores. But it was the thought that counted.

Cooking would be his favourite way to impress you when he isn't deployed, and this type of Central European cuisine became a main portion of your diet.

"My love, König, you're doing the always cooking. Let me take over for tonight."

"Schatz, please, I'm trying to concentrate on the Goulash. Sit down."

Yes, sir 🫡

König would always be big on communication. It's the foundation for a healthy relationship. If he was ever anxious or afraid of something, he'd always come to you even if he barely had the courage to do so.

You'd always give him that closure he needed to hear, and vice versa.

He may be cold and serious on missions, but thats only because his job required him to be like that. In reality, König was very emotional.

He'd never really had someone like you to open up to, so just talking about his feelings (whether he'd be happy or upset) would result in him almost sobbing.

He would very much be that person to babble on for hours and hours at a time to you about his special interests. He could talk for hours about all his different guns and knives and the stories behind them. And you would gladly listen.

König would often get lost in how passionate he is about his firearms and you couldn't do anything but stare back at him with heart eyes. He became so talkative with you, it made you fall in love with him even more. König knew he could trust you, so he couldn't help but get every thought out all at once about his interests. He wanted you to know every little detail possible, and even if you had no idea what he was talking about, you would still gladly listen and match his excitement.

It was bloody adorable.

He'd definitely take you to a shooting range to guide you at and try to teach you to be just as good as him handling firearms.

Since serving in the military is so big in his life, he'd teach you some self defence methods for when he isn't around to protect you.

He couldn't let anything happen to you or he'd never forgive himself.

König wouldn't show much PDA, he'd definitely be too nervous for that. Maybe the occasional hand holding. But alone, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you.

He'd be all over you, holding onto your waist, your thighs, your hips. He'd constantly be trying to hold onto you, following you around behind you like a lost puppy if it meant he could hold onto your hand just a little while longer.

Holding onto you made him feel safe. As long as he's holding onto you, you couldn't leave him.

The poor boy was so touch deprived, the first hug you'd ended up giving him, he didn't know how to hug you back and almost started sobbing.

He'd need to hold back when hugging you just so he wouldn't crush your bones. He was very unaware of his strength the first time he'd hugged you back and gave you that little bit of an uncomfortable squish.

He'd realised how tightly he squeezed you without him even noticing so he promised himself that he'd always be as gentle as possible with you.

He felt like an elephant in a porcelain store when he was around you. Like a rare treasure that was his and only his, so precious and so fragile.

The first time he'd prompted to remove his hood for you, you instantly felt nervous. And so did he! He was extremely anxious you'd despise his looks. He was pretty insecure already due to his massive height and build, especially as a sniper. His size was already inconvenient, he didn't want you to think less of him due to how his face looks.

He'd finally removed his hood and you could do nothing but stare at him in awe, observing all his beautiful features.

You were staring at his beauty so much you almost didn't realised he'd teared up a little. It's safe to say he was very flustered.

"No, my love, don't start crying. You're too beautiful to cry."

He'd cry anyway and you'd end up with a sobbing soldier in your chest.

You had been calling him your 'beautiful boy' and 'pretty boy' ever since, and it gets him embarrassed every time. Getting more comfortable around you and not wearing his hood all that often anymore, he can't hid his red face anymore.

That'll also end with him burying his face into your chest.

No matter how big he'd be compared to you, he'd always be your pretty little boy.

__________________

NSFW

I'll say it once and only once,

He's a thighs man.

If you two are in a saucy situation, he'll be practically ripping into your thighs. Grabbing them, digging his fingers into them, he would not be able to keep his hands off them.

(Or mouth)

He had a thing for marking you.

He wouldn't mark you in clearly visible places like on your neck or anything. He'd leave those marks on your collar bone or your chest or your thighs. Those little purple and blue bruises and love bites. Out of sight, out of mind. But not for him.

No one else could see them, except him. No one knew they were there, except him.

He'd often feel himself getting hard in places he shouldn't like when you two are out together just by thinking of those love bites he'd leave on you. Looking in the general direction of them would make his mind go wild. A simple trip to the bathroom would pursue and he'd relieve himself as quietly as possible.

Speaking of such, he'd be very vocal in bed.

He has a tough and cold outer shell, but inside that is still a man that loves to please you.

BIG size kink.

He loves laying his cock against your stomach just to see the size difference.

"Liebling, how will you ever be able to take this? I suppose he'll just need to make it fit, won't we?"

The first time with him, early on he'd be gentle and whiny.

Slow, deep thrusts, making sure you both feel as good as possible.

Then he'd start getting desperate and his moans would become louder.

Dirty talk king, here.

Or well,

Dirty talk König.

Not the talk itself, but the way he delivers it.

He'll whisper the some generic sentences you'll hear in dirty talk, but in the filthiest, most shameless moans you'd ever hear from this man.

"I ought to fill you up with my cum, shouldn't I, S-Schatz? Leave a- shieße- a pretty l-little bulge in your stomach, hmm?"

His job requires a lot of stamina from him, and boy does he have that.

He'll pound into you like theres no tomorrow.

"Liebling- fuuuck!- Ahh, i'm so close. Please, please, please, please may I cum inside you! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He'll beg you to cum even if you can't say anything back. Even if theres nothing else on your mind, even if you've been dumbified down by his rapid pounding and all you can think about now is his cock inside you and how it throbs for his release.

When he does cum, inside you or not, he lets out the most shameless, high pitched moans and whimpers which you'd never expected a man like him to release.

And,

Oh boy,

It was hot.

König couldn't care in the moment who could hear, all he wanted them to know was how good his partner is making him feel.

And the same went for you.

He'd want you to make as much noise as you could, he would not let you shut up. If you ever went to cover your mouth or bite onto your tongue to keep yourself from making any noise, he'd quickly notice on it and tell you to stop. He's the kind to intertwine your fingers together and pin them next to you just so you don't cover your mouth again.

Again, he'd be very big on pleasing you though.

If you are AFAB, this man would be very pussy drunk for days and days after the session, unable to think of anything else other than you.

He'd eat you out like theres no tomorrow, making you shake and shiver with every time you'd climax on his mouth. Then the pattern would repeat.

If you are AMAB, he would not be able to keep your cock out of his mouth.

He may be massive compared to you, but he isn't used to the feeling of anything really in his mouth, so he'd gag maybe just a bit before he'd gotten used to it.

But he loved it, he loved it so fucking much. He loved the feeling of your cock down his throat as your cum is forced down his oesophagus.

He'd look up at you with the most beautiful puppy eyes you'd ever seen, indirectly begging for you to cum in his mouth.

Then you would, and he'd put the attention back in between your legs.

Very into praise, giving and receiving, it makes him remember he's loved.

You calling him a good boy would just raise his sex drive. Doing this will also send the sweaty, incoherently babbling mess of a man into a silent shock for a split second before he'd let out those beautiful noises again.

"S-Say it again,, please.."

He'd beg you in between loud moans.

"Come on, König, who's my good boy?"

...

That's when you'd feel that hot, thick, gooey liquid shoot inside of you as he let out the filthiest moan you'd ever hear.

And he'll keep going.

He'll keep thrusting into you, overstimulated as hell and letting out the most breathy, wet noises from his mouth. He couldn't get enough of that feeling of being inside you.

His real pleasure comes from making you cum though, making sure you're through and satisfied by the time you two finish.

After your sessions he'd constantly be saying he loved you and how well you did taking him. He'd apologise for anything and everything, if he hurt you too much or if his cock stretched you out too much.

Fuck that,

You wouldn't be able to walk after his poundings, he'd need to give you extensive help so you wouldn't collapse onto the floor.

He'll make sure you're hydrated and cleaned up before taking you back to bed.

He'd kiss all the places he'd grabbed onto and left marks on (leaving more marks in the process).

"I'm so sorry, Schatzi. I didn't mean to cause you to not be able to walk."

"Be a good boy for me, König, and help me walk to the bathroom."

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

Thank you so much for asking this!! And if you've read this all the way. I hope you enjoyed my babbles. Goodnight <3

[faerygrant]

Ultraviolence - Carmy x Reader

Summary : An interaction between Claire and Carmen leaves you questioning his loyalty to your relationship.

Carmy was a complicated man, that went without saying. He was a man riddled with untreated trauma that stemmed from an absent father and an alcoholic and unstable mother. Not to mention the complicated and for a very long time, codependent relationship between he and his brother. The only constant and non-toxic person Carmen Berzatto had in his life was his sister Natalie, well that was before he met you at-least.

While he had become a changed man and confronted his demons from the past, there was no denying that Carmen still had lots of issues he still hadn’t addressed in therapy. The sleep walking had stopped almost a year ago, which you were thankful for, especially after a night in which he accidentally woke up and nearly lit the house aflame. The anger issues however still persisted, as well as the avoidant personality and constant feelings of angst.

You could tell Carmen was happier, he now kissed you goodbye in the mornings and goodnight before bed, he smiled more, he cooled off on the self deprecating remarks and most of all, he let you in. The old Carmen was hard as rock, made of brick wall, refusing to allowing anyone into those walls he’d spent all those years building up in self defence. Yet now he was willing to talk things through, slowly but surely.

Like most winter nights when the city got dark by 5, you’d walk over to the bear from work so Carmy could drive the two of you back to your place. It made the both of you feel safer and you weren’t opposed to any extra time you could spend with you partner. It also didn’t hurt to see his coworkers, who you’d come to see as friends of your own.

Tonight however when you’d come into the restaurant it seemed the only people here were Natalie and Sydney who were out back doing stock count. They both greeted you, however their odd attitudes weren’t lost on you. The two of them were usually so happy to see you, friendly. Yet upon your entry into the restaurant they had both gone frigid.

“Where’s Carm?” You’d asked, pulling the slipping straps of your tote back onto your shoulder.

“T-the office.” Sydney motions awkwardly to the office and your brows furrow. Why were they both acting so off?

“You probably should wait-“ Natalie tries to say but you’re already bursting into the office, curious as to why they were being strange.

-

“You know I just missed you Bear.”

You’re not prepared for the site of what you walk into, Carmy’s “ex” who’s not his “ex” but is his “ex” stood with her arms wrapped around his neck trying to kiss him. Your heart all but sinks into your ass as you watch her lips meet his.

“What the fuck” you scream, and immediately the brunette is clambering away from your man. She innocently tucks a piece of hair behind her ears and then looks at Carmen before she pushed past you. Not even an ounce of guilt on her face.

“It’s not what it looked like, I promise.” Carmen says walking over to you, trying to grab hold of your hand.

“Then what the fuck was that, she kissed you Carmen!” You yell at him and both Sydney and Natalie are now stood in the doorway watching everything go down.

“It was nothing, she just…” He holds his hands in his hair as he paces back and forth between the office. Refusing to complete his sentence.

“Are you going to finish the sentence Carmen, man up and tell me why the fuck your ex girlfriend was in here just now, kissing you” Your shouting has Carmen exasperated, he wants to tell you but can’t even figure out how to start the conversation.

“Carmy just talk to her.” Natalie tries intervening but is met with Carmen throwing a staple gun against the wall.

“Sugar get the fuck out of here and give us some privacy”

“Carm!” You yell at him all at once Sydney screams “Carmy what the fuck” Both of you appalled at his childish display of violence.

“Can I have five fuckin minutes alone with my girl now?” They both roll their eyes and walk out of the office. “Asshole” Natalie mumbles before slamming the office door shut.

“So she calls you Bear, is there something you’re hiding?” You question as you walk closer to him, tears falling from your eyes.

“No baby, she just came here trynna sweet talk me about all this fuckin shut but I didn’t wanna hear it.” He tries taking you into his arms but you push him away, not fully ready to give into him.

“Don’t fuckin pull away from me baby, you know it drives me insane” he sighs defeatedly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Carmen just tell me why that girl was here, why she was kissing you.” The head from his head against yours somewhat calms you down, so does his smell and gentle touch.

“I told you, she wanted to talk and because of all that shit Dr. Murphy said in therapy about confronting your past not running from it, I thought I’d give her a chance to say her piece but she just took it as a chance to make a move.” He looks into your eyes, searching, no- hoping you’d believe him, he hated the feeling of losing your trust especially when he’d never lie to you.

“I just hated seeing that, her hands all over you and her mouth on yours, it hurt me Carm.” You finally allow yourself to fully give into his touch and he pressed a kiss to your lips, your manicured hand cupping his face, relishing in it.

“I know and I’m sorry, I only want you okay, you’re the only girl for me.” He whispers, causing you to whimper.

“Promise?”

“Hand on the fucking bible, I promise”

[julieee404]

Kinktober day thirty-one!!

Taking all

❥ Bondage, Double penetration (also in the same hole), Praise kink, Dedegration, Anal ❥ Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire

POV: You and your three boyfriends have been dating for a couple of months now. All of you had had sex before but then it was just one of them and you, now you're taking all three, it's quite a stretch.

Trigger warnings: P in V, P in A, Protected sex, Bondage, Handcuffs, Double penetration in different holes, Double penetration in the same hole, Triple penetration, Anal sex, Swear words, Squirting.

I was lying on Mattheo's bed, reading one of my dark romance books when my three boyfriends walked in. "Hey princess" Mattheo said with a smile walking up to the bed, joining me and pulling me into his arms.

"Didn't expect you to be here," Enzo said walking up to us. I smiled softly "Well in my defence, you're room is more comfy." They laughed softly and sat down next to Mattheo and me.

"How was detention?" I asked them softly, they had blown up their potion in class so Snape gave them detention.

Theo groaned and let himself fall on his back "It was horrible, Filch made us clean the toilets." All of them shuddered at the memory, making me laugh softly.

Mattheo pinched my sides which made me squeal.

Lorenzo, Theo and Mattheo locked eyes and silently discussed something before looking at me. "Princess, we were talking about something."

Theo continued "And you've had sex with all of us before, but not with all 3 of us at the same time." Lorenzo took over "And we were wondering if you were willing to do that with us, you don't have to of course but-"

I cut him off, "I'd like that yeah," a soft smile played over my face as soon as I saw all of their faces light up before darkening with a mix of desire, lust and passion.

Lorenzo jumped up from the bed to get the black fluffy handcuffs we often used. In the mean time, Theo and Mattheo worked to get me undressed.

"it's not fair if I'm the only naked one," I said with a pout as soon as they got me undressed. All three of them chuckled but obliged with my silent request and started to undress until they too, were completely bare.

Theo grabbed the handcuffs from Lorenzo and locked my hands in them behind my back.

Mattheo was rubbing my clit making sure I was prepared for them and that I could take them.

My pussy was already soaked so that wouldn't be a problem, my other hole however wasn't ready yet. I've done anal with them before but it always took some prepping.

That's why Lorenzo worked on prepping it, while Mattheo was slowly trying to get an orgasm out of me and Theo was sucking hickeys on my neck.

All of them gave me pleasure in a different way, making me fall over the edge. I clutched Mattheo's shoulders tightly as I fell over the edge and gave into the pleasure they were giving me.

Mattheo lay down under me and pulled me against his chest putting my arms above his head and Theo tied the handcuffs to the headboard making it impossible for me to move away.

He spread my cheeks and lined his cock up with my ass and pushed into my back hole slowly letting me get adjusted to the size of him.

Little moans left my mouth as he did this and Lorenzo and Theo were watching us with dark eyes while jerking themselves off.

Mattheo pulled my legs wide and against my chest so there would be room for Lorenzo to slip into my pussy.

Lorenzo positioned himself above me and pushed into my cunt making me see stars.

Neither of them gave me much time to adjust and started moving in and out of me swiftly. Their thrusts were hard and punctuated.

I gripped the chains of the handcuffs tightly in my hands as I let them use my body and give me pleasure.

Mattheo was whispering praises in my ear while thrusting inside of me at an animalistic pace. "Such a good girl for us, taking us both."

But in the meantime, Lorenzo was being really degrading "Such a good little slut for us."

The difference between their words and the fact that they were pistoning into me deliciously brought me really close.

Theo however has gotten really impatiant and walked up to us "Enzo move up above her, I want some too."

In my already fucked out haze I didn't get what he was getting at until I could feel him pushing against my entrance trying to force himself inside of my cunt next to Lorenzo.

Just as I was about to protest that it wouldn't fit, his tip slipped passed my entrance and I threw my head back at the heavenly stretch.

And the second that he bottomed out I came, clenching around all three of their lengths. My legs were shaking when I came back down, that having been one of my most intense orgasms up to date.

None of the boys gave me any time to get my breath back and they continued their assault, pistoning into me with swift and hard thrusts, making me see stars.

Lorenzo groaned "God Theo I feel your cock rubbing against mine." This made Mattheo laugh, knowing Enzo didn't actually mind it.

They kept this up for a while before their thrusts became uneven and they sped up. My orgasm was approaching again but it felt really different, like I had to pee.

All of them came inside of me, cock pulsing as they unloaded in me, I followed them quickly coming with a loud scream, letting my head fall back against Mattheo's shoulder.

My body was spasming as I came around them, cum gushing out of me past their cocks.

I seemed to have blacked out for a while from the intense pleasure because when I opened my eyes, my wrists were free and I was cuddled up between all three of my boyfriends.

Lorenzo and Theo were asleep, but Mattheo wasn't yet. He whispered in my ear "You squirted. We are so gonna do that more often."

He kissed my head. "Sleep well, princess."

(This was the last day of kinktober 2024, and I had a really great time writing these little stories. I hope you guys enjoyed them!!)

Kinktober masterlist 2024

[sunsetkerr]

babe i found this prompt

"You are remarkably well behaved tonight. What did you do?"

as always i love your work babe!

-✨

WELL BEHAVED | s.kerr

notes: very glad to be writing for my baby again xx

YOU WERE SUSPICIOUS the moment you came home from work, and rightly so too. Sam had been going above and beyond over the last twenty-four hours. She made you breakfast, packed your lunch for work, promised to cook dinner and clean the house all before you would be home.

You came back from your lunch break to flowers having been delivered on your desk. She had posted a photo dump of your Christmas holidays together in home Australia, and sent you money to go get your hair done on your day off- having already booked it with your hairdresser.

You knew something was up with her.

Sam was a naturally caring person, she was always so good to you. But this level, just made you wonder what she had done to have to go to these levels of extreme.

When you came home, you could smell food on the stove. Whether Sam cooked it herself, or if she bought something from the store to pass off as hers was the real question at hand (even if it was most likely the latter).

"Hey baby!" Sam called out from the kitchen. Abandoning her spot by the stove, she rushed over to you and pulled you into her embrace. "Awh," She sighed, "I missed you today". You couldn't help but notice how clean everything was. Usually when Sam attempted to cook, the kitchen looked like a war zone. She really was trying extra hard here.

"You have been remarkably well behaved today," You pulled back from her hug, letting her hands fall to your waist. She had a soft smile resting on her lips, one that fell at your next question. "What did you do?" You smiled, knowing you had caught her.

She scoffed, pulling away completely and heading back over to the stove. "I haven't done anything!" She argued in defence.

"Mm," You mumbled, not believing a single word.

"Sam," You said. She turned around slowly, meeting your gaze with hesitation.

"You can't get mad," You sighed instantly, knowing that whatever she had pulled off, it couldn't be good.

"Okay," You said slowly.

Sam took a deep breath in, her eyes darting around the room. "I lost my engagement ring" She admitted.

"You what?!"

[queerfortress2]

Oh my god, I loved the way you described the support classes in an argument, I feel like it was totally spot-on. Would you be willing to write how the other classes would be in an argument, as well? Or, at least maybe the defence classes?? Thank you and have a wonderful day! 🥰

another engineer (technically) one, im in heaven. also, thank you! (also so very sorry for how short it is, my brain is so very very fried from art fight.) — mod engie

GN!READER X DEFENSE CLASSES ; ARGUMENTS

DEMOMAN

out of all of them? he is the best. he can actually recognize that he is wrong in an argument after the fact and apologise, which is crazy by mercenary means. after all, most of his problems are solved by alcohol and bombs, but he cares about you enough not to blow you up, so be thankful for that.

that being said… he’s also drunk most of the time, so the former may not even apply when you’re arguing. he most likely won’t recognise he’s even arguing— hell! he might not even remember he’s arguing halfway through and begin talking about a completely unrelated topic. it’s kind of difficult to continue from there, considering he’s either too drunk to recognise you, sleeping, or taking another swig out of a comically large bottle.

"Aye..! I know y’er mad aboot th’ match but in—" His glassy eyes looked around, almost not at you, rather your general surroundings, his leg limp slightly. Be tilted to the right as he looked towards the fireplace of the lounging area, stumbling slightly, "—Wh’teva’ ‘s really jus’ ah… hic!—" Almost on cue, the man had practically fallen, stumbling over, falling asleep momentarily. The second his body loses balance, you seem to have been forced by your instinct to catch him. The impact between him and your arms almost knocked you both over, but thankfully he slowly rose back up to his feet and looked you in the eyes. Unfortunately for you, he already forgot about the argument, and began incoherently babbling about how he missed being this close to you. ..Maybe bring it up another time. One of the rare hours when he’s sober.

when he's sober afterwards i imagine its a lot easier to have a conversation with him, after all he's usually willing to admit he was in the wrong, and a lot of the time, its not a big argument. he's just not a man easy to anger. while the support classes are much easier to aggravate. a common theme seems to be the defense class men are just a loooooot more patient. (also a lot more apologetic)

ENGINEER

its genuinely really hard to argue with this man because he is (most of the time) correct. even if it is an argument you thought you knew all about he's INFURIATINGLY on top. why? well, he does his research really. he's not as willing to win silly little debates but when it comes to much more serious decisions being made. or, say, doing something utterly STUPID at work that could've gotten you killed. yeah, the respawn exists, but darn it that don' mean you can play with it!

so when you, say, fuck around with dangerous technology, he will 100% start arguing. not because he hates you for messing with his latest trinket, but because you could've gotten seriously hurt! that's not a game he's willing to play. unlike the medic, he doesn't often fuck around with satan, the poor texan doesn't want to grow more grey hair in his... beard? eyebrows? i don't know, dell is practically bald.

"WHAT were you THINKING?" The Texan dropped his hard hat onto the desk beside him. The man works late nights to make sure no one gets royally fucked by that dangerous machine his Grandfather created a few generations before, and you're skipping out of it like it's a playground? It's safe to say his blood pressure suffers due to your recklessness. Though it was clear his volume was unwarranted, he finally started over with a long sigh, talking at a normal volume. "Y'know that thin' wasn't always 'dere? Dontcha? Don't get too comfortable with that thin'. I don' wanna see you get hurt, y' hear me?" Dell really didn't want to hear your side of the argument, after all, in his mind there was no reason in hell OR heaven for you to just casually run at the flames of the opposing Pyro for 'funsies'. Imagine how it is for him to see you die in numerous ways on the battle field. It AIN'T NICE, to say the least.

no matter how long the argument went on, he would eventually shut you down with a good 'don't pull that shit again' and move out to take a lap. he takes a lot longer to cool down than the other two defense mercenaries, mostly because whenever he argues genuinely, it gets rather personal. even if to you it seemed rather 'impersonal' and 'professional' feel-y, in his heart it was because all the machinery is what gives his family their name. whenever he sees someone messing around with it? it genuinely ticks him off.

HEAVY

man of little words argues the least, mostly because, unlike engineers, everything is rather impersonal. he's definitely heard it all, and while i don't think he apologises as often, it's also just difficult to get him to argue THAT BADLY. the most you get out of him is maybe two words telling you not to do something, and even then there's not that much room for argument is there? you either do what he's asked of you or you don't. both are things he can't quite control. he's just as stubborn, as you can tell he just does his own thing, only following directions when he can see it's vital for his or others' survival.

not impossible to argue with him, however. there are times when you can get him to argue, but its usually not anything important. perhaps you had a different opinion on how a cliffhanger was supposed to be interpreted? now we're getting somewhere. maybe you have a rather negative imagine of fyodor's brothers. he's not gonna let you pass without explaining why.

"I just didn't understand what the Father was supposed to mean in all that!" You may have exclaimed as you sat across from the largest mercenary on the team, yet sat composed in a comfortable sofa chair, with small glasses and a comically small book in hand. He wasn't usually seen like this, after all, most people see him screaming violently on the field. It's only this side that you see most commonly late at night. The way you seemed to speak of it was rather surface-level. Which, not to blame you, it's a Russian novel, not many are reading it at all. Heavy never owned books in English. So it's really just for you to 'suck up and take' while reading with him. Thankfully, he's taught you enough to have you fill in the blanks with common sense. Perhaps it was just American society getting to you. Back at home, the meaning was a lot easier to grasp, knowing that most were under a similar crushing situation under the new rule. At least in Russian society, where a lot of knowledge is needed to even begin to understand the book, the brothers' differences were clear in what they represented and what their father represented, especially in the modern day with the uprising and new government, filled with Soviet control. The man stared lost in thought at you, which is mighty intimidating on its own, before actually speaking up. "Ah, no." He simply shook his head, leaning forward in his chair for you to hear him better, "He uses father in metaphor not..." He snapped his finger attempting to remember the English word for his sentence. "Literal. Father mean more than just caretaker. Mean oppression." It sounded as if he were to continue before he simply sat back and relaxed back into his chair.

it didn't exactly feel like an argument, in fact it felt more like he was informing you. but that's genuinely the closest i could ever imagine him getting to an argument. he just doesn't seem like that type of guy.

[stardustgates]

Author’s Notes: Possibly OOC behaviour? I’ve done my best to stick by Canon as much as I can, but given I’m a newer player, I don’t know the relationship between Kafka and Silver Wolf or the characters individually as well I’d like to. Though I did do my best, please be aware that I may have taken some creative liberties in their characterisation and inner thoughts regarding each other. Also I am aware that this may just be 5.5k words of nonsensical BS but I haven’t written proper fanfiction in a hot minute so take it with a grain of salt. Not so much of a reader/canon thing and more like a reader AND canon thing currently. Perhaps that will change in future works, who’s to say? Oh yeah this is a SAGAU.

Warnings: Canonical In-game violence, references and descriptions of dissociation via player-induced body possession, references to drug use (one sentence), yandere tones if you squint really hard (shes a slowburner ya’ll), and a single swear word :3

Beyond the mind, within your body.

Description: Unaware that your presence has been made apparent to the eccentric duo during your first run through of Honkai Star Rail, you happily indulge yourself in the immersive (tutorial) world before your eyes. Kafka and Silver Wolf attempt to adjust to the feeling it brings, which leaves their minds constantly switching between distrust and euphoria, and all the things in between.

Word Count: 5.5k

Hoyoverse’s newest game hadn’t seemed much to your liking when you’d first heard the announcement. For one thing, you weren’t particularly pleased with the constant stream of ‘HONKAI STAR RAIL - PLAY NOW’ interrupting your YouTube doom-scrolling every other ad; Not to mention, you weren’t very keen on the gacha aspect. 

Within your small circle of friends, you’d been known to cave easily when attractive anime characters were involved and you weren’t planning on another hyperfiction to solidify your position as the group’s resident simp. That being said, with such a title swaying above your head like a shiny silver dagger, you’d held a metaphorical death grip on your wallet, solemnly swearing that you’d keep your distance from the game for as long you were able.

Ultimately that so-called iron will of yours didn’t last so much as a year, as just seven months after its release a simple character trailer was enough to break your steadfast resilience. Well, it wasn’t ‘simple’, if you were being honest with yourself- It was a brilliantly unique masterpiece, tailored to the exact essence and spirit of his character. You were sure Argenti wouldn’t be released for a good while, so you decided to pick up the game and grind what you could before his arrival.

That was your plan at least. Your friend had warned you a few months prior (Though admittedly, you hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.) that the download and installation would take an exhaustingly long time. Well, it was better than Genshin Impact had been- but still, you were getting bored and subsequently decided to fetch yourself something to drink in the meantime.

With your back turned to the loading screen, you waltzed out of your bedroom with little care in the world- oblivious to the ominous glowing cracks slowly sprawling across the screen of your device.

As you returned a few moments later, you found that it had finally finished installing! You’d certainly waited long enough. Sure, it wasn’t as soul-sucking as Genshin had been but your patience wasn't that of a saint’s either. With a renewed sense of anticipation, you hit start and breezed through the usual terms and conditions without reading anything and let out a sigh at the beautiful change in scenery.

It perhaps wasn't the smartest idea to skip it completely- but you had spent so long waiting already that you weren’t going to bother wasting time reading a document filled with dolled-up words you could barely pronounce.

✄————————————————

 Herta’s Space Station’s defences hadn't been particularly difficult to slip past surprisingly, though Kafka didn’t recall any mention of difficulty regarding entry in Elio’s script, so she supposed the lack of security wasn’t of any particular importance.

Despite the calm confidence that usually accompanied her on these little operations, Kafka couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched. It wasn’t the usual sort of lingering gaze or sharpened stare, but a vague pulsating heartbeat that faded in and out, as though blinking through blurry vision. 

Needless to say, she kept her guard up. Playing none the wiser and bowing mid-air to the tempo of a rather graceful tune. She forced her shoulders to relax and gently swayed her body, controlling her every little move with practised ease- even as that strange pulsating presence slowly sped up and stroked the fires of an oncoming headache- as the elevator descended to the station’s ‘ground’ floor.

 (You remained none the wiser to her sudden awareness, the rapidly changing scenes flashing past your eyes far too quickly to pick up on a single, brief second of stillness in her body.) 

A sudden explosion reverberates across the station's cold, metallic body and brings Kafka’s impromptu air-violin session to a screeching halt. Simultaneously, that presence settles over her body like a thick blanket of fog. That ‘gaze’ she had felt becoming so vivid she could feel its weight pressing down on her tongue.

She has little time to process the feeling before the usual blueish glow of Silver Wolf’s communications screen flickers into existence before her very eyes. 

“... Seems I came at a bad time.”

“No, No – I think you couldn’t’ve timed it better. Twenty-three-fourty-seven-fifteen system time. Very punctual, Kafka.” Silver Wolf almost sounds impressed, though Kafka suspects she’s only trying to butter her up so she’ll let the girl go off task again. Perhaps, under different circumstances, she would have been kind enough to allow it, but with the nature of their current mission and this inexplicable presence, Kafka doesn't find herself in a very generous mood. 

Kafka merely hums in response and ignores the empty praise.

“Elio always tells the exact future. So What’s with the explosion just now? Was that part of his script?” Silver Wolf picks up on her cue to focus without any fuss.

“Twenty-three-four-four-fifty-nine system time: The pulses from the explosion cause a massive breakdown from the master control system.”

Pulses. Perhaps it’s linked to the feeling curling itself around her senses?

“You did that?” Kafka doubts that Silver Wolf would waste effort on something so minor.

“No, the antimatter legion did it. They completely invaded the space station two system hours ago.” She whistles in response and glances down the glass panelling to the approaching ground floor. A small group… annoying, but manageable.

“Alright, so do we need to fight the legion?”

“Dunno, Elio didn’t say anything about it, so it doesn’t matter.” Hmm. Silver Wolf made a good point. 

“Got it. So from now on, I'll be in charge of this operation.” She feels that tingle of a smirk reach the corner of her mouth, and smiles a little wider in anticipation.

“Copy. Can you let me have some fun this time? Our last few operations turned out to be pretty dull.” Kafka lets out a playful hum as she ponders over her colleague’s request with faux consideration. She can practically hear Silver Wolf’s stifled groan in the second of silence that passes.

“...Sorry~ I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you- our task this time is just to ‘place’ the target properly.” 

Her choice of words is careful, though not enough to cause any alert in potential eavesdroppers. The feeling still hasn’t left. 

“But if you wanna go look for some fun yourself, I won’t stop you.”

“I mean… after all…” she chuckles lightly as the blue hologram blips out of her vision, and reaches for the holsters tucked into her lower back. “After all…” Kafka readjusts her footing just in time to watch the elevator’s doors slide open, the sound of metal dragging against metal pinching at her ears.

“Elio didn’t put it in the script… Why would it matter?” 

Just as the impact from her gunshots flitters across her skin, Kafka feels her mind being pulled back to the edge of her skull. 

The group of voidrangers in front of her feel distant and smudged, the sockets of her eyes creating a blurred tunnel of vision that refuse adjust no matter how much she tries to blink it away. Their dark forms bleed into black speckles that crowd her already limited vision until she’s staring directly into the singed edges of the universe.

Kafka’s body… is no longer hers to command.

✄————————————————

She returns to her mind with startling swiftness. Her memories of the brief battle suddenly bubbling up as though pushing themselves through a thick soup of aether. She feels disconnected from the memory but can at least recall that she’d lost control of her body before blacking out. 

She attempts to think back on that burnt, golden memory but is stopped by a sudden wave of nausea. She opts to set that aside for another time and refocus on the operation. Elio had not mentioned this happening anywhere in the script- so either this had no significance or… 

Still, those Voidrangers hadn’t proved to be much trouble- in fact, they’d been less of an annoyance than she had prepared for. Either she’d been far more ruthless than intended or the antimatter legion had lost its touch.

“When did the anti-matter legion become so weak?” She asks out loud.

“I could only attract this much. Did you really want the entire legion to come here?” Silver Wolf speaks in feigned annoyance, her usual behaviour. 

She hadn’t even realised. Kafka chooses not to mention anything for the moment, instead opting to subtly gauge the extent of control this presence… or rather... Entity, seems to have over her. 

“This lot won’t be able to slow down the Astral Express crew.” Silver Wolf sighs in response on the other end of the device.

“Relax, a doomsday beast is also here.”

As she approaches one of the station’s automatic doors, Kafka feels it slip back into her body as if wearing her like a coat. Its influence feels… less heavy than it previously had been a few moments ago.  At the very least she remains conscious this time; A strange lightness in her feet as she feels herself stealth towards a lone voidranger lounging about the area.

Her movements come to her now like instinct, striking down enemies with admittedly far more efficiency than she was naturally capable of. If it weren’t for her body being strung along like a puppet against her will, she’d almost be grateful for the power and resiliency it granted her. 

Kafka has barely had her fill before a euphoric sense of power seems to swell up all at once; Killer instinct pumping through her veins like a well-oiled machine. 

Ahh. Now this… this particular feeling wasn’t so bad.

Truthfully she’d liked to have toyed with this one a bit longer, but she knew all too well that it wouldn't manage to survive her next attack. She chatters to no one in particular, the ecstasy in her mind clouding whatever decorum she would have usually displayed. 

“Good times never last… time to say bye.” 

“Ah- She’s so cool…”

Kafka tenses up at the stranger’s voice, just as the swirling dark mass in front of her collapses into itself. 

She sheathes her sword and adjusts her gloves, ignoring the voidranger approaching her from behind. Just before its darkened claws reach her, Silver Wolf’s ability activates no more than a hands-width from her shoulder blades.

“Cleaning up other people’s mess isn’t in my job description… y’know Kafka?” Silver Wolf huffs out, but her voice has no real bite in it. Was it her? She wasn’t usually one to doubt herself, but that fog of exhilaration certainly could have played with her mind. 

“Yeah, yeah. Where did you send it Silver Wolf?”

Kafka turns in time to hear the gooey pop of the silver-haired girl’s bubblegum as she hops to her feet. She isn’t sure if it's Strawberry or Grape, but the artificial sweetness and scent of no-fruit-in-particular is so strong it actually grounds her mind for a moment. 

She sighs for no real reason, but it brings her relief regardless. 

Oh.

She hadn’t realised how bad her headache was. 

“Some random Co-ordinates, not important.” She avoids Kafka’s gaze for a reason she couldn’t care to name before taking on an adorably defiant stance, her hands placed at her hips as though it would help her short stature in any way. 

“You care about where that voidranger ended up?” She doesn’t. But she’d rather think about that than, well… She didn’t know what to call it at this point. But it was distracting and she needed to focus on literally anything else for the sake of what sanity she had left. 

Though some could argue that she wasn’t sane at all- which was only half true because most people’s definition of sanity varied greatly from her own. 

Oh, Silver Wolf was still blinking up at her expectantly.

“Of course not- I’m just amazed at this fancy technique of yours, as usual.” she smiles down at her colleague, who only rolls her eyes in response. To the girl’s credit, she’d been dealing with Kafka’s empty flattery for quite a long time.

“Just a little trick of tampering with the data of reality, I wouldn't call it fancy.” Kafka smiles a little wider, following behind as Silver Wolf strolls down the hallway. Her tells were always so obvious.

“What were you looking at just now? Let me see.” Silver Wolf huffs a bit as she settles herself onto a desk and faces her.

“Herta’s toys,” she begins in an almost mocking tone 

“A catalogue featuring the space station’s collection of rare items.” Her fingers briefly tug on the white fluff of her jacket as she speaks “They’ve got quite a looot of interesting gadgets~”

Kafka’s previous interest (however feigned it may have been) dies down a little at the prospect of these ‘gadgets’ but nonetheless she indulges Silver Wolf’s unspoken desire to share what information she’d dug up.

“Like what?” 

“There’s this gun, it can rate any creature within its crosshair as a score from 0 to 100.”

“... Doesn't sound very interesting.” Her brows pinch together and her mouth stretches into a thin line of clear disappointment. Not one to be disheartened so easily, Silver Wolf continues on

“Aren’t you curious how much you would score? I kinda wanna know mine.” 

So this is what she’d been hinting at since earlier. Kafka crosses her arms and takes on the tone of an exasperated mother having finally given up after being nagged at for far, far longer than the reality of it. 

“Fine. I guess we can swing by and play with it, if it’s not too far. What’s our destination?” She redirects Silver Wolf’s distractable attention onto their current objective with practised ease. 

Hmm. 

She feels a little cold for some reason… and those watchful eyes haven't left during the entirety of their conversation. Kafka’s guard raises a little further than before.

Her colleague’s eyes flit down to a small blue hologram, her fingers swiping past various screens until arriving at what Kafka could only presume was a list of directions given to her by Elio.

“Go down the corridor, behind the door… ooon the left. There’s a room where some kind of rare item is stored.” 

Kafka feels the entity strongly now, she stares just beyond Silver Wolf’s shoulders where it feels most concentrated. The feeling she is met with is a dense smouldering hotness. It’s like melting iron dripping down her throat and burning it in the process. It feels almost itchy.

She redirects her gaze back to Silver Wolf far quicker than she’d intended to and resists the urge to scratch at her throat.

“So that’s where the Stellaron is?” Kafka is somewhat relieved when the feeling seems to simmer down. She once again debates speaking on the sensation during the slightest lull in their conversation but when Silverwolf turns her head back to face her, she finds the girl’s gaze to be much sharper than before.

“That's where we can find out where the Stellaron is.” 

Kafka immediately knows that Silverwolf has finally caught on to this feeling and says nothing as she readies herself for the next half of their mission. Almost instantly, she feels the presence shift and roll over her shoulders, like a cat stretching out its limbs. 

It's languid and smooth and she feels her tense- She had been tense this whole time?- muscles slowly relax until she finally feels that usual calm focus she’s so intimately familiar with. She hadn’t realised the extent of how cold she’d felt when it had stepped- strange, it feels like a person?-  away.

Kafka decides that her feelings towards this... Being- She isn’t totally sure if it feels sapient, but it certainly has some form of will… That much she can tell- are mixed, to say the least. She wonders one more why Elio hadn’t mentioned anything about something so foreign and strange but sets the thought aside and refocuses on the task at hand. 

She locks eyes with Silverwolf briefly, and just as she thought, Silverwolf is most definitely aware of it at this point. 

“The central area of the space station is up ahead. There’ll be loads of Legion Void rangers there.” Silver Wolf hops to her feet and saunters toward the door’s control panel. A bit too casual to be natural, but it doesn't cause the feeling to stir, so she says nothing. 

“Okay.” Kafka breathes out. 

Then that feeling of puppeteering seems to stitch itself into her mind once more, albeit in a much more faded sense- it feels more like muscle memory than it does being pulled from her own body. She allows it to pull her along and lead her toward whatever it wants. As her fingers glide over the room’s control panels and her heels click against the cold steel of the station, she feels that fog of exhilaration settle over her again- that almost euphoric surge of strength from earlier suddenly vivid and fresh in her mind. 

Silverwolf seems to feel the building strength in her own body too, as she quickens her pace when they turn the corner to find themselves at the back of a particularly strong-looking voidranger. She huffs out in bemusement and half-heartedly mutters out some encouragement to her colleague.

“May as well kill them all.” 

Not needing much more encouragement than that, Silverwolf leaps forward with as much grace as her short form can allow her and drags her digitally enhanced blade across the muscles and sinew of its chest. She leaps back beside Kafka as it staggers on its feet and tries to regain its footing. Kafka’s arm pulls itself up, gun in hand, and fires out a cascade of bullets that each burrow and pierce into its flesh. 

“This… seems a lot easier than it should be.” Silverwolf comments under her breath quietly. 

“Well, let’s count our blessings–” Kafka is cut off as her arm is singed by the blast of the voidranger’s fire canon. 

“Tch. Didn’t hurt.”

Silverwolf pulls out her holographic system at such speed that Kafka feels the static waft across her skin.

“Hmph, still. This combat needs optimising.” Just as the creature aims its weapon once more, it’s hit with a blast pulled from the loosened strands of reality itself. 

“At that speed? Too slow!” 

Kafka almost feels sorry for it, as she watches its body disintegrate while collapsing into itself.

Unfortunately, the girls are not left with time to bask in their victory- Silver Wolf lets out a small yelp- the entity has left its place on Kafka’s shoulders and draped itself over her companion it  would seem. Her short colleague adjusts to the sensation of its guiding hand far better than she had, if her losing conscious was anything to go by.

Kafka follows behind silently, eyes trained intently on the girl in front of her for any indication of danger.

“Hold it. Someone.. Or something is up ahead.” she warns quietly, arm extended out to her side like a makeshift barrier. They both come to a sudden halt as the entity violently rips itself from their bodies and settles just beyond their skin. 

Goosebumps this time. 

The cold seems to get worse and worse each time it separates from them… well, her. Silver Wolf grits her teeth. Kafka notes the tiny pearl of sweat rolling down the side of her face. Still a shock to the system then. 

“Looks like we’re the ones getting ambushed.”

“...But they’re the ones getting besieged.” 

✄————————————————

The game has felt pretty cool so far, and you quite like this Kafka woman. You don’t recall her being part of the main cast your friend had rambled about however many months ago it was, but you hoped you’d get to see a lot more of her. 

Her design was really nice- though strangely familiar?- and her voice was pretty too! Silver Wolf was alright, but she hadn’t really caught your interest so far, so you werent sure what to make of her yet. 

They did seem to be close though, but less like friends and more like tired workmates who’d been stuck in the same dead end job for a decade- that is to say, it definitely felt like they were used to dealing with each other’s nonsense. 

Were they a ship? You could see it. Ah, another battle, sweet!

The combat system Star Rail used wasnt particularly innovative or anything, but it’s playstyle was strangely addictive- especially the Ult animations! Kafka’s especially had you nearly squealing with how badass it was. Did the MC have a cool one too? You could hardly wait to see. 

✄————————————————

The mood is light despite the circumstances, they both feel a sense of safety and confidence while the presence pulls them along, as though leading them in a dance. The Voidranger’s movements stand out like a pindrop in an empty room. Predictable, and delectably so. 

Silver Wolf barks out a short, quick laugh- a taunting thing that aggravates the musclehead stomping around in front of her- before decapitating the creature in a single, swift move.

“You took the bait, just like that?” Her jubilance is cut short by an attack from her blindspot, it isnt fatal- hell it barely counts as a battle wound- but its enough to flip her mood in the opposite direction. “Tch.”

Kafka laughs lightly at her, amused with her momentary lapse in spacial awareness. Silver Wolf scoffs and scowls lightly at her. Really, like she hadn’t gotten hit before? 

Just as she opens her mouth to hurl a barely-an-insult-but-im-still-annoyed-with-you comment towards the magenta haired woman next to her, Kafka’s aura shifts somewhat. Time seems to slow down for a second as Silver Wolf watches the woman’s pupils dilate in slow motion. 

Had she appeared like this? When that wave of energy had swelled within her?

She receives no answer to her unvoiced question, and instead hears Kafka’s voice ring through out her ears.

“That breathing sensation. Remember it.” Silver Wolf gulps in a breath of blood-scented air and breathes out a sickly, golden-sweet taste. As Kafka’s bullets rain down upon the bodies of their would-be-ambushers she can't help but feel pure ecstasy in the moment. Truly…if this was a drug she’d be hooked like a fish to water. 

Even just being near it is enough to cloud her mind.

“Alright, now that that’s over with…” Silver Wolf’s body relaxes significantly as Kafka speaks, the strength of whatever had possessed them slowing dripping out from their bodies like tree sap. She feels like she just got a massage. 

“I could get used to that.” She isn’t sure who she’s talking to, but it feels appropriate to voice. Kafka ignores her and spins her around to face the door, and Silver Wolf seems to go into auto pilot as she unlocks the control panel blocking their path, stepping lightly as her taller colleague gently pushes her forward without a word.

 The monitoring room is completley empty. Nothing but the quiet beeping of a few monitors and the rustling of swaying leaves, courtesy of the air conditioning unit humming softly above them. 

“Huh. not a single soul here. Impressive evacuation work. Did herta organise it herself?” Kafka seems mildly impressed- and entirely unaffected by the sensation Silver Wolf is still trying to shake from her skin. 

“According to the access history, she hasnt logged in her for over six months. The evacuation was directed by the acting lead researcher - a girl named Asta.” 

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, right. Elio said we wouldn’t run into herta. It seems she really isnt here.” Though something else definitely was, but Silver Wolf supposed they weren’t going to be making any conversation on that topic.

She sighs, and scrolls through her holograms nonchalantly.

“Elio’s Script doesnt include any info about the location of the stellaron. Which means in the future he foresees…”

“... we would find the stellaron in a non-physical way?” Kafka crosses her arms, easily having picked up on her train of thought and already dipping her metaphorical toes into several different plans of action. She was always efficient like that. Silver Wolf strolls over to the water cooler and pours herself a cold cup. She gestures to Kafka who only shakes her head in response.

“This space station is packed with extraordinary objects, I wouldnt be surprised if theres one that can make it happen.” She takes a long sip, the cooling sensation bringing relief to her sweltering body. The combat efficiency was nice, but she was left feeling like an overheating graphics disk everytime it took control of her. She idles on a page in her hologram briefly before continuing on her scroll-fest.

“Hiding something extraordinary with something extraordinary… this is pretty Herta. I assume you know what to do? I mean, You’ve been reading that cataogue for a while?” Ah. Perseptive as ever, Kafka never changes. She ignores the heat building in her ears at the prospect of being caught slacking-off, and bins the styrofoam cup as she turns to the older woman.

“Hmph. I’ve got all the clues we need. The only piece missing is a simple trick- maybe this entity thats been stringing us along could lend a hand? After all, it doesnt have a physical form.” 

(You didn’t expect them to involve the player like this! What an awesome storytelling device, and it would hopefully grant a lot more player agency too! Hoyoverse had truly out done themselves this time. Feeling a surge of excitement at being learning you’ll be able to lend a helping hand ‘directly’, you decide that Silver Wolf is also really cool.)

Kafka says nothing in response, only staring down at Silver Wolf in consideration.

“Why dont we have it help us investigate the terminals around here, that item we’re looking for may be inside.” The magenta haired woman only sighs, internally cursing the girl’s lack of caution. Though… she couldnt deny that it had only been helping them so far. 

“Alright, lets give it the spotlight.” 

“Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck this up…” Kafka stills. The same voice from before. So it can speak? She tucks the information away in her mind for later.

She watches it guide her along the messily arranged desks and flickering monitors. Stopping at a memory storage cart- which is, of course, missing its memory. Not useful for her current objective, but it at least told her that whatever it was could see the same things she could.

“...I cant see the memory storage for this terminal.” Her body shifts slightly.

“This is the monitoring room, the must have deleted the records and made a run for it. Classic.” Silver Wolf is still scrolling through the holographic catalogue, idling against a desk in the middle of the room. She doesn’t look up, even as Kafka is strung along past her towards a monitor on the other side of the room. 

“You don’t seem to be very affected by it? Its control over you, I mean.”

“And you? You seemed a little weary earlier.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just new, thats all.”

Kafka’s hand reaches out to flick through various active surveillance cameras, interesting but ultimately fruitless. 

“Hmmm… I can see the whole space station on the surveillance screen. But not the Stellaron.” Silver Wolf scoffs indignantly behind her, she almost sounds offended.

“Even if you could it’d be a trap. Herta doesn’t display her collections.” She turns to her hologram once more.

“This thing isnt very good with investigating, is it?”

Kafka expects some form of insulted rage to squeak in her mind’s ear, but she hears nothing. Though faintly she imagines a rather adorable ‘Hey! I’m trying my best!’ echoing in her skull.

Kafka staves off the sudden urge to get defensive in response and clamps her mouth shut.

Silver Wolf sighs at her lack of response and shifts onto her feet. 

“Make your way over here then. There’s no point in trying to search like this.”

“So? Got a master plan? I’m all ears.”

Kafka’s tone takes on a slightly irritated edge, for a reason she herself doesn’t quite understand. If Silver Wolf picked up on it, she chooses not to say anything and instead gestures to the warping static of the holographic screens lining the walls of the office.

“Its a matter of hacking the surveillance system directly.” She says matter-of-factly, smirking playfully as her iconic vandalism plasters itself onto every screen in sight. 

“Aha, I see. Herta’s collections aren’t in the system so anything unaffected should be our target.”

Their heads are guided to turn and face the back of a lone monitor by the main desk. Ah. that one then. As they both stroll over to investigate, Kafka feels a strange sense of pride bubble in the back of her mind. Not for Silver Wolf’s accomplishment- that much would be expected from the shorter girl- but for the entity curling along the edge of her mind. What exactly she was supposed to be proud of she couldnt tell, but the feeling was pleasant regardless.

Silver Wolf slips into a chair and slides forward to the desk, cracking her knuckles and wiggling her fingers as she readies herself for some data mining. 

“Crude, simple, but effective. Look, found it.” The computer’s cursor circles a line of code tauntingly. Kafka doesn’t understand what any of the values mean.

“Item number two-eleven, ‘Blind Spot’ : a simple light-deflecting field. It allows an object in its field to pass unnoticed, but if a different item ceases to be obvious, the object gets revealed.” 

She isn’t sure which set of numbers.. Or letters? That item is supposed be, but it does seem like a very… uncomplicated form of security for someone like Herta. 

“So, Herta the genius… hides her collection with something as simple as this?”

“the simplest method is the hardest to spot, isnt that our motto?” 

“Huh? How is that simple?” Kafka nearly chokes on her saliva while trying to hold back a bark of laughter and wonders why she’d kept her guard up for this thing. She follows Silver Wolf towards the glitching hole in the wall and sighs bemusedly. 

“The data suggests its just an ordinary hologram. But it has an added layer… “ Silver Wolf eyes the frayed edges of the hologram cautiously, despite the confidence in her voice.

“Lets take a look. Dont worry, this place wont be our grave.” The girl only puffs her cheeks and steps forward, ignoring Kafka’s words of comfort completely. Well, she’d expected that much at least.

As she follows behind, her vision melts into a stark change of scenery. 

The bright, ethereal glow of the Stellaron coating the walls of the closed off room in a golden-blue light. A strange combination, but one that was all too familiar; the everchanging strands of reality warping and stretching around itself, as the Stellaron sat patiently- sealed away- in the center of the room. Such an otherworldly treasure was exactly what all Stellaron hunters across the universe strove for. Though admittedly it was a mere front for their true purpose, a fact that Kafka was intimately aware of. 

Their true goal would see this stellaron- sealed away, courtesy of Herta- to another use. Once said seal was removed by Silver Wolf, all Kafka would need to do was take hold of it and place it inside that vessel. 

It had been laying in wait for this exact occasion…Kafka smiles fondly at the memory of it. Silver Wolf makes a small noise of surprise, catching her attention. She steps over towards the girl and the control panel, asking a question without speaking.

“It has its own security system… I guess even for herta, a Stellaron is no ordinary rarity.” Silver Wolf sounds genuinely surprised at this fact, though Kafka feels this was a rather likely outcome.

“Can you get it?”

“Of course, even the genius Herta cant compete with me when it comes to hacking.”

“Good. Then I’ll also count on you for the preparation of the receptacle.” Not to mention, she was quite sure this being wouldn’t be able to provide much help if Silver Wolf couldn’t figure it out herself. Speak of the devil, she feels the entity waft away like smoke in the wind and settle in the air around them as she lifts the Stellaron from its prison. She turns to her Silver haired companion and unspoken words flicker between their eyes.

This is Kafka’s decision.

Or perhaps it isn’t, she corrects herself over the distant sound of Silver Wolf’s voice.

 When it enters her body, it no longer feels like being puppeteered or controlled. 

She recalls that first feeling of possession, and the bleeding darkness making way for glowing golden edges of a burnt milky way. Her mind is dipped like an apple into the thick syruppy taste of synethesia. The amber eyes of the vessel- piercing into her soul and leaving her tongue sizzling in an almost addictive sort of pain- briefly flash open before collapsing to the floor in Kafka’s arms. 

The Stellaron has found its place. And something else entirely has made its home there too.

(What an amazing tutorial and intro! You get the feeling you’ll be playing this game for a very long while!)

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of March. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Bloodsucker | Not Rated | 1,738 words

Harry and Louis’ passionate night takes a violent turn.

2) Hell Is A Teenage Boy | Explicit | 1,970 words

In the quiet suburbs of Roswell, the Tomlinson family has new neighbors: Harry and Alice Styles, a lovely and happy couple. Where Louis, a hopeless rebel fell for the man in the suit. Of course, he can't forget his pretty model wife holding his arm. Simple details.

3) Sweet But Psycho Only For You | Mature | 2,728 words

Finding your forever person is something that many dream to do. For some it takes longer than others and the trials it takes to get to that person can be overwhelming. For Harry it was simple. He didn’t have to relive a Shakespearean play or over exaggerated drama to find his love. He met his person at a corner store at 3am yelling at a clerk over cereal and instantly fell in love. It was all so simple. They dated, fought, fucked, moved in together. Oh, so simple. Until it wasn’t.

4) Blue Yarn | Explicit | 2,875 words

Louis was on his hands and knees on their bed, in nothing but the blue jumper Harry had knitted him, arching his back beautifully, fucking himself on… And Harry had to take one step closer before he realized that, outside of Louis’ bum, the end of his thickest knitting needle was poking out. Holy fucking shit. Louis was fucking himself on Harry's knitting needle.

5) To Make a Home Where There Is None | Mature | 3,907 words

Harry shows up and doesn't want to leave. Louis doesn't mind too much.

6) Your Hand In My Hand, So Still And Discreet | Explicit | 4,513 words

“It was about how cold he was under me. How still. It was knowing that even if he had died, even if he was already dead, he would still be mine.” Louis thought he knew each one of his boyfriend’s stories, secrets, and kinks. Turns out Harry was keeping a crucial one hidden away.

7) Haze On The Horizon | Explicit | 6,397 words

“— Louis?” He couldn’t speak. He should hang up. He should’ve never called. His breaths were building into a staccato. “…baby? Are you doing alright? Talk to me, please.” Harry sounded so concerned, and it was quickly weakening his defences. No. No, he wouldn’t. No- “Omega,” Harry called, voice low and just shy of his alpha voice, even through the phone, and Louis just… Louis broke. “I miss you! I-” he cried out, an agonising crack in his voice, a loud sob being ripped from him. “— I need you!” Louis sniffled harshly, slumping, before admitting, quieter, “I need you.” Louis finds himself unexpectedly going into soft heat. Which would’ve been fine, except he is hundreds of miles away from his alpha, Harry, and he needs him. They make it work.

8) Pour Some Sugar (Wax) On Me | Explicit | 11,213 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Okay, so I just need you to hug your legs to your chest for me, and we can get started.” Swallowing past the lump that has lodged in his throat, Louis reaches down and grabs his shins, hugging his legs up to his chest, effectively putting his bare asshole, taint, and balls on display.

9) The Room Thief | Not Rated | 12,321 words

Louis: Can I come over? Need your help. Niall: Did someone die? I don’t need to help you bury a body do I? Wait, did you behead one of your alpha flatmates? I hope it was the one that smells like cherries. That is such a weird scent for an alpha. It’s disturbing. And I can’t even smell it. Louis: I’ve just been kicked out. Can I crash on your couch? Niall: Zayn’s in class. I’m here so get over here NOW. Louis: Thanks mate. Gonna pack a few things and will head over. Be there in about a half hour.

10) I Dig Your Cinema | Explicit | 12,930 words

It wasn’t that Louis didn’t want to see Harry’s latest film; it was a tragically pathetic fact that Louis had watched every single show and film, every interview, every red carpet that Harry had done since his ex-boyfriend had decided to leave Uni in the second year and pursue an acting career. It's just that he wanted to watch it on his own, in his flat, with a soft blanket, beer, ice cream, and a large box of tissues.

11) I'll Look After You | Mature | 15,471 words

I mean, when Harry inherited his late uncle's hybrid, he didn't necessarily expect this... Where Louis is a nice hybrid cat who's never lived with anyone but an old man, and who discovers the freedom of living with Harry...

12) I Don’t Want You | Mature | 35,941 words

Louis never wanted to be an omega. He didn’t want to end up like his mother- a submissive omega that married his father in an arranged marriage, and is now living her life as a baby making machine, and a trophy wife who can never voice her opinion- Louis was never the quiet type, he always said exactly what he thought. But life has a funny way of fucking him over and Louis finds himself forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only Harry styles.

13) Hiding Green Smiles | Explicit | 45,227 words

Louis’ heart is racing in his chest. The idea of temporary bonding—letting Harry bite down right on that spot without it being a real bond—makes his mouth go dry. He didn’t even know something like this existed! His mind fills with all the possibilities and questions. What’s it going to feel like? How will it affect his orgasms? How will it affect Harry’s knot? What parts of a bond does it simulate? When Louis goes with Liam to a hidden sex shop, he discovers a new sex toy, the BiteMat, and he can't believe his luck. He loves being bitten, has a biting kink, even, and now he can be bitten over his bonding spot without the fear of anything permanent. He hastily buys it to try with Harry, his friend and roommate, and his regular heat/rut partner for the last eighteen months. They've been friends-with-benefits outside heat or rut for eight months now, and Louis' been desperately in love with Harry for at least five of those months.

14) A Match Into Water | Not Rated | 68,756 words

“So, who’s the guy?” Louis startled at the question, immediately locking his phone and dropping it onto the beanbag cushion below him. This was a topic he desperately wanted to avoid with his friends, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. That didn’t mean he would try to avoid it though. “What guy?” He rushed out, looking at Liza with a dumbfounded expression, trying his best to avoid Niall and Jeremy clearly sharing a knowing look. “You’ve been on your phone nonstop, you’re never on your phone while working. Not to mention, you’re smiling at your phone like a nutter,” Niall pipes up, grinning at him facetiously.

15) I Would Rather Go Blind | Mature | 79,150 words

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Louis asked with confidence, his gaze briefly flickering to Harry's plump lips, a momentary hint of desire flickering in his eyes. "I…" Harry's voice caught in his throat as Louis' gaze travelled downward, coming to rest on his chest. Without hesitation, Louis raised his hands from the desk, bringing them to Harry's chest, helping him button the one he had missed. When he attempted to pull away, Harry's hand shot out and gripped at his wrist. "You're shaking," Louis observed, his eyes shifting to their joined hands before returning to meet Harry's gaze, unwavering. "It's…" Harry cleared his throat. "It's you. You make me… I don't know what is happening to me." "What do you feel?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's… warm," he began, shyly bringing Louis' hand against the centre of his chest over his shirt. "Here." His hand slid down to his stomach, their eyes locked in a powerful gaze. "And here." They remained silent for a moment, both captivated by the intensity of their connection. "Every time you're near me."

16) As Sweet As You Are | Mature | 87,394 words

Note: This fic was deleted and has now been reuploaded.

"Do you not have something more expensive?" The alpha gives him a weird look, resting his hands on the table. "Definitely not something the cost of that shade of blue that are your eyes," he responds effortlessly. "Why is a male omega on his own out in the middle of the woods at this time of night?" Harry speaks, staring intensely at the prince, smirk lingering on his face. "Your kind is rather rare. You should be more careful. There are a lot of rogue alphas around that won't blink until they've knotted and bred you up." The blue eyed omega swallows, shuffling in his seat awkwardly and looking anywhere but the alpha before him. "I ran away from home," Louis admits, occupying himself by taking a sip of the lager instead of thinking about the fact that the alpha hasn't yet taken his eyes off him. "My parents want me to marry someone I do not want to marry, so I ran."

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[awyeahitssam]

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. 

“You’re late.” 

Harry considered his response as he stepped farther into the room, head tipping up to take in the fifty some-odd witches and wizards that made up the Wizengamot. They were all watching him keenly, some with open derision and others with curiosity. His head pulsed faintly at the weight of the attention on him, their emotions eagerly battering his Occlumency shields. Harry worked to think through the sensation even as he reinforced his mental defences. He could already tell by the sweat beading on his back that this would be a trying experience. The fact that this section of the Ministry was deep enough to obstruct the weight of all other presences did not make up for the fact that he was in front of fifty people rather than the expected four to six. He hasn't practised for this, has had no means to. 

Fudge sat in the middle of the first row, and the smugness he and the witch to his right were emanating made it rather easy to pinpoint who had been responsible for the sudden change in the time of his trial. 

"Am I?" Harry asked, and the jolt of astonishment, annoyance and fury that swept through various members of the court almost had him gritting his teeth. Harry imagined that Fudge's anger and embarrassment would have been obvious to him even without his abilities. The man had turned faintly red at the question, face pinching. 

"You were sent notice of the change in time this morning," the Minister barked out. "It is not the Wizengamot's fault you are late. Now sit down."

Harry allowed his eyebrow to quirk, slow and incredulous. This version of Cornelius Fudge was far different from the one he had met two years ago.

“While I would hardly blame the Wizengamot as a whole, it sounds as if whoever is charged with correspondence is at fault. Per a standing law written in 1839, all changes in time and venue must be completed in excess of twenty four hours prior to a trial's start time. Said correspondence must have been confirmed as seen by the person or persons on trial and their representatives at least sixteen hours before the scheduled start time.”

“That is for an official trial,” the Minister returned, voice sharp despite the fluster and anxiety Harry could sense beneath it. 

“Apologies for my presumption, then,” Harry said dryly. “I assumed that any trial which our entire governance presided over would be considered official.”

“Besides which, there is no such specificity to that law,” A broad, square-jawed witch to the left of Fudge said, giving the Minister a quelling look. 

The Minister did not respond to the implied reprimand, instead puffing himself up a bit and saying, “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley, horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he stared down at a piece of parchment, quill poised to write. Unlike most everyone else in the room, his attention did not seem to find sole focus on Harry. Harry didn’t expend any effort to attempt to see how Percy felt about the entire situation, his focus drawn to an approaching presence. It was a whirlwind of concern, faint annoyance, and a dash of enjoyment. 

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” said Fudge in a ringing voice, emphasising the word hearing, and Percy began taking notes at once, “into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Fudge continued on, listing interrogators, and Harry’s attention was distracted from Fudge’s words, the approaching presence, and his Occlumency shields by a jolt of glee and greed. His gaze flickered up to meet the icy grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. The realisation dawns quickly that the Dursleys address was now a matter of public record. Harry had already decided he wouldn't go back, and this only provided more incentive. 

He hesitates around the thought of whether the Dursleys will be targeted. Whether he should warn somebody that they need to be moved. Whether he cares enough to, after so many years of their oppressive hatred.

Behind him, the door presses open. 

“—Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Dumbledore’s voice isn’t projected like Fudge’s, but there is no doubt that he is heard. The press of the Wizengamot’s emotions is momentarily overwhelming: annoyance, bemusement, fear, anger, respect, deference, joy… Harry’s own anger is hardly a blip amongst the cacophony. 

When he strides into Harry’s view Dumbledore's expression is serene, but Harry can feel his spiteful enjoyment at the reception his disruption has created. He looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his crooked nose. 

A few of the Wizengamot members muttered to one another, but most were quiet, eyes locked on Dumbledore. 

While Harry’s presence had invoked interest and curiosity, the reactions to Dumbledore were far more substantive. Perhaps it was that the Headmaster had interacted with all of these people personally, socially, and they knew him by more than reputation. They had personal feelings and opinions fully developed about Dumbledore, while Harry was still, largely, an unknown. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, thoroughly disconcerted and flustered by Dumbledore’s presence. “Dumbledore. Yes. You—er—got our—er—message that the time and—er—place of the hearing had been changed, then?” 

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

It was a lie, Harry recognized, and one the Headmaster took a good deal of amusement in stating. Some of Dumbledore’s lingering frustration seemed to melt the longer he watched Fudge, the genial cast to his face a farce. He took joy in Fudge being wrong-footed, and the longer he fumbled, the more Dumbledore’s contentment with the situation grew. 

“Yes—well—I suppose we’ll need another chair—I—Weasley, could you—?” 

“Not to worry, not to worry,” said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. 

Harry had never thought of Dumbledore as anything approaching petty before, and perhaps he typically was not, but there was no denying that he was fond of making Fudge feel foolish. Well, his name had been dragged through the Prophet by the Minister's word; Harry couldn’t be surprised by a grudge. Seemingly omniscient or not, Dumbledore was only human. 

The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down. 

“Yes,” said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. “Well, then. So. The charges. Yes.” He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, “The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy.”

“You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment. 

“Yes,” Harry agreed, not looking at Malfoy this time. 

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?” interrupted Fudge. Harry felt his vindictive pleasure at cutting him off—even with Dumbledore here, he was finding his footing—but as Harry failed to answer this question, his irritation rose to overtake it.

“You are expected to answer,” the witch to the left of Fudge said, raising a brow at him. She had been the same woman to defend the law he had parrotted. 

Harry lets his silence linger for a moment, feeling the anticipation of the Wizengamot build, before returning, “Will I be allowed to do so in full?” 

His voice is perfectly respectful, but Fudge’s outrage still blooms. Dumbledore, a glance away, feels of surprise-concern-suspicion, and it makes the hairs on Harry’s nape stand at attention. 

“Yes,” the woman gave the Minister yet another quelling look, “of course you will.” 

“Thank you. To your last question, Minister, I did receive an official warning three years ago. The warning was,” it took a moment for Harry to recall the right term, said by three other representatives in three other trials, but the momentary pause has the interesting effect of focusing attention on him all the more, “improperly dispersed. The magic that triggered it came from a visiting House Elf. Being the only known magical in Little Whinging and without the supervision of an adult witch or wizard, the charms used to enforce the Statute of Secrecy were triggered. If anybody would like to see a memory of the event in question, I would be more than happy to provide it, assuming there is a pensive available.”

“There is no pensive,” a man with dark hair and an austere demeanour said, then emphasised again, “This is no trial.” 

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked, eyebrows raising as he glanced tellingly down at the chair in which he sat, wrapped in chains. “Very well.”

“Either way, it is rather late to be blaming your troubled past on elf magic,” Fudge dismissed, and let out a short laugh, as if he expected others to join him in it. At his side, the woman still cloaked in shadows let out a titter. “A unique and unprecedented excuse, as, I suppose, we should have expected from a young man trying to squirm out of trouble.” 

It is Fudge’s tone, a mix of condescension and chiding, even as his emotions are anything but, that does it. Behind his Occlumency and building headache, Harry realises that he's angry. He is disgruntled, disgusted and dissatisfied. He had accessed the public records available, he had pulled transcripts from previous underage trials, and this—this is a farce. 

This is Fudge, afraid to believe that Lord Voldemort is alive and smearing Harry’s name because he can. Because Harry has nobody looking out for him, and he’s been fair game since nobody stepped in the first time Rita did it. Beside him, Dumbledore is perfectly silent.

Harry is a symbol, but he's also fifteen, and it's an odd thought that reeks of his Godfather. 

“You're fifteen, pup,” Sirius had insisted mere days ago, like it meant something, like it mattered. “You deserve the chance to be a boy without all of this added pressure.”

The glimmer in his eyes had been just as telling as the mingled pain-grief-exhaustion-despair. He was speaking from experience, Harry had thought, throat tight. It made Harry want to fight for his Godfather, for the boy that he once was. Where, then, was that impulse to fight for himself?

“You matter, Harry. What you want matters.”

Harry does not want to play their games, though he has already begun to. He does not want to use the information he's researched, as he sits in a chair with chains, and struggles through polite phrasings. He won't let his research go to waste, though. He knows something for once, and he'll use that knowledge. 

The look he levels to Fudge, then, is faux-concerned. “I understand you've had no reason to research this, Minister,” he says, voice kind in a way that is mockery and can not be called such, “but I take the threat of having my wand snapped very seriously. According to public records, the Statute of Secrecy charms have been proven defective in the exact scenario I've discussed once before, in the case of Richard Pike, who’s classmate had an elf deliver things on multiple occasions until he was brought between a five-panel jury to plead his case.”

“Mind you, the Ministry hadn't been running a campaign to discredit Richard Pike,” Harry added casually. The reaction from a simple remark didn't disappoint; Fudge spluttered, the woman beside him leaned out of the shadows, revealing an overwhelmingly pink ensemble, and someone burst out, “Now see here, young man—!” before being abruptly silenced. “He was fifteen, too, but he actually had adults willing to advocate on his behalf.”

Dumbledore’s concern is growing beside him, but Harry doesn't turn to meet the man's eyes, and Dumbledore does not speak out, despite Harry’s accusation.

Harry’s rage is bubbling at the back of his throat, and he wants to shout, but he had learned about the ineffectiveness of screaming his ire long ago. That lesson had only been reinforced after his outburst at Ron and Hermione, and he is more than willing to try something else now. 

He takes a moment to consider his approach, and then goes with something that feels natural, a release that will keep his shouts in check; Harry laughs.

“Something funny, Mr. Potter?” A cold voice comes. 

“Not really, Something is ridiculous, though, and I’m sure you’d all rather I laugh than deal with a moody teenager's temper tantrum.” He lets his smile go a little sharper, and feels the good his reminder does. There is a particularly keen sense of culpability from a woman he faintly recognizes from his research; Head of the Panel for Underaged Sourcery, Irena Covey. Is the guilt for allowing this to spiral so out of hand, into a room meant for criminal proceedings, or something else?

“I have before me the entire government of magical Britain, wasting their time at a hearing for underaged magic which is typically handled by an empaneled jury of four. We are in the bowels of the Ministry, in a room that has not been used for anything but trials of the most dangerous criminals, and yet this is not a trial, but a hearing to decide disciplinary methods, as if there is no doubt of my guilt and I must be punished.” 

“My ‘crime,’” he uses the air quotes readily, “is using the Patronus Charm to protect myself and my cousin from a dementor. My cousin, who knows about magic and does not count as a breach in the Statute. If you'd like to see the memory of the encounter, I give full permission to have it pulled from my head. If you'd like to give me veritaserum—well, I have no parent to consent to the use of a regulated substance, but that's never stopped anybody before. I’ll submit myself willingly to that as well. And if,” he smiles sharply, “you'd like to handle this especially quickly, and get back to your doubtlessly busy lives, I will swear upon my magic that I'm telling the truth. How's that?”

It’s nothing that can be compelled or asked for, not ever, but the offer is a powerful thing. Vows on your magic can be taken as irrefutable testimony, and are rarely given, as they rely on objective rather than subjective fact, a twist that always leaves one with the slightest chance of turning squib.

He feels the shift in the air, the reconsideration of biases, the sharpening curiosity.

“I find your tone disrespectful, boy,” says a man with the longest straw-coloured hair Harry has ever seen. It lies in neat curls, soft and touchable, but the man’s face is cold and his tone hard, and Harry can’t pinpoint his intention with so many other people in the room. 

“Perfectly understandable, sir. I find this entire theatrical display disrespectful. You are all very important and busy people, so I can understand that you are frustrated with having your time wasted. However I hope you'll forgive if my frustration outweighs your own, as I am being treated like a war criminal rather than an underaged child due to a bewildering grudge that our Minister seems to be harbouring.” 

“You want to snap my wand?” Harry asked the Minister if Magic, eyes blazing but posture relaxed, “Then you can be certain I will put up a fight.”

He let his eyes trail over the rest of his jury, the heady, odd feel of their captivated attention allowing his shoulders to relax into something looser and more confident.

“Magic is the only thing I have of my mother and father. So forgive this fifteen year old orphan for his sentimentality,” Harry bared his teeth, “but I plan on keeping it. Especially considering that I have broken no laws, and there are clear caveats in place that allow an underaged witch or wizard to use magic when in fear for their life.”

He let his gaze slide over the Wizengamot and paused to meet every set of eyes that were not looking away. His point has been well and truly made. Dumbledore is surprised by his outburst, or perhaps by its effectiveness, and faintly suspicious for some reason. 

“Strong words prove nothing,” a man larger than Harry’s uncle says when Harry’s gaze lands on him, and he doesn't believe Harry, but he is used to that. 

Harry thinks back to the books on magical vows he had studied during the tournament, and the book in the Black Library that he had read two days ago. He thinks of the vow that he had carefully drafted, under Sirius’ supervision. His godfather has emphasised the importance of his wording, so that there could be no mistake. 

“Harry, wait.” Dumbledore’s order comes curt and harsh, but Harry pays it no attention. He knows what has caught the Headmaster’s attention; the golden glow that had encapsulated Harry the moment he chose his words. It hazes around his form, and Harry looks down at his hand with interest and curiosity. 

There is a sudden murmuring from his audience as they catch on. 

“I, Harry James Potter, vow on my magic that on the night of August 2 I used a patronus charm to ward off dementors in Little Whinging, Surrey, in fear of losing my soul.”

The golden glow retreats. Several people gasp at the act, but it is no mere dramatics; the shock he feels pulsing through the room is genuine. He allowed the pause to linger for a moment before saying, “I would cast a spell to prove my claim, but this is a disciplinary hearing for underaged magic.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but before he could speak a worn voice sounded from the top tier of the gallery. “I vote an exception be made. Raise your wands if you are in agreement.” 

It was nearly unanimous, and Fudge’s expression was taut. His emotions were hard to pinpoint, though multiple people were radiating fear, stomach-churning and vile. Madame Bones glanced around the gallery, expectant. “Mr. Potter, if you would?”

Obediently, Harry drew his wand and murmured a spell under his breath. It was a rather cheeky choice, but Harry was a Gryffindor for a reason. His patronus burst into existence and lifted its head regally, sightless eyes fixed on the Wizengamot. After a moment it turned to Harry and met his gaze before bowing its head. Harry bowed his head back in respect, tension lessening as he felt the warmth and serenity his patronus gave to him, deeply soothing. It took a step forward and pressed its head to his chest, and Harry smiled. 

“Fantastic,” Madam Bones murmured. “Very impressive.”

She said it, but Harry could feel it radiating from all around the room; respect, wariness, keen interest. A couple of people even seemed amused by his gall, which, he supposed, was better than offended. Fear was regulated to an undertone in the room, pervasive but not overpowering.

Harry’s patronus raises its head, a huff ruffling his hair. He raised a hand to brush over its snout, feeling the warm, welcoming peace it emanated more than its fur.  It stares into his eyes for a long moment, grounding Harry, before lowering its head one last time and glimmering out of existence, purpose served. 

“Well then,” the shift in the room was abrupt. With two words the attention of the Wizengnot had been captured by a dark-haired woman, whose brown eyes were cataloguing Harry. The abrupt pull and shift of emotions might have been startling had his patronus not left him so balanced. “I might have agreed that all of our time was wasted on this day, Mr. Potter, if not for this exquisite demonstration of a mastered patronus. That it is tactile as well as spiritually corporeal is a rare and impressive feat, especially given your age.”

Beneath her intrigue and open interest, the turn of her emotions had an odd chill to them. Her fascination is detached and clinical. Her regard had the effect of sharpening the interest towards Harry all the more. Dumbledore’s emotions pulsed behind him, an odd mix of wary, vexed and rueful. 

“Perhaps, Lady Laurier, it would be most appropriate to turn our attention to how a dementor managed to make its way to Little Whinging in the first place.” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Bones clears her throat. “That is certainly a matter that needs attention. First, however, Mr. Potter’s verdict.”

“I believe that Mr. Potter’s vow constitutes irrefutable proof, and this tria—hearing should be closed.” Covey spoke up, her slip made all the more apparent by its correction. 

“So it shall be,” agreed Bones. “As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I accept into the record Harry Potter's magical vow. In combination with his subsequent proof of magic, this vow is considered irrefutable evidence. As such, all charges against the accused are dismissed with the Ministry's sincere apologies. I put forward my professional recommendation that future cases of underaged sorcery are dealt with by the bench traditionally empaneled.” She added pointedly. 

[lovingperfectionsblog]

For What It's Worth - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Plan is formulated.

Max Verstappen x Reader. 

Chapter Summary: Max finally sees the flowers that lead to his downfall and reluctantly helps his best friend come up with a plan to find out who sent them. 

Warnings: Swearing. 

Word Count: 2736.

Author's Note: Please forgive me for this taking so long. Life happens I guess. I have als decided I am probably going to be making the chapters slightly shorter, because yeah, just something fun and silly. Can’t wait to hear your guys thoughts On all of this <3 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

______________________________________________________________

“I mean, they’re flowers?” Both you and Max stood above the bunch resting on the table, the note lying just below them, conveniently placed upside down so it couldn’t be read. Max couldn’t help but feel that the florist's logo was taunting him. His hand gripping the back of the chair that he was leaning on, itching to turn the card over to silence its taunts. The only thing worse would be what was on the other side of the card. He couldn’t look at that. His own words, his confession staring back at him. 

“They’re my favourite flowers.” Your stance mimicked Max’s, only now you were looking at him. You watched as he slowly nodded his head, not in recognition of being told new information, but instead a nod of confirmation. “So I assume you told him which flowers to get then?” 

It was accusatory, you were egging him to confess that he knew who had sent the flowers. “I didn’t tell anyone these were your favourite flowers.” He still hadn’t looked at you, eyes willing the note to catch fire. 

“But you knew these were my favourite flowers?” He could feel the sweat starting to drip down the side of his face where you were burning a hole with your eyes. 

“In my defence, everyone knows these are your favourite flowers, I didn’t need to tell anyone because you cannot keep any personal information to yourself.” This was the first time he looked at you and  he couldn't help but feel a smile tug at his lips as he caught sight of the scandalised look on your face. 

“Don’t lie, I am very good at keeping secrets, thank you very much.” You shoved Max’s shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice how his arms tensed under the force, which helped him barely even move from his position. 

“You’re good at keeping other people's secrets, your own though? You’re an open book.” It was a matter of fact and he knew you knew he wasn’t wrong, your silence and scowl confirming exactly what he had just said. 

“So you didn't tell him?” As he shook his head in response, he was simultaneously confused and slightly insulted that you hadn’t assumed it was him. Had you completely written him off as a viable option considering the fact that you both worked together? 

“Have you read the note?” There was absolutely no chance that he was going to read what was on that note, and anyway, he already knew exactly what was written and what was meant to be written, his name. 

“I don’t need to read the note.” It sounded childish coming out, even he knew that, but he really really did not need to read that note, especially not in front of you. 

“Read the note Max.”  You reached forward to turn it over, and there were the words, His words, mocking him even more violently than that logo had. 

The WDC means nothing if I don’t have a woman like you by my side. 

They could cheer my name in those stands until the end of time, but the only name I’d ever recognize myself having is “yours”. 

Even on that podium, in front of a sea of people, only when I see you, do I truly feel like I have something worth celebrating. 

You are my calm, my favourite feeling, my safe space, I can only hope that I can be yours as well? 

“Do you think he was asking me out?” Your voice pierced through the ringing in his ears, his brain inundated with criticism of why this was the worst love note he could have possibly written. It had seemed cute at the time, the F1 theme and all made sense, he was a WDC, you worked for him in F1, you had met because of F1, kind of, sort of, he didn’t like to dwell on that moment too much, but now, the note seemed awful. It seemed like a cliche. 

And worst of all, you didn’t even understand that he was asking you to be his girlfriend. Could he have fucked this up any more than he already had? 

Thank God he had forgotten his name. 

“I think he was probably asking you out,” he took a quick glance your way before continuing, testing the waters, “I think he might have been asking you to be his girlfriend?” 

Why the fuck were you scrunching your face like that? 

“He is not asking me to be his girlfriend.” The scoff you added at the end had Max feeling a lot more offended than he was allowed to show in this situation. 

“Of course he’s asking you to be his girlfriend. Look at the last line.” Max shoved the note in your direction, making sure to only briefly touch the card. 

“Who asks someone to be their girlfriend without signing their name?” You shoved the card back. 

“A fucking idiot.”  Him. 

“Which could be any driver on this grid.” He hated how smug you looked right now, especially because it was him. He was the idiot. No one else on that grid would have done something this stupid. Just him. 

“And you want me to help you?” You frantically nodded along, “You want me to find you an idiot to date?” Max felt the entire air of the room shift, and yes, he can admit that maybe he had said that a little harshly, but he wasn't expecting you to look so deflated at the comment. 

“Well, yeah, I mean, he clearly either pays attention to me or he went out of his way to make the effort and like, yeah, I know that maybe it’s the bare minimum, but I don’t know if you can tell, but it’s not exactly like I date a lot.” You had stopped looking directly at him and Max, for the first time, had noticed that you were a little embarrassed by the confession. 

“You should date more.” Me. You should date me. More. Well, you should start. Is what Max wanted to say. 

“Of course, if only it was that easy, you know, all things considered.” You laughed along to your own joke as you began moving around your hotel room, grabbing your jacket which had been previously strewn on the bed, slowly ushering Max out of the room with you so you could leave. 

“Considering what?” Max shut the door behind him and quickly fell in step with you, making your way down the hall. 

“You know? All the travel? Being the assistant to the big bad Max Verstappen?” You stopped in front of the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor. 

“Big Bad Max Verstappen?” What did your dating life have to do with you being his assistant?

“You do know men will not get near me because of the fact that we are together constantly. There have been a  lot of rumours of us dating Max. How do you not know this?” 

He hated how proud he felt. He truly hated how good this all made him feel, but yeah, he wanted everyone to know that you were his. Well, not yet, but you were going to be his girlfriend.  

Eventually. 

Hopefully. 

“Hurry up, you’re going to be late!” He had noticed that you were already at the hotel doors, waiting for him to catch up and so he had broken out into a jog to catch up with you. 

“Yeah, well, maybe they should stay away.” Wrong this for him to say, but he was proud of it. 

“Why? So you can just keep me as your assistant forever?” You laughed as you slid into the car, losing Max;s eyesight. 

“You do realise you’re also my best friend right? Like, my best friend in the whole wide world?” He started the car and pulled into traffic. 

“You’re the one who hired me Max, and plus, it’s a race weekend. I’m your friend after hours.”  He hated that you put your feet on the dash. 

“Probably should have never done that.” You let out a laugh that filled the car, but you would never know how serious he actually he was. 

Every part of him regretted hiring you. If he hadn’t then maybe he could have you in the paddock with him as his girlfriend instead. A girlfriend he could hug and kiss publically and not be the creepy fucking boss. 

“Getting sick of me already?”Max countered, willing himself not to look at you while he was driving. He always found himself having to do exactly this. 

“I could never get sick of you Maxie” He knew you were teasing him, but he’d be lying if he said that one sentence didn't mean the world to him too. 

“If you’re going to be cheeky, you can always just quit.” 

“Fine.”

“No.”

You barked out your laugh and he couldn’t help but mimic it, mostly from relief though. He was embarrassingly reliant on you, and not even as his assistant, although, yeah, as his assistant too, but it was mainly as his friend. 

“You saying you need me there Maxie.” More teasing. 

“Yes.” He chose to be completely honest with you. 

He could feel your eyes on him, his hands gripping the steering wheel just ever so slightly tighter, making the final turn towards the track. 

“Yeah, I need you too.” It was a whisper, he was almost certain he wasn’t meant to hear it, but he did. Maybe there was still a chance. 

The rest of the ride was silent, comfortable, both of you letting the confessions sit in the air, allowing you both to breathe them in. 

The next time either of you speak, you’re making your way into the paddock, the nerves of the season finally seeping in as the first real day of the race weekend begins. 

“So, I’ve come with a plan.” You shuffled through the gates, Max following close behind.

“A plan for what?” Max tried to wrack his brain for what could possibly need a plan of action for the weekend, “There's? Wait, that's for PR and my strategist?”

“Max, no, a plan to figure out who sent the flowers.” You shot Mx a confused look, wondering how he had already forgotten about the conversation from this morning. 

“Oh.” Fuck, this again. 

“So,” You either didn’t notice or just chose to ignore his disinterested reaction as you carried on updating him on what you had come up with, “I’m making a list of each driver on the grid you it could possibly be,” you looked to Max, waiting for his nod before you would continue, “And then kind of, seducing him to maybe,”

“No.”

You looked at Max after the sharp instruction left his mouth. His face was hard set, jaw clenched, eyes forward as he tried to keep his cool. 

“Well, how else am I meant to figure out who it was if I don't,”

“If you say the word seduce again, you’re fired.” He’d fire you purely so he could date you, he’d fire you to get you out of this paddock and away from the other drivers immediately, he would do anything to not have to watch you seduce anyone other than him. 

“Well what should I do then?” The slap of your arms against your thighs after you dropped them in frustration was enough to finally draw Max’s full attention back to you and what he found was you waiting for an actual idea from him. 

He was going to have to help the woman he loves figure out how to seduce other men. His friends. 

If anything happens between any of them, he was a little nervous that he was going to take them out on the track. 

He was losing his mind. 

“Maybe just go up and ask them?” They’d say no, Max would be happy and then he could figure out how to actually get you. Maybe he should seduce you. 

No, that’s what the flowers were, and then he’d still be the creepy boss. 

“And embarrass myself? No way.” 

“And you won’t do that while trying to seduce them?” he faked a laugh as you shoved him away from you. 

“Firstly, you’ve never seen me seduce anyone, I'm excellent at it, and secondly, I bet I could have you on your knees with my seduction skills so don’t laugh.” Max felt his entire face heat up at the thought of being on his knees for you. He most certainly wasn’t laughing now. 

“Who exactly would you be seducing?” He could get around this. There was always going to be a way for him to get around this. The guys all knew how he felt about you. Surely none of them would fall for any of this, so why not entertain it for a little bit while he figures out what his next move is. 

“I knew you’d come around to it! Okay, so I was thinking we should start with Daniel.” Max was going to throw up. 

“Daniel?” No, all of this was a bad idea. No. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, he was kind of like, looking at me last night, and when we were walking back inside he had his hand on my lower back and like, you know?” If he wasn’t so angry he would have noted how cute the blush looked on your cheeks, but no, he was furious. Daniel knew how he felt and now he was doing all of this? He needed to talk to Daniel, put him in his place when it came to you.

But, he also does all of this to you? Why was he excluded from the potential pool of drivers interested in you? 

“So Daniel, then Lando, Carlos,” you continued in lieu of Max responding to your suspicions about Daniel, “then there’s Yuki, George and Lewis.”

“This list is getting pretty long.” God, even Max knew he sounded pathetic with that comment. 

“Shut up, there’s a lot of options on that grid.” You grabbed a cup of coffee as you continued rambling on to Max, “and finally, Charles and Pierre.” 

“What, not considering me then?” You giggled at his comment, despite how serious he was being, unbeknown to you. 

“Probably a little unprofessional to flirt with my boss.” Please, please flirt with me, it’s all Max could think about as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him. “So, what do you think?” You sipped on your cup, waiting for Max to give some decent input. 

“It's a list.” The coffee tasted awful. 

“Max, please, I just want a shot at love too.” Your voice was too soft, too honest. If Max wasn’t such a coward, this would have been his moment to tell you that you’ve always been loved by him, for too long for him to still be keeping it a secret, but he loved every part of you, in every scenario, in every way. And he was going to love you through this too. 

“Okay, so, when do you start seducing Daniel.” Your smile was beaming at him, but he couldn’t help how heartbroken he felt at knowing it was because you were going to try and get another man, one that wasn;t him, one that he considered one of his best friends. 

“Well, he’s here this weekend, so why not this Grand Prix?” Your smile had turned from bright to sly and Lord knows Max really really wanted to see that smile in a very different context, where he was the one you were thinking about. Maybe even if you two were alone, in his hotel room, which is exactly what could have happened if the whole thing with the flowers had actually gone how he had planned it. Instead, here you were, thinking about his friend, who he was going to kill and help you flirt with. 

In his entire life, out of everything he had ever endured, this was the most defeated he had ever felt, but if it made you happy, well then, 

“Yeah, this Grand Prix it is.” 

_____________

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[deaf-solitude]

In The Shadow of the Valley Pt. 1 (Squire!Thaddeus x Knight!Reader)

Pairing: Thaddeus x Knight!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: Future graphic violence, injury and blood, no use of Y/N, placeholder knight name for the reader, mostly gender-neutral but reader is called “sir” at some points, the reader is called “my lord” a lot too, reader is also a bit of an asshole but dw they soften up

Summary: You’re a knight sworn to the Brotherhood of Steel, and you’ve just lost your asshole squire to a yao guai. Maybe it’s for the better, as you prefer to work alone anyway. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood thinks otherwise and quickly sends you a replacement. Turns out that the replacement is someone you never wished to meet again, but thankfully, he didn’t know it was you! Not yet, at least.

TDLR; What if Thaddeus was assigned to be your squire instead of Maximus’?

((A/N)) I have no defence for this. I’m so weak for pathetic men it's not even funny 😔 I’m planning on making this a 3 or 4 parter, so this parts a little on the shirt side for simplicity’s sake. Also I swear I’ve been trying to work on some Umbrella Academy stuff, but I got major writer's block for one of my requests that I was super excited to write. I’m hoping this little fallout tangent will kickstart my motivation. Anyway, enjoy my brain rot-induced fanfic bc there’s not enough appreciation for my boy Thaddeus lmao

You really wished you didn’t have to have a squire tagging along with you constantly. Okay, sure, you didn’t want to be carrying that overly-massive bag of shit yourself, but all they ever did was get in the way and die.

That’s how you found yourself in your current position, gripping your radio tightly between your metal-clad hands.

”No, I do not need another squire! Do not send one-“

”A replacement squire is currently on its way to you. Hold position.”

You groaned loudly as you released the call button, feeling inclined to rip the radio out of your suit and be done with the person on the other side of the transmission. You could do this all by yourself. There was no reason to waste yet another squire on a mission that could easily be completed by you and you alone.

Your last squire already had you walking a fine line between focusing on the mission and focusing on not smashing his head into a wall, though the yao guai he pissed off had beaten you to it. You looked back at the cave behind you, where your squire’s mauled body currently resided, deciding to move away from it in favour of getting yourself back on your intended path.

You didn’t stray too far from the general area, however, begrudgingly waiting for the Brotherhood transport to deliver your new squire. You leaned against a tree in wait, sighing heavily as you tilted your head back.

You were starting to regret ever joining this odd faction, though you supposed you didn’t have many other places to turn to as an abandoned child. Some knights had picked you up off the side of the road one day, where you were protecting an injured dog from a small band of rad roaches. You’d been caring for it for days, bringing it any food and water you could scavenge, and you weren’t going to give up on it so easily.

The makeshift spear you made with your small pocket knife tied around the end of a stick made them laugh, and they quickly shot the roaches before offering to take you back to the Brotherhood. They told you that you could help people just like you helped the dog. You, with your big heart and even bigger ambitions, agreed to go with them.

From that foggy interaction, you specifically remembered the look of the squires’ faces when you so readily agreed to tag along. They almost looked remorseful. You understood why now: the Brotherhood was not a very welcoming place to wannabe heroes. You understood that quickly.

…You never did see that dog again.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a half hour or so, before you could hear the familiar sound of an approaching vertibird. You sighed, pushing off of the tree and straightening up your stance. Here we fucking go.

You hardly had it in you to look up as your new squire rappelled down, the oversized bag he was carrying falling to the ground with a loud thump while he clumsily unhooked his harness.

He had already started talking before he even turned around, sending the rappel lines back up to the vertibird. “Oh, Knight Mire!” You barely registered the familiar voice before you saw his face, and it took everything in you not to scream or curse him out.

It was fucking Thaddeus.

He kept talking even as you froze in place, getting down on one knee and going on some spiel about how he was honoured to be in your charge, but it was drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You were going to strangle this man.

You and Thaddeus didn’t have the… best history. Arriving at the Brotherhood airbase around the same time some other kid—Maximus—did, you were both subject to his horrible bullying for a while. You were able to stand up to him after a while, giving Thaddeus a thorough beating for shoving you past your breaking point in your first few weeks there. You were pulled off of him by some officers and thoroughly scolded by Elder Quintus but returned to normal duties soon enough.

Thaddeus had enough of you after that, avoiding you at all costs as long as you weren’t near Maximus, who was now his group’s primary target. As nice as the younger kid was, he never had it in him to fight back against them. You decided to keep away from him regardless, not wanting to get caught up with those assholes again. Another infraction could’ve meant a much more severe punishment for you, and that was not something you were interested in.

“Uh, Knight Mire?” You were snapped out of your thoughts and looked down at Thaddeus, who was still kneeling and looking up at you with some expression of concern or anxiety. Did he not… recognize you? No, of course, he didn’t: he didn’t know your last name, and as far as he was aware, you were dead as soon as Quintus sent you off base years ago. Being sent off base almost always resulted in death.

Good. That was good.

”Rise, squire,” you commanded, your voice garbled by the voice modifier in your helmet. Thaddeus scrambled to his feet, his posture tense and his arms held closely to his sides. You inspected him a little longer, taking note of his skittish demeanour before brushing past him to resume travelling to your original destination.

“You’ll do,” you commented briefly as you passed him, hardly giving him a second glance to see if he was following.

Thaddeus was a bit taken aback by your words, pausing for a moment to mumble to himself: ”I’ll do…? Do for what?” He blinked and shook his head, rushing to fall in line behind you. He struggled to carry the pack that was nearly as big as he was, stumbling every couple of steps as he tried to balance himself.

”What do we have to do?” He questioned quickly, trying to keep pace with you. Great, still as talkative as he used to be. You could never forget his stupid rants, though they used to be more ill-intended, when he would muster up every possible insult and demeaning phrase he could to try and get you all upset. It worked against him, in the end.

You were tempted to pick up your pace and leave the fucker behind—there was no way he’d be able to keep up with you with that thing on his back—but you decided against it, lest the Brotherhood send you another squire.

”You just have to lug my shit around and try not to die,” you answered begrudgingly, “I will do everything else. That’s all you need to know.” You didn’t need another brainless squire getting in the way of your missions, so you hoped he’d take the hint and shut his mouth. But when did he ever?

”B-but the officers said you’d fill me in-”

You stopped suddenly, causing Thaddeus to run into you. You turned to glare at him the best you could from behind your helmet, but all Thaddeus could see was the intimidating blank stare of your metal face covering as you looked down at him.

“You will follow my command while we’re out in the Wasteland, or you will die. Is that clear?” You growled, taking a step towards Thaddeus while he took two steps back.

“Y-yes, my lord! I-I would never doubt you, m-my lord!” He responded enthusiastically, albeit nervously, eager to stay on your good side. That was going to get old fast. You turned back around to continue walking, slightly picking up your pace as Thaddeus hesitantly began following again.

”M-may I ask you something, though?”

You were unable to stop the sigh that came out of your mouth, the sound garbled and distorted coming out of your voice modifier. That made Thaddeus visibly shrink back, his mouth snapping shut at your disdain.

”Right, no! N-no time for talking. We-we have a mission to complete!” He exclaimed with a finger pointed in the air, unable to expel the shake in his voice from your previous order. Silence fell over the two of you for all of one minute before it was broken: “Do you think we’ll get in any fights out here?”

You were going to kill him, you were sure of it.