#I need to kneel before him in any capacity

[zombiequeenblog]

Without spoiling too much there was a part of the movie that just made me go. I know Zombiequeen is going to feel that instantly.

hahaha was it that business with his shoe?

or the insane shot of him lounging on that chaise backstage?

There were so many parts I felt so deeply, the ghovie is going to ruin my life and I need to own it now.

[makethatelevenrings]

Dick Grayson nsfw headcanons for v day

hehehehe

this boy is so talkative

before, during, and after his mouth is running faster than Wally West

"so pretty"

"squeezing me so tight"

"you look so good like this fucked out on my cock"

"what's that, baby? are you too cockdrunk to speak?"

his dick (haha) isn't very long, but it's certainly thick (much like him) and curves a little to the left

Dick loves to mark you up because when you undress, he can see the parts he has touched and loved

a hickey on your neck, a gentle love bite on your hip, the imprints of his fingers on your thighs where he held you down and ate you out

he's a switch 100%

sometimes he needs to be taken out of his head and so you take control and he appreciates it so much

he loves to serve you in any capacity, part of it is because he constantly feels the need to prove himself worthy of you no matter how many times you tell him that you don't need anything but his love

he'll quite literally get on his knees and worship you if you asked him

there are a few nights where he literally strips out of his suit and kneels on the floor, resting his head on your thigh as you stroke his hair

other times he's high-strung and needs to control the situation and you gladly accept submission under his hand

Dick is, ahem, very flexible and he will contort his body the perfect way to hit every fucking pleasure spot inside of you as he rams his cock into your hole

"made for me, weren't you? made to take my cock. perfect fucking fit, the way you're squeezing me so tight. god, i should just keep you home all day, sit you on my cock and keep you there"

hell yeah he does enjoy a good cockwarming

whether you're just holding his half-hard cock in your mouth or straddling his waist as he reads over some mission reports or paperwork for his Bludhaven revitalization. you're draped over his shoulders, face pressed against his neck as his cock twitches inside of your soaked hole. once he's done with his work, he'll fuck you until your legs can't stand

king of aftercare (all of the bat boys are tbh)

Dick is reaaaaally big on the verbal communication (again, the boy can't shut up) and he needs to hear reassurance from you that you're okay, that you liked it, what type of care you need

I don't think he's overly aggressive or into BDSM mainly because he doesn't want to use the same type of force that he uses on the criminal underworld on you

sweet boy but also not afraid to rough you up a little bit if you ask

just pls don't ask him to hit you because he would not be able to

aftercare for him is just cuddling and stroking his hair and assuring him that he's enough. he is good and kind and loving. he doesn't need to worry about you being unsatisfied.

all in all, he's a generous lover who overthinks too much and you might have to help him enjoy everything rather than dwell on stuff. also, he's a mouthy shit.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Could I request Argenti with a blind reader that asks to touch his face? Or maybe generally your thoughts on such a dynamic?

So I was finally able to get around to this one. It's so cute and I love it because of how Argenti is as a person but also because of the whole "beauty" thing. You'll see why in a minute.

This is going to be more of a headcanons format. Somewhat.

Reader gender is GN.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my thoughts as I have never personally known someone who was blind besides my grandmother before she passed so I don't really have anything to go on. Anything I say, I do not say to offend or by any way glorify being blind.

Writing under the cut (all SFW):

He's very understanding of it even upon your first meeting. While he feels a bit sorry because he understands life would be much harder for you, he's never looked down on you for it.

I doubt he's ever known anyone in a close capacity who was blind so there would be a bit of a learning curve for him.

Even wiht your struggles, he sees how you thrive and get by in life happily and he thinks it's beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful. To him, you shine and glitter as brightly as any star.

Contrary to what some might think- He is not perfect. I personally think that he would have some issues with being overprotective. Not only is he a knight, but he is your boyfriend! Your lover! He needs to be there for you as much as possible so you suffer no inconveniences or injury.

But you sit him down to explain to him that while you appreciate the gesture and his intentions... You don't like being treated like glass. It makes you feel less autonomous and it can feel condescending even if he didn't mean it that way.

He becomes much more knowledgable about your feelings and begins to understand how his actions can make you feel. And so he kneels in front of you where you're seated to apologize and kiss the back of your hand before bringing it to his face to lean into it after kissing your palm. Then he'd lean in to kiss you properly and whisper against your lips, asking you to teach him how to best help you. How to make things easier for you without being overbearing because all he wants is for your days to be full of joy and without hardship.

I can imagine how he guides you gently while out and about. OTL

Onto other things-

His deep understanding of beauty strikes again. He finds beauty in how, despite your struggles and limitations, you continue to live your life to the fullest. He admires that strength and thinks that you have good willpower. That strength of will is something any knight should have.

When came the day that you asked him to feel his face to get an understanding for what he looks like, he was delighted. He enjoyed when you gently took his face into your hands and ran them delicately over the planes and slopes of his face and told him he was beautiful. He somehow enjoyed your compliment more than anyone else's.

He always describes things around to you and even diligently studied to get better with words for that. He also did it befcause he'd like to show you other beautiful things since you couldn't see the sights he had through poetry. Sap. I hate him (affectionate).

Though he understood before that beauty was not just what you could see with your eyes, he finds deeper understanding the longer he is with you. It's in your every movement, sure of the world around you despite having not the sight to see it all. It's in your every word and in your every breath. It's in your very being.

It's especially in your understanding of what beauty was when one of your senses was not available to you, the one that most people use to judge beauty on. It's oddly in line with his ideals of beauty- I mean, come on. He was calling a plant, a regular degular plany with only green to color it, beautiful.

All in all, it's a beautiful (ha) relationship and the two of you are well suited to one another. Your chivalrous knight and his sweet lover.

Aaaaa~ Thank you so much for the request! It was super fun. :D

Feel free to send another on in if you wanna. I'm going to be working on the requests I haven't finished yet this weekend~

Apologies for any typos or hard to understand writing. I'll fix it tomorrey probably. >:D

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 3

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,592

Warnings: light spanking in this one (I know, tomato tomato) lots of angst and fluffy stuff, mentioned familial death, cunnilingus, blowjobs, some talk of harder more BDSM type tingz hehehe

A/N: our dear reader was on her best behavior in this one so no real punishments … but we’ll see how long that lasts. 😏

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

He’d called this maintenance, but you’re not so sure that’s the right word for it. That sounds more … impartial than it really is. 

You’re a little too caught up in the buzzing high of a blissfully empty mind to parse it any further than that though, and you squeeze the back of the chaise lounge hard enough to make the polished wood creak under your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.”

The responding crack of his palm across your bare ass makes you tip forward with a stilted little gasp, but there’s not really anywhere for you to go. 

Sprawled across the cushions at an angle, Wriothesley has you kneeling over his lap with your shuddering back facing out at the rest of the office. The power of his swing does not feel at all diminished like this, even though he’d called it maintenance and his intent was not to punish but to reinforce. It’s almost unsettling how adept he is at this oft times confusing game he’s coaxed you into being a willing participant of. The way he firmly corrects any unwanted behaviors with a hard, strict hand and then rewards the good with soft words, softer praise and the most mind numbing pleasure you’d ever experienced. 

In retrospect it probably shouldn’t have come as any great surprise that you would find yourself so easily pulled into his pace given the duke’s talents in this particular … pursuit. But it does still leave you reeling every time you think about how much you actually enjoy it. 

“Ooh … thank you, sir.” 

You seethe through your teeth, head hanging between your outstretched arms even as you timidly arch your back to better present your bottom to him. The hand he’s got anchored on your hip, that burly forearm curled around your front to prevent you from defensively hunching in on yourself and keeping you in position, gives you a tight squeeze of approval. It drags a little higher to trace the curve of your body and it leaves a tingling warmth behind in the wake of that stilted pass, making you whimper softly when he nudges just under the hem of your jumper. He doesn’t push any farther than that though. Just teases you with the suggestion, lets his heavy palm rest over the center of your fluttering stomach as if in a silent promise of more to come, when you were ready for it. 

It makes you feel ten times hotter than you already are, and you keen very softly into the static charged air. 

“You’re very welcome, little miss.” He murmurs to you, low and frustratingly unphased given your own jumbled up state. “Shall we go over everything again, or do you need a few more spanks on that cute bottom first?” 

You close your eyes, a stiff tremor working through you when his other hand — the one that’s been swatting your ass for the last some odd minutes — smooths over the curve of your sore behind to gently rub the hurt in. The skin feels flushed and tingly under his rough worn palm, calluses scraping against the lingering burn of his handprints, and you have to force yourself to draw a clipped breath to respond with. All you wanted to do was stay lost in that swimming daze of adrenaline and potent endorphins, but of course he always reels you back in before you can really sink, and you couldn’t quite decide if it was cruel of him or generous. 

“We will be going to a charity fundraiser together tomorrow night.” You finally manage to intone after gathering up enough of your fractured mind to think straight. It was so hard to do, but well worth it when you earn a savory, validating pinch on your thrumming behind. 

“Good. And in what capacity will we be going?” 

You hesitate only a moment. “Romantically, sir.” 

Drawing a slow, undeniably pleased breath, Wriothesley leans up to press his mouth to the small of your back, making you twitch at the intimate contact. “Thank you for doing me the honors, lovely girl. It will be the greatest pleasure of my life to have you on my arm.” 

“You exaggerate …” 

“I do no such thing.” The playful note in his voice brings fresh heat to your face but, luckily, he sits back to continue on with the review instead of pushing you on it. “When will you be ready for me?” 

“Six o’clock.” You huff. “On the dot. Just as his grace has instructed.” 

“And not a minute later. Because what’s going to happen if I come to pick you up and you’re not ready for me to spirit you away to a decadent hall full of stuffy aristocrats and over indulgent foods?” 

Your mouth slowly drops open but nothing immediately comes out. It takes you a beat or two to find your voice again. “… I’ll get a spanking.” 

Wriothesley hums a low sound of approval, giving your ass another savory squeeze. “And a very thorough one at that. Not like the one you’ve gotten today. I’m sure you know I won’t hesitate to take you right over my knee even in that pretty little dress I got for you.”

Pussy clenching tight, you fitfully rear back against his hand with a thin, choked off gasp. “Yes, sir.” 

“Excellent. You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” You feel him bend close to you again, and a surprised squeak punches out of your mouth when his lips press into the swell of your sore butt cheek. Eyes big as saucers, you twist your neck around to look back at him where he’s bent over your lower half without so much as an ounce of shame to show for it. 

Your stomach wrenches at the sight. Just the thought of having his face so close to the spot between your legs makes you feel indescribably dizzy and lightheaded, and you waver in uncertainty there on the cushions. 

“Y - your grace?” 

“There’s nothing to fret over, lovely girl. I’m still playing by your rules.” Giving the heated skin one more kiss, Wriothesley slowly sits back once again to look at you. “Although it’s certainly a test of my self control when I have you spread out over me like this I have no actual intentions of betraying your trust in me, little miss. You can rest assured of that. More importantly, however, we still have one more thing to cover. What’s going to happen after the fundraiser is over?” 

“I … I’m going to invite you back to my flat and have you over for tea.”

“Good. And what else?” 

Somehow this is infinitely more embarrassing than having his mouth so close to the intimate parts of your body, and your face feels like it’s on fire as you carefully turn your face to press your cheek against the back of the lounge. Shy, and hiding from him. “W - we are going to have a nice evening chatting and sharing each other's company, and — and I’m … his grace is going to teach me how to … how to pleasure him.” 

The last is little more than a mouse squeak, so small and faltering it hardly even registers in the air. But Wriothesley hums his approval as if you’d said it loud and clear, neither pushing you to repeat it nor giving you a hard time for your stammering hesitance. 

“What a good, good girl you are. Always so sweet for me.” He praises you, soft and quiet, yet the masculine edge behind the words just makes you flush hotter still. “I hope you know just how very proud I am of you. Such a precious thing you are … is little miss ready for her reward now?” 

The hand on your ass slides inward, dipping around the pudgy curve of your inner thigh to tentatively, tauntingly nudge against your cunt from behind. Every single muscle in your body instantly locks up even as you push back on him with a threadbare, deeply frazzled moan. You catch the sound of him chuckling at your reaction over the pounding in your ears, and you loose a mewling whine when he obliges you, firmly cupping you in his palm. 

Your hips stutter when he rubs you like that, and you quickly fall into the rhythm he sets for you. Rolling your pelvis in time with the press of his blocky fingers, you lean heavily into the back of the lounge and reach down to grab at the hand on your stomach. You hesitate to do it, shuddering and stiff, but you quickly find the courage to pull him up higher. Wriothesley lets you guide him wherever you want, wherever you're ready for him to touch you, and his rough skin leaves the prickle of fire in its wake as you tug him further up under your shirt.

You feel well and truly mindless with it by the time you finally get him directed up to your chest. He reaches higher of his own accord then, dragging you now where you’re still latched on to him, and closes his hand around the meaty swell of one breast. The almost direct contact seems to punch the air right out of your lungs, making you lurch and sway unsteadily on the couch, but he remains as steady as ever. Like an implacable wall of heavy muscle and stifling body heat beside you, he doesn’t even falter when he starts to fondle you through the lace cups of your bra. 

“You really love having your tits played with, don’t you?” He murmurs, directing blunt fingertips to the straining bud of your nipple so he can pluck at it. “Perhaps I should tell you a bit about what I would like to do to them someday soon, if you would permit me? I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to like what I have planned for you …” 

“Gods!” You hiss, your back bowing so hard under his ministrations that your spine aches in protest. Between his hands you felt like freshly wrought clay, so tender and vulnerable it was all you could do just to keep yourself in one piece. Swiveling your hips a little quicker, a bit more urgently, you carefully withdraw your hand from under your shirt so you can reach up and clutch at the back of the lounge in two death grips. It felt like the only thing that was going to keep you tethered to reality at this point. “Please tell me, your grace … I — I want to know … I want to hear it!”

Wriothesley leans in then, pressing his roguish mouth to your trembling shoulder in a fleetingly brief kiss before tipping his mouth towards your ear. “Then listen carefully, pretty girl. I’ll tell you as many times as you like, of course, but do try not to let your mind wander too much.” 

You squeak at the puff of hot air against your neck, the way his rumbling voice seems to penetrate straight into your brain to consume you, smother you, blanket you in the weight of what he’s saying to you. And your cunt positively slicks against his hand, coating him in sticky arousal that smears with each circling motion of your hips to make for a truly obscene glide against one another. 

“First, I think I’ll start by simply kneading them in my hands until you’re begging me for more. You always sound so pretty when you beg me for things … and having you ask me, nice and sweet, to play with your tits would be music to my ears indeed. I want to hear you say it, lovely girl. Hear you tell me exactly how much you want it.” 

You felt sick with want for it, but he keeps talking before you can form a semi coherent sentence on your heavy, lolling tongue. 

“Then I want to take my time just teasing your cute nipples until they’re so hard and stiff it hurts. You’ll really be begging me then, I’d imagine. So needy and worked up, but without anything you can do about it. You’ll be completely at my mercy, you know. In fact, I have half a mind to bind your wrists over your head just so I can enjoy you to my heart's content and all you’ll be able to do is take it. Would you enjoy that, sweetness? How does being helpless and spread out underneath me sound?” 

An uncontrollable, violent shudder tears through you so hard that your grinding hips come to a sudden halt. It doesn’t matter though. Even without you following the pace of his hand any longer, Wriothesley just keeps rubbing, rubbing, rubbing while the hand under your shirt offers your stiff teat a promising tug. 

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs, quiet and thin. Ever so slightly strained. “And once I’ve got your nipples so hard it makes your toes curl, I think I’ll take my mouth to them next. You’ll be quite sensitive by then, you know. I'm really looking forward to that, if I’m being honest … I wonder what kinds of pretty little sounds you’ll make while I’m sucking on your tits, hm? What do you think, lovely girl? What kind of sounds are you going to make for me?” 

You outright keen, high and faltering. You were tipping dangerously close to the edge now. If he would just rub you a bit quicker, a bit harder … “Y - your grace - -“

“Shh. I’ve got you. You’re almost there, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy tightening up on my hand and it feels so good, doesn’t it? Such an insatiable thing you are …” Pausing, Wriothesley draws a careful breath before continuing in an even more hushed voice that sounds like exquisite silk in your ringing ears. “I’ve mentioned this once before, but I have a few toys I’d like to introduce you to. Not right away, of course. I know how sensitive and easy to overwhelm you can be … but I also know what a sweet little masochist you are. I know you secretly like the pain, so I’m sure you’re going to like my toys. I have some mean little clamps that I know would look perfect on these gorgeous tits of yours.” 

He accompanies that with a tight squeeze on your breast, fingers digging mercilessly into soft flesh, and you start to tip. Your chest heaves with the weight of your impending release and it threatens to suffocate you, even as you helplessly rock between his hands with mindless, blubbering whimpers that seem to echo off the walls. You were going to cum. You were right there on the edge, you just needed that one last push. That final nudge to send you careening into a free fall. You needed — you needed - -

“I’m going to take a great deal of pleasure in clamping your nipples, little miss. I just know you’re going to shake and squeal for me. You’re soaking my hand just listening to me talk about it, imagine how good it’s going to feel when I actually do it. Are you looking forward to it as much as I am?” 

You obediently jerk your head in a frantic nod, struggling just to focus. “Y - yes, sir! I am!” 

“Would you like a little preview?” 

Eyes slipping shut in overwhelmed bliss, you eagerly arch your back to shove your chest further out. “Yes, sir! Please, sir!” 

“Hmm. I'm sure the real deal will be a bit different but,” Directing his fingers to your tightly coiled nipple, he closes them around the engorged bud to make your chest hitch. “It should feel something like this.” 

Wriothesley squeezes then, pinching down so hard your mouth flies open as if to scream but nothing comes out. Tears spring up in your eyes at the sharp jolt of pain that shoots through you, and the coil suddenly snaps. Lurching forward with a wounded, faltering sound of distress, you desperately clutch at the back of the couch while you mindlessly judder and buck through your orgasm like a wild creature in its death throes. It’s such an intense, all encompassing release that you almost don’t know what to do with it, and the way he continues to hold onto your throbbing teat even when you weakly jerk against the pain just seems to make it even more powerful. You feel it all in stunning high definition so exquisite it almost hurts to cum that hard. 

But, as always, you slowly start to come down from it some moments later and you finally slump there on your knees, gasping raggedly for air. He keeps up his pinching hold on your poor nipple for another moment longer until you eventually whimper and then he gradually lessens the pressure. The sharp, buzzing sting that rushes in to pierce the fog left behind after your climax has you hissing in discomfort, but he’s quick to tenderly caress the sore bud to work out some of the pain. 

“You really are a masochist of the highest order, aren’t you?” He murmurs fondly after a prolonged moment of quiet, once your breathing has started to even out. 

Shifting around gingerly, you turn your head to look at him through the heavy fall of your drooping lashes. “And you are the very definition of a sadist, my lord. I do believe I’ve heard tale of a marquis from long ago who shared similar interests as yours. You wouldn’t happen to be related to him, would you?” 

Chuckling, Wriothesley gives your still thrumming cunt a final pat of approval before withdrawing his hand from between your legs, bringing it up to squeeze around your waist instead. “I’m afraid not, but I’m sure we would have had a great many things to discuss with one another. That’s a pretty obscure reference, though. Are you more well versed in the depraved than I’ve given you credit for, little miss?” 

“N - no.” You quickly insist, shyly looking elsewhere now. “I’ve only heard this or that in passing, but I never paid it much attention. I had no idea I would one day be living that very nightmare out in the flesh!” 

“So dramatic.” He softly teases, a bemused look settling across his face as he carefully gathers you up so he can tug you over onto his lap. You whimper softly at the casual manhandling, and the flush quickly returns to your cheeks as he gets you settled on top of the hard press of his cock. Ignoring your squirming, he gets his arms wrapped around you so he can simply hold you against him even when you issue a low whine of protest. “Be still. I know you have a near limitless reserve of energy stored up in that small body of yours, but sometimes it’s nice just to sit, isn’t it?” 

You try not to pout, but you can’t quite seem to keep the whiny inflection out of your voice. “But you haven’t been tended to yet, your grace. It doesn’t seem fair to you …” 

“It’s not so much about being fair.” He says, perfectly amicable as he lifts a hand to toy idly with your hair. “If you want the truth, let’s just say I’ll make a bit more of a mess than you do and I don’t have much interest in cleaning up the evidence of our fun little activities. It will go away in time as it always does. Nothing to worry about. Besides,” Bending his head close, Wriothesley kisses the top of your head. “You will have your chance to tend to me as much as you want tomorrow night.” 

Listlessly, you reach up to tug at and fiddle with his loose tie. You were looking forward to the time you were to spend with him so much that you honestly wouldn’t have minded skipping the fundraiser altogether. “Must we go? The ball is only a formality, isn’t it?”  

He draws a slow breath that presses his broad chest up into you, lifting you slightly, and then lets it out on a terse exhale. “I’m afraid so, little miss. Rubbing elbows with the aristocracy isn’t exactly my idea of a good time either, but my presence would be sorely missed if I decided to skip out on it. You know how much they stand on pomp and expectation.” 

“But you are part of the aristocracy, your grace?” 

A beat of quiet passes over the office, heavy in its occupancy of something still left unsaid, but at length he just breathes out another clipped sigh. 

“Yes, I suppose I am.” 

Something niggles in the back of your mind, but you decide not to press him any further for the time being. The intimate, comfortable atmosphere inside his office was too sacred to disrupt with any more difficult conversations than what it had already seen play out between the two of you. You liked being here with him, snuggled up on his lap as you are, and you didn’t want to ruin it. A small part of you was even a little scared that you would ruin it, somehow, so you keep your thoughts to yourself. There was always tomorrow evening, when you were safely sequestered with him in the privacy of your own home to broach such topics. 

You wonder, distantly, if you’ll be brave enough to actually take the plunge. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The dress Wriothesley had insisted on gifting you despite your protests on the matter is lovely, and it fits you like a glove. A dark, slinky maroon of lace and ruffles, sheer panels that flutter around your ankles like playful specters dancing endlessly, a tight boned-corset bodice and more ribbons than you conceivably knew what to do with. You’d thought it all rather much at first, but he’d assured you it was nothing compared to what some of the other ladies in attendance would be wearing. 

Much to your gobsmacked surprise, he was right. 

The hall he leads you into is full of lords and noblewomen dressed in all manner of costume, from the soft and demure to the frankly bizarre. Right off the bat you spot a woman with a small toy boat perched atop the complicated piles of her hair, the immaculately polished pearls dotted through her sinfully dark tresses giving the illusion of a ferry navigating the starry night sea. Somewhat self consciously, you reach up to touch your own hair, and Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh beside you. 

“Don't give it a second thought, pretty girl.” He tells you softly, the continuous din of partygoers and the playing orchestra set up along the far wall doing well to conceal his words from any nosy potential eavesdroppers. “You look lovely tonight, and much more appealing than anyone else here. In fact, I have a very strong urge to go find somewhere quiet just so I can ravage you in peace.” 

“Oh, stop that!” You hiss, sending him a heated look of warning to go with the tight squeeze you give his arm. “This is neither the time nor the place, your grace. Save it until afterwards!” 

“That is a very tall order you’re making me shoulder right now, my cruel love.” He sighs rather lamentably, putting on a convincingly put out tone. 

Your cheeks warm dizzingly fast at the first mention of that dreaded ‘L’ word, in jest or not, but on this you stand firm. “I’m serious, you insufferable scoundrel! If you humiliate me here tonight, I will never, ever forgive you for so long as I - -“

“Yes, yes. Your delicate sensibilities are in good hands, little miss. Nothing to fret over so much.” Wriothesley assures you, giving your tightly clenched hand a pat. “Now, where would you like to start your evening first? At the buffet table or shall we mingle a bit?” 

Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip as you glance around the room. You didn’t know anyone here besides him, and that knowledge has you clinging to his arm like a lost child. This was exactly why you’d been so hesitant to accept his invitation and he’d had to patiently talk you into it over many, many hours spent in his office. Even putting aside the fact you hadn’t had anything to wear, facilitating the excuse need for him to buy you a dress for the occasion, you were still just a lowly civil servant at best. You didn’t really belong here, did you? 

“You have nothing to be scared of, sweet girl.” Wriothesley tells you after a long stretch when you neither move nor speak. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time, and I won’t let you out of my sight for so much as a moment. If any of these other ladies here try to accost you, I’ll come straight to your rescue.” 

“Thank you, your grace, but that’s - -“ You cut yourself off with a painfully sharp intake of air, frantically clutching at his arm with both hands now. 

“And what’s suddenly got you so worked up?” 

“T - that’s the honorary Iudex himself standing over there! I don’t even believe it …” 

Chuckling now, he follows your line of sight across the room. “Is this your first time meeting him? Shall I introduce you?” 

You tip your face up at him with widened eyes. “Are you really on such familiar terms with monsieur Neuvillette that you can just … just — walk up to him and say hi?” 

“Mm, something like that.” He concedes, tugging you into motion even though you’re a veritable mess of nerves and would much rather dig your heels in. “I do share a history with him and we’re on friendly speaking terms, but I wouldn’t say we’re particularly close or anything. I can tell you more about it later, if you’re interested. For now though I just want you to make sure you give him that pretty smile of yours, okay?” 

Fluster creeps up your neck at an alarming rate, thoroughly disarming you to the point that you indeed find yourself smiling like a blithe idiot when he pulls you right up to the Chief Justice of Fontaine without so much as a polite pause of hesitation. The tall man turns at your approach with an almost otherworldly grace, disengaging completely from the man he’d been speaking to when he sees who it is. 

“Ah, mister Wriothesley. So good to see you, and your …” He trails off, gaze drifting to where you’re latched onto the duke’s arm. “Lovely companion for the evening?” 

Greeting him with his usual idle amiability, Wriothesley introduces you accordingly and you quickly bob a nervous curtsy. “It is an honor to meet you, your … honor.” 

Your cheeks positively burn at the way Wriothesley laughs but monsieur Neuvillette only graces you with a small, infinitely kind smile. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. I don’t believe we’ve ever properly met before but I’m quite certain I’ve seen you fluttering about the Palais Mermonia from time to time. Do you work there?” 

“In some capacity,” You stammer out, briefly explaining what you do and how you’ve been working with the Duke of Meropide recently to implement certain beneficial changes to the lives of the inmates there. It’s so subtle you almost miss it entirely, but something flashes behind those peculiar lilac irises at that and you have no idea what to make of it. Before you can even begin to pick it apart to find the meaning, however, Wriothesley has changed the subject to more present matters concerning the fundraiser. 

“I thought she would enjoy getting to see how these sorts of things work when it comes to securing sponsors and benefactors for funding bigger campaigns, since she’s so passionate about helping people.” He tells Neuvillette, unexpectedly sincere. 

You’re so flattered by what he’s saying, his estimation of you, that your heart gives a warm, heavy little thump inside your chest. Unfortunately he keeps talking and quickly ruins the moment. 

“And of course I was more than happy to show off my lady to a bunch of stuffy tight-collars.” 

Neuvillette’s brows slowly lift. “Oh.” 

Beyond horrified at what he’s saying, you fiercely jerk on his arm with a scathing hiss. “What is the matter with you? You’re speaking to the honorary Iudex, you baboon!” 

Politely, Neuvillette clears his throat to bring your wide eyed attention back around before he can tease you any further. “Please don’t concern yourself with it, mademoiselle. I do not mind. I am … familiar enough with the way mister Wriothesley here speaks, and I do not take offense to it.”

You sag in visible relief against your damnable beau, but before you’re able to thank him for his generosity a sudden commotion on the other side of the room has you craning your neck to find out what’s going on. What you see very nearly has your legs giving out right from under you though, and you sway unsteadily as if on the verge of fainting. “That’s … that's Lady Furina!” 

You could hardly even believe your own eyes. Was this really the type of crowd Wriothesley had access to? Oh, you were just feeling more and more like you were in over your head with this. 

“It would be my pleasure to introduce you, if you’d like.” Neuvillette says, carefully watching your reaction. “I’m sure she would like you, and you her. Lady Furina enjoys making new friends, from time to time, when she has the opportunity to do so.” 

Friends? With the Hydro Archon herself? How in the world were you possibly supposed to rationalize that in your head! 

“Don’t be nervous.” Wriothesley assures you for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, giving your achingly stiff knuckles an affectionate squeeze. “She’s a bit out there at times, but nice enough. I think she’ll like you too.” 

“O - okay …” 

And so it goes. Over the course of the evening you’re introduced to seemingly everyone of any power or influence in Fontaine; from the noble lords and ladies who were born into their roles and liked to dally with different causes to pass their time right down to the self made entrepreneurs who fancied themselves humanitarians, and Lady Furina does indeed end up liking you. She likes you well enough, in fact, to invite you to sit at her table when dinner is eventually served, and that is precisely how you find yourself seated between her and Wriothesley after a few hours of casual snacking and mingling. 

He’d been right to say she was a bit out there and you occasionally struggle to keep up with what she’s saying but you decidedly enjoyed her exuberance, as well as her magnetic charm and charisma. She was fun, and it doesn’t take long for you to wind up engrossed in conversation with her. 

“That’s very interesting, you know.” She tells you candidly, leaning close over the arm of her chair with an excitability that’s oddly infectious. “I had no idea that there was such a thing catching on in Fontaine.”

“I’m sure it’s difficult to stay on top of fads in your position, Lady Furina, so I wouldn’t be too concerned about it. You’re busy enough as it is without having to worry about keeping up with trends on top of everything else.”

She flutteringly waves that away. “Yes, but it is also my job to stay at the forefront of what’s in style and in vogue at any given time, and I fear I may have let my adoring audience down in this. Unfortunately I don’t have any dogs to dress up though …” 

You steal a surreptitious glance over at Wriothesley in his nice black suit, but he’s a bit to engrossed in the conversation he’s having with the gentleman on his other side — something about boxing, given the snippets you’re able to catch — to notice and you quickly swing your eyes back around before anyone catches on. 

“Would you like to have one, Lady Furina?” 

She thinks about that for a moment. “I’m more partial to cats, I think, but … perhaps it would be fun to have one. A small dog that I can pamper and carry around in my arms.” Eagerly, she focuses back in on you. “And you, my darling peach?” 

It takes everything you have not to glance over at Wriothesley again. “I believe I prefer the big ones.”

“Oh? That seems like it would be an awful lot of work though.” 

“I wouldn’t mind it too much. It might be worth the trouble.” 

“Well,” She says with a certain note of finality. “I admit you’ve certainly piqued this one’s curiosity, and I do so enjoy your company. Shall we make a day of it then? Would you like to accompany me to these boutiques you speak of?” 

Your mouth opens to respond but nothing comes out. She wanted to spend time with you in a casual setting? As casual as it could possibly be, given her celebrity status in the court, of course, but … still. You were more than just a little dumbfounded by this turn of events. 

“I'd like that very much, Lady Furina.” You finally manage to say around the rock wedged in your throat. “You would do me a great honor, and I’ve enjoyed your company as well.” 

“Oh! Yay, I’m so excited!” She surprises you by reaching across to take your hands in hers, clasping them between the two of you over the table. “I just know we’ll have a great time together, and perhaps we could even stop somewhere afterward and have some cake? Oh, it could be just like our own little tea party! You do like cake don’t you?” 

“I do.” You tell her with a smile. “And I like tea, as well. The duke here has thoroughly seen to that.” 

Noising a curious sound, Furina’s pretty mismatched eyes flit over your shoulder to regard the man sitting beside you. Still engrossed in his conversation, you hoped. 

“On the topic,” She says, dropping into a conspiratorial half-whisper. “I do find myself wondering … May I ask what your relationship is, exactly? 

On the other side of her Neuvillette’s cutlery loudly rattles against his plate. “Lady Furina!” 

Jolting in surprise, she lets you go and snaps upright to sit primly in her seat. “What! I was only asking a question!” 

“Perhaps, but even as the Archon — no, precisely because you are the Archon, you should know better than to ask something so impolite and lacking in tact.” 

Looking appropriately chastised, she crosses her arms in a sulk and Neuvillette turns his attention to you with a small, apologetic smile. How very odd … 

“My sincerest apologies, mademoiselle. Lady Furina has an unfortunate habit of forgetting herself sometimes, but I assure you she meant no harm and you are under no obligation to discuss anything you are not comfortable with. If you two are to be friends, then you’re well within your right to tell her it’s not any of her business.” 

Furina shoots him a silent, wide eyed look that seems strangely familiar to you — and then it hits you. It was like looking from the outside in on one of your exchanges with Wriothesley, and your brows take a very expeditious trip up to your hairline. 

“Please think nothing of it, monsieur Neuvillette …” 

Evidently satisfied, he returns to his plate and you just sit there in dumbfounded silence for a long, drawn out moment trying to make sense of it. Unfortunately you’re not given much of a chance, however, and you stiffen when Wriothesley’s closest hand finds your knee under the table. Trying very hard to keep your startled gaze on your own plate, you reach down off the napkin in your lap to grab his blocky knuckles in a tight, squeezing hold. It’s meant to be a warning for him to behave, for him to stop and return to his own space while there are so many people sitting around the two of you like this, but of course he doesn’t take heed. 

Giving your knee a brief squeeze back, that broad hand tauntingly drags a little higher to brush against your inner thigh and — 

“Your grace!” You squawk, a little louder than intended, and your cheeks positively burn when he turns to look at you as if only just noticing you there. 

“Oh, have you finally remembered that I accompanied you this evening? It looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Lady Furina very much, and I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

Forcing your lungs to draw a slow breath and calm yourself first, you pin him with the most pleasant smile you’re currently able to muster. “You are much too kind, your grace. Always so thoughtful and considerate of others.” Underneath the table, you make a valiant effort to pry his fingers off your leg but the damned brute won’t budge. “Of course I would never forget you. Somehow I very much doubt you would ever permit me to.” 

He smiles at you, altogether innocent and polite, but you don’t miss the sly flash of mischief in his eyes. Not by a long shot. “That’s very kind of you to say, miss. I’m sure you know I feel the same way about you too.” 

You give a little jerk and freeze when you realize you’ve walked straight into an insidiously laid trap. Right in front of all these people you’d just said - - 

“Oh, you are such a funny man, your grace!” You blurt, desperately trying to backtrack now when you could feel everyone seated at the table curiously looking over even though they try very hard to hide it. “You’re so good at telling jokes, I really don’t think I can get enough of them! You simply must tell me where you manage to come up with these things!” 

“You flatter me, miss, but I assure you I’m being quite sincere. You will forever remain at the very forefront of my mind for as long as I may be lucky enough to live.” 

You just stare at him for a drawn out beat, trying and failing to figure out what to say to that. Never mind that he was making it impossible for you to pretend like you were anything but involved with each other, was he saying what you thought he was? 

“Y - your grace,” You finally manage to choke out, though it’s barely more than a whisper. “Although I do appreciate the sentiment, is this really the appropriate time and place to be having this conversation?” 

“You’re right.” He immediately relents, further startling your already reeling mind. “I must have gotten carried away. Will you forgive me?” 

“… yes?” 

Wriothesley gives your inner thigh a playful pinch before retracting his hand back over to his side and you just sit there, staring at him like he’s sprouted two extra heads. Of course you’d known he was rascally and unapologetic to the nth degree, but you’d thought him to have more sense than that! 

When you hesitantly turn your head to glance over at Lady Furina, half expecting her to be looking at you in furious indignation, you’re more than a little surprised to find her eyes glistening in what could only be deeply moved emotion. All at once you realize that there was nothing else you could do about it after that blatant display. So much for Neuvillette’s suggestion that you tell her to mind her own business. 

It was obvious why he’d done that. To nudge you into taking a scary leap that you otherwise would have avoided at all costs but, much to your relief, you soon come to find it’s not so bad to talk about it with her. Lady Furina seems to hang off your every word while you briefly (very briefly, when you left out the more harrowing details) explain how the two of you had come to know one another, and she outright coos in soft delight when you tell her you were still early into your relationship. You’re very glad to be able to use that as a convenient excuse for your initial hesitancy to discuss it, and she doesn’t appear to mind it at all. You even notice monsieur Neuvillette listening in with a certain amount of interest but that doesn’t embarrass you half as much as you would have expected it to. 

The night drags on in this manner, primarily with Furina accosting you from Wriothesley’s side so she can lead you around the room by your entwined arms, tittering amongst yourselves like schoolgirls while she proudly shows off her new friend to everyone who will look. You find it a little odd for her to be so very pleased over something so benign, but you don’t really mind it too much. She’s very sweet to you, and even takes you around introducing you to a handful of wealthy entrepreneurs who show a great deal of interest in sponsoring your programs at the prison when Lady Furina endorses your work to them. It was an altogether lovely, even magical experience and you were so glad for it that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be mad at Wriothesley for that blockheaded stunt he’d pulled. 

He was certainly a massive pain in your ass, in more ways than one, but he was very kind to you. Enchanting, even. 

By the time the party starts to wind down late into the night, you’re quite glad for it when Wriothesley comes to extricate you from Furina’s clutches so you can go home and take these blasted shoes off. You’d spent perhaps a bit too much time pacing the room with her, and she makes you promise to write her soon even as she reluctantly gives you up to the duke. You’re almost to the front door with him, seriously considering asking for him to carry you and knowing he would, when monsieur Neuvillette calls out behind you for you to wait. 

Pausing together, you and Wriothesley turn at the honorary Iudex’s approach. 

“Apologies for stopping you on your way out,” He says, as polite and cordial as ever. “I thought perhaps we could chat a bit more without quite so many distractions around. I’ll be headed in the same direction as you for half of the way, if you’d be kind enough to allow me to walk with you?” 

You know by distractions he means Furina and you wonder at that, still not quite sure what to make of their relationship, but you give Wriothesley a quick nod when he glances down at you. 

“Sure thing, monsieur Neuvillette. We can always flag down a carriage after we go our separate ways.” 

“Excellent. Thank you for your generosity, mister Wriothesley.” He seems quite pleased, and you wonder at that as well as the three of you make your way out onto the boulevard. 

The two of them occupy the first few minutes with casual matters, such as recent happenings in the social justice sphere, general talk of news from around Teyvat and even a brief mention of something going on in the far distant land of Inazuma where talks of a civil war were brewing. Inevitably, though, Neuvillette’s attention finally wanders over to you, and you don’t even have the grace to act surprised when you’d been half expecting it. 

“By the way, mademoiselle,” He says rather attentively. “I meant to tell you that I think it’s a wonderful thing to see so much energy and passion for the vulnerable demographic of prisoners who are more often than not shunned by the greater part of society. It might be a bit strange for me to say so, given my role in their fates, but I believe it speaks a great deal to your character for you to have so much concern for them.” 

Wriothesley gives your hand a brief, lingering squeeze where he’s holding it between the two of you. Whether he meant it that way or not, you find yourself remembering the hard learned lesson he’d taught you about graciously accepting what you’re given, and you smile up at the Chief Justice somewhat bashfully. 

“Thank you, your honor. You flatter me.” 

He inquisitively tips his head to one side, looking at you with a certain amount of interest now. “I only speak the truth, and you are very welcome. May I ask, though, why you do it? I can only imagine there must be some reason for you to choose this cause instead of any other.” 

Your steps falter in your surprise and a dull chill rushes over you. Stamping down the urge to defensively pull away from him, you swivel your head around to look up at Wriothesley. “I … I haven’t even told you that yet, have I?” 

Something unreadable passes across his face, and he gives your hand another tight squeeze. But this time he doesn’t stop squeezing it. “It’s alright. I figured you would when you were ready. If you want to tell monsieur Neuvillette now, I won’t take any offense.” 

You still hesitate a moment, feeling more than just a little bad about not telling him sooner. But in terms of dependability, you’d come to realize that Wriothesley always meant what he said. Even if what he was saying was so indirect and confounding that you sometimes couldn’t make any sense of it, so you trusted that it really wouldn’t cause any bad blood between you two. You’d have to make sure to apologize later, though. 

Cautiously, you turn your face up to Neuvillette again. “I don’t know if this is the answer you were expecting, your honor, but … my father was an inmate at Meropide a long time ago.” 

Neuvillette doesn’t so much as blink at that information. But Wriothesley, on the other hand, gives a mild jolt that you feel run up his arm, and you gasp when he suddenly yanks you around to look at him, stopping right there in the middle of the street. 

Eyes going big, you tip your head all the way back to take in his shuttered but clearly confused expression. “What?” You yelp when he doesn’t say anything, just silently looming over you like that while monsieur Neuvillette watches on. “It was a long time ago, like I said, and I’m not mad about it anymore. You don’t have to worry about a conflict of interest on my part, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Wriothesley huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “That is hardly the most pressing concern on my mind right now.” 

“Wha - -“

“Mademoiselle,” Neuvillette ventures softly, prompting you to warily drag your attention away from Wriothesley so you can look up at him again. “Will you tell us the rest of your story? There is more, I presume.” 

“Uh,” You surreptitiously glance between the two men, not sure what to make of this unexpectedly tense atmosphere. “Sure, I guess, but I don’t really know if I want to continue if it’s going to make the both of you mad.” 

Gently tugging on your hand, Wriothesley brings you back around to him, and you think your neck is going to get a cramp if they kept this up much longer. “No one is mad at you, miss. Least of all me. I’m just surprised, is all … but I want to hear the rest as well.” 

Drawing a deep breath to steady your nerves, you let it back out in a rush. “He was arrested for bribery and sentenced to ten years in prison. I was five at the time, so I was just old enough to somewhat understand that he’d been taken away and wouldn’t be coming back for a long time. It made me mad at first because it was just me and my mother, and she struggled to take care of me by herself. We were … we were never very well off and I think that’s why he did it. To try and get a leg up so he could take care of us better. I don’t condone it,” You emphasize with a quick glance in Neuvillette’s direction. “But I can sort of understand it, you know? Anyway, as time went on, I stopped being mad about it and instead I started to look forward to him coming home when his sentence was almost up.” 

You trail off, suddenly feeling uncertain about relaying the rest, but Wriothesley reaches out to take your other hand as well, holding them both now. “I heard a ‘but’ in there. Take your time if you need to, but please continue.” 

Floundering — and very embarrassed to be doing this in front of the honorary Iudex of all people — you shyly glance down at your shoes. Oh, how you couldn’t wait to get them off. 

“W - well … there’s not really much else to say, if I’m being honest. He never came home. My father decided to stay in Meropide instead, and he died a few years later right after I turned nineteen. They said it was a fight that got out of hand. Someone had a weapon they’d made, and they stabbed him with it. The other inmate insisted it was just an accident though. Said he hadn’t meant to hurt him like that, and I believe him. Soooo … here I am now. But like I said, no hard feelings or anything. Stuff just happens sometimes.” 

Wriothesley starts to say something, hesitates, and then draws a quick breath but it is monsieur Neuvillette who speaks first. 

“I see. I was worried it would be something like that.” 

Blinking owlishly, you turn your head to look over at him just as the first rain droplets start to come down. They’re fat and heavy, and incredibly cold, making your skin break out in clammy goosebumps almost instantly, but you can’t quite seem to tear your eyes away from Neuvillette. His expression hasn’t exactly changed in any noticeable way but something about him just looks so very … sad it wrenches at your poor heart. 

“What do you mean, monsieur?” 

“I seem to recall, now that I think of it,” He says evenly, not at all concerned about the rain quickly soaking through his hair to make it stick to his face in a few spots. “A man by the name of Antoine. He had a young wife who took the stand during his trial. She begged for leniency for her husband, citing the daughter waiting for him at home, but I unfortunately had none to give. That was your father, wasn’t it?” 

Numbly, you nod your head. “I’m surprised you remember something from so long ago…” 

Slowly, Neuvillette draws a careful breath before continuing. “The law is quite clear, mademoiselle. Although it pained me a great deal to do it, I had to deliver a just and appropriate ruling for the crime committed. This may not mean much to you, but I am sorry for taking your father from you. As for the matter of him choosing to stay at the fortress even after his sentence was served … I apologize for that too.” 

“It’s alright. That wasn’t your fault and there wasn’t anything you could have done about it anyway. You were just doing your job, monsieur Neuvillette. I don’t blame you for that.” You try to offer him a reassuring smile, but that shroud of sadness around him does not dissipate. In fact, it actually seems to become more pronounced. 

“Thank you for your kindness, mademoiselle.” He says over the rain as it picks up and really starts to hammer down on the three of you. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I will cherish it always. Regrettably I have just recalled that there is something I’ve forgotten to take care of for Lady Furina, so I am afraid I must take my leave and return to her now. I do hope you both have a pleasant evening though.” 

“O - okay …” You murmur, wondering if you’ve done something wrong as you watch him turn and walk away to leave you and Wriothesley standing there in the sudden downpour. 

Hesitantly, you tip your head back to share a long look with him. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Gods, I’m drenched right through!” You hiss, ripping off your soaked, elbow length gloves so you can viscously slap them down on the table with a loud wet plap! You felt like a drowned rat and you probably look it too as you turn to face Wriothesley where he’s peeling off his coat in the doorway. “Was it even supposed to rain tonight?” 

“You know how unpredictable the weather can be here,” He murmurs, hanging up his dripping jacket on the metal rack in the corner before moving across the room to close the distance. Your heart gives a startled jolt at his purposeful strides, but all he does is reach out to take your hips and pull you in against him, unconcerned with the soft wet squelch that sounds between the two of you. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I - I’m fine. I already told you that, didn’t I?” You squeak, carefully bringing your hands up to brace them on his front. He was acting so strange, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was upset with you or not. “What has gotten into you? I’m not used to you treating me like fragile glass that will shatter at the first upset. Really, your grace, you’re blowing this just a bit out of proportion.” 

“I think you are the very last person I ever want to hear that from.” He rumbles, dragging his hands higher to cradle around your ribs. Just holding you, letting the warmth of him bleed through your soaked clothes for a long moment until you eventually shiver at the cold. Sighing softly, he begins to rub over you as if to warm you up. “If you’re positive then I won’t press the matter any further, but I hope you know how much of a surprise you gave me back there. For a moment I thought … I actually thought I had your father imprisoned in my fortress right this very moment.” 

You smile to yourself, unable to stop it. “Would you have let him out for me?” 

He snorts a quiet laugh in response, putting you somewhat more at ease. “I think that would’ve been pushing it just a little bit, don’t you?” 

“Yes, your grace. Even if he was still there I wouldn’t expect any special privileges just because you and I are … well, I suppose we might as well already be married as far as everyone sitting at our table is concerned. Did you see the way they kept looking at us?” 

“I did, and I think you handled it all with grace and poise, just like I knew you would.” 

A heavy, long suffering sigh. “You are the biggest scoundrel I’ve ever known.” 

“If you keep up with that talk of marriage, I’ll soon be the only scoundrel you know.” 

Clicking your tongue, more embarrassed than annoyed, you start to pull away, but Wriothesley just gathers you more firmly against his front. With hardly any effort at all to show for it, he abruptly picks you straight up off the floor so he can make his way over to the bathroom with you, shouldering the door open even as you weakly protest to being carried around like an invalid. Soundly ignoring you, he sets you down on your feet again and then moves to find the matchsticks so he can light the candles in the room. You huff and watch him do it, trying and failing to stamp down the excitement suddenly bubbling to life low in your gut. 

Oh, this was … 

Dutifully, Wriothesley steps over to the tub once the bathroom is aglow with a soft, flickering light, and he bends to put the stopper in place. The sound of rushing water soon dominates the cramped space when he turns the faucet on and, finally, he turns to you once again. 

“We don’t want you catching cold.” He says by way of explanation at your curious look, reaching around behind you to fiddle with the zipper on your dress. 

“No, I suppose we don’t.” 

He gives you a certain look that makes your toes curl in their much too uncomfortable shoes as the dainty zipper descends but, to your surprise, he promptly starts to pull away. 

“Take your time and get comfortable, little miss. I’ll dry off in the other room and - -“ 

Cutting off when you snag his sleeve, Wriothesley tips his head down to look at where you’re holding onto him. There’s a question in his eyes when he brings his attention back up, and you forcibly swallow down your nerves before they can get the better of you. “You can stay. If you’d like.” 

A quiet moment passes over the room. He just studies you in that time, making you feel more and more jittery inside, before eventually drawing a carefully measured breath. “Would you like me to sit and watch you bathe, pretty girl?” 

“I thought perhaps you could join me.” 

You’d half expected him to be excited about that offer, but the bemused look he gives you is more teasing than happy. “You know I’ll have to get undressed for that, don’t you? Or would you have me sit in your tub with you fully clothed?” 

You almost snap at him to forget about the whole thing then, but you quickly rein your emotions back under control. His patience with you thus far has been perfectly commendable. Nothing short of astonishing, in fact, even when you’d desperately clung to what little bit of modesty you still had to your name for weeks now. It was understandable then that he wouldn’t assume you to be ready to cross so many boundaries all at once in one night. You naked, him naked … even when you’d discussed the matter of wanting to tend to him, he’d assured you that over his clothes would be fine so this was quite a big step beyond that. 

Resolutely, you square your shoulders. “I would never expect you to do something so silly and I know what it is I’m asking for, your grace.” 

The mischief fades from his face, and he looks at you quite seriously now. “You’re certain?” 

“Yes, Wriothesley, I’m not sure how many times you expect me to say it but - -“ 

He grabs your face between his hands and suddenly tugs you up into a possessive kiss, making you squawk against his mouth in your surprise. You hadn’t expected such a reaction out of him given his initial response, but it only lasts a short moment before he’s pulling back to look at your wide eyed expression. 

“If you change your mind at any point just say the word and I’ll get out immediately. I’m sure you understand this, precious girl, but I want to make sure you know that this is not your last chance to tell me ‘no’. You’ll always have that power over me no matter what we do together, and you only need to tell me once for me to listen. Are we on the same page here?” 

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur, smiling up at him now. 

He smiles too, leaning down to kiss you again before decisively setting in to work on disrobing you. It takes some shimmying to get the wet fabric of your dress peeled off over your head when the sleeves and bodice wanted to stick, but it eventually lands in the corner with a resounding wet plap! At your weak protest he assures you he’ll just buy you another, and then his hands are working on the clasps of your brassier. 

Wriothesley is surprisingly gentle with the delicate hooks, something that you hadn’t exactly expected when you’d never let him relieve you of that particular item before, but it fills you with a great deal of soft warmth for him. Reaching up, you also get to work on unbuttoning his waistcoat, and by the time you have it hanging loose around him he’s tugging the bra straps down your arms. 

You tense up slightly, hesitating for just a heartbeat before allowing him to pull it off of you. Your nipples are stiff and cold from the rain, jutting out in attention seeking points, and he softly growls at the sight of them. As he brings his hands up to palm them, you start to wonder if you’ll even make it into the tub at this rate. You already felt so hot … 

Your eyes go big in sudden horror. “The water!” 

Snapping out of his trance, Wriothesley twists around to smack the faucet off and you force your lungs to expand with the now steamy air in the resounding quiet. All you can make out is the soft flicker of the candles, and your own wild pulse pounding in your ears. 

“We almost got distracted there, didn’t we?” He says after a pause. 

“Yes, your grace. My apologies.” 

He turns back to you, tugging roughly at the tie around his neck. “What do you have to apologize for? We would have just cleaned up the mess when we were done … though I suppose the whole flat would’ve been flooded by the time I’m done with you.” 

You impotently shudder at the jolt of arousal that tears through you. This man was certainly crass. “You are truly hopeless, sir …” 

“Only where you’re involved.” Wriothesley sends you a meaningful look across the short distance, smiling when you react with fluster. He quickly yanks his tie off over his head and then shrugs out of his waistcoat, eyeing you rather covetously while he does it. “You look beautiful standing there like that, by the way. Your tits are even prettier than I imagined them to be.” 

“O - oh,” You quake from head to toe, and shyly bring your hands up to cover yourself. He’s on you in the time it takes you to blink, however, and you outright yelp when he grabs around your middle so he can haul you up off the floor again. Your head spins with the sudden rush of movement but he just neatly deposits you into the stool in the corner you used for easy access to your drying racks. You barely have enough of a chance to process what’s even happening when you suddenly find Wriothesley kneeling at your feet, and your heart jackhammers straight up into your throat. 

All he does is reach out to fiddle with the buckles on one of your shoes though, bending his head over the task, and you somehow manage to breathe a stilted sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, your grace …” You murmur softly into the stillness, watching him patiently work with the delicate straps. “You didn’t have to do that though.” 

“You’re lucky I didn’t do it sooner. I noticed the way you were walking earlier … like you were stepping down on needles, but I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me starting to disrobe you in public.” A brief, mischievous look accompanies that and you just flush even hotter. “If these hurt your feet then you should toss them. I’ll buy you new ones that are much more comfortable.” 

“You’re offering to buy me an awful lot tonight …” 

“Only because you deserve to have nice things.” He tells you, perfectly sincere in that assertion, as your shoe finally comes off. A low hiss rises in you at the immediate throb you feel, but he’s quick to smooth his big hands over your cramping foot and massage out some of the ache. It was really sweet of him, actually, and you eventually find yourself relaxing into his touch. “Does that feel better, pretty girl?” 

“Much, your grace.” 

Humming his approval, Wriothesley gently sets your foot down so he can set his sights on the other shoe. He manages to get this one off a little quicker, and you’re soon groaning into the stilted relief his rubbing hands provide to your sore toes. You almost don’t want it to end but, finally, he sets that one down too before palming at your calf so he can slide up along your stockings to the garter clasps. This he manages to unfasten with a quick, simple flick of his wrist so he can gently tug the sheer material down and get it off. 

“Have you helped many ladies in their boudoir?” 

He snorts a quick laugh as he tosses your stocking aside, immediately going back for the other. “Hardly. I know just enough to be dangerous, that’s all.” 

“Oh, I think I’d consider you quite dangerous …” 

The sapphires in his eyes flash at you, a vague smirk tugging at his roguish mouth. Hands slipping up behind your legs to catch in the bends of your knees, he easily pulls them apart into a wide spread and you jolt at suddenly having your pantied cunt right in his face. 

“Your grace!” You squeak with no shortage of horror. “T - that’s - -“ 

He doesn’t even stop long enough to hear what you’ve got to say. 

Leaning into the space between your thighs, he presses his nose right up against you to make you go ramrod stiff, and you just stare down at him in blatant disbelief with your hands half stretched out to shove at him. Rolling his eyes up to look at you, Wriothesley seems to taunt you with it while he mouths at your pussy for an extended beat until he manages to draw a low, faltering groan out of you. Swaying unsteadily, you once again find yourself thinking that you’re not even going to make it into the tub. 

“The w - water,” You finally get out with some effort this time, shaking like a leaf. “If you do that, it — it’ll get … cold.” 

He doesn’t seem like he cares very much for that, obviously much more interested in what’s between your legs. But, after a short pause, he does slowly ease back to peer up at you. “You’re not opposed to it?” 

“… I don’t think so.” 

A hungry look passes over his face at that, and you numbly watch him rock back and find his feet. Towering over you like this, he starts to unbutton his dress shirt with practiced precision, soon shrugging out of it altogether, and your eyes almost pop right out of your skull when you see his bare chest for the first time. He was … magnificent is the only word you could think to describe it. Well toned, tight pecs, bulging biceps that flex when he moves, defined abdominals that lead straight down to - - 

“Oh.” You blurt out, with feeling. 

Shuffling close, Wriothesley silently holds out a hand towards you. You’re so overwhelmed with everything that’s happened just over the last handful of minutes that you foolishly think he’s going to help you up, and you blithely slip your fingers into his. To your sputtering surprise, however, he just takes your hand and redirects it to the front of his pants, pressing your palm over the stiff length inside. 

“This is yours, pretty girl. Do you understand that?” 

He was certainly drilling that into your brain enough for you not to forget! “Y - … yes, sir.” 

“Do you want it tonight?” 

You practically collapse right then and there. “I do.” 

Groaning so softly you almost miss it, Wriothesley leaves your hand where it’s at and reaches up to yank at the buttons of his pants. You give him a shy, tentative little squeeze, and fresh heat promptly marches across your face when it twitches in response. You’re not sure what to expect, have no idea what to even think at this point, but you start to feel well and truly faint when he shoves his pants and underwear down to his thick thighs, and a heavy cock springs up in the air between you two.

Your throat abruptly feels bone dry as you take it in, processing the weighty length of it, the dusty-pink glans, the ridged vein running along the side and the meaty bounce of his hanging balls when he shifts. Even the wiry thatch of dark hair crowning the base looks strangely arousing to you in that moment, and you hotly press your thighs together at the sight of him. Yes, magnificent was a good word for him. He was exquisite. 

“It’s … not as scary as I thought it would be.” You eventually manage to get out, your tongue feeling like a lead weight in your mouth. 

Snorting, Wriothesley holds out his hand again. “Would you like to touch it, lovely girl?” 

You only feel a slight hesitancy when you reach out, letting him guide your loosely curled fingers to his cock. You’re a little surprised at how soft it feels to the touch, his skin satiny and smooth, and so sinfully caressable you find yourself closing your hand around it before you even realize you’re doing it. There’s a pulse running through him and it throbs under the gentle pressure of your fist, straining up slightly in search of more. 

Abruptly, you recall what he’d said about rubbing it, and you slowly draw your hand up the same way he’d shown you before. 

Wriothesley catches you off guard when he viscously seethes at the sensation, bringing your startled attention up to his face. But all you see staring back at you is deeply felt pleasure, his brows drawn together to knit over the ridge of his nose, and you feel a strange sense of power come over you. Was this what he felt every time he turned your body against you? 

“Shall I do it like this, sir?” 

“A menace,” He grits out, just watching you tug on his cock with a sharp, distant gleam in his eyes. “That’s what you are, you know that?” 

“You’re the one who taught me.” 

Wriothesley sends you a heated look, letting out a thin chuckle. “Don’t start getting cute now. Even though I’d hate to do it and ruin this — very enjoyable moment, I still won’t hesitate to take you over my knee. You’re rather precious with my cock in your hand like that, but even precious girls are not immune from getting their butts spanked.” 

A thrill races down your spine to settle low in your gut, making you squirm slightly in the chair. “Maybe I want his grace to spank me …?”

“When do you not, is the better question.” With a great deal of effort, he reaches down to still your hand, but you couldn’t have missed the look of regret in his face even if you’d wanted to. “That should probably be enough for now. If you keep tempting me like this, I’m not sure how much more I can take. Come. Let’s get you in the bath.” 

Carefully prying your fingers off him, Wriothesley leans down to grab under your arms and haul you back up to your feet again. You sway unsteadily even as you peer down between the two of you to look at his bobbing length but you soon have to look elsewhere when he bends to shimmy your garter belt down, and then your panties. You’re finally standing before him completely naked and you don’t feel half as self conscious about it as you’d expected to be. It was a little hard to cling to your shy uncertainty when you wanted him so bad you could have just screamed! 

Kicking off his pants and boots, he ignores your halfhearted protests as he expeditiously guides you over to the tub and climbs in first, getting situated before pulling you in with him. You make sure to step carefully, clutching at his big fingers as you gradually lower yourself to sit between his spread legs, and somehow you’re not the least bit surprised when some of the water sloshes out to smack against the title floor while the two of you get settled in against one another. 

“The landlord is going to kill me …” You murmur, more to yourself than him, but he just wraps his arms around you to gather you more firmly to himself. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll gladly pay for any renovations needed for water damage.” He says, pressing a hard kiss into your temple. 

Sighing softly, you experimentally wriggle back against the stiff cock digging into your spine, and he growls a low sound of warning against your face. Saying you hadn't expected it to come to this tonight would’ve been a massive understatement, but were you really that upset about it? You didn’t think so. You’d planned to see to his pleasure tonight, perhaps even remove that final barrier standing between him and your breasts, and now you were sitting naked with him in the bath. It was … a bit overwhelming, but in an exciting way. 

“Well,” You abruptly announce. “This certainly didn’t go to plan!” 

“I don’t mind that it didn’t.” Nuzzling against the side of your head, Wriothesley places another kiss to your cheek. “I admit, you did surprise me but I’m not complaining. You really did look lovely in your dress, by the way. I’m not just saying that for brownie points.” 

“Thank you … and you were quite dashing in your suit as well, but I think I still like the one you usually wear better.” 

“As do I. It’s much more comfortable.” 

Lifting one of his hands, he starts to scoop water up over your exposed shoulders and back, and you breathe out a content sigh as the warmth quickly bleeds into you. He’d distracted you so much that you’d almost forgotten just how cold you actually were after the rain, but that was rapidly fading into a distant memory now. Relaxing against him, you reach out to tentatively place your hands on his broad thighs under the water, and he lets you do it with an approving hum. 

It might not have been exactly what you’d prepared for going into tonight, but you were enjoying it very much. Getting to freely touch him like this, skin to skin contact while his cock occasionally twitched and he gently worked the cold water out of your hair … this was dangerously comfortable, and the almost romantic flicker of the candles on your counter weren’t helping matters either. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About making yourself the only rascal I know?” 

“That depends,” He volleys back easily enough. “Were you serious about preferring big dogs, and thinking that they might be worth the trouble?” 

You wrench around to look at him with clear shock dancing across your face, not even caring that more water spills out at the sudden movement. “You heard that?” 

The smile that creeps across his mouth just might be the most roguish one you’ve seen yet. “Of course I did. Even now you continue to underestimate me … I’m not sure if I should be offended by that or flattered that I give off the impression of someone who doesn’t hear every little thing going on around them. I told you I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight for even a moment, didn’t I?” 

“Forgive me, your grace. I wasn’t aware that you hear with your eyeballs.” 

“Ooho, and there’s that feisty attitude I love so much. Is that how we’re about to go into this, little miss?” 

You hesitate. There was that dreaded ‘L’ word again! 

Evidently seeing the uncertainty on your face, Wriothesley quickly sobers. “You don’t need to feel nervous. I’ll be gentle.” 

“It’s not that …” 

He tips his head to one side. “Then what is it? 

Breathing out a clipped sigh, you slowly lean back against his chest again and reach up to cup along his strong jaw, pulling him closer. “You’re still just so confusing …” 

Rather than pushing you any further, Wriothesley obliges and bends down to kiss you, the steady motion of his mouth on yours making quick work of distracting you from the odd things he says. Moaning softly against his lips, you arch your back to better present your tits when he reaches around to fondle them. His hands feel indescribably good on your chest without anything in the way like this, and softened nipples quickly pucker again under his palms. 

He takes his time playing with them, just like he promised he would; unhurriedly kneading the flesh and squeezing at you for a long while before eventually pinching the stiff buds between his calloused fingers when they’re straining hard and tender. That has you squirming between his legs, and you dig your nails into his thighs to ground yourself. You wanted him now. Not later. You needed everything he was willing to give you right this instant, and not a moment more! 

Unable to take it any more, you tip your head back to rest across his shoulder. You tell him what you’re thinking in a hushed whisper, how you don’t think you can wait any longer to have him, and he carefully rolls his hips to nudge his cock up against your bottom in response. 

“Are you sure, pretty girl? We don’t need to rush and do everything tonight. I can take care of you just as well with my mouth.” 

Just the thought of him taking his mouth to you has your pussy clenching eagerly, and you arch against him with a needy little moan. “Then will you do it now, your grace? I’d like to cum …”

“Of course I will.” Wriothesley gives you one last, lingering kiss that makes you whine low in your throat. He’s carefully untangling the two of you then, and you sway unsteadily when he helps you find your feet in the tub, but his hands are like iron bracers on your hips keeping you from tipping over. “Sit on the edge of the tub for me? Don’t fret, I’ve got you. Just like that. Good. Now spread your legs … a little more, sweetheart, that’s it. Stay just like that, okay? I’m not going to let you fall. Gods, just look at this sweet pussy.” 

With a low, almost bestial snarl, he swoops down to run his tongue straight up the length of your slit and you jolt like he’d electrocuted you. Eyes wide, almost unseeing, you tip your face down to watch him nuzzle into you, mouthing at pudgy cunt lips to coax them open for him. You have but a split second to wonder if you’d made a mistake, and then his tongue is dipping out to trace over soft creases and folds, feeling around for a moment as if to familiarize himself. Your face suddenly feels hot enough to cook an egg. The thought that you were letting him do something so shameful, putting his mouth on this intimate part of your body, niggles at the back of your mind for an extended beat like a hovering storm cloud.  

But then he finds your clit. 

You go ramrod stiff with a startled squeak, hips juddering entirely against your will when Wriothesley tauntingly swirls around the sensitive little pleasure button in increasingly tighter circles before at last grinding directly over top of it. It feels vaguely like your life is flashing before your very eyes but you can’t bring yourself to look away any more than you can bring yourself to close your legs and shut him out. It was a drastically different sensation from the one you derived rubbing yourself on his thighs or his hands, his tongue so soft and wet, and warm, yet completely unrelenting in the way it nudges your clit back and forth. Up and down, side to side, lapping at you with a hunger that almost bowls you over. You promptly forget to be embarrassed about it, and shudderingly arch your back for him instead. 

Coming up off you with a low, rumbling groan some moments later, he presses a quick kiss to your throbbing cunt. “You taste so good, pretty girl. Better than any wine, that’s for sure.” He takes a moment to draw a deep breath that makes his big shoulders rise and fall, and then he slowly tilts his head up to look at you from where he’s knelt inside the tub. “How’s that feel, sweetness? You like my mouth on your pussy?” 

You jerk your head in a frantic nod, clutching the sides of the porcelain in a death grip. “Y - yes, sir! I want … I want more, please!” 

He groans when you tip your pelvis towards him, plaintively offering your cunt to him, and he responds with a toe curling squeeze around your hips. “You are going to be the ruin of me, and I don’t even care.” Lowering his face again, Wriothesley shoves his mouth against you and you choke at the sensation of his tongue slipping out to once more lash at your clit. 

Swaying dizzily, you nudge yourself further down to stiltedly rock on his face, and he lets you do it with an approving groan. You aren’t quite sure what’s come over you in that moment but between your cunt drooling an excessive amount of slick and your nipples straining up into the air, you feel truly wild. Trusting that he wouldn’t let you fall, you reach down with one hand to snag a fistful of his dark hair, which he seems to like given the way his cock jumps in his lap. You can barely see it from this angle but that bobbing motion was unmistakable, and you give your hand a little twist to tug at the roots. Hot breath puffing against your pussy, Wriothesley lets you turn his head slightly to the side where he sucks in a thick inhale. 

“Is that where you want me, sweet girl? Go on. Put my mouth right where you want it, baby, it’s all yours.” 

A wounded little noise punches out of your tight chest, and you shudder so hard you really think you might fall. His hold on you is absolute though, just as it always is, and you’re free to jerk and twist as much as you like while he voraciously eats you out. His tongue smacks into your clit from a new angle with the tilt of his head, the sharp nudge making you squeal. It was simply too much. You’d never felt anything like it in all your life, and you had no idea how to brace against it. 

“Ohh — ooooh! Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god … wah - Wriothesley! Please! I - I’m gonna’ - -“

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He rumbles, muffled in the meat of your cunt. “Soak my face, pretty girl. Let me taste you.” 

Pussy clenching tight enough to hurt, you let out a thin, high pitched keen as your thighs begin to quake around his head. Slurping loudly, he repositions himself towards the center and gives his head a shake that seems to make every single nerve ending in your cunt light up like a firework. A warning tremor works through you as you heave, and he does it again. You just start to feel yourself tip over when he flattens his tongue to your clit and grinds mean little circles into it, and you surely would have jolted right up in the air if he hadn’t been holding you so tight. Instead, all you do is pitifully jerk against him, and the pressure suddenly gives way to a powerful orgasm that brings the sting of tears to your eyes.

Wailing in overwhelmed distress, you shake through your release while he continues to eat you out until it quickly stretches well past the point of pleasure straight into discomfort. You were too sensitive post-release. Too overwrought and tender when your pussy was still fluttering wildly around nothing, and you desperately push at him. At first you don’t think he’s going to stop, that he’s just going to keep at it incessantly, but then he finally slows the ministrations of his mouth to a standstill. Wriothesley doesn’t immediately remove his face from between your legs though, and you just seethe as the last of the spasms slowly ebb and fade to leave you twitching in the aftermath. 

Only then does he ease back, and your body just seizes all over again when you see the heated glint in his blue eyes. He looks at you like a starving wolf might look at its prey, all mindless animal hunger and fast pumping endorphins. It almost leaves you speechless. 

“Y - your grace?” 

“Bath time is over.” He abruptly announces, his stern tone brokering no room for argument. 

Eyes widening slightly, you tip your head back when he carefully finds his feet without letting up his hold on your hips and you quickly realize why. Tugging you off the ledge, he picks you straight up into his arms before your feet even have a chance to get settled on the porcelain bottom, and you clutch at him fiercely when he steps out of the tub. He doesn’t even bother with a towel and instead just brushes straight out into the main room. 

You almost lose your nerve but somehow manage to find your voice when he’s almost made it to the loveseat along the far wall. “It’s okay, Wriothesley. You can take me into the bedroom.” 

He immediately stops at your breathless little squeak, and tips his face down to look at you. “You’re sure? I can have you sit on my face just as well out here, pretty girl.” 

“Wha — no, no, no! It’s your turn next! You said you would teach me how to tend to you …” 

A muscle in his jaw visibly ticks as he draws a painfully slow breath that makes his chest press up into you. “There are a great many things I’d like to teach you, little miss. I’m not even sure where to start … how would you like to tend to me? Perhaps we should begin there.” 

You ponder that for a moment, not really even sure what your options were other than the obvious. “I suppose I don’t exactly know … can I put my mouth on you too?” 

“Oh, bless the seven!” Cursing under his breath, Wriothesley does an abrupt about face and makes a beeline straight towards your bedroom. Bouncing in his arms, you’re more than just a bit surprised at how fast he can move, and it doesn’t take long at all for you to find yourself bouncing down onto the bed with a squeak. 

Quickly, you push up onto your elbows but he’s already crawling on top of you, muscle heavy arms coming around you to brace himself against the mattress, and you go ramrod stiff when you see the weighty strain of his cock looming nearer. You hate yourself for your last minute jitters, and you hate even more that he clearly doesn’t miss the uncertainty that flashes across your face. He stills half over top of you, just looking at you for a long moment. 

“It’s alright,” He tells you at length, back to some semblance of his usual calm again. “I’m just going to kiss you first, if that is to your liking. I won’t do anything you don’t explicitly ask me to, sweetheart. You have the control here.” 

“I’m so sorry,” You mewl, feeling absolutely miserable. “I don’t know why I’m like this!” 

Shushing you softly, Wriothesley reaches up to pull your hands away when you try to cover your face and hide from him. “Don’t apologize. Hey, just look at me for a second, okay? There … that’s my pretty girl.” He gives you a quick smile as he playfully pinches your hot cheek to make you squirm. “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous about your first time. I know we’ve talked this over a lot already, but I hope you know I’m nothing if not willing to wait for you. Whenever you’re ready, it doesn’t matter how long. I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting for you if that’s what it takes so no pressure, alright?” 

You can’t quite stop your surprise from showing. “The rest of your life? Surely you don’t actually mean that … you’ll get so terribly sick of me!” 

“I do mean it. And I won’t, don’t worry about that.” Taking it slow, like he was dealing with a very skittish cat, he crawls the rest of the way up to join you, settling on his side rather than on top. You’re incredibly embarrassed to realize that the difference in his approach did make you feel worlds better, and you gladly let him pull you around to snuggle up into his broad chest. “Trust me, if that attitude of yours hasn’t scared me off by now then nothing will.” 

“… you’re terrible.” You murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. 

“I think I’ve heard that once or twice before. How very curious.” 

Bending his head close, he stamps a hard kiss to your forehead, and you whimper softly even as you bring your hand up to tentatively caress over his side. “Curious indeed, your grace …” 

With a soft hum of encouragement, Wriothesley takes his time kissing over your face — your cheeks, your eyelashes, your nose — while you ever so carefully run fingers over him. His body is so thick and tightly packed with muscle that you think it probably isn’t any wonder that the thought of having him on top of you, pinning you down under all that weight, scares you as much as it does. Even now when you wanted him as badly as you do. You like the way he feels under your hand though, firm and unrelenting. Almost stiflingly warm to the touch. 

You cuddle further into that oppressive body heat, seeking out his warmth with your bare skin. His palm runs over your back and your sides while you spend a quiet moment just familiarizing yourself with his body. From his thick arm across to his broad barrel chest where you pause to play with his nipple. It’s a dusty-pink, just like the head of his cock, and just meaty enough for you to get a good hold on it. He only noises a brief sound though, evidently not half as sensitive here as yours were, and you can’t help but think that that’s a bit unfair. 

Lower, you trace over his abdominals and run your fingers over each individual divot and ridge you encounter, fascinated with the build of him. As you gradually work your way further down, he slowly nudges over onto his back to give you access to his cock whenever you're ready for it, and you greedily eye it as you inch your fingers close. The hair on his groin is coarse and thick, but it feels nice under your hand. You follow it straight to the object of your focus where it’s laying across his inner thigh, twitching every so often. 

It stirs fully at your first touch though, and your cunt clenches eagerly at the sensation of that silky skin under your palm again. Gently, you get your fingers around it and pull it upward. 

“It’s heavy.” You murmur into the stillness. 

Rumbling a low sound of agreement, Wriothesley shifts against you to look down at himself as well. “It looks rather large in your dainty little hand, doesn’t it?” 

“I think it would look large no matter what …” 

“Mmm. Flattery is just going to find you seated on my face that much quicker, pretty girl.” 

“Oh, stop.” Trying very hard not to giggle, you carefully inch your way up the length of him until you reach the glans. Swiping your finger over the slit in the middle comes back sticky, and you take a moment to just feel along the smooth skin. Enjoying it, savoring it. Committing it all to memory. “Does that feel good, your grace?” 

“It does. Just like when I rub that cute pussy for you, it feels even better when you do it a bit more firmly.” He accompanies that with another kiss to your forehead, but you don’t allow him to distract you. You were starting to have a creeping suspicion why it had gotten him so worked up when you’d asked if you could put your mouth on him. 

You enjoyed when he rubbed your pussy, just as he seemed to enjoy you rubbing his cock for him, but you also now knew how much more intense the sensation of a hot tongue could be when applied directly to your clit. So then logic should only dictate … 

Gathering your courage, you slowly untangle yourself from him and sit up. Wriothesley steadily looks up at you, clearly waiting to see what you would choose to do next, so you quickly get spun around before your nerves can falter. Kneeling next to his hip now, you take him in hand again as his rough palm slides across your lower back, just holding you, and then you lean down. 

The first kitten lick across the head coats your tongue in salt, but not unpleasantly so, and he outright seethes at the sensation. Feeling emboldened, you do it again and again, mimicking the way he’d so expertly licked you in the bathroom. Eventually, though, he gives your waist a tight squeeze, and hisses as if in frustration. 

“Put your whole mouth on it, pretty girl. Don’t question it, just listen. There you go, open wide … nnghh. That feels good. You look so lovely with my cock stuffed in your mouth …” He chuckles, thin and strained when you noise a flustered little sound around the girth spreading your lips. “Are you getting embarrassed? I’d say it’s a bit late for that … look at you, taking care of me so well. Take it a little deeper. Nnghn — yes, now move your head back and forth. Just like that. You’ve got it. Oohn ...” 

The way he quietly groans, clutching your waist with an almost unexpected fervor, further bolsters your courage. It helps to dispel some of your lingering doubts, and the pangs of deep shame you felt at doing something that seemed so inherently dirty quickly dissolves into a distant afterthought. He felt good in your mouth, all warm and fleshy, and mind numbingly stiff. Velvety smooth, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and you take a great deal of pleasure in flicking your tongue over him to familiarize yourself with it. 

Your shy, timid ministrations soon pick up over the course of the next few minutes, and Wriothesley issues a heaving grunt into the still air when you pull him in a little deeper. You can almost feel him nudging at the back of your throat now but you’re not so sure you’re ready to tempt fate like that just yet, so you keep working your lips over what you’re comfortable with while your hands explore the rest of his groin. Coarse hair tickles your knuckles when you caress along his inner thigh, marveling at the thick musculature even here as the other holds him steady at the base. 

A rumbling groan spills out of him as he brings his head back up after letting it loll back for a moment, visibly struggling with his self control now. Rather stiffly, he reaches down to crowd his hand in close to your face. “Squeeze it, sweetheart. Like this.” Those blocky fingers wrap around yours where you’re holding onto him, and then press down to make your grip tighten. 

The cock in your mouth jumps and stiffens under the pressure, somehow swelling even more in your mouth to really stuff your lips full. Whimpering low at the sensation as much as the way your pussy flutters in response, you readjust your grip on his length while he grunts and then drags his hand down a little lower. 

“You can touch here too.” He murmurs, curling his fingers around the weight of his ballsack to give it a slow, savory squeeze as well. “Just be gentle. These are sensitive.”

You wonder at that, carefully pulling off him so you can catch your breath and swivel your attention down to regard the meaty swell of flesh hanging between his legs. Taking his hand off himself, Wriothesley reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek next and you whine very softly at the potent rush of male musk that suddenly floods your nostrils. It’s not a bad smell by any stretch of the imagination but it’s noticeable, and it’s obvious, and it sparks something in your brain that makes you start to slip under alarmingly fast. Like the natural scent of his body, his genitals, was an extremely potent and effective aphrodisiac, it just seems to ratchet your own arousal up even higher to leave you feeling dizzy with it.

Shudderingly, you tip your face down and press it into the terribly soft skin, and he gives a faint jolt at the contact. You breathe him in deep, taking a moment to just kiss him there, and he quickly reaches up to close around your fist again, firmly tugging it up and down his cock now. 

“Shit! You’re such a good girl, sweetheart … you like having my cock and balls in your face like that? Huh?” 

The thin, rattling quality of his voice just rushes straight to your pussy, and you nod your head with a muffled whimper. It felt like you were suffocating in him, his taste and his smell. The body heat rolling off him in waves is almost suffocating. You were beyond intoxicated and punchdrunk on it, all of it, so lost you barely even realize you’re doing it when you start to mouth at his balls and gently suck on them. 

“Oohhn, little miss … you don’t even have any idea what you’re doing to me right now. Come here. Lay out next to me.” 

He drags the hand resting across your back further down, over the curve of your ass to hook around the pudge of your inner thigh. Gentle yet insistent, he nudges you until you have no choice but to come up off his ballsack with a haggard gasp. Panting, you tremblingly let him tug your lower half towards him until you find yourself splayed out half on top of his body, your front resting along his strong hips while one leg comes up to curl over his chest. You aren’t quite brave enough to fully straddle him just yet but he doesn’t seem to mind, rough fingers finding the seam in your body and spreading your cunt open for him. 

“God, this is the prettiest pussy. You look tight enough to pinch my cock right off.” Squeaking at that, you start to turn to fix him with an incredulous look, but you don’t quite make it that far. His hand abruptly retreats only to swat across the meat of your ass, making you jolt. “You were asking me for a spanking earlier, weren’t you? Still want it?” 

You waver on top of him, clutching his pulsing cock in a death grip. “Yes, sir, I want it …” 

“Good. Then keep sucking my cock and I’ll spank you as much as you want.” Swat! “Just watch your teeth, okay pretty girl?” 

Noising a wordless sound of understanding, you dip your face down to take him into your mouth again. The next slap across your quickly tingling ass almost has your eyes rolling back in your head as you moan around the thick length stretching your lips wide. You can tell he’s not putting much intent behind the rhythmic smacks, one cheek and then the other, back and forth to leave your bottom turning red, but even that is enough to make you lose yourself even more in the statically charged daze. 

Even knowing he’s looking directly at your body completely unheeded doesn’t do much to curb your arousal, and you seem to forget all of your timid uncertainty as you start bobbing your head in earnest. Up and down, up and down — the motion is a bit stilted in this position, bordering on awkward, but Wriothesley groans appreciatively anyway, his toes visibly flexing down by the edge of the bed. It just further spurns you on, sending you on a soaring high you hadn’t expected to feel doing this sort of thing. Eagerly, you reach down to fondle his balls with your free hand, making him subtly twitch in response. 

Swat! 

“Oohn, pretty girl … your mouth feels so good on me like that. You’re doing such a good job.” 

Swat! 

“Do you like having your butt spanked while you suck my cock?”

Groaning, you jerk your head in a flustered nod, squeaking out a faint, “Mhm!” 

“I should have known,” He laughs, strained and very close to being breathless. “You’re such a sweet little masochist, and I can tell how much you’re getting off on this. Your cute pussy looks so soft and juicy right now … just begging to get stuffed full.” 

You shudder so violently you very nearly vibrate right off him, but another slap across your ass promptly grounds you. Dazedly swaying, you work your mouth over him a little quicker. A bit more urgently. 

“That’s it, little miss. Keep sucking me off. You’re well on your way to earning a nice reward for yourself after this … nnghn — you’re so good for me. Gonna’ make me cum soon … how do you want it, sweetheart? I can cum on those lovely tits if you want, or …” A deeply ruffled sound rises in him, catching you off guard. “Or I can cum straight into that warm little mouth of yours. How would you like that, hm? Wanna’ be a good girl and swallow my load for me?”  

The tremor that tears through you has you lurching on top of him, frantically noising around him. You’re not even quite sure what it is you’re experiencing at the moment, everything so intense and strong, and overwhelming that you don’t know what to make of any of it. You can’t even think straight, but he just shifts underneath you with another low chuckle. 

“Gods, you really are perfect. I’m going to hold your head for a moment but don’t worry, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” 

You believed him, implicitly, and all you do is softly whimper when he reaches down to palm the back of your skull. The frantic energy shooting off inside you feels like it’s reaching fever pitch as he directs your face a pinch lower, centering you over top of him, and then — his hips suddenly nudge up, pressing his cock deep before stiltedly retracting. You can’t help the soft squeal that bursts out of you, muffled around his girth, and your eyes quickly flutter closed when he does it again, settling into a stiffly restrained pace that has him gliding back and forth across your tongue. 

Wriothesley moans, very quietly, while he holds your head in place so he can fuck up into your mouth at that tortuous speed. His other hand curls over your ass and delivers a distracted smack to the swell of it before latching on in a tight grip, squeezing hard enough to leave behind bruises as he pulls you open again. You know he’s looking directly at your cunt now, staring at it while he thrusts towards the back of your throat, and you don’t even care. You’re so hot, so needy for relief from this dizzying level of arousal, that you simply take as much of him as he’s willing to give you at any one time. 

Was this — was this what it would feel like to have him moving between your legs? 

“Oohhn, I’m getting close, my lovely girl … ready for your first real taste of me? Gonna’ swallow it down, nice and good … nghnn, it’s coming, sweetheart, get ready. Right there. Yeah. That’s — shit, I’m cumming! Here it comes …”

Groaning feverishly, Wriothesley’s hips falter and quake as he jerks himself up into your mouth with fast growing urgency. The rhythm he’d settled into falters and then breaks down completely, and he just judders for a desperate heartbeat before going still with his cock stuffed back against the root of your tongue. Your eyes widen slightly when you feel him give a powerful pulse of clenching muscle, and then a hot, cloying clump of something thick shoots out of him to coat the roof of your mouth. Trembling almost violently, you noise a faint sound of surprise, not having expected such a sudden burst of potent, bitter salt on your tastebuds, but it just keeps coming. Spurt after heavy spurt floods your mouth until you have no choice but to choke it down. You’re vaguely aware of some escaping the seal of your raw lips to dribble down the side of his length, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care about that right now. 

Throat clenching tightly, you give a weak cough around him as he gradually starts to relax under you, the tension in his frame bleeding away in the time it takes you to blink. Heaving a breathy, sensitive groan, he gingerly starts to ease his cock back, and you gratefully suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air. 

“Was that … to your liking, your grace?” You finally manage to croak out with no shortage of effort some moments later. 

“I loved it, little miss. You did very well, in fact.” His voice is warm with satiated pleasure, and he slides his hand down off your head to give the back of your neck an approving squeeze. “You’ve been so sweet for me all evening. I’m very proud of you for being such a brave girl tonight.” 

A pleased tremor works through you as you carefully sit up so you can turn around, unable to keep the smile off your face now when he opens up his arms for you. You don’t even hesitate to lay out across his chest with your face pressed into the hollow of his neck, snuggling deep to get comfortable. Humming a soft sound of approval, Wriothesley tightly wraps his burly arms around you so he can half lift, half drag you further on top of him until you’re stretched out across his body. 

It felt good, laying out on top of him like this in the afterglow … 

“Thank you, sir,” You murmur into his skin, still flushed and warm with the lingering traces of his arousal. “I’m very glad that I was able to spend such a wonderful evening with you, and — I'm also happy that I could make you feel good, too.”

“I feel fantastic. Better than good, actually.” He assures you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know you’re still nervous about fully giving yourself over to me, and that’s okay. I’m perfectly satisfied just like this. We can take it as slow as you want.” 

Whimpering softly when a rush of emotion floods into your chest, you quickly bury your face a little further into his neck to hide it. Wriothesley was so sweet to you … did you really even deserve this? It was overwhelming and scary, and indescribably unexpected in the worst possible way, but … that was okay, wasn’t it? 

Evidently picking up on the tension making your slighter frame stiffen against him, he starts rubbing those big, callused hands over your back in comforting circles. “What is it, pretty girl? You don’t seem quite so happy anymore. Did I say something wrong again?” 

You give a thick laugh, struggling to keep the tears suddenly stinging your eyes at bay. “No, it’s not that …” 

“Then what’s the matter? You can tell me anything.” A soft kiss to your shoulder assures you of that, and you force yourself to draw a steadying breath. He’d taught you how to be honest, both with yourself and with him, so you don’t struggle with it nearly as much as you would have at one time. 

“You just make me feel like such a mess inside. I don’t really know what to do with myself right now but … I'm sure I am happy. I’m also a bit scared and confused though. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

He draws an even breath that makes his chest rise and fall underneath you, lifting you slightly. “I’d wager that’s pretty normal, considering how many boundaries we’ve crossed tonight. Fear of the new and unknown isn’t so strange, but … I think I might have something in mind that just might help you relax a bit.” 

You shift against him, undeniably curious. “What is it?” 

“We can discuss that later. Tomorrow.” Sighing, Wriothesley gathers you up tighter to his chest, just holding you like that. “Unfortunately even if I wanted to continue right now, I’m afraid it’s going to take me a while to recover from what we’ve already done. Unlike you, I can’t bounce back from everything quite as fast.” 

He accompanies this with a taunting little pinch to your waist, making you squirm and press your face tighter into his neck. 

“Besides, you’ve already had a long day, pretty girl … you should get some rest.”

“You’ll stay?” 

“I promise I’m not going anywhere.” A hard kiss pressed into the crown of your head. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Wriothesley keeps his word, and you do indeed wake up the next morning in a tangle of limbs to the steady rise and fall of his broad barrel chest under your cheek. The morning light drifting in through the sheer curtains on the window casts a glow across him, and you spend what feels like a lifetime just watching the handsome duke sleep. 

He was still strange and confusing, and undeniably frustrating at times, but … he was also sweet, and infinitely patient with you. Even for as hard and blistering the sting of his hand could be, it was also capable of the softest touch. The fingers curled possessively around your hip, loosely clutching the meat of your leg in his slumber, feels like an anchoring lifeline and you think you really might love him. 

The thought of that isn’t half as scary as you would have at one time thought it to be. Just last night you probably would have thrown up your defensive walls and gone running from him in hysterics but waking up to him in your bed like this somehow reframes things. Makes it all look so much more soft and faint around the edges like a blissful dream. It’s not frightening here, in the still morning air, and you soon realize with a resoundingly warm thrum that you would have liked to stay with him, just like this, forever. 

Unfortunately the world stops for no one, regardless of how peaceful and happy they might be, and you eventually bring yourself to carefully untangle from him so you can crawl out of bed without disturbing him. You were going to surprise him with homemade crepes for breakfast.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[anilovie]

could I please have some anakin fluff when the reader is on her period and every inch of her body are sore and the period pain is so painful? despite how he intense he could get during sex and all, I wanna see the gentle and loving side of anakin from you hihi, thank youu

hii thanks for the request!! i wrote a little something that’s been bouncing around in my head for a while, but if you want some more general thoughts on this just let me know!!

CW: whump + fluff, mentions of menstruation/blood/pain but nothing too graphic, f-implied reader

WC: 1.3k

You would try your best today — that’s all you could promise yourself when you woke up to the dreaded stomach pains, sore muscles, and the dark red spot blooming on your bedsheets; all signs pointing to a very unfortunate time of month.

It was a shitty way to start the morning, ripping your bedsheets off and throwing them in the wash and trying not to beat yourself up for making a mess, waddling around your room due to the sticky mess between your thighs. You hadn’t anticipated starting today— you were a few days early, which was just perfect, because of course you’d be on the heaviest day of your period when you had so much to do.

No matter how bad you wanted to stay in bed all day, you had to get your clothes on and join the rest of the hustle and bustle in the temple halls. The war didn’t stop for your period, after all.

Considering you were in a shit mood, you tried to avoid everyone and stuck to working alone. Anakin was also busy, which you were glad for. He didn’t need to see you like this.

But he, without fail, always made it a point to free up time in his busy days to see you. Somehow. Even if it meant swiping you from your own work to walk with him to the caf for a quick coffee run.

And of course. Of course of course of course. Right before he dropped you back off to let you go back to work, he leaned in real close and said:

“You okay? Do you need anything from me?”

His eyes subtly shifted downward, and then back up, and you full-heartedly wished the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m good, Anakin, thanks,” you rushed. He was never embarrassed to talk about it, but for some reason you were.

How could he even tell??

“Okay,” he knew not to push, even though you were clearly lying. “Just come find me if you need anything, alright? I’ll see you tonight.”

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and pulled back with a small smile.

Just as soon as he turned to leave, a cleaning bot turned a corner too fast, one of its long metal arms flailing out too fast for you to anticipate. It slammed you in the lower stomach, right where it hurt the most.

“Shit—“ you gasped, arms instinctively wrapping around your middle, keeling over in pain. The droid was long gone by now, not having the capacity to understand what it did and scurrying back to duty.

Anakin swore a little too loud, turning right back around. He’d caught what happened out of the corner of his eye, forgetting about potential onlookers as he held you up with his arms, urging you back into an empty room and sitting you down in the nearest chair.

“Where’d it get you? Right there?” He was kneeling before you, brows creased in worry, subconsciously rubbing your arms up and down as his gaze pierced into the death grip you had around your middle.

Your eyes welled with pained tears, lip quivering as you struggled to keep your cool. “I’m okay,” you squeaked. “It was an accident.” But God, did it feel like your insides were being shredded up right now.

The cramps you’d been dulling with regular doses of painkillers came back full-force, twisting and pinching and radiating all through your lower abdomen, back, thighs— god, it hurt everywhere, and you really didn’t need this today.

That thought had a pathetic little whimper escape from your throat, and you would have been able to see Anakin’s heart break if you weren’t still hunched over, trying to diffuse any of the pain at all. Anakin’s hand roamed from your arm to your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades, giving you a minute.

“I’ll have to find that droid later,” he sighed under his breath, sinister. “But first, we should get you into bed. I don’t want you working any more today.”

The fact that you actually nodded in agreement was a very bad sign. Anakin wished he’d grabbed that stupid droid as soon as it passed you and broke its damn neck. Some sensors were clearly missing, anyways.

He wished he could carry you, but it was the middle of the day and too many people were walking around the temple. “Can you walk?” He asked tenderly, ducking his head to try and catch your eyes.

“Yeah,” you grit between your teeth, wincing as you straightened up and pushed yourself to your feet with a great big breath. It ached, the worst you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t walk without leaning forward, pressing a hand to your tummy as if it would help at all. Anakin took your other hand and led you out of the room, through the halls, and to your room.

His com started beeping as soon as he closed the door, answering it with an exasperated, “Not right now, Ahsoka. I’m busy.”

You’d have scolded him for snapping at his Padawan, but you were too focused on beelining to your bed, needing to sit again.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. Your sheets were still in the dryer from this morning. “I forgot to make my bed,” you explained to Anakin once he caught up from the other room.

“Let me draw you a bath. I can make it in the meantime,” there was no room for argument as he slipped past you to the bathroom. “Come. Sit,” he held out a hand, almost stern, and once you took it, he nudged you to sit on the lip of the bath as he leaned in to twist the knobs.

He was mother-henning.

One of his hands remained on your knee as he fiddled with the knobs until he got the right temperature, testing it with his own hand before deeming it acceptable.

“Hands up,” he demanded, turning to you after shaking the water droplets from his fingers.

“Anakin, I can undress myself…” you cringed. Really, you didn’t want him to see how bloated and gross you probably looked. It’s how you felt at least. Even if you logically knew it wouldn’t even phase him, you’d rather take care of this business yourself.

“Alright,” he surprised you, giving in with little argument. “Can I just see, though? I want to make sure it didn’t bruise you.”

“I don’t think it did,” you said softly. “Just hurt really bad cause, yaknow… but you can see after.”

“Okay,” he stood, kissing you on the head on the way up. He grabbed a towel from the hanger behind the door and folded it on the sink for you to grab easily. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Aren’t you busy, though? You don’t have to stay with me.”

“I’m not busy,” he lied, and you gave him a pointed look. “None of it’s very important, at least.”

You were too tired to argue, plus you did really want him to stay with you. So you just nodded and whispered, “thank you,” as he closed the door.

With him gone, you finally allowed your face to twist into the pained grimace you’d been holding back, not wanting him to see how bad it truly hurt— was still hurting. Whatever that droid did, it must have knocked something loose, because it never usually hurt this bad.

With some deep, measured breaths, and lots of quiet swearing, you got undressed and cleaned up a little before getting into the bath, sighing in relief as your sore muscles relaxed in the hot water. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, chest warming at the muffled sounds of Anakin walking around your room, making your bed and talking to someone on his com: something along the lines of, “Leave me alone, I’ll do it tomorrow. Yes, I’ve already given the report, have some faith in me, why don’t you? No, it wasn’t last minute— by the way, there’s a CC-4 walking around missing some sensors—“

You didn’t stay in the bath for long, not wanting to keep Anakin waiting. Plus, it was making you sleepy and you wanted to get into bed so you could sleep away your woes.

Cringing with every movement, you lifted yourself from the bath and rushed to get everything cleaned and covered before you made a mess on the floor. You pulled your robe on from its hangar and exited the bathroom in considerably much less pain, pleased to see Anakin finishing tucking the sheets into the mattress, having laid out some snacks and a big glass of water on your desk. As you grew closer, you also found a little napkin with some pain pills on it.

“You should take those,” he instructed over his shoulder, and you smiled softly, picking them up and swallowing them with water.

“Thanks for all this, Ani,” you said, crawling onto the newly made bed. “Are you really gonna stay?”

“Of course,” he pulled the blanket right up over you before you could even reach for it. “Obi-Wan’s covering for me. I’m all yours tonight.”

“You should buy him a cupcake or something, it’s very nice of him to do that,” you muttered, already reaching for his belt and tugging on it loosely . “Can you get in bed with me?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, unclasping his belt and laying it carefully on your desk. He kicked his boots off and slid in right beside you, and you instantly sighed, melting into his warm chest, arms circling around you like it was second nature. He let you shift around until you were comfortable, leg slotted between his, draped half-on and half-off his chest, head tucked right below his chin.

Another achey cramp washed over you, urging you to take his flesh hand and direct it over your lower abdomen, right where it hurt the most; which was also where you got hit.

“You said you’d show me,” he reminded gently.

Your response was muffled by the material of his robes. “It’s not bruised. I’ll show you later.”

You couldn’t see, but he smiled at your slightly slurred voice, your smaller hands gripping his large one to keep it over your tummy. He loved knowing that just his touch could give you so much relief. “So sleepy,” he teased, lips skimming over your forehead.

He breathed you in deeply for a long moment, rubbing your tummy in gentle motions. It ached at first, but soon the motions and the warmth of his hand eased away the pains, massaging you with just the right pressure to make it feel much, much better. You sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” he whispered, though you were already half asleep.

“‘Ts okay. It’s unavoidable.”

“I’m still sorry. I wish you didn’t have to be in so much pain all the time. I wish I could take it away from you.”

You almost laughed at what you could say in response to that, but he was being serious, so you were too. “You’re making me feel better now, Ani.”

He sighed, squeezing your waist with his metal arm. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you kissed his collarbone.

He huffed a gentle laugh, and you relaxed further into him, putty in his arms. Anakin just had a way of making you feel so warm and so safe, your brain just goes quiet whenever you’re around him.

He slowed his hand on your belly, easing the pressure just a bit so you could tumble into unconsciousness. Somewhere between watching you sleep, roaming his hands over each of your aching muscles, front to back, and fiddling with the ends of your hair, he followed you into unconsciousness.

[vamqyr3]

Hey can I request any jealous ghost or yandere ghost headcanons with smut. Please?

↳ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY // COMING DOWN. ❀

CW// OBSESSION, STALKING, VIOLENCE, ORAL, ECT.

NOTES// obsessive!anything has to be my fav to write. Anyways.

He’s got a staring problem, it’s chronic. He knows all too well, he’s too tentative, far too particular. Ghost knows better than to stare, he knows your feet shift before you turn to look around your shoulder. He knows your attention is pointed where your torso is, you have a blind spot to your left and the right eye is worse than the other. He knows better than to look while you look back. It’s rude. It’s obvious.

He’s often thought of your face upon meeting him. Most think him monstrous, horrible, evil. He’d hoped you’d be scared too, see what evils had been protecting you thus far. Know the power and capacity of that man, the weight of his shadow on your brow bone, his bulking figure on the eye. To know someone’s getting the job done.

It wouldn't be too hard to notice him in every corner of a room. You’d just purposely moved from the bar to the rooftop, he’s still sat in a chair farthest left of you. You’d twitch under the attention, stress under his eyes and grow anxious. But he’d love it, knowing your finally aware of him.

Already in a relationship? No issue. He’d hate to have to kill, he’d hate to see you cry, get all messy just cause of him. Me might not, he might enjoy cheering you up, understanding what no one else cloud. Maybe he’d get angry, chastise you for ever having used your mouth to talk to anyone else. He just might choke you on him, use it, finally, for some good. Train you good and well to only use two words, ‘Please’ and ‘Yes’

It would come easily, first. Texts from unsaved numbers on your lovers phone, disappearances on the hour. Then, to arguments, to fighting and rumors. A photo of your ex and another.

Your marital relationship with Si was art. He aged like fine wine, soon becoming nothing more than a doting husband. He’d drool at the sight of you, never let you do any bit of work. The house is in his name, only one car for him to drive, a house in the woods, food provided by him. He’d let you do damn near anything to him.

He has a few scattered trust issues. Spiraling into control and commitment. He’d always kiss your hands and eyes, kneel and beg mercy during any argument. But he’s began monitoring your nutritional intake, jutting motion detectors in the four corners of the room. But you get it, occupational hazard.

More often than not he’s gone into lengths upon lengths of detail whilst rutting into you. Describing his strength, power, might over the ones around you. How easily the hands ringing your hips have broken a man. How beautiful you look, how he’d wanted to ruin your pretty little eyes every moment they weren’t on him. What horrible things he had thought in a hooded black jacket staring you down at the bar.

Corruption, Ghost would enjoy ruining you. Using you an earshot away from your peers. Affirming your safety, how he would never let any other see you how he did. How he had needed you so badly, he couldn’t even wait a moments rest, and while there is still breath in his breast, he would kill any other man before they saw you bare before him.

[verybadatwriting]

The Young General's Final Battle

Summary: Reader, the teenaged padawan of Kenobi, dies.

Warnings: Main character death (reader), crush injuries, blood, angst

Notes: Read the fluffier first part here!

Gn!Padawan!reader x (platonic) Kenobi and Cody

Word count: 629

A gentle hand rested on your shoulder pulling you out of your sleep.

“How long was I out?” You ask groggily. Speaking took more effort than normal, and your breath was hard to catch. It felt like your lungs weren’t operating at full capacity, like a bantha was sitting on you.

“Not sure,” Master Kenobi said, peering down at you. He was knelt on the ground next to you. The dust from the battle still swirled in the air, although you couldn’t hear any droids marching. That didn’t mean there weren’t any. You had to regroup with the 212th and prepare for whatever came next.

You were dully aware of some pain in your legs, but nonetheless tried to stand. For some reason, Master Kenobi pushed you back onto the ground, his hand never left your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Y/n” he said, taking your hand. “A medic is on his way. Don’t try to move.”

“What–?” You craned your neck to look at your legs. A massive boulder blocked your view. Kenobi gently pushed your shoulder back once again, this time onto his balled-up cloak, as a sort of cushion against the rocks. 

“No, no!” You resisted. “Master, we have to fight! The clankers will easily take the capital. Its defenses are too weak without us! We’ll lose the whole planet!”

“Vodika…” a new person approaches you from the right, uttering a strange word that you could have sworn you’ve heard before. Commander Cody copies Master Kenobi and kneels beside you and grasps your hand. His voice is even, measured, and reassuring. “It’s okay, we managed to push the Seppies back to their base while you were unconscious. The best thing you can do right now is rest here, where you’re safe, and get ready for tomorrow's battle.”

He ends his words with a small smile, one that hides something. Whatever it is, that can’t matter much right now. Cody said you’re safe, so you must be. The pain in your legs is a little more noticeable now, but Master Kenobi said the medic was inbound. You’d probably wake up in your tent in camp, all bandaged up. 

You’re not quite sure when you closed your eyes, but you knew Cody was gently stroking your head, lulling you to sleep. One by one your muscles untensed, and your breathing evened out into small, shallow puffs.

“Why would you tell them that?” Kenobi demanded of Cody. “We have to keep them conscious or… or they might not wake up!”

“Cyare,” Cody said. “I need you to listen. They’re not going to wake–”

“We just need to get them out from under the boulder.” Desperation made Kenobi’s hands shake as he lifted them towards the massive rock. Cody leaned over you, grabbing both of Kenobi’s hands in his own. He forced the General to look him in his eyes. 

“That boulder is the only thing keeping Y/n from bleeding out. The moment it’s gone there will be a torrent of blood and they will be dead in seconds. Do you understand?” 

Hesitantly, Kenobi nodded, finally starting to accept the gravity of the situation. 

“This way,” Cody said, reassuringly. “They’ll just sleep and get to… get to go in relative peace.”

“We’ll stay with them,” Master Kenobi said, regaining his normal composure. “It wouldn’t be right for them to be alone.”

“Of course.”

They ignored the distant sound of metal feet stomping across the ground. The only sounds that mattered were your small, rattling breaths drawing ever further apart until finally, they stopped altogether.

Cody reaches down and flags this location on the map. After the battle, which may take mere hours, or last days, they could come back to retrieve your remains. There is no time to grieve in this war. 

Tag list:

@arctrooper69

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

in answer to your request for lokius prompts

(btw, sorry if you're closed for prompts rn, if you have, i haven't seen - and pls don't feel pressured to fill out the prompt if you don't want to!! <3)

the prompt:

loki starts to have nightmares about time-slipping. and, strangely, (but altogether not strange), mobius is a constant throughout his nightmares. can be platonic or romantic. mobius can find out, or maybe he doesn't.

honestly? i just wanna read about loki having hurt angry sad feelings around and about mobius, while mobius is completely (or almost completely) oblivious.

bonus points if loki tries to hint about his feelings to mobius but never outright says he's hurting! :DD

(but of course - do whatever you feel comfortable doing! i trust in your creative capacities as a writer, and i know you'll do what's best for you <3)

GOD BLESS YOU FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME, I PROCRASTINATED

Okay anyways

HURT/COMFORT LOKIUS LETS GO

LOKI POV

My body tears itself apart at the seams as I shout out for some consolation from anyone, anywhere. When I’m stitched back together again, I open my eyes in the dim Time Theater to see a silhouette. I tremble, my knees buckling and my eyes watering. Even as my body hits the floor, there’s that smell; that familiar smell of espresso fills my senses. 

My voice is nothing more than a whisper as I utter the name, “Mobius?”

The figure kneels, his face coming into the light. It feels as if the skies are gazing upon me. “Yeah, love. It’s me. Just relax.”

“It hurts…” I falter.

“I thought as much.” Mobius smiles. “Just close your eyes.”

I shut my eyes, then…

I gasp, my eyes shooting open. I sit upright in bed, clutching fistfuls of the polyester sheets, looking around for something or someone to ground me. 

I take a deep breath and look down at my lover. Mobius has his arm around my waist as he sleeps, an almost inaudible snore leaving his lips. It’s adorable, to be quite frank. I almost forget about the events of my nightmare as I look at his face. 

These nightmares always seem to have Mobius in them. I feel lucky that this time was more tame. The last time I had these nightmares, Mobius didn’t have any skin. That’s… creepy. I could see all of his muscles and tendons and-

“Mmm… Loki?” Mobius looks up at me with sleepy eyes and a little smile. “Everything okay, love?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, darling. I’m fine.” I smile back, pushing all of the thoughts down. “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” I chuckle. “You’re a bad liar.”

“Maybe that’s what got me pruned back then. After the time loop.” Mobius says, looking up at me with the prettiest look in his eyes to accompany a soft laugh.

“What? No, that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t…” 

“Relax, Loki. I was kidding.” He sits up and kisses my cheek before leaning back against the headboard. “What’s got you awake?”

I rest my head on his shoulder. “Nothing. Just thoughts.”

“What about?”

“…just… things.”

Mobius grins, quirking an eyebrow. “Things?”

“Yes.”

“You need to be more specific. Things could mean anything from sex to suicide.”

I laugh briefly, repositioning myself to bury my face in his shoulder as I do. “Oh, shut up.”

“There it is.” Mobius lifts my chin with the goofiest smile.

I give him a peck on the lips. “Mmm… What?”

“That laugh of yours. The full, genuine laugh.” Mobius muses. “I don’t think I’ve heard it in a while. Are you feeling better?”

All of my worries seem to disappear. I don’t even remember what I was so worked up about. “Yeah. I think I’m better now.”

[pearl-blue-musings]

I have a lot on my mind so here’s this

Slight angsty scenarios: Kaeya, Childe, Diluc, Thoma

Warnings: established relationships, angst, some no comfort, emotions and all that

Kaeya

“Come on snowflake, you’re safe now aren’t you?” He reaches out for you but you shrug him off with a limp in your step. Your pride, dignity, hell your heart and physical prowess has been shattered in a matter of seconds all because of the man behind you. You struggle up the steps to enter the knights of favonius headquarters and straight towards Jean’s office. Jean perks up from her seat, surprised to see your eyes alight with fury and heartache.

She clears her throat as the two of you settle in. “What seems to be the problem? Did the mission go well?”

You huff before pointing a finger to the blue headed man. “I want out. I can’t work with him anymore. He is a self centered, narcissistic ass-“

“Watch your language, soldier!”

“M-my apologies acting grand master. But he put me, and the rest of our squad in danger just for his own gain! I almost died protecting them.”

Jean clasps her hands together and let’s out a deep sigh. Her eyes dart between the two of you, knowing full well the extent of your relationship and the captains capacity to put his soldiers in harms way. “Kaeya,” she asks with a stern voice, “what happened?”

Kaeya steps forward with his trademark smirk and tone. “Jean, we knew that members of the abyss have been kidnapping our members for reasons unknown. We found out what they’re doing and shut them down.”

“By letting your soldiers get kidnapped and experimented on by the mages and leaders almost killing us!”

The stressed out woman closes her eyes and crosses her arms. “Kaeya, you know better than to endanger your subordinates. That being said, has the problem been neutralized?”

Your jaw drops at her question and that your boyfriend responds with a yes, showcasing the bottle of wine the tavern gave him. Jean sighs again, reprimands Kaeya and asks him not to do that again. He chuckles at your admonished face and walks out. He briefly hears you mumble your need for a break before he catches you outside, grabbing you to talk in his office. “I said I was sorry,” he apologizes.

“No, I’ve had it Kaeya! You can’t put us, especially me, in danger! I almost died, and you grabbed a fucking bottle of wine after!” Your lip trembles in anger as you can’t even meet his gaze. Of all the people to fall in love with, why him? “I’m done,” you finally whisper.

That causes his facade to drop as he quickly stands up. “W-what do you mean? You’re done? Being a knight? Finally,” he breathes out. “I can take care of you like I want-“

You push him away. “No! I’m done being your partner, I’m done with you Kaeya! You can’t keep putting me in danger and expecting me to come back to love you! I can’t do it.” Tears fall freely down your cheeks as you walk out of his office. You don’t dare look back knowing if you gaze into his soft blue eyes you’d be reeled back in. “I’ll come get my stuff later.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m heading back to the winery.”

“You can’t go there…”

“Goodbye Kaeya.”

You shut the door behind you and quietly leave the headquarters, doing your best to wipe away at your tears. Kaeya sits back in his chair with a long sigh and opens the newly acquired bottle of wine. He opens a drawer in his desk, the ring he has just gotten for you staring up at him in dismay. Lisa may have to make him a hangover remedy in the morning.

Childe

“So that’s it? You never loved me?”

The 11th Harbinger can’t even meet your gaze. You kneel before him and some of the other Harbingers with your hands behind your back. You were suddenly blindfolded and thrust from your abode and brought here. You had a brief idea of what he did but not the full extent. The sword in his hand terrifies you as you knew he would never raise it to you. Right?

“Tartaglia, you know the life we lead. Any attachments we have must be dealt with. Did you really think you could hide a relationship from us? Your duty isn’t done.”

You don’t recognize the voice, but based on looks alone the voice comes from one known as the doctor. He even terrified Childe, or is that even his real name? You begin to struggle against your binds when you realize what is meant to happen. Your eyes go wide as you try to escape. “No, no no please! I won’t say anything I swear!”

You’re dragged away against your whines and insistence. Childe briefly turns his head toward you, tears coming to his eyes as he sees the fate he wanted you to avoid. His grip tightens at being exposed for trying to live a normal life with someone he loves. He holds back his tears as he hears your screams silenced. He’ll get his revenge, but for now he must wait. Wait for the right time to avenge your death and live the life he wants.

Diluc

Diluc had done his best to be quiet when coming back to your shared home near 4 in the morning. He quietly takes off his mask, silently places his great sword in its case, and removes his jacket. He’s about to make his way to your bed when a lamp is lit and he finds you staring at him. And you look angry.

“Darling, shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s very late.”

“I should be asking you the same thing, Diluc.”

The red head drops his shoulders and strides toward you, hopefully to get a much needed hug from a rough night of fighting and protecting Mondstat. He tries to initiate a hug but you avoid his embrace. “I had a late night at the winery. I would love to just snuggle with you until the sun is directly above us.” You shrug away again and slowly stride away. “My love, what’s wrong?”

“Who is she?”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion as his eyes rest upon yours. Yours hold a frustrated sadness that he wishes he had known about it. “Who is who?”

“The woman you always smell like when you come home late. Am I not good enough for you? Is, is she better? Have I not been doing enough?”

Diluc silences your tears with a strong hug, rubbing at your back and cooing at you. His heart sped up at your strange allegations but finally understood. Lately his missions had involved prolonged contact with the acting grand master and hadn’t realized the aroma the blonde gives off. His lips find your jaw and cheek and trails kisses to help calm you down. When he feels you’ve cried out everything, he cups your face and wipes away stray tears. “I should have told you earlier. I wanted to keep you safe by not telling you, but I had no idea you were harboring these feelings. I’m the dark night hero. I’ve been working with Jean and the Traveler. My love, I’m so sorry.”

You take one of his hands and hold it tight, looking up at him full of love. You lean your head into his palm and then give it a peck. A yawn escapes your lips and Diluc chuckles. “I’m sorry for making you feel this way, darling. Let me make it up to you.”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry for not trusting you.” He kisses your forehead and rests his hands on your shoulders. “But I’ll let you make it up to me right now.”

Thoma

You couldn’t believe the letter in your hands. You had waited for him, loved him, cared for him. And it all surmised to a stupid letter from the Kamisato Clan. Even worse is that it’s in his hand.

“My sunshine,

“I wish this letter had better news, but I had made up my mind. As much as I would love to go back home to Mondstat, I need to stay here. Lady Ayaka and Ayato need me and I can’t abandon them. They gave me my life here and it would be a disservice to leave them now.

“I know that I should have done this in person, but call me a coward. I couldn’t bear to see the face of the person I love shed a tear over this. I really do love you, but I have a duty to uphold. And I just can’t leave with you. I hope you know that I love you with every fiber of my being, and I know you’ll move on and find someone better.

“I love you so much,

“Thoma”

You rip up the letter in heartbreak, grab your bags, and storm off onto the ship headed for Liyue. This would’ve been your first stop together on your lovers vacation but now it’ll be a lonely and burdensome trip. As you walk onto the ship, Thoma peeks out from behind a tree, tears falling freely as he clutches to the necklace you gave him before walking away toward the Kamisato estate.

[on-leatheredwings]

How I feel before the fic - 6/10, 😐🙃🫠🙍🏻‍♀️

Right off the bat, can feel how frustrated darling is with the way dami asks things!!! Can practically see the fuckin eye roll as he asking where and with who!! (As if he probably doesn't have a tracker on half the shit darling owns)

Pls the way Damian is questioning darling like it's an interrogation! And then is almost like okay and? When darling answers him!!! Like sir!!

Firmly believe that yes Dami is much better than when he first arrived at the manor, he still has those moments where the teachings fucking seep into his frontal lobe like something awakening. Hence the 'owning' darling part and the fact that he gets why it's not socially acceptable but.....neither is half of the other things he does so it's kinda catch 22 with that one for him at times.

AND RHEN SAYING HE WOULD HAVE STOPPED HAD HE KNOWN DARLING FELT THAT WAY WHEN IK FOR A FACT HE WOULD SIMPLY NOT BE SO OPEN ABOUT IT!!! HE WOULD KEEP THEM AS INSIDE THOUGHTS !

Damian the manipulative king ngl

Man's probably thinks manipulation is much more extreme than what he's doing, probably considers what he does is just expressing himself :/

Damian really thinking he can talk darling down until being "threatened" with darling actually leaving!

My baby boy, yr father's relationships are ALSO UNHEALTHY! FIGHTING ESPECIALLY IN SUCH CAPACITY ISNT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE IN LOVE?!??!

him on his knees as a way to show you his devotion, willingly kneeling before only you and ever only you is something that means the highest level of love and devotion. And then the please, and the kissing? It's him trying to show you the fact that you're his deity and only wishes to keep you safe from the grime that is humanity! AND THEN ASKING TO CORRWCT HIS BEHAVIOR? ESSENTIALLY BEGGING TO ATONE FOR HIS SINS AT THE FEET OF HIS DIETY????

He just wants his soul to mingle with yours<3 your life lines intertwined in such a way that it'll extend past this life time<3 you'll be each other's in any and all times.

Damian is dastardly good at reminding darling why it's him. The way his body was born into this world to be with you and give you pleasure, as you were to him. You've belonged to each other since your first breaths and you will continue to be so until your last. At least, that's what he thinks.

The way you write Damian is so good, I really just adore it because it's so him but also just.....I can't see him falling in love normally. It always ends up like this, it's damn near hereditary. It's so good. Loved this fic and all the other Dami fics you post<3

Me after reading this - 9/10🫡🙂‍↕️🤤😲🥴🤭

Also no cookies yet, forgot I needed to soften the butter so been waiting on that while reading.

Much love Damian anon

Pls the way Damian is questioning darling like it's an interrogation! And then is almost like okay and? When darling answers him!!! Like sir!!

tell me why i got pissed off and i wrote it KJGHJSLDJFAHISD . while damian worships darling he also is. Damian. also at that point he just thought 'oh we're fighting right now. whatever. lovers fight (bruce x talia/selina) its always fine in the end,' not 'oh i'm about to lose your ass' KGHDSIOJHISDGI so he course-corrected real fast

Man's probably thinks manipulation is much more extreme than what he's doing, probably considers what he does is just expressing himself :/

EXACTLT YY EXACTLY YOU'RE IN MY BRAIN . YOURE IN MY BRAIN!!!! LIKE ITS JUST HILARIOUS THINKING ABOUT YAN DAMIAN B/C HE REALLY JUST THINKS HE'S EXPRESSING HIMSELF. he thinks "i'm just being forthcoming this can't be manipulation." HE'S SOOOO MISGUIDED AND EVIL BUT DOESNT EVEN KNOW IT. ITS SO SAD I LOVE IT . he thinks mistreating you would be like physical abuse or yelling at you.

IM GLAD YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE HIM... i'm still trying to nail all the parts of him <3 the beautiful, devoted parts <3 the bitter, spiteful parts <3 the dark, broken parts <3 he's such a conundrum what will i do with him

AND THEN ASKING TO CORRWCT HIS BEHAVIOR? ESSENTIALLY BEGGING TO ATONE FOR HIS SINS AT THE FEET OF HIS DIETY????

damian and his reverence for his darling is just peak idk what to say . 🚬 he doesnt just love you he genuinely worships you. also redemption is a huge part of his arc in canon (redeeming himself from being an assassin even though he literally was raised and groomed into it help), he finally believes he can change. you've changed him! he can change, just give him a chance.

THANKY OU FOR THE LONG REVIEW TEEHEE MADE MY DAY... i like can't look at my fics once theyre posted but i also just love to talk about them or really, just the characterization in them...

and rats! no cookies now.... BUT COOKIES SOON!!!

[morgana-ren]

Honestly i need you to go into heavy detail about how the abdirak the priest of loviatar and crusher and the kissing of boots incidents at the goblin camp influenced astarion's opinion of tav

Any time I answer one like this, I really feel the need to impress that my personal kinks come into play a lot here. After all, they influence my imagination. However, a lot of people aren't into what I am, so our opinions may differ greatly.

Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, let's get started.

With Abdirak, it opens the door. They don't know each other well at this point, though perhaps they've slept together once.

You can imagine that terrible trepidation and anxiety when you're with someone for the first time, perhaps someone you don't know as well as you'd like. Unless one of you is extraordinarily vocal, it's more of a guessing game, easier for some people than others. You might nudge each other in the right direction, but mostly things go unsaid. Astarion probably reverts to what he knows best: gifting pleasure effortlessly.

A kinky Tav probably would not be as forthright with their kinks as they ought to be. It's a daunting prospect saying "Hit me harder" or "Be meaner to me" to someone you're sleeping with for the first bloody time (especially when you're a sub, because then you're technically taking control and just... eugh. It's stupid, but we don't like to have to ask for shit or have control in any capacity-- at least I don't.) It's a daunting prospect even with someone you've been with for years-- trust me.

There are a lot of revelations in that pesky little goblin nest. Degradation is a theme here.

Regarding his faith, pain for Abdirak is very much a divine sexual experience-- one he wishes to share with Tav. It's a very intimate thing; probably more intimate than anything the group has shared or even realizes at the moment.

He whips Tav until they bleed, practically egged on by the group, usually spearheaded by Astarion and Shadowheart, the more dubious of the lot. Astarion is easily the most interested, while Shadowheart seems to find more of a morbid fascination in it.

How you roleplay your character comes into factor here a lot, but if you partake of this willingly and even eagerly, Astarion can come to one conclusion: Tav likes pain. Probably likes being on the receiving end of it. You even get 'Ardent Apostle' if you strip your clothes beforehand-- and I very much did.

Couple this with allowing him to bite you multiple times and a few other little incidents around the campfire, and it's fairly simple to put together two and two to make four.

Now the bootlicking-- that's different.

Why ever in the Hells Tav would do that unless they're into some major degradation is beyond me. It'd be easier to roast that goblin like a chicken than kneel and do that, but yet, they do. You can even 'true soul' your way out of this one, but... they don't.

(Being made to kneel, taking the pain, licking boots, being degraded-- it all fits a very specific sexual theme here, and if you build your character in such a way, it's not a difficult guess to assume what they're into.)

Astarion has been degraded on a professional level for hundreds of years. Maybe it's nice to find someone he can degrade. In the vampire ascendant ending, it straight up tells you that. Maybe there's something arousing to him about someone he can step on. Maybe the thought of forcing Tav to clean his boots with their tongue while subjugating themselves before him gets him off. Maybe it encourages him a bit, knowing he can be quite rough with Tav and apparently, they'll like it. I'm sure he has a lot of pent up aggression. They aren't fragile and breakable and can apparently take a beating-- even happily.

Picking the ascendant ending and staying with him means being degraded like that. Being called a pet, being made to do things you probably wouldn't, being degraded by him. There's probably a lot that goes on behind the scenes (as I've said before, Larian can't go too in depth with kinks without upping a rating and being considered a porn game) but it's all very much implied.

Maybe that's what Tav wants: To be degraded and used. To, for once, give over control to someone more powerful. To be told what to do. To not have to be the strong one that carries everyone through. To feel small and helpless in the shadow of something bigger. It's so fucking tiring to be in charge all the time. To make huge decisions and carry the weight of the world like Atlas. Sometimes, all you want is to give yourself over to someone else entirely.

And maybe Astarion is tired of pretending he's more helpless than he is. Maybe it's his turn to be cruel. Maybe he wants control over his partner, and maybe they'll like it. Maybe grabbing them by the hair and forcing them to do things feels good, especially when they're so eager to obey.

I think it opens a line of thought in Astarion that he hadn't really considered before. For so long, he's just been whatever someone needed at the time. He's never really taken control in a genuine way. He could pretend if that's what they wanted, but it wasn't genuine.

It's something he comes to find he enjoys very much, especially when he ascends. Being condescending, using his power against them, calling them his pet, very much commanding them around and making them bend and kneel or break.

What I'm saying here is it seems like it was an eye-opening experience that followed him all the way through to the point that he could finally act on it. It shines a new, strange light on Tav-- one he finds he likes.

[munstysmind]

YOUR WEAKNESS - BONUS BITES - CLEAN SHOT

WARNING/S: police shooting, death, shock, IAB

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

YOUR WEAKNESS MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to me added to a taglist

Ringing…

That’s all Harper can hear as she stares at the lifeless body on the ground in front of her, high pitched ringing.

He’s just a kid… sixteen years old, and she’s just ended his life.

She’s so transfixed by the sight she’s caused that she doesn’t realise Steve is next to her until he gently lowers her gun and takes it from her, unloading it before putting both the gun and magazine into his tactical vest.

“Come on” he says quietly, slowly guiding her to the back of a waiting ambulance so the paramedic can check her over.

He stays close, almost hovering over the paramedic as he checks her over.

“She’s ok, just in shock which is understandable given the circumstances” the paramedic tells Steve after a thorough exam.

“So I can take her home?” he asks, letting out a relived sigh when the paramedic gives him a solid nod.

“Not just yet, McGarrett. I need to question her” Detective Coughlin says from behind Steve, making him let out an exasperated sigh and roll his eyes before turning to look at the Internal Affairs detective.

“I was a clean shot Coughlin” he tells him, almost snapping. He’ll be damned if he’s going to let this snake try to rip Harper apart for this.

“I need her account, you know that” Coughlin says, stepping close to Steve and standing as tall as he can in a sad attempt to intimidate the ex SEAL.

Steve just rolls his eyes again and gives the paramedic a look before turning back to Harper and checking her over himself.

“You can ask all your questions tomorrow. She’s not fit for questioning tonight. She’s in shock and needs rest. She’s cleared to go home and sleep, nothing else” the paramedic tells the now very annoyed Detective, not caring about his need for answers.

“I need her badge and gun McGarrett. Unless you want to violate that procedure too?” Caughlin says, making Steve take a deep breath to stop him from completely losing his shit with the arrogant man in front of him.

He carefully gets Harper’s badge off her belt before standing up and getting in Caughlin’s face.

“Maybe if you actually gave a fuck about the officers you harass you wouldn’t need Five 0 to protect you when there’s a target on you head” he growls, shoving Harper’s badge, gun and magazine into Caughlin’s hands.

He turns his attention back to Harper, kneeling in front of her and brushing the hair out of her face, finally getting her attention.

“Huh?” she asks blankly, looking at him for the first time since she pulled the trigger.

“Let’s go home” he says quietly, smiling softly at her when she just nods in response.

It’s going to be a long, hard night…

YOUR WEAKNESS TAG LIST @aussieez @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @birminghamshelbyboys @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @km-ffluv @red-write-hand @queenzee27

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [Pillows]

For Day 15 of Carry on Countdown 23, Familiar. @carryon-countdown

In which Simon is an actual half-dragon and he's found himself in a bit of a situation with a certain human mage. He's not exactly unhappy about it, somewhat surprisingly.

This part is rated T, mostly just for the language.

Part one (for Day 9) can be found [here]

⋆｡˚

“Perhaps you’re a dwarf,” Simon’s would be captor mused, flipping through a giant tome from his safe place out of Simon’s binding circle. A safe distance from all the nipping and biting and fire breathing that would have been happening if Simon could just bloody leave.

Simon circled anxiously in his circle, pacing along the edge of it once, then twice, and a third time before curling up on himself, blowing more smoke up at the studious mage out of his reach. His chin settled on his claws and he closed his eyes, determined that if the mage wasn’t going to pay attention to him, he may as well nap.

“You certainly don’t appear as a fairy dragon would have,” The mage kept talking as if Simon was listening at all, “Beyond just your size, your wings and scales are all wrong. Much too sleek and far too unkempt. A fairy dragon would never allow themself to become such a mess. Not to say you’re not a very handsome whatever kind of drake you are, but you’re certainly not the kind I was seeking.”

Simon cracked his eyes open just to shoot a glare at the pacing mage standing at the edge of the circle. He flicked his tongue to express his discontent at being called unkept. Not that his captor was wrong, but it was impolite to just call someone that before you even knew them.

“Not to mention the language barrier… I wonder where I went wrong with the summoning…”

Simon squawked up at Basil and that seemed to finally draw his attention. Sure, it hadn’t landed him a blanket and a pillow or anything like a proper nest, but it was something. He raised his head and flicked his tongue again, watching as the mage came to a halt in front of him.

“Wait,” The mage breathed, a hand running through his raven locks, “Can you understand me, then?”

Simon raised a wing as if to say, yes, of bloody course he could. It wasn’t perfect, but it seemed to do the trick.

“Oh, well maybe we can work something out after all,” The mage declared, “Let me explain what I’d been intending, and we can figure out where to go from there.”

Simon scrunched his nose up at the larger, his discontent clear.

“Okay, clearly I need to not parse my words. Let me start over.” Baz set his tome down on the floor, kneeling just on the other side of the circle.

“I go by Baz,” The mage started, “I’m looking for a familiar, and it’s all supposed to be entirely consensual, despite how it might seem from in there. If you weren’t able to consent to it in the first place, I was going to set you free. Further, if you didn’t want to abide to the contract, I’d set you free. I just need something to… mmn… essentially serve as a magickal conduit for me. Something that can channel and hold for me. Perhaps a sort of equilibrium in the matters of my work.”

Simon just gave the mage– Baz– a confused look.

“Right,” Baz laughed a little when he realized he’d been about to go into theory, “You don’t have to understand it, I suppose. It’s just when I need to do magick that’s bigger than me and my body alone can handle, a magickal assistant can take the impossible and make it possible. Fairy dragons are particularly good at this, which is why I was specifically seeking one, but really, any magickal creature with capacity to consent will serve. Do you understand?”

Simon’s tongue darted out over his little dragon teeth and he nodded. He guessed he got enough of the meaning behind the words Baz had rambled out.

“Okay, great. Now, the next part. I’m going to break the seal, please don’t fry me.”

Simon uncurled himself and shook himself out, stretching as he stood. He circled another moment, as if considering, before finally nodding his agreement.

Baz broke the seal with a quick swipe of his thumb through the chalk lines of his seal. Simon crawled himself forward slowly, eyeing the lines with mistrust, hissing as he crossed. No invisible force struck him back or kept him bound though, so he strode through the rest of the way all too confidently.

“Can you read?” Baz propped the open book up so Simon could see it’s lettering more clearly.

The look Baz got for the question was absolutely dead inside.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I don’t know how common it is for dragons to read human languages.” Baz paused for a moment, brushing his hair back out of his face, and Simon huffed at him, rolling his eyes in a terribly exhasperated way that could only be expressed in such a tiny shape.

“Okay, so obviously you read,” Baz corrected, “Would you consider a contract with me? It’s not all one way. I’d keep you fed and housed and such. Give you enrichment activities.”

A small moment of extended eye contact passed between them.

“Alright, fair, I realize how that sounds. But there’s a lot of nuance to a familiar contract. You wouldn’t be like a pet, more like a partner in magick.”

Simon sat up on his haunches so he could look more properly at the awkward expression his proposed partner was wearing. Maybe he wasn’t all bad.

“Okay, so yes, you caught me,” Baz sighed out. Simon, on the other hand, had no idea what he’d caught in the first place. “I was about to say partners in crime. Not that it would be magickal crime we’d be committing. Or any kind of crime. Do you even have a concept of human law and crime? Bloody hell, this really isn’t how I was expecting this to go…”

Simon hissed out an almost laugh, as close to the sound as he could get his vocal cords to manage in this shape.

“Okay, good. So I am being ridiculous. I’ll leave the contract here for you to go over. If you like it and want to sign it great. If not. We’ll figure out how to teleport you back from wherever you were before this. You can crash here for the night.” Baz gestured to a small bed shoved up into the corner of the room Simon’d been summoned into.

He took a moment to really take it in, since he’d been too distracted by being unwillingly bound in a circle before. It looked like it was a basement, a bit dim for lighting, but not particularly dready or unkept. In fact, it was a very, very neat space. Overly neat. Too neat. Shelves lined the walls, filled with either meticulously colour-coded magickal components or diligently alphabetized books. Baz was scuffing more of the circle up with the toe of his boot, and Simon figured he could take the contract and hop on the bed and give it a proper look over.

It didn’t seem like a bad deal. He was a bit in dire straights about food and shelter most nights, and he knew he had a wellspring of magick he couldn’t quite tap into. Maybe this mage boy could help him figure out some of that nuance too. They could be mutually beneficial. And, as Simon read further down, there were ways to break the contract without death of either party involved. That was good. He wasn’t sure he had the stomach for death if he wanted out, if he found out Baz wasn’t the sort of person he wanted touching his magick.

He huffed again, but quieter, resting his head on the pillow he’d been provided. A pillow — Simon could die happy now. It’d been months since he’d last rested in a proper bed. Apparently Baz had managed to sneak past him when he’d been going over the details, but that made sense. Simon had never been the strongest reader, even if he was completely capable. He just required a little extra concentration to get through things.

Well, why not? He figured. He flitted his way over to Baz’s inkpots, dipped a claw in, and signed his name on the dotted line. There were worse places to end up than at someone’s side as their familiar. Besides, Basil seemed nice enough.

Simon had even gotten the blanket and pillows he was due. And a mattress! Morgana and Merlin, bless, a mattress. There were far worse fates to be tied to, and it was with that thought that Simon passed out on his newly provided bed. A not so temporary bed.

He woke to the intoxicating smell of pancakes. It’d been a bloody era since he’d had proper, fresh pancakes…

Simon slipped from the bed thoughtlessly, snatching the contract as he went and drifted his way up the stairs, following that heady smell all the way to the kitchen. “Bloody hell, that smells delightful,” Simon declared as he plopped himself down in a chair.

Baz turned to look at him.

Simon blinked cluelessly back at Baz.

They stood their like that for a moment. A long, long moment. And then Basil was pointing his spatula very threateningly in Simon’s direction. “I’m sorry, whomst the fuck?”

Simon blinked again. He looked at the contract, exactly as he remembered from the night before. He looked to Baz, also exactly as he remembered from the night before. Then Simon looked at his hands. Then down to his legs. He waved his fingers. “Oh,” He said dumbly.

Well, at least the reaction made sense.

[elvensorceress]

Wednesday is for the WIPs

tagged by @lostinabuddiehaze @dickley-buddie @rogerzsteven @spaceprincessem @fatedbuck @spotsandsocks @prettyboybuckley @confetti-cupcake @monsterrae1 @zainclaw @bekkachaos @deluweil @rewritetheending 🥹💕 I love you all so much!

tagging @messyhairdiaz @swiftiediaz @gaydisasterdiaz @blutterlie @alyxmastershipper @jobairdxx @ajunerose @the-likesofus @ashavahishta @sibylsleaves @fleurdebeton @shortsighted-owl  if any of you haven’t already and want to share something 😘💕

Unless You Ask Me To is way out of my control now. It was not even 20K in the first draft! 🙃 The rewrite is asdjfksl who even knows. But have some more because everything needs more Karen Wilson. 

As soon as Christopher reaches the front door, Eddie kneels and hugs him as if they’ve been apart for years. Chris pats his shoulder in a placating way but also gives him a, “Dad. It was two days,” and wriggles away so he can seek refuge and peace in his bedroom. 

It’s fine. It’s all fine. Because Eddie shuts the front door and reaches for Karen before she can go back to her car. He urgently motions her closer and leans down to whisper to her as if someone might somehow hear them. “He told me he loves me.”

She gives him an odd look. “Who? Chris?”

Eddie huffs. “No.”

“No? Oh. OH.” Karen’s eyes grow wide and then she turned her voice to hushed, conspiratorial tones. “The boyfriend? He loves you?”

The boyfriend. His boyfriend of four months. Who is sweet and considerate and patient and nerdy and fun. And all Eddie can think about is how the only time he’s thought it, mentioned it, felt it— is when he confessed that love? Love to Eddie, for Eddie? Love means Buck. 

“Yes, the boyfriend,” Eddie tells her. “He told me he loves me.”

“Awww,” she smiles proudly like Eddie is a child who’s shown her the messy, scratchy drawing he’s made that she knows is objectively terrible but is maybe subjectively adorable and makes her sentimental. “That’s great, Eddie. Good for you. I’m happy for you.”

At least someone is. 

It’s not that it’s a bad thing. It’s a very good thing. He likes Raúl, he likes being with him. Dating is fun and enjoyable for once, and they just had a perfect, romantic night away together. Unless you factor in the fucking panic attack. There’s that little tiny detail. 

He should be happy. Eddie wants to be happy. He shakes his head and just feels even more guilty and terrible about it. 

“And you said…?” Karen waves her hand— either like she’s confused and wants to know more or like she’s conjuring a spell that will put him out of his misery. He hopes it’s the latter.

Eddie pushes his tongue to the front of his teeth. “He told me I didn’t have to say the same. Or feel the same. I don’t know. He’s very casual and nonchalant about everything. I kissed him and we just—” Eddie shrugs because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how to feel about this because he’s much too busy feeling like a failure for being unable to have sex. 

Feelings and emotions are full today. He’s way over capacity. They’ll have to try again later. Except not. They should not try again later because he’s tired of feeling anything. They can fuck off forever. 

Karen shrugs back. “And you just—? Fucked? Or no, made sweet emotional love because he loves you?”

Jesus fuck. Eddie holds up a hand. “No. Nope. No, because that’s the thing. That is the thing. I can’t— I-I don’t? We haven’t. Not because he’s a man. Just to clarify. It’s not that.” 

“Oh,” she says wisely, knowledgeably. “Is it because you were Catholic?” It sounds like it’s a tragic disease he used to have. The way she says it. And… well. Maybe it was. But that’s still not the problem. “No sex before marriage? No marriage that isn’t a man and a woman? God will cry, you’ll burn in Hell, all that bullshit? Is that it?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Although he can’t say it’s very helpful to think about? “I just…” He looks around even though there’s no one who can hear them, no one near his front door, his neighbors aren’t out taking walks or doing yard work, and there’s no way for anyone to know what he’s going to say. But he has to make sure. “The last time we talked about love? Was when I told him that I’m in love with Buck.”

Karen’s eyes widen so large, they just might pop right out. And then she has to glance around, too. Like she’s also wondering if anyone was around to hear what he just told her. “You told him you’re in love with Buck? You’re in love with Buck?”

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to bring this up? What in the hell was he thinking? He pinches the bridge of his nose and then tells her. “It was months ago. I had feelings before I even met Raúl and I told him about it because I didn’t want to be dishonest. I was expecting to break up, but he basically said, of course I was in love with Buck and he already knew, from the beginning. But it wasn’t a dealbreaker because we could still build something together if we wanted to because— because I know Buck doesn’t—”

Karen raises an eyebrow and gives him a narrowed, suspicious gaze. 

“Even if he feels something. He’s not ready. He doesn’t look at me or think of me like that. He doesn’t want a relationship right now.” And Eddie would fuck up not just everything for Buck and Christopher, but the strongest most necessary support beam relationship in his whole life. Because that’s all Eddie ever does is fuck up every single potential romantic relationship he ever has. “I don’t want to fuck that up. I can’t ever fuck that up. Love doesn’t mean it will work. It doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. I can’t… I can’t.”

“Okay…” Karen seems to accept that. For now. 

“Anyway, the point? I like him. Raúl. I like him a lot. I love being with him. I really do. I’ve never actually really enjoyed a relationship. And I told him the thing that I told him months ago. Because I had to be honest. And I’ve been trying to commit. I am committed. I am. I want to be with him. But— but the last time I talked about love, it was, ‘I love Buck.’ And— and—”

Karen tips her head to the side like she can decipher all the secrets of the universe just by looking. Who knows. She’s a literal rocket scientist. She might have that power. “And you still love Buck. How could you stop loving Buck.” 

It’s not a question. She doesn’t even say it like a question. It’s a fact. And it will always be a fact. 

[missnancychavez]

I had a thought for this and then I started writing. I don't know how much I actually like this, but if goes to my drafts, it's not coming out so, here.

Fandom: FBI

Pairing: OA Zidan x Maggie Bell

I Heard

She knew exactly who was at the door whe she heard the knock and she scoffed. She stormed over and opened it, rolling her eyes at her partner standing sheepishly on her stoop.

"You could've used your key" she spit out, spinning on her heel to pick up Elmo, her eight month old kitten that she had gotten, from OA no less, after the first stint where he couldn't get to her place for a few days due to a case.

"He'll keep you company when I can't " OA had reasoned at her eye roll

"Yes, but who will keep him company when I come back?" She had retorted,

"Well, then we'll get him a friend"

"I, um, I know you're mad, and I get it. But I brought you take out, and I hoped that maybe we could talk? I want to explain."

"Explain what, OA. I think you made yourself pretty damn clear earlier. You are supposed to trust me."

"I do trust you, you know I do. I'm just worried okay? You almost didn't make it, and it would have been my fault." His words enraged her even more, he wasn't her god damn protector. He was her partner, her equal.

"I'm not a child, you don't need to hold my hand" she fumed as he stood awkwardly in her living room, takeout in hand.

This wasn't what he imagined when he had come over to apologise. He knew he was out of line, but he was just trying to help. He needed to keep her safe. She stormed into her kitchen, filling Elmo's food bowl as she tried to avoid her partner's gaze. OA followed her, looking at her every move. The small grey kitten, rubbed up against his ankle. He quickly kneeled down and gave him a scratch, breathing out before speaking quietly.

"Maggie, I was-"

"Trying to protect me, OA, I know! But that's not an excuse. This is my job! You are supposed to trust me and I told you that I didn't take anything. You didn't believe me. You haven't believed me all day when I've said I'm okay."

"Because I'm not okay!" He exploded and Maggie spun to look at him, astonished.

"What?" She spoke, her tone softer than it had been moments prior.

"I'm not okay Maggie! You almost died and I cant- okay, I can't lose you, I love you and I cannot lose you."

"I-what?"

"The last six and a half months, since you've come home, the only thing I've had to worry about is whether you'd trip over Elmo. And now you're back, and I've realised how I feel and I need to learn how to work next to you with those feelings, because you are my partner, first and foremost and I can't lose you. In any capacity-"

He was silenced as she looped her hands around his neck and pulled him down, her lips meeting his roughly. OA snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He moved her against her counter and hoisted her up so that she sat on her countertop. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks and she stroked her thumbs against his skin. She pulled back and rest her forehead against his, staying there until Elmo meowed from somewhere behind him.

"OA," she whispered and he opened his eyes to stare at her. When had he even closed them? "You aren't the only one who was scared. Who is scared. And you aren't the only one who has feelings."

"Maggie, I don't-"

"I love you too, I'm still furious, but you need to know that. And I heard you. At the hospital. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Regardless of what this becomes, you aren't getting rid of me that easy" she whispered. Maggie slid off the counter, and grabbed the food from where it has landed on the stool when she had kissed him. She pulled him to the living room couch, where Elmo was already curled up. She put the food the coffee tablee before turning back to OA, tucking her leg underneath her.

"I need to know that no matter what, I can trust you. That this" she gestured between the two of them "isn't going to affect how we work together. Because I can't lose you either. In any capacity. You are the best partner I could have ever asked for. And I want this, but I don't know if I can give up you as my partner."

"We have a lot to figure out still, don't we?" He asked, bringing his hand to her cheek. She nodded and he moved closer. "I'm sorry for making you think I didn't trust you, Maggie. I neeed you to know that I'm all in. This, this is what I want, Mags. At work, at home. All of it."

"I want it too" She whispered and this time he moved first, slanting his lips against hers in a chaste kiss. "I love you" He murmured against her mouth.

"I love you OA" she replied, before pulling back and turning to the food. "Now, let's eat before it gets cold."

End

[sandinthemachine]

Chasing Cars

König x gn!reader

Yeah, it's after the snow patrol song

Words: 1930

Warnings: This is an exploration of grief centered around the holidays. It's not written to be beautiful, it's not written to have wonderful characterization, it's written because I needed something to pour my emotions into.

I couldn't bring myself to post it on Christmas, and I almost didn't post it at all, but just in case there's someone out there going through the same thing, and happens to read this, I want this to tell you it's okay. I want this to tell you you're not alone. It's okay to cry, no matter how long it's been. Everyone around you is celebrating and having a beautiful time and there's a hole inside you that you feel like you have to ignore so you don't bring everyone else down. I see you. I love you. And you deserve the world.

All that being said, please only read this if you have the emotional capacity to do so right now. I won't be offended at all if you need to skip over it.

-

“Yeah, right there, that looks perfect.” You smile softly as König places the shimmering ornament far higher than you can reach. “Just a few more now.”

A rustling comes from the kitchen before your mother walks in, arms wrapped around a giant mixing bowl. “It’s looking really good, guys!” She grins. “Can you taste this, see if it’s any good?”

You chuckle as she holds the batter out to you, nudging König. “All yours, babe, you’re the star baker.”

He bites back a smile, shaking his head at you. “I am really not that good.”

“Lies,” you scoff.

König leans over the bowl, hovering a hand over it. “May I?”

Your mother nods, holding it out for him to dip a finger into. He pops it into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing in concentration before he nods. “Hmm, I think…” He clicks his tongue, humming. “It’s perfect.”

Your mother laughs, patting you on the shoulder. “Keep him.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You turn back to the tree, regarding it with hands clasped. You feel König press into your back as he points to an empty spot. “How about there?”

“Yeah, that’s a good spot.” You turn as König leans into the ornament box. “What do you want to put…there?” 

You trail off as he straightens, holding out a tiny green piece. A corvette. “This one?”

You nod quickly, swallowing. “Mmm-hmm, yeah, umm…” you clamp your jaw shut as the sound cracks. Without another word you turn and storm into the kitchen, your hands catching on the side door as you try to shut it behind you as quietly as possible, as normally as you can. You pause on the porch, feeling the freezing air biting through your clothes and gasp, slapping your palm over your mouth.

You drop into a crouch, inhaling through your hand and squeezing your eyes shut, holding the breath. It’s ok, it’s ok, you’re ok. You move your hand up to cover your eyes, letting out a trembling exhale. In…out. In…out. See? You’re ok. It’s alright.

The door opens.

A sob bursts from your throat. You shove your face into your knees, arms wrapping tightly around yourself, but it’s too late. The tears are coming faster than your lungs can keep up, and you pitch forward, rolling onto your shins and forearms and wishing you could sink into the boards you were now soaking.

A hand brushes against your back and you flinch, the fingers jumping back with a rushed apology. You shove yourself up a bit, wiping wildly at your face. “It’s,” you sniffle, sobbing again, “it’s ok.”

You look sideways to where König kneels next to you, his hands hovering in the air and his mouth twisted in an expression that wrenches your heart even further. He has no idea what to do.

You try to smile but it sours on your face, morphing into an ugly grimace. You don’t dare open your mouth again, not like this, not when you’re trying so hard to swallow down all the sounds in your throat. So you open your own shaky arms, and in an instant he’s pulling you into his chest, holding your head and shoulders as you break all over again.

-

You don’t know how long it takes you to calm down. All you know is the grounding feeling of one of his hands drifting slowly up and down your back as he holds you through…this. 

He doesn’t know. 

You never told him.

“König?”

“Hm?”

“There’s…somewhere I need to go.”

-

He doesn’t say a word as you lead him to your car. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder, holding out his palm until you get the hint and drop your keys into it. It’s a good idea. You’re in no state to drive.

You curl up in the passenger seat, staring out the window and only acknowledging his presence when you tell him where to turn. He lets the silence hang there, reaching over to hold your knee, his big hand engulfing it entirely. You place your hand over it and immediately he twists his wrist, fingers lacing with yours.

He holds his tongue as you guide him through the old iron gates and up the long lane to park beneath the old oak tree in the back. 

You get out without even checking to see if he’s following. 

He is.

He hovers just a pace behind as you walk through the rows of stones, counting. 6 from the edge, 5 in.

You stop in the middle of the row, dropping to your knees in front of a simple stone, reaching forward to pull a leaf off of it.

You hear König’s sharp inhale behind you and know he’s read the words. And the death date. A week before Christmas.

You sniffle, digging your hands into the cold grass in front of you. “I’m sorry I never told you, I, how could I-”

A warm hand falls to your shoulders and you look up, his outline dancing in your watery vision as he kneels. “I’m sorry.”

You nod, turning back to the grave, reaching a hand up to trace over the letters as you feel your cheeks moisten all over again.

“Hey, Papa,” you say, your words coming out wet and slimy. “It’s been awhile.”

-

“What was he like?”

You try to smile through tight lips. “He was…warm. I know everyone talks about how great people are once they die, but for him, everything they said really was true. He made dinners for the food pantry, and he’d sit down and talk with everyone that came in, get to know their life story. He’d take them out for coffee sometimes. He…” You pinch your nose, huffing a laugh through the tears. “He’d get us cards for every holiday. Not just the big ones, I’d get a silly card for something like the spring equinox or Groundhog Day, I’d get separate cards for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day…” you laugh, a real one this time. “I always thought it was so stupid, but…” you trail off, shaking your head.

With a shaky inhale you pick it up again. “He volunteered with the local youth group, too. Dozens and dozens of kids, and he remembered every one of their names, he remembered their favorite lollipop flavors and made sure they always got them. When he…” you pause, swiping at your eyes. “When he was sick we got letters, an entire box full of letters all the kids wrote, telling him how much they missed him, telling him to get…to get…get well soon.”

You pitch forward again, slamming your hands into your eyes as another round of sobs wracks your body. “We couldn’t…we couldn’t t-t-tell them, he wasn’t gonna get better, he…he…he was supposed to have months. The doctors said months, but the day after we got those letters he…”

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to say it.” König leans over you, tucking your face into his neck and pulling you into his lap. “He seems…really nice.”

You laugh, the sound chopped. “Yeah. Yeah, he was.” You inhale, breathing in the comforting smell of his cologne. “He would’ve really liked you, you know.”

His arms tighten around you, and you feel his chest expand with a stuttering breath of his own.

“You know what the worst part is?” You breathe the words against his neck, feeling the muscles tighten as he shakes his head. “He was perfect. He was just…a genuinely good person and…he was so much better than I could ever be. I feel like no matter what I do I don’t live up to that memory because how do you live up to someone like that? Everything I do just stains his legacy so much because I’ll never be-”

“No. No.” He pulls back, holding your face. “I don’t-” he sighs, his head falling forward into yours. “How can you say that? How can you tell yourself that…right after telling me how much he loves you?”

Loves. Present-tense.

You don’t even have the words to reply, so you just let yourself go limp, letting him hold you up for a little while while everything else drags you down.

-

It becomes a tradition, between you and him. Every time he comes home with you for the holidays he drives you to the grave. He brings a blanket the next times, and the pair of you sit with you leaning into him, cheeks soaking.

You tell him about the bones you sit above, all the things they’d done, everything you remember, all the things you wish could have been.

And he listens.

-

But this year is different. This year König arrives alone, a day before you two usually come. Hesitantly he sits next to the stone, leaning a shoulder on it and staring at the ground. And this time, he is the one who speaks, who opens his mouth and stutters out all the words he’s held close to his chest all this time.

"Hi, I guess. I’m…König. I don’t know if you’re watching me from somewhere or if you know who I am, but…” he sighs. “I don’t know how to do this. I never knew you but…I know someone who did. I know how much they love you, and I know how...I know how much I love them.” He rubs his forehead. “This is so stupid, but…Ah…I guess I wanted to tell you how they’re doing. Something like that.” He huffs. “The world is...well, I guess I better not swear in front of you...but the world is not so good all the time. You know that already.”

He pauses, tapping his hands along his thighs. “The world hurts…it hurts a lot...and somehow…they are still so hopeful and warm. And...knowing what they say about you I think that they're a lot like you. I wish I could have met you." 

He takes a deep breath, drawing it out in a slow exhale that wavers in his mouth. "I hope that you can hear me because I want you to know...I, uh, don't think I'm exactly what you had in mind, if you ever did, but, uhh...I want to make them feel safe and I want to make them laugh after they've had a long day and...I just want to hear them laugh and see them smile, I want those things so much I am terrified by them, but...what I want you to know..."

He pulls a little box out of his pocket, flicking it open to tilt the shiny jewel towards the gravestone's face. "If only you could talk to me, tell me their ring size, eh? Yeah...well, I probably got that wrong, I just...well, I'm not here to ask for permission, they'd kill me for that, but I am here to promise you that I'm going to...I want to be the best damned husband I can be for them. And I... I probably should not be swearing on your grave so I swear on my grave, and if I ever hurt them and there is a God up there you are sitting with, I want you to make him strike me down himself. That is...that is all."

A few days later, you find yourself crying for a very different reason than you're used to.

And in some far-off place, some in-between that is neither here nor there yet not quite nowhere, an old man pulls his green corvette to a stop. He looks at the strange sky. And he smiles.

-

-

-

I don't really believe in a heaven anymore, but if there is one I know you're there. I love you, Papa.