#I've yet to fight them in rise

[otiksimr]

Velkhana, Ruler of the Frost

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[pseudowho]

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento #7, Cravings

Nanami Kento x Pregnant!Reader

"Kento.. when I say I want Taco Bell, I mean it. I really, really want Taco Bell."

The fragrant aroma of frying peppers and onions, garlic and heady spices, filled the kitchen. Kento had his back to you, his apron tied and snatching his waist inwards. The way he tapered up to broad shoulders, so profoundly triangular; you admired him with a geometrist's gaze. The cake beneath that neat little bow. Those long, long legs, thick-thighed and powerful. Perhaps you craved more than Taco Bell.

Your tummy rumbled, adding to that unique gravid discomfort of an already overstretched belly. Hearing your tummy growl through the thrill of fluid, your baby kicked, a foot occupying a space beneath your ribs you didn't know you had. And shit...you really wanted Taco Bell.

"Then I'll make you some." Kento replied, light, and broaching no argument. "There's no need to go out."

"While your cooking is lovely, I know what I want."

"Yes." Kento answered, infuriatingly calm with a patient smile. "You want tacos."

"I want Taco Bell."

"No you dont. Taco Bell is shit. You deserve better. They deserve better." Kento gestured with a spatula towards your belly, flipping chicken and vegetables in his pan. You felt a whoosh of outrage, your hackles rising like a cat in a fight.

You sidled up behind Kento, your ankles puffy, your wedding ring hanging on a necklace instead of on your swollen fingers. Your fingers tippy-tapped on the counter, one of your hands on his waist.

"...are you trying to police my body, Mr.Nanami?"

Kento heard a panic alarm go off in the back of his mind. Unwisely, he doubled down.

"...of course not, my love. I would never. I know your rights, and I would never ignore them, or your needs, or how you feel."

You let his words hang. The silence was almost as pregnant as you. Kento's alarm bells started to ring harder and a bead of sweat dropped in his mind. And yet--

"But," he continued, starting to smell smoke creeping beneath his metaphorical door, now, shouts and screams in the distance as you smiled at him oh fuck why is she smiling at me oh I've fucked up oh shit I've really fucked up, "fatty food makes your heartburn worse, and I can make you something much nicer, and too much salt will only add to your water retention. And your ankles are already so--"

Shit.

"...already so...what, my love?" Oh fuck oh shit I need to make this better I was just trying to be helpful I--

Kento turned the heat off. He lay down his spatula. He reached back to untie his apron.

"You know, darling...I think I fancy Taco Bell too."

Your smile widened, your clawing grip easing on his waist. "You do?"

"Absolutely. I'll get my keys."

"Yes. You will get your keys. And...help me get my shoes on. Please."

[darylssunshine]

First Time

just riding on Eddie's motorcycle for the first time hehe

fluff!!!!

word count: 1k-ish

a/n: I know this is different from my normal content, but I just recently watched all three Venom movies and I fell in love with yet another sweaty man who rides a motorcycle

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

Eddie Brock stood before you in a worn leather jacket with equally as worn jeans, leaning on the back of his matte-black motorcycle. His arm was outstretched, offering you an equally black helmet for you to wear. 

Shifting uncomfortably in one of Eddie's oversized hoodies, you looked the machine over. “Ed, baby, I've never ridden one of these before. Are you sure?” 

He faked a gasp and put a hand to his chest. “How dare you question my skill!” You simply rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh as a response.

TELL THEM I WILL NOT GIVE THEM ANY OF MY CHOCOLATE IF THEY DO NOT GET ON THE BIKE. THREATENING HUMANS USUALLY WORKS.

Ignoring the symbiote, Eddie stepped closer and dropped the bike helmet onto the soft grass below so he could take hold of your hips instead. “I promise you'll be fine. I've ridden this thing half of my life. Besides, you have an excuse to wrap your arms around me to keep steady.” He punctuated his sentence with a wink, and you bashfully ducked your head down, feeling heat rise to your ears and cheeks. 

“Okay. I trust you.” You spoke genuinely, gazing into your boyfriend's eyes. 

EDDIE. I LIKE THEM. DON'T FUCK THIS UP. 

Eddie huffed out a laugh but once again did not acknowledge his other partner.

You got onto your tiptoes to pull him into a loving kiss, something that he often teased you about. His right hand left your hip to tenderly caress your jaw. He was the first one to pull back from the kiss, leaving you slightly chasing the feeling. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You sure you just wanna do a movie night tonight, baby?” He teased.

“Oh my God, just get on the bike already!” You giggled, softly striking Eddie's shoulder. He defensively held his palms in front of him before strolling back over to the bike. Taking hold of the handles, he swung his leg over to straddle the seat of the bike, resting his foot slightly on the kickstand. 

Suddenly, two tendrils sprouted out of Eddie's back and grabbed both sides of the helmet like a pair of hands. The tendrils gently placed the helmet on your head, lightly patting the top of it with a slight squelching sound. 

The source of the tendrils slithered out of the back of Eddie as well. Venom tilted their head and bared their teeth at you, but you somehow knew that it was in a caring manner. “YOU WILL BE SAFE, (Y/N.) I WILL NOT LET ANY HARM COME TO YOU OR EDDIE.” 

You adjusted the helmet on your head and walked towards the bike that the love(s) of your life was sitting on. “I know you wouldn't. Thank you, Vee.” You took one of the cold tendrils in your hand and kissed the end. Venom let out something akin to a purr before retreating back into Eddie so you could sit comfortably on the back of the bike. 

It took you a couple of tries for your leg to swing over the bike, your short stature fighting against you. Even though the sound of the world around you was muffled because of the helmet, you could pick out the sound of Eddie chuckling at your struggle. 

Finally, you get your leg hooked over the bike and wrapped your arms around Eddie. Craning his neck, he glanced behind his shoulder to give you a questioning thumbs up, asking if you were ready for him to accelerate. You reciprocated the thumbs up, and before you could return your hand back to his waist, he took your left hand in his and brought it to his mouth to give it a tender kiss. He couldn't see your reaction, but he knew you were blushing behind him. Your arms squeezed his waist, a bit harder than before in anticipation.

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see Venom morphing into Eddie's hands that were gripping the bike handles, adding an extra layer of safety for you, and a romantic gesture for Eddie. 

He flicked up the kickstand and started the engine. Embarrassingly, you jumped a little bit at the sudden start, but you soon got used to the rumble of the machine below you. He revved the bike a couple of times, an added warning to you that he was about to start moving. You took a deep breath and made sure your feet were firmly planted on the passenger footrests. 

He started slow, both to not startle you and because you were in a residential neighborhood area. Unfortunately for you, the twenty minute journey to Eddie's house required him to go onto the highway for most of the trip, so your eyes were firmly closed until you felt him get onto the straightaway, your face nuzzling into his back as much as the helmet would allow. 

Mustering up all of your courage, you slowly lifted your head off of your boyfriend's back to gaze at your surroundings. It was around 8 pm, so there weren't a ton of cars around you. The sky was getting dark, and it juxtaposed the bright billboards and neon signs Eddie flew passed. It was very pretty, actually. 

Now that you have gotten used to the feeling of higher speeds and knowing that Venom would keep both of you safe, you managed to take one of your hands off of his waist and rest it on his shoulder, rubbing the back of it lovingly with your thumb. Eddie’s head tilted to the right, like he was trying to lean into your touch while keeping his eyes on the road.

By the time you had rested your hand back to its original position, you were pulling up in his driveway. 

Once the motorcycle rumbled to a complete stop, he quickly extended the kickstand and got off the bike to face you. Gently pulling the helmet off, he questioned, “You okay, babe? I didn't go too fast, did I? I can scold V if you want me to.” 

“It actually wasn't that bad.” You snickered. “I appreciate you taking it slow.”

Eddie chivalrously offered you his hand, even kissing it while helping you up and meeting your lips with his when you finally stood before him, pulling you close by your belt loops.

This was partially to cover up a comment made by his alien companion, but you heard it, nonetheless.

“PUSSY.”

[buldakcorn]

Money Talks

LOONA/ARTMS Heejin x Male Characters

Genre : (TW) Non-con, Humiliation, Prostitution, Ass-slapping, Fingering, Spitroasting, Forced Creampie

4041 words

Heejin's heart raced as she stepped out of the car, the sound of her heels echoing through the dimly lit alley. Her manager had assured her this was necessary, that it would secure their group's future. She took a deep breath and climbed the narrow staircase to the secret location, the cold metal railing feeling like a prison bars leading to an unknown fate. The door at the top of the stairs opened to reveal a stark contrast: a luxurious hallway adorned with gold and velvet. She followed the muffled sounds of hushed voices and clinking glasses until she reached a heavy wooden door marked "Suite 103." With a trembling hand, she pushed it open, revealing an opulent bedroom where two men in sharp suits awaited her, their eyes gleaming with a hunger she couldn't ignore.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Heejin said with a forced smile, her voice a tinkling bell of sweetness she reserved for her public persona. She stepped into the suite, the weight of the situation pressing down on her like an invisible hand. "I'm Heejin from ARTMS. I've been told you're interested in helping support our group?" The two men looked her over, one stroking his chin as if sizing up a piece of art at an auction, the other's gaze lingering on her legs. She tried to ignore the discomfort, focusing instead on the hope that this sacrifice would be worth it. They offered her a seat on a plush velvet sofa, and she perched on the edge, her posture a careful balance between poise and vulnerability. The room was thick with unspoken expectations, the air heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint hint of something darker, something she didn't want to acknowledge. As they began discussing terms, Heejin's mind raced with thoughts of her bandmates, the music they'd make, the fans they'd touch with their performances. This was for them, she told herself, swallowing the bile rising in her throat. For their dreams. And so, she sat, and she listened, and she pretended that the price of success didn't feel like it was tearing her soul apart.

The men's gazes grew more predatory as they instructed Heejin to stand. They began to circle her like vultures, their eyes devouring every inch of her body. The one with the greedy smile reached out and groped her firmly on the ass, his fingertips digging into her flesh as he murmured his approval. She flinched, fighting the urge to slap his hand away. Instead, she forced a smile and nodded, silently enduring his vulgar praise. The other investor stepped closer, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered into her ear, his words a sly mix of compliment and threat. "You're just what we've been looking for," he said, his hand brushing the side of her breast. "A true investment." Heejin felt a shiver run down her spine, but she remained still, her eyes fixed on a spot over their heads, focusing on the chandelier that twinkled mockingly above. The conversation grew more heated, the terms of their deal more explicit, as the men discussed her as if she were nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold. Yet she knew that the power lay in her hands, twisted as the situation may be. She would do what she had to, for her group, for their music, for their dreams. But as the reality of her predicament sank in, she couldn't help but wonder if the cost of fame was a price she was willing to pay forever.

The two investors leaned back in their chairs, their smiles widening as Heejin began to slowly remove her dress, her movements mechanical and devoid of any seductive flair. The fabric fell to the floor in a pool of black, revealing her trembling body. She tried to keep her composure, her hands reflexively moving to cover her breasts and the vulnerable expanse of her clean-shaved pussy. The men's eyes grew darker, their pupils dilating as they took in the sight of her bare flesh. Despite her efforts to hide, she felt their gazes like hot brands searing into her skin, stripping away any last vestige of dignity she had managed to cling to. She stood there, a sculpture of vulnerability in the center of the plush suite, the chill of the room's air making her nipples tighten painfully. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of their ravenous stares and her own ragged breaths. Her heart hammered against her ribcage like a caged bird desperately seeking escape, but she knew there was no way out of this gilded cage except to play along with their twisted game.

Heejin's arms, toned from countless hours at the gym, were bared to the men's greedy eyes, the muscles flexing slightly as she maintained her poise. Her abs, a testament to her dedication and discipline, rippled with each shaky inhale and exhale. The investors couldn't help but trace the contours of her body with their eyes, appreciating the fruit of her labor. The man with the greedy smile was the first to act, his pudgy hand reaching out to grasp her bicep, giving it a squeeze as if testing the firmness of a melon. "Impressive," he leered, his voice thick with lust. His partner's gaze lingered on her muscular thighs, the kind of strength that could only come from years of dance training and relentless exercise. He couldn't resist running his fingers along the defined muscles, feeling the power beneath the smooth, warm skin. Heejin's jaw clenched, but she didn't pull away, enduring their touch with the stoicism of a statue. The men's eyes gleamed with excitement as they took turns exploring her body, their hands growing bolder with each passing second. They caressed her abs, her thighs, and the firm globes of her ass, their touches feeling like a violation of the very essence of who she was. Yet, she remained still, her mind detached from the scene playing out before her, focusing instead on the future her group could have.

The men's hands grew bolder, each taking one of Heejin's arms and pulling them away from her chest, exposing her small but perky breasts to their leering gazes. The man with the greedy smile was the first to pounce, his fat fingers digging into the soft flesh as he squeezed her roughly, his eyes never leaving hers as he bent down to capture a nipple in his mouth. He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a gasp from the girl. The other investor followed suit, his teeth grazing the other nipple before taking it between his lips to give it a similar treatment. Heejin's cheeks flushed, her eyes squeezed shut, as she felt the men's hot breath against her skin, their greedy mouths worshipping her body in a way that made her feel both used and powerful. Their rough hands continued to knead and maul her breasts, sending waves of unwanted arousal through her. Despite her discomfort, her nipples hardened under their attention, betraying the mix of fear and revulsion she felt deep within. She bit her lower lip, silently begging for the ordeal to end, even as she knew she had to give them what they wanted.

Heejin's body stiffened as one of the men's hands trailed down her stomach and slipped between her legs, his thick fingers probing her sensitive folds. Despite herself, she couldn't suppress the involuntary gasp that escaped her as he began to rub her clit with a cruel expertise, his eyes locked on hers to savor her reaction. The other investor chuckled darkly, reaching over to cup her face and turn it towards him. "Look at you," he sneered, his voice a mix of disgust and excitement. "Already acting like the little whore we know you are." His companion joined in the taunts, their words a toxic blend of praise and degradation that filled her ears like a cacophony of hate. "We're going to pay you so much money," the second man said, his eyes shining with a greed that made her skin crawl. "Just like the slut you are." Heejin's eyes searched the room desperately, trying to find something, anything, to anchor herself to the reality that she wasn't this object of their twisted desires. But the opulent suite with its velvet and gold offered no escape, only a reflection of the cold, hard truth that this was the path she had chosen to walk. With a resigned sigh, she closed her eyes and focused on the sound of her own ragged breathing, the only thing she had left that was truly hers.

"Kneel down and pull down our pants," Swallowing hard, Heejin obeyed the order, her knees hitting the plush carpet with a muffled thud. She took a moment to compose herself before reaching for the waistbands of the men's pants. Her hands trembled as she unhooked the buttons and zipped down their flys, revealing the hardened lengths of their erections. She could feel their anticipation, the heat of their lust as it washed over her. The men leaned back, watching her with hungry eyes as she took hold of their cocks, feeling the weight of their expectations in the palms of her hands. She tried to think of the money, the opportunities, the future of her group, but all she could focus on was the revulsion that roiled in her stomach. With a deep breath, she forced herself to begin, her lips parting to take the first one in her mouth, the salty taste of his skin almost making her gag. The men's groans of pleasure filled the air, a symphony of degradation that drowned out the silent screams in her mind. She knew she had to play her part, to satisfy them in every way possible, if she wanted the funds to flow. And so, she knelt, a reluctant servant to their desires, her mouth and hands working in tandem to bring them to the brink of ecstasy. Each stroke, each suckle, brought her closer to the end of this nightmare, but also deeper into the dark world she had unwillingly embraced. The room spun around her, a blur of velvet and gold, as she prayed for the strength to endure this transaction, and the hope that her sacrifice would not be in vain.

Their grip on her head grew firm, as the two investors took turns thrusting their cocks into her mouth, their hips bucking with each rough facefuck. Heejin's eyes watered and she gagged on the salty intrusion, her cheeks hollowing with each forced inhalation around the thick lengths. She could feel their hands tightening in her hair, guiding her movements, using her as nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure. The men's grunts and moans grew louder, their breathing ragged as they approached climax. Despite her distress, Heejin's own arousal grew, a confusing and unwelcome sensation that she desperately tried to ignore. Her tongue worked overtime, trying to keep up with their relentless pace, as drool spilled down her chin and her jaw began to ache from the constant abuse. The sound of their zippers filled the air as they released her head, their cocks glistening with her saliva. They smirked down at her, panting and disheveled, the power dynamic in the room starker than ever. Heejin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze never leaving the floor, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear, anger, and a strange, detached curiosity about what would happen next in this twisted masquerade of survival.

Heejin felt the firm grip of the men's hands on her arms, hauling her to her feet. They positioned her at the edge of the sumptuous bed, her knees bending slightly to keep her balance. The coolness of the satin sheets brushed against her heated skin as she was bent over, her face buried in the soft fabric. The sound of belts unbuckling echoed in the room, a sinister symphony that made her stomach twist in knots. The first slap of leather against her ass took her by surprise, a sharp sting that made her yelp. The second investor stepped up, his belt in hand, and delivered his own blow, the force sending a shockwave through her body. They alternated, one slapping her firmly on the left cheek, the other on the right, creating a rhythm of pain that she tried to anticipate. Yet, with each stinging impact, she felt their hands come to soothe, rubbing her reddening flesh with surprising gentleness, the contrast making her skin tingle with a confusing mix of agony and relief. The men took their time, enjoying the sight of her writhing body, their smirks deepening with every muffled cry she emitted into the bed. She bit the pillow, muffling her cries as the belts fell in a steady rhythm, painting her ass a deep shade of red that mirrored the fury in her heart. Yet she remained in place, her eyes squeezed shut, enduring the assault for the sake of her group's future.

With a rough tug, the men spun her around on the bed, her legs splayed wide in an undignified display. The suddenness of their actions made Heejin's breath hitch, her eyes flying open in shock. They leaned over her, their faces twisted with lust as they licked their fingers with an obscene enthusiasm. Before she could react, they plunged their wet digits into her pussy, invading her most intimate space without warning. Heejin's eyes rolled back into her head, a mix of surprise and unwanted pleasure coursing through her veins. The sensation was foreign, almost painful, but she felt the beginnings of a wetness that she had not expected, not wanted. Her body was responding to their touch despite her mind's fierce rejection, the slickness coating their fingers as they pumped in and out of her. She could feel her muscles clenching around them, betraying the turmoil within her. The men's chuckles were a symphony of triumph as they watched her body react, their eyes gleaming with victory. They worked her in unison, their fingers curling and stroking with a practiced skill that had her back arching off the bed. Heejin bit her lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of blood as she struggled not to give in to the rising tide of pleasure. This wasn't supposed to happen, she wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but her body was a traitor to her resolve. The room swam around her, the opulent suite a prison of velvet and gold that she had willingly entered for the sake of her dreams. And now, as the men's fingers worked their magic, she wondered if the price of success was one she could ever truly pay in full.

"Please, slow down!" Heejin gasped out, her voice filled by urgency. Her body was a taut bowstring, ready to snap under the tension of their relentless ministrations. Despite her mental turmoil, the sensations building within her were undeniable, a crescendo of pleasure that she hadn't anticipated. The investors took her words as encouragement, their fingers moving with renewed vigor as they brought her closer to the edge. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, the coil of desire tightening with each intrusive stroke. Her hips began to buck, her body moving of its own accord, seeking the release that hovered just out of reach. "I'm going to cum!" she choked out, the confession torn from her in a desperate whisper. The men's eyes lit up like predatory animals that had spotted their prey, and they quickened their pace, eager to claim their prize. Heejin's eyes squeezed shut even tighter as she fought the wave that threatened to overtake her, the sound of their grunts and the slick sounds of her own arousal a cacophony in her ears. With a final, brutal thrust, she shattered, her body convulsing on the bed as an orgasm ripped through her.

"Taste yourself," Heejin felt the slick, wet fingers at her mouth and knew what was expected of her. With a sense of defeat that weighed heavier than the gold that adorned the suite, she parted her lips and took the proffered digits, tasting the blend of her own arousal and the faint tang of her fear. The man's eyes bore into hers as she sucked, his smile a twisted mirror of triumph that made her stomach lurch. She knew this was the final act of submission before the main event, the ultimate proof of her willingness to play their twisted game.

With a sense of inevitability, Heejin felt her body being repositioned with her head at the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide by one of the investors as the other man stands near the foot of the bed, his erection bobbing in anticipation. The coldness of the man's cock pressed against her lips, the taste of her own arousal still lingering in her mouth from their previous act. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on anything but the impending violation. The man at her pussy took hold of his shaft and began to rub the tip against her slick opening, her body taut with fear and a reluctant excitement that she couldn't entirely suppress. His grip was firm, his intent clear as he began to push into her, stretching her open with a slow, deliberate pressure that sent a shiver down her spine. Heejin's eyes watered as she felt herself being filled, the discomfort of his entry stark against the backdrop of her recent orgasm. Meanwhile, the second man leaned in, his cock nudging her cheek as he urged her to take him into her mouth once more. She complied, her eyes never leaving the first man's as she felt herself being claimed, the reality of her situation crashing down upon her like a dark, heavy wave. She swallowed around his girth, her throat tightening with each thrust, as the man at her pussy began to pump in and out with increasing fervor. The room was a blur of gold and velvet, the scents of cologne and sex mingling in the air as the men used her body for their own twisted satisfaction.

As Heejin felt the man's cock hit a particularly sensitive spot, her mouth couldn't help but pull away from the second investor's erection, her moan muffled by the thickness of his shaft. "P-Please, take it s-slow. It's too big," she whimpered, her voice barely audible around the girth in her mouth. Her eyes pleaded with the man at her pussy, her makeup-smeared face a portrait of desperation. He chuckled darkly, the sound a grating contrast to the gentle stroking of her cheek that accompanied his thrusts. "You'll take it," he said, his voice a promise wrapped in a threat. His eyes bore into hers as he pushed deeper, her body stretching to accommodate his size. Heejin's eyes watered again, her throat constricting around the cock filling her mouth as she tried to stifle the sounds of her distress. She could feel her pussy clench around the intrusion, the pressure building with each thrust. Despite her pleas, the men's rhythm didn't falter, their lust driving them forward as they used her body without mercy. She felt so small, so powerless beneath them, their weight pressing down on her as if she were nothing more than a doll to be played with and discarded.

The man at Heejin's mouth grew more demanding, his grip on her neck tightening as he neared his climax. She could feel the pulsing of his cock as he held her in a vice-like grip, his eyes never leaving hers as he fucked her mouth with an intensity that left her gasping for air. The second investor took the cue, his own strokes growing more frantic as he watched the scene unfold before him. Heejin's eyes watered uncontrollably, her throat constricting around the intrusion. The man's cock grew thicker, his grip tightening even further, his hips pumping faster. Heejin's hands slapped against his thighs in a desperate attempt to get him to stop, her muffled cries for air muffled by his girth. But the man was lost in his own pleasure, oblivious to her plight.

"Fuck, take all of my cum, bitch!" his hand tightened, his movements grew erratic, and with a final, brutal thrust, he came, his hot seed filling her mouth and spilling down her chin. She gagged, her eyes watering uncontrollably, as she struggled to swallow his release, the taste of him coating her tongue.

Heejin wasn't given the time to recover as the second investor wrecks her tight pussy with a pace that quickens each second. "Ahhhhh, please, it's t-too much!" the man's grip on Heejin's hips grew even more punishing as he ignored her pleas, his thrusts growing more erratic as he approached his own climax. "You're going to take it all, slut," he grunted, his eyes narrowed with determination. "I'm going to fill your tight little cunt with my cum." Heejin's eyes widened in panic, her voice strained as she begged, "P-please, not inside me! Pull out, please, I don't want to get pregnant!" The investor's only response was a cruel chuckle as he dug his nails into her skin, holding her in place as his hips pistoned between her legs. Heejin's body tensed, her heart racing as she felt his cock swell within her. She knew she had no power here, no control over her own body as it was used for their depraved amusement. But as his movements grew more frantic, she clung to the hope that her voice, her humanity, could somehow break through the fog of their lust. "Pull out, pull out, pull out!" she begged again, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Please, don't cum inside me." The man's only response was a grunt of pleasure, his pace never wavering as he neared the edge of his own release. Her body was a battleground, torn between the need to satisfy these monsters and the primal urge to protect herself. But as the pressure built within her, she knew there was no escape from the fate they had chosen for her, the price she had agreed to pay for the elusive promise of stardom. With a final, savage thrust, the investor's cock erupted, flooding her with his hot, sticky cum. Heejin's eyes squeezed shut as she felt the warmth fill her, the reality of her situation crashing down upon her like a ton of bricks.

Heejin lay there, her body limp and used, cum trickling out of her ravaged pussy and onto the bed beneath her. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed over with a mix of shock and pain. The men, now sated, stepped back, their gazes lingering on her form as if they were contemplating their next move. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath she took, her heart racing as the gravity of what she had just endured settled heavily upon her. The suite's opulence now felt like a mockery of the depraved act that had just occurred within its walls. The men wiped themselves off with a carelessness that was almost as painful as their touch, their business-like demeanor a stark contrast to the raw, exposed state of her soul. They exchanged knowing smirks, their suits immaculate despite the scene they had just indulged in. Heejin felt a tear slip down her cheek, the salty taste of her own pain mixing with the bitter residue of their pleasure in her mouth. This wasn't how she had envisioned her path to stardom, but she had made her choice and now she had to live with the consequences, no matter how much it felt like her soul was being torn apart. Her mind drifted to her bandmates, the music they shared, and the hope that this dark transaction would be the key to unlocking their collective dreams. As she gathered her strength to rise, she vowed that she would never let them know the price she had paid, burying the memory deep within the recesses of her being, a secret she'd carry like a heavy burden for the rest of her days.

---

Happy Heejin Day!

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'the animal in the cage' - 18+ logan x gn!reader

summary: you return each week to watch the stranger in the cage, desire swirling in your mind. there's no way he'd ever look at you too. . . right? (830 words) tags: suggestive, set during the x1 cage fight scene, short one that might branch out, reader pov, reader is kind of obsessed with logan, for the 'cage-fight' prompt for logan promptober.

you return to the man in the cage every week, watching him from behind a glass, arriving a few minutes late this particular evening. you watch as his chiselled form moves with practiced ease, tight fist connecting with skin, his abdomen tensing with every blow while your mouth subconsciously waters in response.

he's like an animal, almost, in the way that he snarls and bares his teeth and prowls. his shoulders tense, eyes sharp, pacing the cage as though it were his own domain. and in a way it is, he owns it in his presence alone. the stage is his. and you lap it up from the audience, every. damn. time.

it's the same routine each week, albeit altered slightly for returning customers, but no one is as loyal to the show as you are. his number one fan. you watch as he's beaten to a pulp initially, before destroying his opponent in the second and third rounds.

he must plan it this way, must enjoy the feeling of pain. or perhaps he simply endures it for the sake of his identity. can't let them know he can take more than just a few punches.

you know what he is, a mutant. but that doesn't scare you. it excites you.

and so you watch from beyond the cage, safe in your little wooden seat as he prowls behind the metal, circling his prey.

it could be considered an obsession, but you'd prefer to label it a curiosity - a longing to know the beast in the ring. just how dangerous can he really be? is this just a means to an end? there's a sadness that flickers behind his eyes that tells you he craves more, something, anything more than this.

you know you could give him what he wants, or maybe that's your delusions talking. nevertheless, it doesn't stop you from fantasising each night, alone in bed. you find yourself calling his name in a desperate cry, gripping your sheets as you come undone, visions of him tangling in your feverish mind.

but his eyes never settle on you, not even once. his focus is sharp, mind steady and you find yourself pleading silently, willing his eyes to land on you just for a moment. you'd be content with that, you think, just for a second of his time.

yet it never comes.

you sigh as you find yourself at the bar, ordering another drink. perhaps it's time to give up the chase, give up. . . whatever this was. the situation has taught you nothing but how deprived and filthy you are - pining for the snarling beast in the cage who couldn't care less about the hopeless little bird on the other side. not worth the time. right. . .?

right.

rising from your seat, you head for the door, pulling your jacket around your shoulders in preparation for the winter chill. the air hits you like a truck, shivering on impact.

"i've seen you, y'know-"

you freeze in place at the voice.

"watching me. . ."

the voice purrs from your left, fire blazing in your cheeks as you attempt to calm your breathing in the hopes he won't notice. but it's too late, it's already painfully obvious how it puffs out quickly in small, light clouds in the icy atmosphere. you're almost too easy to read.

his gaze flits up and down your form, taking you in as your head turns, meeting his dark and soulful eyes. you swear you feel your heart stop as his eyes finally land on you. it's just you, and the animal from inside the cage, out here in the cold open air. there's no metal to separate you now.

"you're not as subtle as you'd like to think," he mumbles, stuffing a cigar between his lips. you watch on in awe, tongue instinctively swiping across your lips. you're hungry, hungry enough to ignore the insult he just threw your way.

there's a pause as he lights his cigar, tension so thick you can almost taste it. it tastes good. so good. almost as good as all those sinful thoughts begging to be acted upon inside your mind.

the silence envelops you, makes you feel like you can't breathe. you want to say something, anything to defend yourself. 'i'm not usually like this', or 'it's not what you think', some bullshit excuse like that. but no words come, just the pounding of your heart in your ears as you stare at him before you.

then his lips part once more, you're sure he's going to tell you to get lost, curse you out.

"see you next week, don't be late this time." is all he says, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts as your eyes watch the trail of large bootprints he leaves in the freshly fallen snow.

so wrapped up in your own head, in your daydreams that you failed to notice the animal inside the cage. . . had been watching you, too.

[lizardsfromspace]

🎭 two-faced-k3ll3r Follow

Ugh I hate when people outside the slasher community think we're all sex-negative puritans. YES we slay people who just had sex, no it's not bc we hate sex. They don't even understand the subtle poetry linking sex and death 🙄

👻 gay-wraith-month Follow

They don't even know orgasm and death have the same word in French!!! Or that I'm inside their walls

🎭 two-faced-k3ll3r Follow

They don't even know that it's down to a coin toss!! Someone at the CVS today drew the Comedy mask and had no idea!

😋chesapeake-ripperss Follow

lol I try to tell my clients this but they totes don't get it. I've only made, like, two of them into serial killers

👻 gay-wraith-month Follow

Sigh. "Slashers". They may call us serial killing puritans but we don't have to play into the slasher discourse, yeah?

🦃 the-puritan Follow

Hark! What in Tartarus is occurring here?

🦃 the-puritan Follow

Why, fucketh me for rising from my grave every Thanksgiving to cleanse my small Massachusetts town of the sin of lust I guesseth! I, Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith Burbage, amst merely doing the Lord's will, AND YET I am BELITTLED and DENIGRATED by the godless ingrates of your so-called community! I shalt stand for the attacks on tradslashers NO MORE!

👻 gay-wraith-month Follow

You are not a immortal puritan you fuckin nerd. Your name is Richard and you live in Boston

🦃 the-puritan Follow

How dost thou doxxeth me???

🦃 the-puritan Follow

Oh yeah. The walls

[aceyalonso]

that's the thing about illicit affairs - OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing : ex!oscar piastri x fem!reader ↳ slight lando x fem!reader at the end

summary : a maid of honor and a groom that she knows all too well, only one of them gets their happy ending.

warnings : swearing, drinking, fighting, relationship issues, mentions of settling down, marriage, majority of story takes place in 2027

word count : 6.5k

song : illicit affairs - taylor swift

a/n : happy 400 followers with a not so happy post! and a special ty to @iamred-iamyellow for convincing me to write this <3

September 10th, 2024

Y/n lifted her head from Oscar's chest, shifting her position to look at him directly. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Have you ever thought about getting engaged or married someday?"

Oscar's expression turned slightly cautious as Y/n asked the question. He paused for a moment, thinking about it. Finally, he responded, "Well... I haven't really given it much though, to be honest. I've been focused on our relationship and enjoying our time together."

He shifted a bit on the couch, now sitting up straight. His gaze remained fixed on Y/n as he continued. "Why do you ask? Is it something you've been thinking about?"

Y/n nodded, a mild sense of disappointment showing on her face at the realization that Oscar hadn't seriously thought about it yet. "I was just wondering. It's something that's been on my mind for a while."

The conversation turned into a more serious tone as the topic escalated to an argument. The initial lighthearted mood was replaced with tension and disagreement between Y/n and Oscar.

Y/n's frustration began to show on her face, her voice getting slightly louder. "I don't understand why you haven't thought about it yet. We've been together for 3- Almost 4 years, Oscar."

Oscar's initial surprise at the escalation of the argument slowly turned to frustration as well. He responded, his voice rising slightly as well. "It's not that I don't want to marry you, it's just... I don't know if I'm ready for it yet. The thought of getting engaged or married is a huge commitment.

Y/n scoffed a bit, her agitation growing. "I know it's big commitment. But that's exactly why it's important to discuss it and be on the same page about our future. I need to know what we agree and don't agree on!"

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you to feel like I'm avoiding the topic, but it feels like you're putting pressure on me to make this decision. I just need more time to think about it, alright?"

Y/n crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied with Oscar's response. She lets out a huff before responding. "More time? We've been together for years, and still need more time to think about it? How much more time do you need?"

Oscar's irritation grew at Y/n's response. He raised his voice slightly, matching her heightened tone. "I understand that we've been together for a long time, but that doesn't mean I have to be ready to get engaged or married right now. And constantly pressuring me about it isn't going to make ready any faster.

Y/n shot back with a bit more heat in her words. "I'm not trying to pressure, I just want some clarity about our future. It's not unreasonable to expect some form of commitment after being together for this long. You make it sound like you're not even sure if you want to marry me at all!"

Oscar's expression hardened at Y/n's accusation. "That's not fair. You know I love you, and I don't doubt our relationship. But marriage is a big step, and I want to be absolutely certain that we're both ready and willing to commit to it for the rest of our lives."

Y/n let out an exasperated sigh, feeling increasingly frustrated. "I understand that, but I feel like you're keeping me in limbo. You can't ask for more time without giving me some assurances that you do see a future with me. I need some sort of confirmation that we're on the same page here."

Oscar let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Okay, look, I do see a future with you. I do want to be with you for the rest of my life, alright? I just need more time to mentally prepare for the idea of getting engaged or married. It's a lot to process all at once."

Y/n relaxed slightly at Oscar’s reassurance, but their concerns still lingered on their face. “That’s good to hear, but it’s still not enough for me. I need more than just words. I need some kind of proof that you’re serious about our future together.”

Oscar, now clearly irritated, threw his hands up in desperation. “What more assurance do you need? I just told you that I see a future with you and that I love you. What else could you possibly want from me? A written guarantee? A legal contract?”

Y/n, equally frustrated, shot back with an aggressive tone. “No, I don’t need a written contract. I just need some sort of action, some steps towards making our future together a reality. You keep telling me you’re sure about us, but then you hesitate when it comes to actually making a commitment.”

The argument continued to escalate, both Y/n and Oscar becoming more frustrated and emotional. Y/n’s voice continued to raise, their words now filled with frustration and hurt. “I can’t believe you’re still making excuses. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who wants to take our relationship to the next level. You keep stalling, and it makes me question if you really want to marry me at all!”

Oscar, in his frustration and anger, snapped back with a hurtful remark. “You know what, if you keep acting like this, maybe I won’t marry you at all! At least I'll be free from you and your stupid neediness!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain and shock on Y/N’s face were evident, and he knew he had crossed a line.

Y/n stood up from the sofa, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "Fine, if that's really what you want, then it won't happen. If you don't see a future with me, if you don't want to marry me, then there's nothing more to discuss."

Y/n, moving with purpose, made her way to the bedroom. There, she hastily grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began stuffing it with clothes and essentials. A sense of anger and determination filled her actions, her emotions still heightened from the argument.

Meanwhile, Oscar followed behind, trying to stop Y/n form leaving. He entered the bedroom and pleaded with her, his voice filled with regret and desperation. "Where are you going? You can't just leave like this!"

Y/n snapped back at him, her voice still angry and strained. "I can and I will. You just made it clear that you don't see a future with me. What am I supposed to do? Stay and keep hoping that someday you'll change your damn mind?!"

Oscar, his emotions conflicting, tried to find the words to convince Y/n to stay. "I didn't mean it. I was just so frustrated and angry, I didn't what I was saying. Please, don't go. We need to talk this through."

Y/n, who was still packing her suitcase, paused for a moment to look at Oscar. "There's nothing more to talk about. You said what you said, and I heard it loud and clear. You don't see a future with me, so what's the fucking point?"

Pausing once more in the midst of packing, looked directly at Oscar. "When we first started dating, I made it clear that I wanted to settle down one day. I was upfront about my expectations, and you knew what I wanted. Yet, here we are, years later, and you're still not ready for that commitment.

Oscar, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration, responded defensively. "I know I haven't been ready yet, but I told you I need more time. That doesn't mean I never want to marry you. It just means I'm not ready right now."

Y/n, now fully packing their suitcase, shot back with a hint of sarcasm. "Right, because waiting endlessly for you to make up your mind is so fun. You've had years, Oscar. How much more time do you need? A decade? A lifetime?"

Oscar, starting to get frustrated again, tried to defend himself. "You're acting like I'm doing this on purpose! I'm not stalling or avoiding the issue. I just need more time to figure things out. I have to be sure about such a big commitment!"

Y/n zipped up her suitcase, expression hard and uncompromising. "Spare me the excuses, Oscar. You've had ample time to reflect and consider. And here I am, still waiting for you to make a move. Your inability to make a decision speaks volumes, and I refuse to continue wasting my time, hoping for something you're not even ready to give."

Y/n, now walking out of the bedroom with suitcase in tow, was stopped in her tracks by Oscar's gentle yet firm on her free wrist. As she turned to look at him, he called out to her with a pleading tone. "Baby, wait. Don't go. Let's talk about this. Please."

Y/n looked him in the eye with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Don't call me 'baby'. You don't get to use endearments on me now. You lost that privilege when you made it clear that you don't see me as someone worth committing to."

Oscar, realizing his mistake in using the endearment, looked at Y/n with a remorse and desperation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you that. I'm just trying to get you to stay and talk to me about this."

Y/n shook her head, her expression still firm and determined. "No, I'm done talking. I'm done waiting. You had your chance to discuss this, and you dismissed it. I don't want to hear any more excuses or apologies right now. I need space."

Oscar, growing increasingly worried, pleaded with Y/n once more. "Please, don't go. This is the same old argument we've had before, but we've always worked through it. Let's take a break, cool off, and come back to this later."

"Exactly!" Y/n's voice is laced with frustration and exhaustion. "We keep pushing this issue aside, hoping it'll resolve itself. But it never does!" she says, tears starting to fall in between sobs. "Instead, it just becomes a bigger problem each time we avoid it. We can't avoid this conversation forever, and it's tearing me apart."

Y/n, determined to leave despite Oscar’s efforts to hold her back, breaks free from his grip and walks towards the door.

Oscar, watching her walk away, calls out to her pleadingly. "Please, don’t go. We can work this out, can’t we? You can’t just leave without resolving this."

Y/n, standing at the door with suitcase in hand, responds with a mix of determination and pain. "You’re right. There won’t be anything to resolve if there’s nothing left between us. And right now, it feels like there’s nothing left to salvage."

Oscar, panicked and desperate, tries one last effort to make her stay. "No, don’t say that! We have years together, a life built together. You can’t throw it all away just like that."

Y/n, her voice tinged with hurt and bitterness, answers with a sharp response. "When you said you don’t feel free around me, it felt like a slap in the face. As if being with me is some kind of prison sentence to you. So maybe it’s better if you are free, without me in the picture."

Y/n opens the door, her steps resolute and determined. Without looking back, she walks out and slams the door shut behind her. Oscar, left alone in the apartment, stands frozen in place, the sound of the door slamming echoing in his ears.

February 12, 2027

Three years have passed since Y/n left, and she has found herself in a different place, both geographically and emotionally. She has moved from Monaco to France, and is now living in a cozy apartment with her roommate, Alexandra.

Y/n and Alexandra are folding laundry and chatting away in the living room, enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, Y/n's phone buzzes, signaling an incoming call. She glances at the screen to see that it's her cousin calling.

Y/n, spotting the caller ID "lily 💗", excuses herself from the conversation with Alexandra. She picks up the phone, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Hey, what's up?"

Lily, sounding excited on the other end of the line, wastes no time in telling her the news. "Hey, guess what? I'm getting married! And I'd really love it if you could come to the wedding. It wouldn't be the same without you here!"

A smile spreads across Y/n's face as she listens to her cousin's cheerful announcement. She feels a mix of joy and surprise. "Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you. Of course, I'd love to be there for your wedding. It's going to be a beautiful occasion. Have you set a date yet?"

Her cousin, still beaming with happiness, replies warmly. "Yes, we have! We're getting married in two months, at a beautiful venue here in Monte Carlo. It's going to be a wonderful celebration. I can't wait for you to be there with me."

Y/n's cousin, continuing the conversation, extends a special invitation. "Oh, and by the way, I wanted to ask you something else. Would you do me the honor of being my maid of honor? It would mean the world to me if you were by my side on my special day."

She feels a wave of warmth and appreciation at her cousin's request. She quickly responds with enthusiasm. "Oh my goodness, of course I'll be your maid of honor! It would be my absolute honor to stand by your side on your wedding day. I'm so touched that you asked me."

Her cousin lets out a happy sigh, feeling relieved and delighted at Y/n's acceptance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad you said yes. I can already imagine us having so much fun during the preparations and on the big day. You're going to be the best maid of honor ever!"

She rejoins Alexandra in the living room, her expression a mix of joy and excitement. "Sorry, that was my cousin. She's getting married apparently? She asked me to be her maid of honor too!"

Alexandra, hearing the exciting news, lights up with delight. "Oh, that's fantastic! Congratulations to the both of you!" she says, clapping lightly. "Being a maid of honor is such a special role. When's the big day?"

Y/n's voice brims with anticipation as she responds. "In two months, it'll be in Monte Carlo."

Alexandra, curious to know more about Y/n's cousin and her fiancé, poses a question with a tone of intrigue. "That sounds wonderful! So who's the lucky groom?"

Y/n opens her mouth before slowly closing it. "You know, I just realized, I don't actually know..." she replies sheepishly.

The two girls sit in awkward silence for a few moments before bursting out laughing. Y/n can finally say that she feels happy. At least, way happier than she was with Oscar.

April 26, 2027 | Chapel

The long awaited wedding day, and the setting couldn't more picturesque. The venue is adorned with elegant decorations, and Y/n stands by chapel doors, ready to walk down the aisle alongside the best man and to see the groom for the very first time.

Y/n, in her satin green dress, is arm in arm with Lando, the best man (who she met a week ago). They make their way up to the altar, and as her eyes scan the surroundings, something catches her eye. She turns her gaze towards the altar, and there she sees the groom awaiting his bride.

As the groom turns around to face the aisle, Y/n's heart skips a beat. There, standing at the altar, is Oscar, her ex-boyfriend. Y/n feels a mix of shock and disbelief. Lily is getting married to Oscar.

Oscar, caught off guard by the sight of Y/n, manages to keep his composure despite the surprise. His eyes go wide with realization, but he quickly masks his emotions and turns his attention back to the altar.

Lando, feeling Y/n's grip on his arm tighten ever so slightly, turns his attention to her with concern. He senses something is amiss and leans in slightly to inquire in a low whisper. "Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Y/n, struggling to find her words, manages to compose herself enough to respond to Lando's question. "I'm... I'm fine." she mutters, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on the ceremony right now. I'll explain everything later if we have time."

Lando, sensing Y/n's unease, nods in understanding but keeps a watchful eye on her throughout the ceremony. He feels there's more to it than meets the eye, but he decides to respect her request to wait until later to explain.

The processional draws to a close as Lily walks down the aisle, looking stunning in her snowy white dress. Y/n, unable to help herself, steals a glance at Oscar, who stands at the altar, his eyes filled with awe as he gazes at the bride- his bride, in all her splendor. There's a mix of shock and a tinge of melancholy in Y/n's expression as she observes him.

Her thoughts race through her mind as she stands alongside the other bridesmaids. She watches Oscar at the altar, his eyes fixated on Lily, and a sudden pang of bittersweetness washes over her. In that moment, she can't help but wonder if this is what it would've been if she and Oscar had gotten married, if they would've worked it out. A mixture of nostalgia and melancholy fills her heart as she contemplates what could have been.

Her inner turmoil intensifies as she struggles to reconcile her current circumstances with the memory of the dreams and aspirations she once had with Oscar. The weight of the unspoken emotions between them hangs heavily in the air, and split second, Y/n finds herself caught in a whirlwind of "what if?" scenarios before she snaps back to reality, reminding herself of the reasons that led them down separate paths. The same reasons that led them to this day.

Lily reaches the altar, and Oscar assists her with her beautiful gown, his hands gently arranging the fabric. In the process, their eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and the intensity of that brief glance nearly brings tears to her eyes. The connection, though fleeting, stirs a mix of emotions within her, bringing back memories and longing she thought she had buried in the past.

Unable to bear the weight of Oscar's gaze any longer, Y/n averts her eyes, feigning the need to fuss with her own gown. She busies herself with adjusting her attire, using the action as a guise to avoid looking at Oscar, who stands just a few steps from her. She tries to mask the turmoil within her, hoping no one notices the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

Oscar tears his gaze away from Y/n and redirects his focus to his bride. A genuine, radiant smile illuminates his face, and in that moment, Y/n realizes that she has never seen him smile quite like that before. The smile is wide, full of joy and contentment. Y/n can't help but feel a sharp pang in her heart.

The sight of Oscar's unabashed happiness with his bride strikes a chord deep within Y/n. It awakened a mix of sorrow, regret, and a hint of resignation. She understands that his smile, while beautiful, is no longer hers to witness. The reality of their broken relationship, and the different paths they've taken, is now undeniable, and the weight of that realization settles heavily on her heart.

The mixture of emotions in the air is palpable as Y/n stans beside the other bridesmaids, her eyes till fixated on Oscar and the bride. She can't help but feel a jumble of sadness, envy, and acceptance, witnessing the unfolding scene in front of her. The moment seems to stretch on, each second reminding her of what could have been.

The ceremony continues, and as the moment arrives for Oscar to kiss his bride, the air catches in Y/n's throat. Y/n, along with all the guests gathered, watches as the newly weds lock lips, sealing their union in a heartfelt kiss. Y/n's heart clenches as she longs to be the one standing with Oscar, to be the one he's kissing.

Their kiss seems to last an eternity, each second a poignant reminder of the love that Oscar now shares with someone else. Y/n's eyes are fixed on the couple, her heart wallowing in sorrow and acceptance. The realization that she is no longer a part of Oscar's future washes over her, and she finds herself in the same bittersweet feeling that she found all those years ago.

Y/n, although her heart is heavy, knows she has no choice but to join in the applause. She raises her hands and claps along with the guests. Her hands come together in a rhythmic applause, the sound blending with the collective joy and celebration around her. Inside, her heart is aching, but on the outside, she manages to maintain a semblance of composure, hiding the storm of emotions within her.

April 27, 2027 | Reception

Time swiftly moves forward to the reception. Lando, as the best man, steps up to the podium, ready to deliver his speech. The room falls silent, and all eyes turn to him, waiting to hear his words. Lando takes a deep breath before starting, his voice filled with a mix of humor, warmth, and genuine affection for the couple.

Lando begins his best man speech with a warm smile, his eyes flickering across the guests. "Good evening, everyone. I feel incredibly honored to be standing here as the best man for this beautiful couple. Today we gather to celebrate love, commitment, and the beginning of a new journey for our newlyweds, Lily and Oscar. I've known Oscar for a long time, and I can confidently say that I've never seen him as happy as he is today, all thanks to the incredible woman sitting beside him."

As Lando continues with his speech, Y/n sits in her chair, listening intently. The mention of Oscar being the happiest he's ever been makes her chest tighten, as though an invisible weight is pressing down on her heart. The reality that Oscar has found true happiness with someone else, the very thing Y/n had once hoped to provide for him, is a bitter pill to swallow.

Y/n, lost in her thoughts, zones out during the last part of Lando's speech. The words around her turn into a blur, and she becomes unaware of the speech's conclusion. Her mind is preoccupied with the barrage of emotions swirling inside her, and she finds herself in a state of partial detachment from the ongoing celebration.

Lando, sensing that Y/n was lost in thought, gently places his hand on her shoulder. This gesture snaps her back to reality, and she becomes aware of the room around her again. Seeing her jolt slightly, he gazes at her with a compassionate glance. "Hey, it's your turn to give a speech."

Her heart rate quickens as she realizes it's her turn to give the speech, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. She glances around the room, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n slowly walks up to the podium, her steps deliberate and measured. As she stands in front of the microphone, she can feel the eyes of gathered guests fixed on her, waiting for her words.

She stands behind the podium, taking a moment to collect herself before speaking. With a mixture of joy, love, and disbelief, she begins her speech.

She starts, "Good evening, everyone. For those who may not know me, I’m Y/n, the bride’s cousin, but truly, we’ve always been like sisters. Standing here today, I feel a flood of emotions - joy, love, and perhaps just a hint of disbelief that this day has finally come."

Y/n continues, "You see, when we were children, Lily and I would often engage in 'wedding' games. We'd don makeshift wedding veils made from pillowcases and fiercely argue over who would get to be the bride. It was a serious matter for us back then, and more often than not, we’d ultimately settle on her being the bride. According to her, she just 'looked more like one.' Well, Lily, I have to admit, you were absolutely right—because here you are today, looking stunning, more beautiful and radiant than I could have ever imagined."

Her voice is a mixture of warmth and sentimentality as she continues her speech. "It’s fascinating how childhood dreams have a way of becoming reality, and yet, it’s even more astonishing to witness how you’ve grown into the remarkable woman standing before us now. Over the years, I’ve watched you navigate the ups and downs of life with such grace, and today, as you marry Oscar, my heart swells with happiness for you both."

In the midst of her speech, Y/n’s eyes inadvertently meet Oscar’s, and a wave of emotions courses through her. The weight of the moment, combined with her feelings for Oscar, causes tears to well up in her eyes, making it increasingly difficult to continue speaking.

She pauses, attempting to blink back the tears that threaten to spill. Clearing her throat lightly, she tries to push through the momentary emotional wave that has struck her. The pain in her heart is evident, but she forces a smile, determined to complete her speech with a semblance of composure.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n collects herself and presses on with her speech, "While I’m brimming with joy for you both, I must admit I feel a tinge of bittersweetness, for today marks the beginning of a new chapter in your life — a chapter where you start your own family. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that no matter how life changes, no matter where you go, we’ll always be as close as we’ve been."

Y/n steals another quick glance in Oscar's direction before continuing. Her emotions are still close to the surface, but she plows on, speaking with a mixture of bittersweet happiness and nostalgia.

"You’re not just my cousin; you’re my sister, and this connection we share is something that will forever remain unchanged. So here’s to the both of you. May your love be as strong and lasting as our bond has been all these years. And Lily, if this day proves anything, it’s that you were always destined to be the bride." she says, wiping away her tears with a small handkerchief Lando handed her.

As Y/n completes her speech, her eyes inadvertently find their way back to Oscar. The gaze she gives him mirrors the one she had when they parted ways three years ago. The pain, the longing, and the unresolved emotions are all still there, making her next words more strained.

With her gaze still fixed on Oscar, Y/n struggles to keep her emotions in check as she continues her speech, her voice trembling slightly. Despite the ache in her heart, she forces a smile, her words now directed towards Oscar.

"And to Oscar, I hope you enjoy growing old with her as much as I enjoyed growing up with her." Each word feels like a dagger to her heart, but she finishes her speech, the pain in her eyes reflecting the depth of her unspoken feelings.

Y/n, fighting to maintain her composure, finally comes to the end of her speech. Her voice wavers slightly as she utters her final words. "A toast! To Lily and Oscar!"

Her words hang in the air, a bittersweet sentiment that lingers in the room. The guests raise their glasses in agreement, blissfully unaware of the turmoil within Y/n.

Lily, moved by Y/n's heartfelt speech, stands up and embraces her cousin in a tight hug. But while Lily basks in the moment, blissfully unaware of the pain her happiness is causing Y/n, the latter can only focus on Oscar, her eyes filling with tears as she gazes at him. The raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface seem to intensify, and it takes all her strength to hold back the floodgates.

April 27, 2027 | After the Reception

The reception has come to an end, and the hotel lobby is relatively quiet at this late hour. Lando, getting ready to head out, spots Y/n standing in the corner, holding her crumpled gown in one hand and her phone in the other. He approaches her with a concerned expression.

"Hey," Lando says softly, standing beside Y/n. His voice is gentle, tinged with concern as he looks at her. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... off?"

Y/n glances up at Lando, her expression weary. The emotional toll of the evening is evident on her face. She forces a small smile, trying to appear okay. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she replies, her voice slightly strained. "Just a bit tired, you know."

Lando can sense that Y/n isn't being completely honest, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he offers her two options. "You sure you're okay? You can always crash at my place if you want," he suggests. "Or, if you're up for it, we could go for a drive. Whatever you prefer."

Y/n ponders for a moment, weighing her options. Finally, she decides to take Lando up on his offer for a drive.

"A drive sounds good," she says, her voice slightly weary but also filled with a hint of relief. "Lead the way."

With a nod, Lando leads the way towards his car, parked outside the hotel. He unlocks the door, takes her gown, and gestures for her to get in. Once they're both settled in the car, Lando starts the engine and begins driving.

The silent drive envelops them, its quietness only interrupted by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of passing cars. Both Lando and Y/n seem weary, the evening's events taking their toll on them.

Lando glances over at Y/n periodically, noting the fatigue etched on her face.

He drives them to an empty beach, where only the signs of life are a few stray cats and dogs sleeping beneath a nearby bridge. The beach is mostly deserted, and the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore adds a soothing atmosphere to the surroundings.

He parks the car and shuts off the engine, the sudden silence feeling both peaceful and surreal at the same time.

Lando gets out of the car and opens the trunk. He rummages through it, pulling out two bottles of beer. He closes the trunk and walks over to where Y/n is standing, holding the bottles in one hand.

"Wanna share a cold one?" he asks, offering her one of the bottles.

As Lando hands Y/n a bottle, she glances at him with a puzzled expression on her face, her confusion evident. "You just happen to have cold beer in your trunk?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lando laughs at her questions and explains, shrugging his shoulders. "Nah, I don't keep beers in my car!" he says, chuckling. "It was supposed to be for the wedding, in case we ran out. You know how weddings can be."

Y/n nods in agreement and requests a bottle opener. Lando pats his pockets, searching for one. After a moment, he pulls out a small, multi-purpose tool from his pocket that serves as a bottle opener.

"Can I?" he says, gesturing for her to hand him the beer.

Y/n thanks him and hands her bottle to him, waiting for to him to open his bottle. As he uses it to pop the lids off both bottles with a satisfying fizzing sound, she takes her bottle and watches the foam settle on the top of the liquid.

Lando closes the trunk and follows Y/n down to the sand. They walk down in silence, the soft sound of their footsteps blending with the gentle rhythmic crashing of the waves.

The cool night air wraps around them, offering a refreshing reprieve from the day’s festivities. The soft light of the stars and the moon casts a gentle glow over the beach, making the surrounding area appear almost magical.

As they reach a spot on the beach and sit down, Lando takes a sip of his beer and sets the bottle down in the sand. He glances over at Y/n, his expression curious. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he says.

Y/n looks up at Lando, her expression open. “Sure, what is it?” she responds, her curiosity piqued by his inquiry.

Lando takes another sip of his drink before continuing. “When we were standing there, right before you were supposed to give the speech, you started acting kinda strange. I’m just wondering… did something happen?”

He pauses for a moment, the memory of their walk down the aisle surfacing in his mind. His tone becomes concerned and inquisitive. “And when we were walking down the aisle, you seemed… I don’t know, kinda on edge too. Did something happen back there or…”

Y/n sighs heavily, knowing she can’t avoid the question any longer. She gazes out at the ocean, the weight of her emotions visible in her expression. “I guess you noticed that something was up after all,” she says, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. “It’s a long story, Lan.”

Lando looks at Y/n, giving her a reassuring smile. “You know what? We’ve got all the time in the world right now, it’s just you and me.” he says, his voice gentle and inviting. “And I’m all ears if you need to talk about whatever is bothering you.”

Y/n feels a mix of emotions, knowing that Lando is willing to listen to her and that she can finally open up about what’s been bothering her. She takes a deep breath, her voice slightly shaky as she begins to tell her story.

“Okay… So I guess I should start by telling you that Oscar is my ex-boyfriend.” She sighs, feeling the weight of her words settle over her.

As Y/n drops the revelation about Oscar being her ex, Lando’s response is somewhat unexpected— his beer goes up his nose, causing him to cough and splutter lightly. Y/n stifles a laugh, finding a brief moment of humor amidst the intensity of their conversation.

“Hey,” she giggles playfully, “you okay there?” Lando clears his throat, wiping away the remnants of his beer mishap.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs, his eyes still watering slightly. “I just… did not expect that detail?”

They both laugh softly, and the moment of levity helps to alleviate some of the tension hanging in the air.

Y/n takes a deep breath, regaining her composure, and going on with her story. “Long story short, things didn’t end well between us… I guess seeing him again as the groom, all dressed up and looking ready to start a new chapter in his life, well, it just hit me pretty hard,” she confesses, the sadness and lingering pain evident in her voice.

Y/n takes a moment to gather her thoughts, summoning the courage to share the painful truth. “The main reason we ended things was because he wasn’t ready to settle down. He didn’t want what I want— commitment, a future together, you know? It hurt, but I had to respect his decision.” Her voice trails off, memories of their breakup flooding her mind, stinging her again.

The mention of Oscar’s reluctance to commit triggers a painful memory for Y/n, causing her eyes to cloud with a mix of sadness and longing. “And now, seeing stand there, so ready to marry someone else, with the biggest smile on his face… It’s like my hope of us being together has been shattered all over again.”

Her laughter is tinged with bitterness, the irony of the situation not lost on her. “To make matters worse, it just had to be my cousin, right? Like some sort of fucking soap opera. I mean, what are the odds of that?” Y/n muses, shaking her head slightly.

Seeing the sadness etched on Y/n’s face, Lando can’t help but feel empathy for her situation. He reaches out, gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch conveying a silent understanding.

As Lando reaches out and touches her shoulder with a comforting gesture, Y/n feels a wave of gratitude towards him. She looks at him and forces a small smile, appreciating his support.

“Thank you, Lan,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… hard to see him so happy with someone else when I still have feelings for him- well, I thought I didn’t love him anymore, I thought I had moved on, but seeing him today… it just brought everything back.”

Hearing Y/n’s words, Lando clears his throat, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Y’know, Y/n, it’s completely understandable that you feel this way. Seeing an ex move on can be incredibly difficult, especially when you’re still clinging to those lingering feelings and hopes of what could have been.

He pauses, considering his words carefully. “Maybe it’s time for you to actually let go and move forward. Leave the past behind.”

In the midst of their conversation, a small tabby kitten suddenly appears and jumps into Y/n’s lap, surprising the both of them. The sudden appearance of the kitten seems to momentarily distract them from their heavy discussion.

“Whoa, where did you come from, little one?” Y/n exclaims with a surprised laugh, as she gently pets the kittens fur.

Lando chuckles and remarks, “Y’know, they say cats are surprisingly good at sensing emotions. It must have sensed your sadness, Y/n. They can absorb negative vibes like little fluffy energy absorbers.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at Lando’s explanation, the idea of the cat absorbing her sadness somehow comforting. “That makes sense, I guess. It’s kind of sweet, in a way,” she muses, continuing to pet the kitten which responds with a soft purr. “Maybe this kitty will absorb all of these painful emotions and turn them to into something positive.”

As if sensing the conversation, the kitten nuzzles against Y/n’s hand, it’s purring growing louder, sending gentle vibrations throughout her fingers. The warmth and innocence of the moment provide a brief respite from her emotional turmoil.

Y/n chuckles, but her laughter is tinged with bitterness. She looks down at the kitten in her lap. "I realized something earlier. I'm always be the bridesmaid, and never the bride. It’s like my destiny is to always be the supporting character in someone else’s love story, not the one who gets their own happy ending."

She sighs softly, a mixture of resignation and disappointment in her voice. “I never thought that I’d be that cliché— the forever bridesmaid, never finding true love. Yet here I am, witnessing it all unfold in front of me.”

Lando locks eyes with Y/n, his gaze sincere and filled with a hint of something more than just friendly concern. “Love has a mysterious way of hiding in the most unexpected places. Maybe… the person you’re looking for is right in front of you, and you just need to open your eyes to see it.”

His words hang in the air, leaving them both pondering the possibility of love closer than they think.

masterlist

taglist:

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore

[redbird-tf]

Chamomile tea 

Dean winchester x (hunter ) sister reader

Summary: being alone for so long you’ve gotten used to only relying on yourself, a mindset that Dean starts to chip away at. 

Word count: 740

Notes: being creative is hard

Warnings: none

You sniffled, reaching across the table for a new tissue. You blew hard before discarding it in the bin with the dozen others.“Fever not letting up?” You jumped at Dean's voice, You weren't quite accustomed to having company around yet. The three of you were still navigating this new dynamic, which was proving easier for some than others. Just a few months ago Sam and Dean were the dynamic hunter duo, while you still navigated the world solo. You could still vividly recall the moment when John had announced the secret he had buried for years, the secret forced out because of a hunt.

——————

You remembered the look of shock that overtook everyone’s face and the screaming match that ensued between Sam and John. You could recall standing silently in the corner, feeling Dean gaze upon you from ten feet away. Once the job was done and John disappeared again you expected life to go back to normal, you couldn’t have anticipated the brothers to take you under their wing. “Family looks out for each other” Sam had stated to you, a mentality that you would come to learn.

What you hadn’t seen that night was the quiet devastation Dean had unleashed. He couldn’t pick a fight with John like Sam could, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as angry. His entire life he’d been forced into the role of a guardian for his little brother, and now to find out he had a sister—who had been alone in this life—turned that protective instinct into a fierce storm of emotions. The guilt of failing as brother was sallowing him whole and the rage towards John for keeping the truth from him boiled over. Least to say When they checked out, the motel room bore the scars of his turmoil.

——————-

“I'm fine” you stated blankly in response, your attention turning back to the lore book in your lap. You weren’t purposely being stubborn, to you it was true. You had gotten sick before and you'd get over it, no big deal. Dean didn't respond and carried on with his business in the kitchen. The sound of pouring liquid reached your ears, but it didn’t smell like his usual coffee so you assumed he was having a drink. Hearing what sounded like a spoon hitting the side of a ceramic mug you raised your head in confusion. Unfortunately, his back was turned to you, blocking your view of what he was conjuring up.

When he started to turn around, your eyes darted back to your book only looking up when hearing the soft clink of a mug being placed in front of you. You watched the steam rise, a sweet and sour aroma filling the air. “Is that chamomile tea?” A softer voice chimed in as Sam entered the room. “Not for you,” Dean stated firmly, taking a seat across from you. You stared at the drink “What is it?” You asked raising an eyebrow. “Tea, honey for a sore throat, and some lemon for the headaches” Dean explained leaning back in his chair. “Thats pure witchcraft right there, can fix anything!” Sam exclaimed pointing at the mug. “Drink up sis” sam encouraged, brushing his hand over your shoulder on his way to the door.

“You didn't have to do that,” you said softly to Dean. “I used to make them all the time for Sam, it's no big deal,” Dean reassured you. You fidgetedwith the edge of a page. “I'm not dying Dean.” Your tone came off defensive causing Dean to sit up straight. “You don't have to be dying, for someone to make you a cup of tea kiddo” his words prompted you to lift your head to meet his gaze. “I didn't mean…” your words trailed off, unable to defend your previous statement. “I'm your big brother, it's my job to look out for you.” He said with a stern tone. You could only stare at him in silence trying to comprehend his words. “I know it hasn't always been like that, but it is now. I've been a big brother for a long time and Sam’s still learning. i know you are too—just…” he took a deep breath “Let me do this for you, ok?” You nodded silently, noticing how his softened eyes contrasted with the weight of his words.

Without knowing what to say, you lifted the mug to your lips. The warmth of the citrus tea seeped into your chest, and you felt your tense muscles start to relax much like the protective wall you’ve built beginning to chip away. You gently placed the mug down, catching a glimpse of the small smile on Dean's face. “Thank you, Dean” you responded with a smile of your own. He didn’t respond with words instead, he stood up from the table, patting you on the shoulder as he passed by. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself when looking down at the mug in front of you.

———————-

[doodlingbiscuit]

Bite Me

Hey, first drabble I've finished! I have many more in the works, don't worry! :]

Rise!Donnie x Reader

Words: 3,760

Warnings: Biting, Slightly suggestive content, Mentions of blood Please let me know if I need to add more content warnings! I am still learning!

Donnie’s eyes trace over the curve of your shoulders, catching onto the slight muscle shifts as you reach up to put away the dishes. He can feel the need rising and tries to shove it down. He knows that it’s only a matter of time until he gives in to it. 

Donnie has never had a feeling like this before, being the least likely of the brothers to give in to his more yokai urges. Sure, hissing and growling came to him instinctually and was natural for him to do, but biting? He felt like that was something that he could not allow himself to give into. This was just another blaring reminder that although he walked and talked like one, he was not human. 

He almost considered locking himself up just in case these instincts delved into something deeper, he was quite familiar with the concept of other mutants becoming slave to their more animalistic side. But just before he definitively decided one way or the other, you had persuaded him to go out to a local cafe with him. He came out warily, expecting to want to bite every human he came across, but interestingly enough the instinct had dissipated entirely. He had celebrated internally, maybe just a bit of fresh air was what he needed to push the urges aside, he had been spending too much time in the sewers lately. Maybe it was just the sewer fumes finally getting to his head. 

Yet as soon as he caught a glimpse of you through the window, he could feel the urge to bite come back full force. His eyes slide over to another human, testing out the limits of what he was feeling. As soon as you’re out of his eyesight, the lessens but sure enough when he turns back to look at you, there it is again. 

Although he prefers to use his mouth as a metaphorical weapon, there were times that he had been desperate enough to use it in the literal sense. He had bitten and chewed his way out of many situations before, often getting out of them by quite literally the skin of his teeth. He had bitten to hurt; to wound, but the way he wanted to bite you was something else entirely. 

He had never wanted to bite someone so gently before.  

Donnie hadn’t told you about this urge of his, feeling too embarrassed to even bring it up. He didn’t even want you to know about it, hoping the feeling would pass without ever having to get you involved in it. This whole thing was so stupid, he was better than this. He had seen your shoulders before, it wasn’t like it was anything new, he had known you for years before ever getting into a relationship with you. But now every time he caught a glimpse of your shoulder, he oogled you like a middle school Victorian boy. This was surely just another instinct messing with his head and Donnie being Donnie could surely fight it off on his own. But after two weeks, it persisted. 

He was constantly chewing on the inside of his cheek nowadays, an old stim that had come back in full force these past few weeks. The mindless chewing satisfied him to a point but apparently, it wasn’t enough. 

You were both chilling on the couch watching some mindless video essay on the projector. The urge to bite was lessened when he held you like this but it still lingered in the back of his mind, and he was unconsciously chewing on the inside of his cheek to try to stave it off. You were cuddled perfectly into him and he was content to lay with you for hours. Glancing down to admire you in his arms, he goes still. Your jacket had slipped oh so very slightly down, revealing the entirety of your shoulder to him. 

In his realization of what he was looking at, the urge grew tenfold, and in his momentary loss of control, his teeth sliced clean through the inside of his cheek. He only realizes that he has bitten hard enough to draw blood when the metallic tang seeps into his mouth.

Immediately catching onto the way he had frozen underneath you, you turn to him slightly in curiosity. Not expecting his wide eyes to be staring back at you. 

“Are you… okay?” your eyes flick back and forth between his. 

Donnie just stares at you for a moment before shaking his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts. He nods sharply once and moves to get up, softly shifting you off of him. 

You’re left to sit there in confusion, watching as he briskly walks to the bathroom. 

He shuts the door quietly behind him before quickly making his way over to the sink. Spitting into it, he watches the blood slowly trail down the side and into the drain. He drags a hand down his face and comes to the reality that biting his cheek wouldn’t work forever. 

This was not good. 

So Donnie tried to compensate in other ways. 

He tried buying chew toys, something that he knew had helped Raph before, keeping them hidden around the lair when he felt the urge to bite you. Donnie felt a little foolish ducking away from you and going to bite a chew toy instead, but… it was better than hurting you. 

You had caught onto his slipping away from you and he could see how it concerned you. Amazing, perfect you, had immediately thought that it was something that you had done. He was quick to shut down those thoughts, although he wasn’t entirely truthful as to why it wasn’t you. Unfortunately, his lack of an explanation still made you suspicious of him. He had the conversation with you almost two weeks ago now and you were still zeroed into every slight change in his demeanor. He was now more wary to sneak off in your presence. 

Which led him to this moment; chewing his cheek raw as he fiddled with scrubbing a particularly dirty plate. There was no way he could escape without immediately alerting you; doing the daily chore of washing dishes had become a way for you both to decompress after a long day and it had become a habit you both had come to enjoy. While he washed the dishes, you would dry them and put them together. Leaving now would surely make you think that something was wrong and that would start a conversation about Donnie’s behavior… and yeah, he didn’t want to get into all of that. 

Between keeping up a conversation with you and washing dishes, he can feel his control slipping away from him and chewing his cheek was, again, not helping. He stares into the soapy water, battling with himself before allowing himself a glance towards you. 

Across from him in the kitchen, you’re putting away a stack of glasses in the particularly high cabinet, one that you could only reach if you stood on your tippy toes. You take a glass from the stack and then place it up onto the shelf one by one. In the midst of your movement, there your jacket goes again, loosely hanging off of your shoulders. 

He bites down on his cheek a little harder, the pain from when he cut himself before breaking himself out of his reverie. Donnie sucks in a breath and forces his eyes away from you.

He’s only able to focus on the dishes again for mere moments before his eyes drag themselves back over to you. Before he realizes what he’s doing, his hands slip out of the gloves and he’s already halfway across the kitchen and out reaching toward you. 

Hands sliding across your waist, he pulls you slightly against him before leaning down into your space, his head hovering mere inches over your shoulder. 

Pausing to put away the dishes, you crook your head slightly to him. 

You say something to him in question, but his mind doesn’t register it, he’s too focused on your shoulder. 

Everything else fades to the background as he’s stuck in a stalemate between his mutant and logical mind. His mouth opens, blowing hot breath across your neck causing a shiver to travel up your back.

God, he can’t take this anymore. 

You’re saying something again, trying to catch his attention but he doesn’t hear it. You squirm slightly in his arms but Donnie only tightens them more. 

His eyes bore into your shoulder memorizing every slight muscle shift you make as he brings his mouth down closer. He opens his mouth wider, almost about to bite down-

“Donnie!” You say firmly, pushing against his embrace. 

You shrug him off easily, successfully breaking whatever hold his instincts had on him and turn to him exasperated. 

“What has gotten into you?”

Donnie stands there, at a loss for words. 

Which rarely happens to him, he often seems to have way too many.

He fumbles with his words, “I uh-.”

You stand there expectantly waiting for him to talk. 

Donnie’s mouth opens and closes like a fish before just stopping entirely. 

“We can’t just keep dancing around each other like this.” You huff out, “There is obviously something wrong with you and I think it’s reasonable enough to want to know why.” 

You cross your arms one over the other as you look at him, muscles shifting slightly beneath your skin.

Unfortunately, this means Donnie is distracted once more by you. 

Focus, Donnie.

They’re expecting an answer. 

Donnie’s mouth opens once again to respond. “I-”

“And don’t try to explain it away this time. You might be smarter than me, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb.” 

“I never said that.” He bristles at the implication. “You sure imply it when you won’t trust me with what you’re going through.” You bite out. 

His eyes drop down to your shoulder once more, before flicking back up to meet your gaze.

“I want to bite you.” He blurts out. 

You take an ever so slight step backwards from him and he feels his heart drop into his stomach. 

“You want to what?” 

It’s not entirely an accusatory statement and he’s sure that you’re only asking for clarification but he can only feel the dread of what he’s about to explain to you creeping up on him.  

“I want to… bite you,” he repeats.

It all suddenly seems so real when Donnie says it out loud and it leaves an uncomfortable feeling on his tongue. He wants desperately to be rid of it. 

“That’s why I’ve been acting all weird.” His face scrunches up in frustration with himself and he taps his palm against his forehead. 

“My mutant instincts are messing with my mind. You know when people get cuteness aggression; when they like something so much their brain doesn’t know what to do with itself and instead counteracts it with something negative. Well,” He swallows. “I think that’s what’s happening to me… with you.”

You both stand there for an agonizing couple of beats before the sentence fully registers in your mind. 

“Oh. Oh...” You huff out a laugh in relief. “That’s what all of this has been about? I was beginning to think that you didn’t like me anymore.”

“What? No! This is the turtle side of me saying I want to be near you… though not in the most productive way, I might add.” He murmurs the last part out. 

“Donnie, why wouldn’t I understand this part of you?” Stepping forward, you take his hands into yours, softly laughing. “I mean you already purr and hiss like a cat.”

Donnie takes a little offense at the comment, but it's hard to hide the smile creeping up from the corner of his lips. He’s just glad that you’re still joking with him. 

“It’s called ��churring’, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, uh huh. You overgrown cat.” You smile playfully at him before turning a bit more serious. “When I got into this relationship, I wasn’t expecting you to be human, I don’t need you to be human. I need you to be Donnie.” 

He squeezes your hand and nods.

 “I know, I know.” He murmurs, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead.  “But I am sorry for keeping it hidden from you, I’m just afraid of-”

“Hurting me?” You finish his sentence. “I don’t think you could ever hurt me on purpose.”

“I’ve tried to distract myself from it with other things but I have yet to try… giving in. It might go away if I can.” Donnie clears his throat before looking to the side, feeling a blush start to bloom on his cheeks. “If that is something you would be interested in.”

“I might” You smile playfully. “...How do you feel right now?”

Donnie thinks for a moment, the urge is still there but it’s lessened considerably.

“I think-” He swallows. “I think I’m okay for now.”

“Next time this urge happens, please let me know. I’m fine with it, but I just need a warning, you know?”

His instincts had given him a much-needed break for the rest of the day and he was able to act normal (well Donnie’s usual normal anyway) for the rest of the day. After finishing up the chores in the kitchen you both had gone through the motions of the day before finally settling into bed. Donnie’s body was curled around you as the big spoon and you both watched whatever videos that happened across your phone. Both of you had fallen into a sort of trance as you both watched the screen and Donnie could feel sleep beginning to tug at his eyelids. 

But of course, there was that feeling again. 

Donnie's head falls against your back in defeat as he can feel the urge to bite you rising again. He really didn’t want to ruin this moment with you, but you had said that you wanted him to be more honest with you… and that was something he could honor. 

Donnie props himself up onto one of his forearms and leans slightly over you so that he can see your face a bit more clearly. He murmurs your name softly and you murmur back in response. 

“Can I…?” He leaves the rest of the question in the air. 

You turn your head a bit more to look at him and set down your phone, the sleep in your gaze slowly wearing off as you recognize what he’s asking you. 

“O-oh. Yes, of course.” You adjust a little bit in his hold before asking hesitantly, “Do I need to do something?”

He slowly shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t think so. Just tell me as soon as I go too far.” He murmurs out, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay.” You murmur back.

He wraps his arms around you once more, holding you loosely against him just in case you want to pull away before reaching up to slowly drag the fabric of your shirt away from your shoulder. Donnie breath blows across your shoulder again as he hesitates once more. 

“I’m serious. Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nod softly.

His tongue sweeps across his teeth as he makes a final nervous swallow before opening his mouth once more, going as slow as possible from him too, giving you ample time to tell him to stop. He needs to be careful with you, any fast movements from either of you and he could break skin. Although he wanted to bite, he didn’t want to cause you pain. Donnie’s mouth hovers for a few moments before finally settling it onto your shoulders. 

You involuntarily flinch when he bites down on you and Donnie immediately stops, pausing to see your reaction.  

“You’re okay, Donnie.” You breathe out, “Just… surprised me is all.”

He hesitantly continues, slowly but steadily increasing the pressure of the bite just up until the point where he is too afraid that he’ll break the skin. He holds the pressure there; just languishing in the moment. The instincts seem to have settled in his chest, satisfied and he pulls away. 

When he sees the bite mark, he can’t stop the involuntary churring reverberating from his chest, and dear god, was his tail wagging too? He didn’t churr often and when he did, it was-

Embarrassing…

You turn to him slightly with a smile creeping out of the side of your mouth. “Happy?”

He huffs through his nostrils and nudges his head against yours, feeling too embarrassed to admit that simply biting you could make him get like this. 

His snout nudges in between your neck and shoulder, planting a soft kiss there. 

You pat the arm that he has wrapped around you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

He peppers another kiss along your collarbone before maneuvering so that he hovers over you, now able to reach more of your neck. Donnie feels your heartbeat get faster through the kisses he leaves along your shoulder. 

One bite mark would deter off another Yokai, but it's less likely for them to see it if he only left one, it would be better if he left more. 

And you did say that it was okay for him to bite. 

He leaves one kiss along your neck, nipping slightly before pulling away, checking for discomfort. 

"Oh c’mon, Don.” You laugh slightly, allowing him to continue. “I'm not made of paper.” 

His churr deepens as he leaves bites along your collarbone and your shoulders. Your heartbeat picks up and your hearts beat in unison, tangling yourself into one. Donnie’s instincts demanded more and more of you only stopping when you let out a gasp. 

He pulls back, checking over your face for signs of pain. 

Your face is scrunched up slightly into a grimace. 

“Donnie, I’m okay.” You reassure him. 

He opens his mouth to respond and he notices the tang of blood in his mouth. 

Not his blood, yours.

His eyes flash down to your shoulder again, seeing red just beginning to bloom on your shoulder. The churring in his chest peters out as he feels his stomach drop. 

There it was, blaring proof that he went too far. 

“I knew this was a bad idea.” He murmurs to himself. 

He can fix this, he can fix this. 

He clambers out of the bed and starts to leave to get supplies. 

Sitting up in bed, you reach out to stop him but you’re unable to. 

“Donnie-” You start to get up to follow but he gently stops you from getting up. 

“Stay.” He says firmly. 

Sitting back down, you instead watch Donnie leave, making his way out of the bedroom before coming back with a first aid kit and ice pack in hand. He quickly makes his way over to you again, laying out the first aid kit before picking out an antiseptic wipe. 

“Donnie, I’ll be fine you didn’t even bite that hard…” Your words trail off as you watch his expression change into one where you know he’s made up his mind. 

He pulls the collar of your shirt down so he can look at it a bit closer. He feels a sort of pride as he looks at the mark, one that immediately sours.  

“You are never going to let me do this again.” He says firmly, taking the wipe out of the package. “I don’t care how much my instincts tell me to.” 

He presses it into your shoulder and you flinch a bit at the sting of it. 

There are so many bite marks… all of these will surely bruise. 

He busies himself as he cleans up the various marks on you, everything else fading into the background. 

“Donatello.” 

He pauses, he hasn’t heard you say his actual name in a while. 

You lift a hand to his face, softly guiding him to look at you. 

"Accidents happen. I knew it might hurt… you knew it might hurt. We went through with it anyway.” You drag a thumb across his cheek before letting your hand fall to your side. “I don't regret letting you bite me.”

Donnie opens his mouth to protest but you give him a look that makes him shut it once more. 

“If this is something your instincts are telling you to do, then there must be some reason behind it all. Just ignoring it obviously didn’t help last time and it won’t help in the future. If I have to get some love bites from you once in a while, I think I’m okay with that.” You say gently, “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and even if you do, I trust you.” 

Of course, you had to pull out the genuine love and affection, you knew exactly how fast that it takes him to crumble under that kind of pressure. 

 Donnie sighs, “God, I love you so much.”

He pulls you to him, leaning his forehead against yours. 

You laugh softly, “I love you too.”

Donnie maneuvers the both of you so that you’re sitting in his lap, the deep churring starting up again, although lessened from before. You sink into his embrace, enjoying the feeling of the reverberations traveling up through his plastron and onto your back. 

Donnie continues to patch you up, going into medic mode so you both sit there in silence enjoying each other’s company. Once finished with cleaning up the bite mark, he places a soft kiss on it and you let out a soft hum. 

He warns you before he carefully places an ice pack onto your shoulder, while his other hand traces circles across your other forearm.

Leaning your head back so that it's propped up on his shoulder, you smile up at him. 

Donnie is so focused on holding the ice pack to your bite that his eyes only just flicker over to yours before going back to what he was doing. His brows scrunch together as he slowly peels back the ice pack to check for bruising. 

“If biting makes you all lovey-dovey, I don’t think I mind it.” 

He lets out a huff of breath, that directly counteracts the churring’s volume that heightens considerably. 

He wasn’t going to admit it, but he didn’t mind it either.

“Donnie?” 

He responds with a simple hum. 

“Does this mean I get to bite you?”

[lovesick-joey]

Good Job.

"You really went on your own?"

Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.

"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."

Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"

Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."

"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."

As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."

Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.

"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"

Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?

Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.

He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.

"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.

It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"

"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."

What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"

Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"

Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.

"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."

"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."

Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."

Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."

The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?

Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.

"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"

"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"

Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.

He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.

TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes

[maliro-t]

The highlight of Veilguard for me is the relationship between Solas and Rook- and I don't know how to write about this on the internet without being acutely aware of other peoples' criticisms (such as there not being enough of it)- so I'll just say up top that I'm not actually intending this as a refutation of any of those. I just want to talk about my experience with the game and why I like it so much, which will probably make obvious where I disagree with some reoccurring critiques I've seen. *

The thing about Solas in this game is that he plays the role of the trickster perfectly. As much as Fen'Harel is a myth or a persona, and the stories we know of him invented or twisted, his role in Veilguard feels like it could slot in so, so easily with the myths, and in many ways directly parallels them. He is sinister and noble, monstrous and sympathetic, ruthless and compassionate, all at once. He spends the game trapped and humbled but can be almost gleefully condescending at times. He conflates outsmarting an enemy with being right, even as he plays the long-suffering martyr, tortured by countless mistakes. He falls easily into the role of advisor but is quick to note your foolishness. To sneer and declare the problem yours and yet still impose upon you an appraisal of your conduct.

But more than any of that, for most of the game, he's...passive. Dormant. He seems to make no moves, other than as a glorified consultant, despite starting as the main threat.

In Blood of Arlathan, when he finally rears his head again as major a player on the board, it's with a gallant offer of help. As an ally. He is exactly what you need, right when you need it, and you don't even have to ask him to be. And- because you don't have constant access to him, you maybe haven't even considered him an option!

He feels extremely intentionally sparing to me before this in service of a) making you think you're the one with power over him and b) causing you to forget he might contribute at all, so that when he finally does, it seems wholly benevolent. It comes in a moment where your goals are exactly aligned, and indisputably noble.

It's a waiting game. A classic of his, harkening back to stories we've heard time and again about Fen'harel and traps.

As Felassan tells it in the Masked Empire:

Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped.

He goads his enemies into fighting each other for his benefit. Anaris, who had hunted him, succeeds with Fen'Harel's advice, exploiting a weakness he could only see with his aid. In turn, Anaris himself is left exposed. The victory goes to Fen'Harel, who has now dispatched two enemies at once and cleverly won his freedom.

He who was both Creator and Forgotten One. Who could walk amongst both as kin, and who in the end turned his back on them all.

Another tale:

The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.

Felassan is everywhere in the Crossroads, in memories, in regrets, in notes that speak to a time you can barely fathom and traces of a friendship that is never once brought up by Solas directly (to my knowledge at least). I think Felassan serves a lot of purposes; he's a window into history, into Solas' mind and ideals, someone who challenges moments of ruthlessness but is loyal, an advisor who keeps Solas grounded even as he pushes him to become something larger than he is, a lingering notion of a loss that you can never really see the full scale of, and so on. And I think, too, that he's written carefully to be a meaningful presence from the rebellion without explicitly spoiling what eventually happens to him, which I wouldn't be surprised if was a legit consideration made for people who might go back and read the Masked Empire after dav lol- in the same way that Trespasser only really spoils the book if you already know what happens.

But for me, every note signed with his name is almost a tongue-in-cheek warning about what's to come. Felassan. A slow arrow, fired apparently mockingly into the sky, only to strike true when it's least expected. A solution executed with neither kindness nor explanation, serving first and foremost the interests of the one who fired it. Felassan's presence in the game ever so slightly encodes a reminder of who you're actually dealing with and what his core tenants are, whether as an ally or an adversary. You only know if you know, but it doesn't seem an accident to me that this reoccurring name of a general who shaped himself in honor of the Dread Wolf's unorthodox cleverness is so key to these traces of Fen'Harel's past, despite, again, never directly being discussed.

Anyways, to Rook. First, I gotta give a shoutout to Bryony Corrigan, whose voice I used for mine- she honestly made the game for me, especially in moments where I felt unsure of it. I love Rook, I love how they're written, and I love how they're performed. While a complete blank slate protagonist can be really fun, I find putting myself as a player in conversation with limitations given by the game really fun and interesting, and often surprising! And I do feel there's still plenty of flexibility.

My perspective on the relationship between Rook and Solas in Veilguard is specific to how I played of course, and I haven't seen other versions of their dynamic at this point to compare so I can't speak to them. But my experience was as such:

I didn't come into the game wanting to intentionally antagonize him. If he rose at me, I rose at him- and those moments of tension were really, really fun. But I tried to accept what he gave me with a fairly open mind. Skepticism, sure, but also the knowledge that ultimately, we both wanted Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain gone, and he knew them better than I did.

It was really gratifying, then, to see our rocky partnership evolve over time into what seemed like a genuine respect. But it didn't really feel straightforward to me either. For example, the conversation before Weisshaupt held a lot of weight for me: listening to him tell that chilling tale about undermining an enemy with persistent laughter and finding that 'Do whatever it takes to remove those who oppose you' was something we came out aligned on was.... There was an element of foreboding to that. Like, I had found myself actively trying to impress him here! And feeling good when it seemed like I had, but uneasy about how I had done it, even when I agreed with what I'd said.

And of course, after that comes Arlathan. Solas' big hero moment. This is the point in the game where our alliance finally felt comfortable to me. The conversation in the fade after was the first time that it really seemed like we were on even ground. And the game- not just Solas- told me here outright that I had earned his respect! After that, I didn't consider betrayal a possibility for a moment. Honestly, I barely even considered him an antagonist at all, because he had become a partner instead! I was expecting something clever down the line, but I wasn't worried about it hurting me. Our disagreements had been set aside, and the goal of his that I had initially opposed had been so thoroughly usurped I had forgotten that he was even pursuing it. And yes, that's perhaps naivety on my part, but I was so distracted by that not at all being the main plot that I forgot that it actually still was. Which is the whole point, right? He waits until your head is turned the other way to strike.

All this to say, my reaction when you kill Ghilan'nain and Solas uses the instability of the Veil to force you into his prison went beyond shock and confusion. It wasn't until well into his villain monologue that I was able to accept that he had betrayed me at all- having been thus far trying desperately to convince myself that the sequence I was seeing was Elgar'nan playing mind games in retaliation, and not actually Solas.

That prison moment is his Slow Arrow. You are Anaris to Elgar'nan's Andruil, the dagger the chink in her armor, and Ghilan'nain's death the golden arrow striking you in the back.

The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

And I should say, I was coming at this all from the meta perspective of someone who loves Solas and empathizes with him and has never seen him as irredeemable or evil- and I, the player, who believed that all game and is ultimately satisfied with the resolution I got- felt hoodwinked as fuck in this moment lmao!!

There's a line in the prison that Varric has about it being easier for Solas to play the villain when he knows he's causing harm- so I do think he plays up his sinisterness here on purpose. But it's such a slap in the face coming straight off of "You have earned the respect of the Dread Wolf." A true and profound betrayal, at least for me.

And it doesn't stop there! His trickster maneuvers and half-truths aren't done until the credits roll. I love that when you meet again, he is nothing but apologies. He makes every concession- that Varric was a good man, that every victory in this fight has been yours, that he needs you and not the other way around, that he was wrong and made mistakes and betrayed people who never deserved it. And of course, we know from experience at this point that this won't stop him from doing it again anyways. But he never holds back from placing the blame on himself. Agreeing with you. Telling you you're right, and that Elgar'nan must be stopped. He only ever says things that are true. Things that are aligned with your point of view.

"[The veil] will never come down by my hand." Well, yes. Because it will fall on its own when Elgar'nan is dead. You won't hardly have to do anything at that point, Solas, will you?

It doesn't matter if Rook isn't falling for it, because if they don't accept his partnership, they lose! That's it! It's the same as it was at the start, but with the added sting of knowing it probably won't work out in your favor this time.

I remember before launch John Epler saying that Solas sees himself in Rook, which really echoes throughout the whole game for me. There are some ways you could say Solas seems opposite to Rook- and of course this can wax and wane depending on roleplaying choices, but the central conceit of Rook as Varric's recruit is that they are a specialist in being willing to act. And on the surface at least, that's kind of counter to Solas' Slow Arrow, right? Blunt force versus delayed gratification. But not entirely! Because every backstory we have for Rook revolves around a kind of heroism that is unorthodox enough to have left you ultimately punished for it. Like yeah, yeah, you saved some lives.... The optics were kinda bad though, so maybe you could go on a sabbatical for a while?

Rook is, from the start, an unconventional and unsung hero, admonished by some for ruffling feathers that they shouldn't have in pursuit of a noble goal. Not unlike Fen'Harel.

I find, too, that there's kind of a nesting doll of parallels around Rook and Solas as foils that the whole story hinges on:

We see Solas, his regrets plastered on every wall, each of them tied to Mythal. At every turn he seems to warn her that this is not the right path, but he follows her down it anyways, until he is left with nothing but an overwhelming need to fix what they have broken.

We see Felassan, who still wears Mythal's vallaslin on his face, challenging Solas' judgement and methods, but still standing by him through the rebellion, after the Veil, for however many thousands of years they slept. Ultimately, in the Masked Empire, the thing that makes him falter is his admiration for someone else's pursuit of freedom. His admiration for Briala.

"I suspect you'll hate this, but she reminds me of-"

Solas is Rook. Solas is Briala. Upstarts, flawed defenders, people who are made into leaders because of their willingness to fight for something. Who see injustice and cannot rest.

Solas is Felassan, the devoted general. One who pushes against his orders but cannot deny them. Someone who loves the cause, but more than that is dedicated to the person who champions it. A voice of reason who, in the end, turns away.

Solas is Mythal, a pragmatic leader, responsible for uncountable deaths. Someone who has relied on partners and power structures that have led her down a dark path, partners whose mistakes in their pursuit of power have become her own. Partners who in the end betray her.

Solas is trapped in his regrets because they are not all his. He struggles with having been failed and with how he has failed others, and in his mind the two become conflated. He carries these contradictory roles on his back- perpetrator and victim, betrayer and betrayed- and cannot see how to overcome them. He is ultimately freed by Mythal's absolution because the foremost factor in his crusade is not belief but guilt.

The ends have to justify the means, because there is no other way he can live with himself. And at every step, he is trying to redeem Mythal as much as he is trying to redeem himself.

He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He wanted to give wisdom, not orders. I will always follow where you go.

He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

It was all for her. It was always for her.

Solas' duplicity is unending, but so is his devotion. And there is such an earnestness to a Rook, always betrayed, that sees and empathizes with that and uses it to free him.

* I will say that during the game I was definitely wishing you could show your hand to him a little more and press him about his memories prior to the endgame (and separate from this I have quibbles with the impact of some of those memory reveals- like wrt the delivery just not feeling as weighty as I would like. The payoff is absolutely still there in the end, it just felt to me like they were too nonchalantly getting a ton of info out that had to be established moving forward, despite these being like earthshattering reveals that people have Correctly (!!!!) theorized about for up to 15 years). That being said, in retrospect it would have lessened the impact of the finale to have pressed Solas about, for example, his relationship to Mythal prior to absolutely pulling the rug out from under him with it at the 11th hour. And additionally, it's a structural nightmare because you can uncover the memories at almost any point in the story, and you don't have constant access to Solas to chat with him about them. Which you shouldn't imo, in service to the story being told!! But it's also true that early on I found scenes with Solas super gripping, and scenes with my team often...not. And that was initially disheartening, but developed positively over time on all fronts once the game didn't have to worry about setting things up. So, I did wish for more here at first, but I've revised my opinion now that I can see the whole arc.

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[meiluu]

omg omg omg I've got an idea!! So... mean and demanding Cloud when he was controlled by Sephiroth?? Like you know how he's usually so nice and soft during that time... well now he's the opposite? I mean only if you're comfortable with it of course

I love this idea and, so here's a little something that came to mind after reading this...

CW: SMUT 18+, a bit dark, Angst, Cloud isn't fully there and his actions are being influenced by Sephiroth. smut below the cut. *NOT EDITED*

Cloud your sweet boyfriend, who could be a bit icy on the outside but when he's with you that icy nature melts and underneath that layer is a young man who craves your love like he needs air. Wholly devoted to you, his heart handed to you for safe keeping forevermore.

But with the threat of the planet and the loaming shadow of sephiroth, cloud has been...different to say the least. Quick to give into his anger and frustration, especially on the battlefield. Acting strangely towards some of the other members in your merry little group. You had thought that maybe it would lessen over time, but it only seem to do the opposite. But even with all of this you made it clear to cloud that you were there for him, yet he seemed to brush you off nodding absentmindedly.

It hurt you to say the least, but you held strong and continued to remain by his side. And your efforts seemed to be paying off, slowly cloud had begun to seek you out after battles and when he needed your comforting.

Although this time seemed different from others, his mako infused eyes held an emotion that had your hair standing up on end.

A muffled cry of pleasure leaves you as Cloud continues his near brutal thrusts. On your knees with your head partially buried into your pillow, you can feel Clouds strong and unyielding grip on your hips as he ruts into you like he was a starved animal. When he had come to you after another day of fighting monsters as they followed the trial towards Sephiroth, you had expected a typical cuddle session or made some soft sex to come down from the stressful day. Not this.

Its not that you didn't like this, it was just something Cloud had never really done. He always took his time with you, relishing in your shared time together. And even when he did get a bit carried away you could always feel the love with his actions or with his pleasure filled words.

"Cloud- too much I-" your words are hard to get out with your moans breaking them up. Hands gripping into the sheets as you lift your head turning it to the side to see Cloud. Eyes focusing in on his gorgeous face, his eyes are locked onto where his cock is thrusting in and out of your cunt. His eyes rise to meet yours, pupils blown wide at the view in front of him. A smirk crawls onto his face, then he is moving his hands from your hips to beside yours that are still gripping onto the sheets. "You can take it, you were made for this- For me." His near patronizing words are barely registered with the new angle he has you in. Cock going so deep hitting the spots within you that had the breath leaving your lungs in a moaned cry. One calloused hand of Cloud clasps onto one of yours while the other goes underneath your chin. Acting as a makeshift collar, turning your head towards his. Mako gazing piercing yours.

"You're mine, this-" a thrust accentuates his words cock bullying itself deeper into your orgasming cunt, "is only for me. So perfect just for me."

[hotchreid-cm]

Forgot / Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: You tell Hotch to go home after a long case.

It was a long case. One of those cases that as soon as you arrive back at the office you just want to go home. And that's what everyone did.

Except you and Hotch. You weren't ready to go home yet. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't quite ready to let Hotch out of your sight. You almost lost him tonight.

You look up from your desk, your eyes drifting to his office, the light spilling through the slats in the window. Hotch is hunched over his desk, rubbing his temples, you assume with his eyes closed.

You're up and walking before you even realise what you're doing. A soft knock on the door and a quiet 'come in', bring you Hotch now leaning back in his chair looking directly at you.

You clear your throat, "what are you still doing here? I thought you would have gone home as soon as we were back?"

Hotch gestures to the papers on his desk, "I think the cleaning crew may have knocked some papers over and tried to put them back together. Only they're now in the wrong order and I have to file them tomorrow."

You watch Hotch rub at his temples again, eyes screwed shut like his lamp light is too bright for him.

"I'll put them back in the right order. You go home."

Hotch shakes his head, "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's not your job and I'm sure you're tired and ready to go home."

You step into his office fully, "its lucky you're not asking then."

He looks at you with some surprise, and a very faint smile.

You gesture for him to rise from the chair, "it doesn't take a profiler to know that you're in pain and you need rest. Go home, see Jack and get some sleep."

He studies you for a moment and as always you have to fight the urge to squirm under his heavy gaze.

You're not sure if he knows that he has a smoulder hot enough to make a nuns panties go up in flames, but he uses it on you all the time. And let's just say you're glad you're not a religious woman as all the times you've thought about him while in bed would surely be your one way ticket to downstairs.

You've always had an attraction to Hotch from the moment you joined the team. Only he was so closed off that you could never tell if he felt the same.

But after tonight, after he got taken, you knew the attraction was becoming something more. Something dangerous, too real.

You crushed him in a hug and held him a little longer than was professionally appropriate when you finally found him. But you didn't care, nothing matters when it came to losing the people you loved. All you wanted to do was take care of him.

Hotch rose from his desk and reached for his briefcase, "you're sure about this?"

You flash him a smile, "absolutely, I've got no one waiting for me at home, especially no one as adorable as Jack. I'll get the files ready for the morning, after you're well rested."

Hotch nods, walking towards you and the door to his office. He surprises you when his large hand covers your forearm, "thank you."

He looks so deeply into your eyes as he says it, you're afraid he can see every secret you've ever had, your soul laid bare.

And then he's gone, striding down the hall and out of the glass doors.

Your breath leaves you all at once as you move to sit in the chair he just vacated.

The air still smells like him and it comforts you when your brain brings back those terrifying moments of the case just passed.

You just start to sort through the papers when Hotch rushes back into the office.

You stand at the abruptness of the unexpected intrusion, "Hotch? What is it? What's wrong?"

He blows out a breath like he had run all the way back here, "I forgot something"

"What? What did you forget?"

He strides across the room and around the desk, both hands covering your cheeks as he brings your face closer to his.

When your lips meet, your surprise melts along with your mouth against his. Your body naturally leans into his strong one, taking strength you didn't know you needed.

When you open to him, and your tongues meet, one of his hands slides to your waist. He tries to bring your bodies closer, to feel you, and connect you like he never wants to let you go.

When he finally pulls away, his thumb brushes your bottom lip, "I forgot you. But I don't think I'll be making that mistake again. I'll see you in the morning."

And then he was gone, leaving you giggling like a school girl in his office.

A/N: Thank you for reading! It's my first Hotch fic so please be nice 🥹 just wrote this quickly on my phone so not proofread or edited.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next