#and deny that you have any sort of privilege at all

[lostryu]

some of y’all get really mad when we ask you to acknowledge your privilege and i think that’s pretty telling of your character.

[spitblaze]

gnc and butch women (cis AND trans) and transmascs are punished for performing masculinity past certain thresholds of arbitrary attractiveness because people that cishet society categorizes or clocks as 'women' are not supposed to perform masculinity. hope this helps 👍

[papaya-twinks]

mauve - l.n - p.1

Warnings: Mentions of sexism, swearing.

Pairing: Lando Norris x williams!fem!reader

Taglist: @cheriiepies @jan1on @sagestack @fall-bambi @meglouise00 @eclipsedcherry @suzzie105 @rebelatbay @fly-me-away @cabbyhabs @djoenthusiast @georgeparisole

The announcement of you being the new driver to fill the seat of Logan Sargent had taken everyone by surprise. For many reasons - but it wasn’t a secret to see that you being a woman was more than likely the centre piece of most people’s surprise.

You knew what you were getting into when you signed that contract, and when you shook James Vowles’ hands, you knew there would be uproar. But you were good, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. And whether the keyboard warriors at home wanted you there or not, you were there to race.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Lando wasn’t a sexist person in the slightest. He gave as much respect as he could to women, and he knew that being a woman was tough, but he couldn’t help being a little bewildered as he read over the announcement from the F1 page.

There was no doubt going to be a lot of pressure on you, tenfold what a usual, well, a usual man would receive when they would start in F1. But reading your reply, your joking reply, made Lando frown. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much.

He simply told himself he didn’t care, but surely you should show some sort of…humbleness? Not that there was anything wrong with joking around and stuff, but you were in a privileged position, one of merely twenty, so there should be some sort of modesty.

“Mate, have you seen Williams have gone for some chick?” Max asked, looking over to his best friend as Lando snapped out his thought. Lando was sprawled across the sofa, wearing dark black joggers and a hoodie, a cap pulled low on his head.

“It’s cool, I guess,” Lando said, unsure what to truly say. He didn’t want to make a remark that seemed sexist, when his intentions weren’t as such, so he just didn’t say anything. “It’s gonna be…interesting,” Max said with a small shrug, “you coming golf, then?”.

Lando would never turn down golf. And as he swung his club over his flexing shoulders, the ball sending far down the grass mound, all thoughts of you had fled his mind. He didn’t even understand why he cared. He didn’t care, that’s what he told himself.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

One of Lando’s pet hates was being forced to bring himself to the pre-season grid photo. But he couldn’t deny he wasn’t curious. Other than you, there weren’t any new drivers on the grid, except a few move-arounds, which was rare in some aspects.

“You saw her tweet, right?” Max asked as he zipped up his suit, letting the woman on the stool adjust his hair. “Yeah, she’s taking the piss, mate,” Lando said, dodging the woman and fixing his own hair in the mirror.

You weren’t there with the drivers or the stylists as you were a woman, meaning you got your own space to dress and change. “She’s decent on the eyes, though,” Daniel said, nudging Lando as he rolled his eyes.

“Calm down,” Lando snickered, “she’s, like, 12 or something,” he shrugged, “little bit young for you, or is that the age you go for?”. Finally, the 19 male drivers were ushered out into the area of the Bahrain track, the cars lined up behind them, as they stood in boxes in their pairs.

“Classic girl, right?” Lando whispered to Oscar as the Aussie laughed, noticing you hadn’t come out. And finally, as Lando and Oscar continued chatting away, Max joining in behind them, you walked out. You were pretty, yes, Lando could give you that.

But Lando was hot, he knew that. Well, in his own words, he was ‘alright’. And looks got you nowhere in terms of pure, racing talent. Lando hadn’t even seen you race but he had one thing in his mind already. That there wasn’t an ounce of talent flowing through your veins. Not a drop.

Daniel whispered something along the lines of, ‘They welcome grid girls back?’ as you accepted Alex’s hand, letting him pull you onto the box beside him. The suit fit you well, showing off your body in all the right places as you copied Alex’s stance.

You were directly behind Lando, and he could basically hear you breathing, as he pushed you to the back of his mind, setting his stoic expression for the camera. Maybe he should talk to you. Him and Oscar were once again shushed from their random chatting, as he huffed.

“Smile,” the cameraman said, as Lando gave a somewhat forced one, his usual shining smile clearly outdone by your radiant one. It was obvious you were happy to be there. But, for some reason which was hardly your own fault, Lando wasn’t happy for you to be there.

“Car shots, now!” a woman with a clipboard called out, directing each pairing of driver’s to their car. Once again, the Williams was placed beside the McLaren, almost like a clash of colour together, to show of their vibrancy compared to the dullness of the Mercedes of the VCARB.

If you blurred the lines of the McLaren and the Williams, you’d be left with mauve. Once the photos had been taken, the drivers had 30 minutes just talk and catch up with each other, as winter break had finally finished and most hadn’t spoke to each other for a while.

Lando watched with a half bitter expression as some of the drivers, his teammate included, as well as Carlos and Max, went over to you to introduce themselves. “Hello,” you were saying as Lando begrudgingly walked over to the group of drivers.

“New Williams driver, then?” Max said, stepping back subconsciously to let Lando into the circle. “Yeah,” you replied as Max smirked. “Well, you can light up the rear of the grid for us,” Carlos said with a nod as you smile somewhat faded.

In some ways, the Spaniard was right, the Williams, judging by last year and the year before, was in no place to fight for the top ten, let alone wins, but it did hurt to be put down so early. Before you’d even driven, actually.

“Maybe even the front, hopefully,” Alex said, shooting Max and Carlos a half-forced smile. “Quit it, mate,” Oscar shook his head with an amused smile as you followed Alex to examine the car. “McLaren’s looking good,” you said, kneeling down to examine the side of the car.

“Don’t get too close, there,” a voice said, making you jump as you straightened, seeing Lando. “Uh, I didn’t plan on it,” you said, cheeks a little red as he nodded. “Right,” he said, “it’s a good car, no?” he asked, eyes flashing across your face to gauge your reaction.

“Looks fast,” you said, eyes on the car, trailing over the bodywork. “Well, I’ll see you later, then,” Lando said with a half-hearted smile, “maybe when I lap you, I doubt I’ll be as low on the grid to pay you a visit,” he said coolly.

“I admire your confidence,” you said coolly, still looking over the car, Lando’s somewhat cocky nature faltering for a second. “Stay in your lane, Y/L/N,” he nearly hissed, leaning forwards as you felt his breath fan across your face, “and don’t step out of it,”.

A/N - Comment if you want to be in the tag list 💜

[endlessdreamworld]

for the yandere alphabet thing could u do aventurine from hsr?

H, N, S, and T

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? You'd go through many hells with this absolutely shattered individual, Aventurine's Inferno if you will. A different hell for a different sin. One of the more common hells you might experience is the one that manifests from any kind of firm rejection. He's initially understanding about this aspect of your relationship. In his earlier years, he's had to do many many many things things that he didn't want to. But he learned to swallow of his pride and do what needs to be done, so why can't you? The ultimate taboo would be an escape attempt (if it comes to that) or trying to end the relationship in some sort of way. You can't do that to him! Why would you do that?! Are you really going to abandon him just like that? Like everyone else? Why whywhy why

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? He wouldn't really want to enact any kind of punishments initially during the adjustment period. In fact, he'd want to start it as a normal relationship and only veer into the danger zone if it comes to that. He's on the delusional end of things -- a very "This hurts me more, than it does you." He'd stick to non violent punishments, which sounds nice but it ends up being worse in many ways.

The typical punishment would be a solitary confinement type of situation where you stare at blank walls to deny you any and all stimulation so the next time the door opens, you'll be grateful for his presence, as you should be. If you were particularly petulant, it's isolation but worse. You'd be isolated in darkness with the lights coming on irregularly.

A combination of white room torture and sleep deprivation is enough to break your brain a little bit in ways that pain couldn't -- not that he'd ever actually physically hurt you. Pain makes you defiant, as does taking away privileges. He knew that from experience. But some extreme isolation? That'll do plenty.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? He is the logical product of his upbringing. Everyone who he crossed paths with in his earlier years, outside of his far earlier years with his family, was a miserable experience. The guy was used in every conceivable way, so meeting a genuine soul that wants the best for him drives him crazy. He'd try to behave normally, or as normal as can be, but his darling would be walking around in a minefield although they wouldn't know until they stepped on a mine.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? It breaks his heart, truly. That it even had to come to that is agonizing but there's really no other choice. Letting you go? Of course not, you're basically already married in his mind. He just needs to work his way up. Seeing your tears and heartbreak would spur the instinct at the core of him where he wants -- no, needs to provide for you. Tears and crying means you need to be comforted. Of course, you'd want anything other than having him near you like that. What you really crave is space, but the wires in his brain aren't connected properly. Tears would be met with rewards, rejection would be met with some punishments.

[wisteria-lodge]

I LOVE the version of Lucius in your fic Prison of the Phoenix. He's different from a lot of portrayals I've seen. Why did you decide to write him how you did?

A lot of the fun of writing a book-accurate fix-it fic comes from taking the events of the book, and removing JKRs (simplistic, misleading, sometimes just weird) narrative framing. Slytherins = baddies, Gryffindors = goodies, you know. 

This is especially fun with Lucius Malfoy, who just like… isn’t very evil? Chamber of Secrets is his most villainous book, and I’ll get to that, but otherwise? He tries (unsuccessfully) to get the animal that attacked his kid killed. He donates to hospitals (but in like, an evil way.) He is a hilariously incompetent Death Eater, and then he's Voldemort’s punching bag. 

That’s kind of the point of Lucius. He looks the part. He commits to the aesthetics of the thing, with the hair and the peacocks and the snake-wand-cane. He likes the mystique of walking into a room and knowing that you know (but can’t prove) he’s a dark wizard. It allows him to be… kinda lazy. He can coast on his family name, money, reputation, privilege. I really think that if you sat Lucius Malfoy down and asked him to walk you through all the wizard-supremacy talking points he wouldn’t be able to do it. He’ll toss around words like “mudblood” and “mudblood-lover” no problem, but in the end he doesn’t really care. Lucius is not a true believer. The way the world is set up benefits him tremendously and he doesn’t want Voldemort back. That’s just text:

“Use your brains, Ron,” said Bill. “If they really were Death Eaters… I bet they’d be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they’d ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives… I don’t reckon he’d be over-pleased with them, do you?”

Lucius and friends had too much to drink at a sporting event, put on the old outfits (again with the aesthetics) and started levitating muggles. Which obviously isn’t GOOD, but they’re not killing or torturing, or furthering any kind of agenda. It’s important that Barty is so insulted and pissed off by the way they’re basically playing Dark Wizard that he casts the Dark Mark to “show [them] what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it.” Which kicks off most of the events of the book. 

Prison of the Phoenix is going to have a companion, parallel fic told from Harry’s POV (tentatively titled Harry Potter and Malfoy’s Suspicious Interest in Werewolves.) Lucius does show up in that one, and I was honestly surprised by how much more frightening and intimidating he is when filtered through Harry’s perspective. Because with a Severus POV… when Severus is used to spending time around Voldemort, Greyback, Bellatrix, honestly Dumbledore and Sirius Black…. Lucius is not scary. Lucius wants to buy presents for his son, go to high-profile events with his beautiful wife, and wear a variety of snake-themed accessories and extravagant hats. 

I wanted a kind of college-roommates-who-stayed-friends feel for the Severus + Lucius relationship, because they are friends. Sirius calls Severus Lucius’ “lapdog,” and Narcissa calls him Lucius’ “oldest friend.” Lucius is also part of the welcoming committee when Severus is first sorted into Slytherin. He’s five years older (I think Jason Isaacs is the only Harry Potter adult the same age as the character he plays), which would have affected the dynamic between him and Severus a lot in school. Personally, I think it makes sense for Lucius to be a little protective of this brilliant half-blood kid with no money. And as an adult, there’s some guilt mixed in there as well. Severus probably would not have been sucked into the Voldemort thing nearly as deep or nearly as fast if it hadn’t been for Lucius, and the war kind of destroyed him. Lucius remembers a younger Severus who was modding potions, inventing spells, coming up with cheeky nicknames for himself, and that person is gone. That’s a big part of the reason he’s so invested in the Severus/Remus relationship in Prison of the Phoenix. Something about Remus has managed to wake up parts of that younger Severus, and Lucius thinks that’s fantastic.

I also think Lucius might be the character who knows Voldemort the best. He’s one of the only Death Eaters who Voldemort calls by their first name (Bellatrix, Severus, and Draco are the others) and he’s weirdly familiar with his “slippery friend” Lucius, addressing the whole speech about how/why he returned to him, for some reason? Anything that helps Voldemort make sense as a person I’ll take, and to me it makes sense that young Tom Riddle charmed Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius’ father, first. The dates are right, and he’s exactly Tom’s type - rich, pureblood, probably easily flattered (let’s be honest) and sitting on a pile of magical artifacts. It’s very Hepzibah Smith vibes, is what I’m saying. And rich, posh, popular seventeen year olds don’t join cults. But if Lucius’ father was already in a cult… 

It also makes sense to me that Tom Riddle got sort of stuck when he killed Marvolo Gaunt, and made his first horcrux at sixteen. He has this fascination with sixteen year old pureblood wizards (so Barty, Draco, and Lucius would have fit this profile.) He sort of wants to be them, but also sort of wants to break them? It’s messy, and complicated. It’s creepy and compelling, that Lucius is aging but this spectre that’s dominated his life isn’t. 

And so when Lucius gives Ginny the diary in Book 2… it makes sense that he’s just trying to get rid of it. He was just at Borgin and Burkes selling dark artifacts, but knows that the diary is worse. He needs to make sure it can’t possibly be traced back to him. So he gives it to the daughter of the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. (It is an enchanted muggle artifact, after all.) If Arthur Weasley finds it and deals with it, fine. If Ginny is discovered with it in a way that blows up in Arthur’s face, also fine. If it does get to Hogwarts and does open the Chamber of Secrets - well Draco is going to be fine, and it might undermine Dumbledore. If it was really important to Lucius that the diary rid the school of muggleborns… he would have given it to Draco had him use it. Or given it to Draco, and told him to leave it somewhere for an enemy to find. But Lucius doesn’t do that, because he doesn’t want Voldemort back and his politics just aren’t that important to him. 

The one trait I did give Lucius that doesn’t go back to the books is just being madly in love with Narcissa. Lucius is an unrepentant wife guy. (And I mean… it doesn’t contradict anything. There isn’t anything in the books to suggest that he isn’t a wife guy.)  I honestly did that for structural reasons. I’m writing a romance with Severus, who has the emotional awareness of a stack of roofing tiles. He just really, really needed a friend he could ask for relationship advice. 

[blingblong55]

Good girl behaviour -Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Based on a request:

God I need Ghost to fuck the reader out of jealousy, but denying every fucking orgasm, and when the reader apologies for flirting with someone to have his attention, he says "Apologizing now won't give you an orgasm little bitch"

F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, jealous!Ghost, denied!orgasm, rough!sex, fingering, dom!Ghost, degrading, oral!sex, establish!relationship

You have been needy all day, you wore the pretty little skirt he likes but still, he didn't pay attention to you. You wore the shirt that shows your cleavage best and still, he didn't pay any sort of attention to you. That was until you two went to the market, he wandered whilst you talked to the man in the aisle, moving certain ways which made him notice your body more. Your voice so soft and innocent, "can you reach for that, im not as tall as you~" you get on your tiptoes to demonstare and thats when Simon comes in, grabbing the item and walking away with you, his arm snaked around your hip.

At home, he fingered you too much and each time he knew you were close, he would slap your tits and stop. Three orgasms were denied and by some point, he had you on your knees. A collar around your neck, leash on his hand as he watched you whimper. "Don't act innocent, R/N." he tightened his grip on the leash, choking you more. You give him a pouty lip, and you knew best, no brats were allowed in his bed. "You're nothing but a useless cum slut, R/N." he spits out. You whimper once more and he slaps you lightly and chokes you with his hand.

"You know I won't let you cum for what you did back in the market, sluts like you are worthless and don't deserve to cum, especially when they know getting fucked by me is a privilege." Your eyes pleading for any form of release, your pussy against his boot, the aching clit of yours screaming for him to fuck you. But that is how he is, training you to be the ideal cum slut for him. "Do you think I'm going to give you want you to want when you whimper?" he chuckles and cups your face, "My love, this is not how it works, not one bit, my darling," his voice smooth as silk.

"If you want to apologise, use that mouth for good," he says and you pout more. He grabs one of your tits and licks the already hard and sensitive nipple. Your piercing occasionally gets moved around in his tongue. You moan and squirm only for him to stop and get up. "Simon-"

"No, I'm not entertaining an orgasm for you and you better stay there like the good girl you are."

Minutes later, he comes back, cuffs in one hand whilst the other holds his drink. He sits down, "Make me cum first and I'll maybe think about fucking you." he unzips his trousers and you knew the drill by now. So, you reach for his cock, taking it out and before even daring to let your lips touch it, you look up at him. "Do it, darling." he nods and your tongue licks his tip.

Soon enough, he fists your hair, pushing you deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag and drool all over his shaft, your throat a guaranteed soreness for tomorrow. The stickiness of his body mixing with yours. He pulls his cock out, letting you breathe, "You're doing so well my darling, but take me like the cum slut you are, don't want to disappoint me now, do you?" You shake your head and he smiles, a soft kiss on your forehead and he goes back to that fucking you.

You mascara running down your cheeks, he wipes them off, "you're being so obedient, my love." he whispers as you continue to get throat fucked by his massive cock. You gag more, the wet noises filling the bedrom, your red tits getting abused by his constant slaps. He then chokes you, adoring how you gagged more on his cock and the feeling it gave him bringing him more pleasure. Once he begins to cum inside of you, he slows the thrusts and pulls his cock out of your mouth.

The white and stickiness of his seed falling down your face like drool. And before you can react, he grabs your hips, and with a desperate move, he slams you on the bed. Your back on the soft blanket, your thighs on his sides as he removes your panties, two fingers inside of you before he begins to eat you out. His tongue already savouring your juices, your clit swollen and ready to be fucked and pleased. "Beg me to suck on this precious clit, darling." he looks at you, you are already a mess and can only nod. He slaps your pussy, "I said beg, bitch," voice low with a growl. "Suck my clit, please, I need it, please~" your eyes shut.

His tongue and mouth bring you waves of pleasure, "cum for me, sweet girl." once more being soft to you. Your clit is beautifully pleased by him, and your body reacts towards the need that you have to finally cum. "Cum, please, I need my little doll to cum." he coos. A knot in your stomach, your fingers gripping the bedsheet underneath, your moans loud, too loud it makes them sound very pornographic. "Say you belong to me," he demands. You look at him, eyes almost unfocused from the incoming orgasm, "i belong to you!" you say between moans and whimpers.

"Fuck!" you cry, your legs feeling weak, his mouth not stopping. And then you let out a gasp, your eyes shut and you finally have your much-needed orgasm.

Your slick coating his lips and tongue. He licks his lips, and looks at you, eyes soft but still with that grin like the devil. "My my," he lays next to you, arms wrapping around you, "You did such a good job, my sweetness," he whispers as he kisses your forehead, a blanket covering your delicate body. "You are my life," he kisses your forehead again. "You belong to me, don't you, R/N?" his calloused hands caressing your soft skin. "Yes," you kiss his hand and he smiles. "Good, that's good my girl."

@liyanahelena @urmajestyzel @karurururu @hope-3429 @ghostslillady @alxexhearts @muffinsncoffee

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Is there anything support the populat interpretation that old valriya and valryians in general are more feminist, and progressive than the rest in Asoiaf?

Anon, thank you! I've been wanting to address this for awhile, so I'm going to actually answer this really fully, with as many receipts as I can provide (this ended up being more of an essay than I intended, but hopefully it helps)

I think there's in fact plenty of evidence to suggest that Valyria and the Valyrians in general were anything but progressive. Valyria was an expansive empire with a robust slave trade that practiced incest based on the idea of blood supremacy/blood purity. All of these things are absolutely antithetical to progressivism. There is no way any empire practicing slavery can ever be called progressive. Now, the Targaryens of Dragonstone have since given up the practice of slavery, but they certainly still believe in the supremacy of Valyrian blood.

And I'll see the argument, well what's wrong with believing your blood is special if your blood really is special and magic? Which is just-- if anyone catches themselves thinking this, and you sincerely believe that GRRM intended to create a magically superior master race of hot blondes who deserve to rule over all other backwards races by virtue of their superior breeding which is reinforced through brother-sister incest, and you've convinced yourself this represents progressive values, then you might want to step away from the computer for a bit and do a bit of self reflection.

And remember-- what is special about this special blood? It gives the bearers the ability to wield sentient weapons of mass destruction. It's also likely, according to the most popular theories, the result of blood magic involving human sacrifice. So there is a terrible price to pay for this so-called supremacy. Would any of us line up to be sacrificed to the Fourteen Flames so that the Valyrians can have nukes?

And if you are tempted by the idea that a woman who rides a dragon must inherently have some sort of power-- that is true. A woman who rides a dragon is more powerful than a woman who does not ride a dragon, and in some cases, more powerful than a man who does not ride a dragon, but that does not make her more powerful than a man who also rides a dragon. Dragonriding remained a carefully guarded privilege, and Targaryen women who might otherwise become dragonriders were routinely denied the privilege (despite the oft repeated "you cannot steal a dragon," when Saera Targaryen attempted to claim a dragon from the dragonpit, she was thrown into a cell for the attempted "theft,"words used by Jaehaerys). The dragonkeepers were established explicitly to keep anyone, even those of Targaryen blood, from taking them without permission. Any "liberation" that she has achieved is an illusion. What she has gained is the ability to enact violence upon others who are less privileged, and this ability does not save her from being the victim of gender based violence herself.

Politically speaking, it is also true that Valyria was a "freehold," in that they did not have a hereditary monarchy, but instead had a political structure akin to Ancient Athens (which was itself democratic, but not at all progressive or feminist). Landholding citizens could vote on laws and on temporary leaders, Archons. Were any of the lords freeholder women? We don't know. If we take Volantis as an example, the free city that seems to consider itself the successor to Valyria, the party of merchants, the elephants, had several female leaders three hundred years ago, but the party of the aristocracy, the tigers, the party made up of Valyrian Old Blood nobility, has never had a female leader. Lys, the other free city, is known for it's pleasure houses, which mainly employ women kidnapped into sexual slavery (as well as some young men). It is ruled by a group of magisters, who are chosen from among the wealthiest and noblest men in the city, not women. There does not seem to be a tradition of female leadership among Valyrians, and that's reflected by Aegon I himself, who becomes king, rather than his older sister-wife, Visenya. And although there have been girls named heir, temporarily, among the pre-Dance Targaryens, none were named heir above a trueborn brother aside from Rhaenyra, a choice that sparked a civil war. In this sense, the Targaryens are no different from the rest of Westeros.

As for feminism or sexual liberation, there's just no evidence to support it. We know that polygamy was not common, but it was also not entirely unheard of, but incest, to keep the bloodlines "pure," was common. Incest and polygamy are certainly sexual taboos, both in the real world and in Westeros, that the Valyrians violated, but the violation of sexual taboos is not automatically sexually liberated or feminist. Polygamy, when it is exclusively practiced by men and polyandry is forbidden (and we have no examples of Valyrian women taking multiple husbands, outside of fanfic), is often abusive to young women. Incest leads to an erosion of family relationships and abusive grooming situations are inevitable. King Jaehaerys' daughters are an excellent case study, and the stories of Saera and Viserra are particularly heartbreaking. Both women were punished severely for "sexual liberation," Viserra for getting drunk and slipping into her brother Baelon's bed at age fifteen, in an attempt to avoid an unwanted marriage to an old man. She was not punished because she was sister attempting to sleep with a brother, but because she was the wrong sister. Her mother, the queen had already chosen another sister for Baelon, and believed her own teenage daughter was seducing her brother for nefarious reasons. As a sister, Viserra should have been able to look to her brother for protection, but as the product of an incestuous family, Viserra could only conceive of that protection in terms of giving herself over to him sexually.

Beyond that, sexual slavery was also common in ancient Valyria, a practice that persisted in Lys and Volantis, with women (and young men) trafficked from other conquered and raided nations. Any culture that is built on a foundation of slavery and which considers sexual slavery to be normal and permissible, is a culture of normalized rape. Not feminist, not progressive.

I think we get the picture! so where did this idea that Valyrians are more progressive come from? I think there are two reasons. One, the fandom has a bit of a tendency to imagine Valyrians and their traditions in opposition to Westerosi Sevenism, and if Sevenism is fantasy Catholicism, and the fantasy Catholics also hate the Valyrian ways, they must hate them because those annoying uptight religious freaks just hate everything fun and cool, right? They hate revealing clothing, hate pornographic tapestries, hate sex outside of marriage, hate bastards. So being on Sevenism's shit-list must be a mark of honor, a sign of progressive values? But it's such a surface level reading, and a real misunderstanding of the medieval Catholic church, and a conflating of that church with the later Puritan values that many of us in the Anglosphere associate with being "devout." For most of European history, the Catholic church was simply The Church, and the church was, ironically, where you would find the material actions which most closely align with modern progressive values. The church cared for lepers, provided educations for women, took care of orphans, and fed the poor. In GRRM's world, which is admittedly more secular than the actual medieval world, Sevenism nevertheless has basically the same function, feeding the poor instead of, you know, enslaving them.

Finally, I blame the shows. While Valyrians weren't a progressive culture, Daenerys Targaryen herself held relatively progressive individual values by a medieval metric. She is a slavery abolitionist, she elevates women within her ranks, and she takes control of her own sexuality (after breaking free from her Targaryen brother). But Daenerys wasn't raised as a Targaryen. She grew up an orphan in exile, hearing stories of her illustrious ancestors from her brother, who of the two did absorb a bit of that culture, and is not coincidentally, fucked up, abusive, and misogynistic. He feels a sexual ownership over his sister, arranges a marriage for her, and even after her marriage, feels entitled to make decisions on her behalf. It is only after breaking away from Viserys that Dany comes into her own values. Having once been a mere object without agency of her own, she determines to save others from that fate and becomes an abolitionist. But because Game of Thrones gave viewers very little exposure to Targaryens aside from Daenerys, House Targaryen, in the eyes of most show watchers, is most closely associated with Dany and her freedom-fighter values. And as for Rhaenyra in House of the Dragon, being a female heir does not make her feminist or progressive, although it is tempting to view her that way when she is juxtaposed against Aegon II. Her "sexual liberation" was a lesson given to her by her uncle Daemon, a man who had an express interest in "liberating" her so that she would sleep with him, it was not a value she was raised with. In fact, she was very nearly disinherited for it, and was forced into a marriage with a gay man as a result of said "liberation." She had no interest in changing succession laws to allow absolute primogeniture, no interest in changing laws or norms around bastardy despite having bastards; she simply viewed herself as an exception. Rhaenyra's entire justification for her claim is not the desire to uplift women, bring peace and stability to Westeros, or even to keep her brother off the throne, it is simply that she believes she deserves it because her father is the king and he told her she could have it, despite all tradition and norms, and in spite of the near certain succession crisis it will cause. Whether she is right or wrong, absolutism is not progressive.

And let me just say, none of this means that you can't enjoy the Valyrians or think that they're fun or be a fan of house Targaryen. This insistence that Targaryens are the progressive, feminist (read: morally good) house seems by connected to the need of some fans to make their favorite characters unproblematic. If the Valyrians are "bad," does that make you a bad person for enjoying them? Of course not. But let's stop the moral grandstanding about the "feminist" and "progressive" Valyrians in a series that is an analogue for medieval feudalism. Neither of those things can exist under the systems in place in Westeros, nor could they have existed in the slavery based empire of conquest that was old Valyria.

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓞𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼

Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: You’re a sociology student writing your final thesis, you shouldn’t care whether the new DEA attaché is an asshole, you shouldn’t be getting on his nerves every chance you get, shouldn’t be dreaming of him the way you do, and you certainly shouldn’t be bent over his desk in the middle of the night– letting him fuck you senseless.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, big girthy age gap [reader is in her early twenties Javier is in his mid 40s], petnames [sweetheart, girlie, baby, babygirl etc], smut, explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy kink, dom!Javi, mean brat tamer! javi, sub!reader, major size kink, reader is a menace and a brat, cheek pulling, like two spanks and a slap, minor choking, degradation, name calling, fingering, semi public sex [in his office], rough sex, unprotected P in V [don't do it you’re better than them!!] let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: Lotsa porn, lotsa plot. Filthier than I’d like to admit but here we are. Javier is emotionally unavailable but I don’t care. Enjoy nasties. Mwah 💗

Masterlist

My old man is a bad man, but

I can't deny the way he holds my hand

And he grabs me, he has me by my heart

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past

He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me

He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

You were sure you looked nothing short of unstable– the way you were smiling to yourself as you hit the ‘submit’ button on the first checkpoint of your research paper. The past few months had been absolute chaos, and you weren’t really sure what was worse; the fact that your workplace had become an HR nightmare, or the way you were enjoying every goddamn second of it. 

Not long ago you’d been lucky enough to pack your bags and board a flight to Bogotá, where you were going to be writing your final sociology thesis. You’d fought tooth and nail with the department for this opportunity, and the fact that you were finally going to be there doing the work you’d always imagined– it was a dream. While you were initially a little weary of having to go through the American embassy to access records, and archives, you knew this was the best deal you were going to get, so you pushed your hesitation aside and took them up on their offer. You were obviously aware the department was going to give you hell for it– your work would be put under immeasurable scrutiny, they were going to bother you with emails all day every day, snoop around your work through their contacts at the embassy, and take any chance to fly you back. But it didn’t matter; it was going to be a dream. 

Impressing the ambassador was your top priority, impressing everyone around you really was. For as long as you could remember your bright smile, hard work and sunshine attitude had only worked in your favor. If there was one thing you enjoyed, it was the great privilege of being all your professors’ favorite student. That’s how you’d even convinced them to let you travel thousands of miles away on the university’s dime in the first place. 

The world of academia was hard, especially when you were starting out, everyone you dealt with wasn’t a progressive professor who valued your opinion despite your age and gender. Sometimes you needed help from the sleazy HOD, or the grumpy receptionist and neither cared about your expertise on Helmut Schoeck. It didn’t bother you, all you cared about was the quality of your work, and you were not going to let anyone get in the way of it. So, if good work and behaviour didn't get you what you wanted you just used your batting eyelashes, innocent pout and harmless bribes– the receptionist had mentioned liking strawberry shortcake nearly two years ago in passing, and that information sure as hell came in handy when you needed to get your paperwork sorted out. 

Boy did that skill of yours come in handy during your time in Bogotá

No one was going to make this experience anything but splendid, you were going to get to the embassy, meet the ambassador, charm her and all her coworkers in no time, make some trusted allies and go about your research unbothered and unfazed. You were determined. It was going to be a dream. 

That was until it was an absolute nightmare. The moment your plane’s wheels hit the tarmac you were slapped with wave after wave of absolute frustration. Your phone was inundated with missed calls from an unknown number, and when you called back you were promptly informed by the Ambassador’s secretary that due to spacing issues you were being relocated to the DEA offices at the far end of the embassy. 

Great, nothing better than being around a bunch of cops 24/7 .

You hadn’t made it three steps off the aerobridge before two men– both of whom looked terribly out of place in their baseball hats, grabbed you by the arm and dragged you through the airport. You wouldn’t say the word ‘accosted’ was dramatic when describing the way two employees of the American embassy had apprehended you. They didn't seem much older than you were, but they sure as hell thought they ran the damn place. When you thought about elitist diplomats thinking they were doing god's work you could be sure you imagined Agent Daniel Van Ness and Agent Chris Feistl’s faces before you’d even met them. 

“Ow! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Van Ness pretty much tossed you into his suspicious, unmarked vehicle, and as if you weren’t sore from your excruciatingly long flight you were sure you were going to need some ice packs when you got to your service apartment. “Okay, let's not make a scene, as I said we were told to get you as soon as you got off that plane” Feistl started the engine with one hand, and put the other one up in mock surrender. 

“Didn’t know kidnapping was part of the Ambassador's agenda in Bogotá” .

The car ride to the embassy was mostly quiet, and you took the time to enjoy the beautiful Colombian city as it came into view, clear your head and mentally plan for your stay. That was, save for the two men’s grumbling about a certain Javier Peña. “Yeah, we miss this meeting and Peña’s gonna be on our ass for the next week” You’d quickly learnt he was a little bit of a hero in the DEA world, whatever that meant– took down Escobar and all. And if you couldn’t loathe him more already he was now promoted to attaché. From what Van Ness and Feistl told you  he sounded like a character– hard ass, stubborn, insolent, the list went on and on. This Javier must really be something

How bad could he really be? Probably some grumpy old guy you’d run into once in a while at the water station or fax machine. He’d pay no mind to you; some irrelevant college student. Besides, you’d win him over with your signature smile. Who knew maybe you’d even become friends? “Well Im looking forward to meeting this Javier Peña” 

 “No one has ever said that. I don't think his mother said that when he was poppin’ out.” 

And boy were they right, Javier Peña really was something. The elevator doors opened to what would soon become a familiar sight– Javier trailing the ambassador as she tried to escape him and the DEA offices. “With all due respect, if I wanted to be a babysitter I would've taken up a job with the RIPs”  She turned to face him, her back to you. “Agent Peña, I'm going to repeat myself one more time, and I really shouldn't have to, but please stop referring to them as the “RIP’’s ”. Talk about professionalism, you definitely weren’t expecting whatever the hell this was when you thought of diplomatic work. 

Noonan almost unceremoniously bumped into you as she skirted away from Javier, raising her hands in absolute elation now that he had to take care of you, and couldn’t bother her any longer. “There you are, perfect! Agent Peña show her around, and please, be nice.” She all but pushed you into him, and you heard Javier helplessly and pathetically yell after her as she walked to the elevator. “I still need that clearance ambassador–” 

Despite the fact that he was looking at you like he wanted to tear you apart you didn't let that distract from the absolute marvel Javier Peña was. If you didn’t know any better you’d be on your knees for the man, and you couldn’t trust that you did. With the way his hair sat messily ruffled atop his head in soft curls, falling dangerously close to his eyes, or the way his now crinkled button up from the tiring workday hugged his forearms, who could blame you? Who knew, maybe you even liked the way he looked at you? 

You shot him your signature smile, and extended your hand to introduce yourself. Forget about Noonan, she’d probably retire soon anyway, it was his approval you really wanted now. With brows raised he took his time assessing you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes raked over your body, or the way he chewed on his lip as he did so. Feeling a little, or maybe very, hot under his gaze you shifted uncomfortably, still holding your hand out politely, but all you got from him besides his shameless gawking was a condescending chuckle, and he was turning away and walking back inside. 

So he really was an asshole. 

You stood in shock for a moment. Was this some sort of odd hazing process at the embassy? What the hell was going on? His voice zapped you out of the absolute embarrassment of an interaction you just had. “You gonna stand there all day?” God he was such a prick. You’d barely been there two minutes and you were already on Van Ness and Feist's team. You couldn’t even imagine what life would be like if he was your boss. Or could you? 

Your gaze hardened at the realization. If there was one thing you were not going to do it was lust hopelessly after a man who didn't even want to give you the time of day, someone who thought he was so much better than you were. You were not going to inflate his already massive ego by crooning for his praise, no! You were not going to let him wield that kind of power over you. 

You watched as he walked through the office, the man sucked the air outta the room with the way he quite literally strutted across it. Practically dragging yourself behind him you tried your best to compose yourself, you were not going to let Peña and his asshole ways ruin your stay– he was going to like you, going to give you the time of day– and if hard work and a good attitude didn’t do it, your batting lashes certainly would.  

—

Swimmin' pool glimmerin', darling

White bikini off with my red nail polish

Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples

You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh, yeah

In the subsequent days you surprisingly had made yourself quite at home in the embassy– after all you did spend almost all of your day there. Van Ness and Fiestl soon became great friends, and would often drop by your workstation during breaks, or to invite you out for drinks after work. Things were going rather well, there was nothing much to complain about. The people who worked at the embassy were really friendly, and many of them took a liking to you. If charming your way into everyone's good graces was still your plan it sure as hell was working. 

You’d even met a certain blonde haired, blue eyed office heartthrob. While they were both certainly easy on the eyes, Agent Murphy was otherwise little like his partner, he was friendly, helpful, and generally in a good mood. Hell he even wished you ‘good morning’ when he got into work everyday. In due time you could even say Steve Murphy had become somewhat of a friend, he was quite fond of you– then again everyone in the office really was. 

That is almost everyone. 

Progress in the Javier department of your life had barely made moves. He was such a dick. On your second day you remember knocking on his door and politely asking if he could sign some papers that would get you some cultural records in Bogotá. You didn’t know what response you’d been expecting, but he'd essentially told you to leave him the hell alone.  

You wondered if being such a bitter jerk was exhausting. “Now girlie, runalong..” And with that he shut his door. You didn't want to let it affect you, but it did. You crooned for his attention, but he was so cold and detached, and nothing seemed to get through to him. The smiles, the ‘good mornings’, the way you’d offered to drop his files at the Ambassador's on your way there, it did nothing. He only smiled at you condescendingly, and at one point even joked about how he wasn’t sure you were capable of making it to the other side of the building. 

“Don't worry your head about these files, wouldn’t want you wandering around, lost, tryna find Noonan’s office.” 

Not to mention how he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about your “silly little paper”, how your work was “cute” or “funny”. God, you couldn’t stand it. The way he leaned over your desk, jumbled up your resources while he carelessly looked through them. With his messy, loose tie, and his sideways smile, and warm, comforting brown eyes, and that mocking teasing tone…... 

—- 

My old man is a tough man, but

He got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam

And he shows me, he knows me

Every inch of my tar-black soul

“If he can’t drink it, or fuck it, he’s not interested.” When Feistl had told you that on your first day you scoffed, but it proved to be valuable, and unbelievably, true information in no time. Unintentionally Javier had condemned himself to an eternal state of perdition, you were not giving up, and this time you were going to drive him crazy. 

He surely wasn’t prepared for the little menace you became in the following weeks. You only felt pride when you’d catch him looking at you– embarrassing how he couldn't keep his eyes off. You and your cute little dresses, skirts, those you didn’t initially plan to wear to the office. His glare almost burnt a hole in your back everyday at midday, hotter than the afternoon sun peaking through the blind covered windows as you sat on Van Ness’ desk, laughing at something Feistl said. If there was one thing worse than an HR violation, it was an HR violation with a girl nearly half his age.

You’d found a fancy for discovering his ticks, new ways you could push his buttons. When you weren’t calling him sir as you addressed him, or taunting him with your dopey eyes and girlish smiles you were making his life a lot less convenient. 

“Where the hell is Peña” at least twice a week Stechner would all but slither into the office, talking about congress people, funding and how the DEA was raining all over his parade. As much as you hated the man, he was your trusted ally in trying times, especially when you decided breaking the office’s unspoken rule was going to be your new favorite pastime. That rule was of course, never telling anyone, especially his colleagues, where the hell Javier Peña was at any given time. 

So when Bill walked up to you and leaned beside your desk you faithfully pointed to the filing room you knew Javier was quite literally hiding in. When he walked, more like stormed out with Bill you were sure he could break you in half, the way he was looking at you, but you had given up lying to yourself, you loved it. Every morning he’d come into the office and have to find other places to escape to– from Noonan and Murphy and all other accountability. But for a cop he was pretty shit at it, and you always found a way to tell where it was he'd gone to. It also helped that nearly everyone enjoyed it when Javier had to deal with the bureaucracy, it was free reality tv, and you could be sure if you didn’t know who or what he was trying to avoid, someone else in the office surely would.

You had simultaneously become a great asset to Steve Murphy, who was, more than you expected, willing and enthusiastic about getting shit done, shit that Javier’s stubbornness would only prolong, especially because he knew the mix of Peña and the CIA was anything but productive. Whether it was distracting him while he got support for their missions, or rushing to answer the phones and covering for him and making Javi deal with Noonan you were always game. Murphy was always appreciative. 

“Steve’s out right now, but Javier’s in his office if you’d like to speak with him…” Steve pretty much cackled behind his desk as you handed the phone’s receiver to Peña, and watched as he exhaled heavily through his nose, using every bit of restraint he could possibly muster not to kick the two of you out of the building. He settled for flipping Murphy off instead. 

As someone who wasn’t an embassy employee you pretty much had free reign over the place, and you knew it only made Javier more upset knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. You were thoroughly enjoying your time in Bogotá, you knew Javier was thinking about you, you knew how much you got on his nerves, you loved the way he’d glare at you, boss you around, get annoyed at your little antics. You craved his attention and you were finally getting it. 

Though every once in a while you’d feel a little pang in your chest, at the way he’d roll his eyes at you, be his regular mean self. But you shoved that feeling aside, you did not want his approval. That would be pathetic. You just wanted a little payback.

—

He doesn't mind I have a flat broke-down life

In fact, he says he thinks it's what he might like about me

Admires me, the way I roll like a rolling stone

Javier had been avoiding you like the plague for a good two days. That was after he overheard a conversation you were having with your supervisor he wasn’t really meant to be a party to. You remember twirling the cord wire between your fingers as you updated her over the phone. “Yeah, I need to get to the congress library, they have all the copies there.” You pushed the speaker button, letting go of the receiver to sift through the piles of printed paper on your desk. “Do you have access, did the embassy get you an ID? I spoke to Noonan but she’s busy babysitting her employees.” You bit back a smile. Javier and Murphy sure were a handful. 

“No, of course they didn’t. They don’t give a rat's ass” Frankly, you were exhausted from having to get or find somebody to do anything around there. Noonan was practically no help until the dean was breathing down her neck, for people who had been working in Bogotà for years very few in the embassy knew the directions to anyplace that wasn’t a bar, and everyone was far too busy kissing each other’s ass to get things done. “The DEA can go, can't they? Get one of em to take you” Before you could respond you heard the rattling of the water cooler behind you, and you caught Javier’s half shocked half annoyed expression in the reflection of the window as he scrambled for a paper napkin to wipe the water off his dress shirt.  

“Hmm, I didn’t think of that…..that's a great idea” 

That was on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent turning in the opposite direction anytime you approached him, sneaking past you on his way in and out, and begging Murphy to take that trip to the Congress library instead. On Thursday you were sure you won the lottery. 

Both Murphy and Carillo in the same room, and better yet in the office before Javier had made his grand entrance. They stood over what looked to you like a large map, arguing about something with far too much energy at eight in the morning. You saw this as your little opening. Where the hell was Peña? 

Turns out he was with the Ambassador.  

—-

Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom, Château Marmont

Slippin' on my red dress, puttin' on my makeup

Glass room, perfume, cognac, lilac fumes

Says it feels like heaven to him

“And you’re going too?” Ambassador Noonan sat back in her chair, twirling her pencil between her fingers, looking expectantly at the irate face in front of her. You thought you’d spare Agent Peña his white lies, answering promptly in that sweet voice of yours.  “Yes, Agent Murphy told me, and besides, if he's around I can access all the archives..” You shrugged your shoulders and shot her your most persuasive smile. “Government ID an’ all” . You almost felt bad for Peña, the way his friends were so quick to rat him out. But then again he’d stirred up enough petty fights over the years so that nearly everybody was quick to get their petty revenge. That jerk was planning to take his little trip to the library– with Carillio of all people, and he was going to leave you behind? Not anymore.

“Well, I don't see the problem, just take her to the goddamn library. Jesus Peña why is everything so difficult with you.” Javier shot you a glare you could only describe as deadly, but you could only giggle at his exasperation. He rose from his chair, leaning on her desk, like he was trying to seduce her into getting out of this situation. You wondered how Noonan showed so much restraint, if you were her you’d be giving into anything he said no questions asked. 

“Ambassador, really, all that is below my paygrade, don't ya think?” Your mouth fell agape, and you turned to him to find he was smiling, looking directly at you. Asshole  “This whole conversation is below my paygrade. You’re bothering me Peña, get to work..” and with that the two of you were practically kicked out of her office and thrown into the hall,  where in the deafening silence you heard the large wooden doors slam behind you. 

You were lucky there was no one else around, especially when he practically slammed you against the wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Tryna fuck my whole day over baby?” You had to physically fight yourself to not give into the death grip he had on your shoulders, to hold yourself up as he caged you against the corridor.  “I just really need these papers, and only you can get ‘em for me ” You bat your lashes at him, and he pressed his forehead against the wall beside you in complete frustration, sighing. He knew that wasn’t true, and he knew you did as well. Any intern could have gotten them for you, but who was an intern in comparison to him? 

“I won't bother you again, promise” you bit your lip and held your pinkie finger up in what Javier saw as practically an act of war. His hands moved from your shoulders to grab you by the waist as you looked up at him. Despite your smiley exterior you were all giddy on the inside, especially when he leant beside your ear and warned in his low whisper, thumbs drawing circles on your flesh. 

“You're playin’ with fire baby..” 

— 

I'm off to the races, laces

Leather on my waist is tight, and I am fallin' down

I can see your face, is shameless, Cipriani's Basement

Love you, but I'm goin' down

As much as you wanted to bother Javier during his little snoop session with Carillo, you still had a job to do, so you shoved your brattiness aside for a few hours and got to work finding the documents you needed from the archives. You were honestly expecting a medal for your self restraint, because once you were done you waited patiently till he strutted outside after his meeting, barely holding up the heavy box with all your findings. You’d been standing there for almost two hours, and the jerk hadn’t even given you a heads up so you could sit inside.

“Finally.” He rolled his eyes, and like he was running some sort of marathon didn’t bother even helping you, speed walking across the parking lot as you stumbled and struggled behind him– attempting to keep up. 

“We gotta get back, now.” 

You buckled your seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway, and relaxed against your seat as you caught your breath. “Where’re we going?” He turned to you and smiled, but it was in that signature condescending way that he always did. Meanie You thought to yourself. “We are not going anywhere. You are going back to the office, and I am going to take care of something you don't need to worry about.” You didn't know whether there was any use still being offended by his patronizing attitude, he could’ve just said you were going back to the office, but that was too normal, too dignified of a response for the great, cartel busting Javier Peña 

“I could come.” He laughed at your pout, as he turned to look at you, rounding the corner. “Baby, don’t ya’ think that's a little ambitious comin’ from someone who got winded carrying a box across a parking lot.” You scoffed, yes, it would've been nice to have some help. “Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is you're going to do, anyway” Wanting to turn away from him you looked out the window, but that only lasted so long. 

“If this lead comes through, everyone in Bogotà’s gonna want everything to do with it.” You watched as the setting sun drenched your surroundings in a golden glow, and you couldn’t look away from the way Javier’s brown eyes too turned into pools of gold as the sun caught them. His voice a low hum just a little louder than the radio he habitually played as he drove around. It took a special type of maniac to go on missions off the clock. 

“Who’s it for, the lead?” He hummed, and smiled to himself as he spoke, that look on his face you couldn’t quite place– like he was just waiting for his opponent to slip up.  “One of the big guys. You should meet him when we bring him in– you’d get along–  he's a pain in my ass” 

You turned your gaze from the opening embassy gates to meet his eyes, your own narrowed into slits as you stared him down– he was smiling, and you hated it. “Mean.” He shook his head at your irritation, and wordlessly pulled up into the driveway. “Now, you're gonna take those files, and you're gonna sit your bratty ass down, and you're gonna work on that silly paper of yours” You were halfway out the door, lifting the giant cardboard box off the floor of the car with embarrassing difficulty.

Great, there was another thing he could berate you for. 

“That's a lot of instructions..” Your voice was muffled behind your paperwork, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it when he tried to boss you around. 

“Well here's another– don't touch anything while I'm gone.” He laughed to himself as he caught your rolling eyes peering at him over the top of the box, that being the only part of you that was really visible to him. Waiting for you to make it to the entrance he watched as one of his colleagues, one of the many heading out for the day, took it from you, and helped you inside. 

The low hum of the radio replaced the sound of your voice, an old spanish tune coming over the static as he drove out and away from the embassy. 

—

God, I'm so crazy, baby

I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving

I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island

Raisin' hell all over town

Sorry 'bout it

“Didn't I specifically tell you not to touch anything” You lifted your head in the direction of that familiar voice, irritated as usual, but also a little more gruff, a little more tired. For a moment you regretted annexing his office while he was away. You watched as he sauntered in and towards his desk, opposite the little workstation you’d set up on a spare table where he’d dumped his tie and blazer for when the Ambassador popped around. He propped his hands on his desk, leaning against it to meet your gaze. 

God did he look good, the day had taken its toll on him, but it was only doing him favors. That soft brown hair had been ruffled out of place, and that crisp button up sat wrinkled on his back, loosely and messily tucked into his navy dress pants, sleeves haphazardly rolled up his forearms. While he looked like he worked a regular nine to five, from the little you knew about his job, an intentionally minimal amount, you were sure the unkemptness was the result of some high stakes chase, raid or whatever it was he’d set his head to doing that day.  

“‘M not touching, I just needed the AC” He rolled his eyes, but his neatly hung blazer and rolled up tie caught his attention from across the room. “See.. Untouched” You shot him that smile that you knew drove him up the wall, and he shook his head, now concerned more with sorting the paperwork splayed out in front of him. “Must be real hard, highlightin’ all that paper” He pointed to your reference material. As bad as the day was, it wasn't bad enough to persuade him to stop being a jerk.  

The place was a mess, and he couldn’t leave it this way till the morning, that would be a hit to his professionalism far worse than any of the shady shit he’d done over the years. He didn’t have time for your childish antics. At least for the moment. It’d been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to get it over with. Boy did he look like he needed to let off some steam, and while at first glance your actions were doing anything but helping him relax, couldn’t he see you were just begging for him to use you for exactly that? 

Maybe it was because he was tired of your shit, or because he was far too preoccupied with his work at the time, or because the office was dark and quiet and cold, but the next few minutes passed in uncharacteristic silence. You gazed up once in a while to see Javier’s scrunched brows sort through an abundance of filing. He’d sigh heavily every once in a while, and you could only wonder what or who, besides you, got on his nerves that much. You were almost eager to eliminate the competition. The world drowned out in the white noise of shuffling documents and clicking pens and you were once again lost in your paper. 

Every part of you really wished he wasn’t such an asshole. What had you ever done to him anyway, for him to be so cold and mean? You couldn’t pretend you had nothing to do with it, you'd egged him on beyond measure, but you’d only ever wanted him to like you. Okay maybe you thoroughly enjoyed his irritation, but you only really ever wanted his attention. Pathetic.. You thought to yourself. You pretended he wasn’t bothered by you taking over his office for a moment.

“Done yet?” You hadn’t even realized how or when Javier had crossed the room and made his way in front of you. His fingers danced on the edge of your laptop screen. You didn’t feel like answering just yet, so you typed away at your keyboard for a while longer. The silence wasn’t appreciated, and you could feel the exhaustion radiate off him like heat. You caught him fiddling with the pens on your desk, and skimming over some of your printed material from the corner of your eye, and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter when he chucked it back on your desk in what you assumed was complete disinterest. He was going to try harder to get your attention. 

You weren't prepared however when he practically slammed your laptop shut, forcing you to stop ignoring him. Talk about disrupting the workplace. Groaning, you rested your chin in your palms and peered up at him through dopey eyes. A man who had been driven to the edge, that's the gaze you met. It was not going to affect you, that muted rage, that wrought iron glare. You promised yourself. But your desires were already betraying you.. you rubbed your thighs together to alleviate the ache. 

“There a problem?” With a tone that set his last teeth on edge you kept up the facade, against your better judgment. It was just too much fun not to. When you looked up at him through your lashes you could almost see the slight tick in his jaw, and your mind wandered to what other ways you’d like this type of view. “Yes, in fact there is. It's 1am” He leaned forward, dangerously close, to the point you could feel the warmth of his breath fan against your lips, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You caught the faint smell of cigarettes off his disheveled clothes, the scent of whiskey on his lips. You felt your breath hitch, but you hoped he didn't notice. How naive, that was. 

“And” Your eyes darted to his mouth momentarily as you spoke, voice wavering. He raised his brows, almost to tell you not to push him any further than you already did. It was too late, however. Whatever this was had spiraled far out of your control, and he could see the way you squirmed under that commanding gaze of his. Your brain was screaming at the attention, and you had to inwardly yell at yourself to stop being so needy. 

“And?” Your brows furrowed, your lips forming that signature pout when you heard him mock your tone, your voice.  “I've had a long day, baby, and I wanna go home” You huffed girlishly at his ridicule, the way he liked to humiliate you by throwing your attitude back in your face with his snide imitations, his raised brow and faux sympathy. He talked like one does to a misbehaving child. In that patronizing, explanatory melody. You watched him chuckle with slitted eyes, though you were slowly turning to a puddle underneath it all.

“Go home then Mr. Peña. I'm not stopping you am I?” You watched his eyes darken, and you weren't even sure that was possible, but you didn’t have much time to think because before you knew it he was pinching your cheeks between his fingers, his other hand still holding him up on the table. You could only whine under his rough touch as its effects licked between your thighs. He laughed when you mewed at the sting. 

“Oh but you are. You're just beggin’ me to stay, aren't ya’ baby?” Your soft and pathetically unconvincing ‘no’ was muffled as he squeezed your cheeks in his large hands, yanking you in his direction as you fruitlessly attempted to free yourself from his grip. Unable to help yourself you were almost crooning into his touch, your body basically begging him to rough you up. “Such a fuckin’ brat. Runnin’ your mouth all day, showin’ up in those clothes, fuckin up my schedule, acting like a whore” His soft whisper made you shiver, your skin now on fire. He spoke slowly, and every syllable made you want to drop at his feet with a vigor you could only be embarrassed of. He made you feel small, made you feel helpless under his touch. 

You wanted to push back, wanted to defy his accusations.“‘m not a whore” He smiled at your whining, and if you were delusional, and you were, even hopeful,  you’d say he did so endearingly. But Javier Peña didn’t care about endearments, and after the way you’d acted you’d be crazy to think he thought there was anything endearing about you. “Right baby. You're not. Gotta pay girls to act this way ‘round me. But look at you. Didn’t spare you a fuckin dime.” 

He had let go of your face, and had in a moment, quickly and uncaringly dumped you on the table in front of him. You let out a soft “ow” when you felt your knees bump the wood before your legs were dangling off its edge. You were far closer to him now, and if you had felt small before you thought you were only shrinking in comparison to his domineering frame– physical, mental, everything. Your brain was mush, your body was mush, and you could only lean into his touch– benevolent or not. 

In an uncharacteristically gentle gesture he patted your cheeks with the palm of his hand, lightly, as if to soothe the sore flesh, but it only made the way he pulled them mockingly far more jarring. “Know what that makes you babygirl?” He paused for a moment, knowing you couldn't answer, looking down at the way your eyes were now welling with tears at the pain, and reveling in the sight. 

“Makes you a little slut” 

You wanted to respond, wanted to defend yourself, but you could only settle for grabbing his dress shirt in the balls of your first. The fabric of your panties had pretty much soaked through, and you felt it cling to you uncomfortably as you shifted on the table to pull him closer. Practically begging for his touch. 

He let go of your face, but he didn’t plan on being any more gentle. He knew there was nothing you could do, nothing you could say at that moment, and he took full advantage of your silence– telling you everything he’d wanted to scream in your face for the past month. It was even better now however, because as a fun bonus, for his superhuman self control, you were even pleading for him to do so. He could see it in your eyes, feel it on your hot skin, the way you subtly rolled your hips against the table to ease the pang between your thighs. He reduced you to a dumb, empty headed bimbo, with his words alone. He couldn't help but rub it in a little. “Aw baby, no words for me? Where’s that snappy mouth now?” That faux sympathy was back again

His hands rubbed up and down your sides, moving to toy with the buttons of your top as he spoke. Fiddling with them he popped the first few open, enough to expose the swell of your breasts to the cool of the air conditioned office. With lust blown eyes he trailed his thumbs along your collar bones and then down to your admittedly skimpy lingerie– you gasped when he yanked it down, practically tearing if in a swift motion. He admired you for a moment, held you in place when you squirmed against him, wrapped your legs around his waist. 

You shifted on the desk, leaning your face against his torso, looking up at him,  pleading with your eyes. “Like you better like this, clothes half off like a desperate slut that couldn’t even wait to get undressed.” He paused, still admiring, tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs. “Oh, and fucking quiet”  he flipped you on your stomach, your legs dangling of the table when you writhed under his punishing grip– pushing your face down against the wood, bending you over it. “Whaddya think baby?” 

As if he had enough of just looking you felt him flip your skirt up with his vacant hand, and yelped when his palm came down harshly on the flesh of your ass, the sting only egging on your tears of desperation. “You know what I think baby? Think I needa fuck some manners into you.” He smoothed his hands up and down your warm thighs, fingers finding the soaked fabric of your panties as you moaned and sighed above him. He knew what he did to you and he loved it. “Can pretend there's anything in that head of yours besides the thought of goin’ dumb for me”

You lifted your head to look up and behind you, you’d give anything to witness the sight you’d touched yourself to for the past month, but Javier was quick to slam you head back back to where it came from, and send your eyes rolling back into your head as he shoved your soaked panties aside and roughly pushed two fingers into your sopping cunt. "Fuck, look at this tight little pussy, can barley take my fingers." He groaned in your ear, leaning up against you as his digits fucked you at an agonisingly slow pace, just barely soothing the burn of desire building in your core. “Bad girls don’t get a view.” Light headed, you could only squeal, could only hide your face from him as he leaned over to catch a glimpse of your knitted brows and that pout. 

"Y'know how messy y'are baby? Feel how this pussys cryin' for me, drippin' all over my hand?"

You kicked your legs in protest, salty tears streaming down your face and pooling at its side on the wood beneath you. He wasn’t happy when he found you pushing back against his fingers, grinding helplessly on them. For a moment you thought your wish was granted, but he was only yanking you off the desk so you could have your back flush against him, and he could get his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Still languidly pumping his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy he turned your face to meet his, and sneered as his palm collided with the side of your cheek. 

Smack 

“Watch it” You wanted to be a brat, wanted to defy him, but it was all too much to handle at once. You felt fuzzy all over, and who were you kidding you were always going dumb for him. Besides, how could you even keep your mind steady, not when you felt his hard length against you. You gazed right up at him, pushed back against him, eyes rolling back into your head as you did. He only laughed. “Oh baby, think it's gonna be that easy? Think ‘m gonna let you cum jus’ like that? After you've run me up the wall?” He squeezed your breast in his palm, bending you back over the table, now more gently, extending the olive branch, giving you a chance to repent. “‘M not a needy slut like you baby, those little tricks ain't’ gonna work” Javier was an asshole, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting to ruin you. But first he wanted to have a little fun. 

“Please, please, promise I'll be good.” He hummed, pretending like he was debating whether he was going to give into your pleas yet. He wasn't. He wanted to soak in the sight– you splayed out on his desk, begging him to fuck you sensless, his hands roaming your body torturously teasing you as your pussy clenched around nothing, dripping for him. 

“So now ya wanna be good? Well baby I'm not buyin it yet. Gonna take a lot more convincing than that.” His fingers found your clothed cunt once again, drawing soft circles on your clit. You wailed, knuckles going white when you gripped the table edge in front of you. "Feels good doesnt' it babygirl, I know, feels so good when you finally fucking listen." You pushed back against his fingers, practically humping his hand. The tears were back, and he loved them. “Aw, poor baby, too much?” He wasn’t asking, and you knew he didn’t care what you had to say anyway. He wanted one response, and you were far too wound up not to give it to him. 

“Please please please. Won't be a brat, wanna be your good girl.” He kept you waiting and distraught, fingers still rubbing you through your panties as he spoke, knowing very well you could barely concentrate when he touched you, the squelching of your wetness only drove you towards the edge. “Now babygirl, you're gonna listen, and you're gonna listen good, and do exactly what I say. Ya hear?” You nodded your head vigorously, but a smack to your ass reminded you to use your words. “Yes. promise” He laughed. “Such an easy little slut.” You heard the jingle of his belt behind you. 

You shivered when you felt his cock drag against your drenched cunt, tip bumping your clit with every pass as he wet himself with your slick. Your hips moved frantically, unable to get enough of the friction, but he held you back just enough, to where you would remain unsatisfied and frustrated.“Say" I'm sorry daddy. I'm sorry for being a tease.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and the command alone was enough to send you over the edge. 

“‘m sorry for being a tease daddy ” 

“Say “I'm Sorry for being an easy whore”” 

“M’ sorry for being an easy whore” You’d never been more shy in your life, forget around Javier, who could never guess you had it in you. “That’s my good little slut.” But the way he was speaking to you, teasing, mocking, telling you what to do, what to say– you were hot all over with humiliation. You hid your face, pretty much smashing your forehead against the table, making sure no matter how far he lent he couldn't see the way you were coming undone under him. 

He could probably sense it, though, especially by the way you reacted to his little praise. “That's it babygirl. Comin around now are we?” You didn't want him to have that on you, but you were lucky, in a way, because he didn’t care much to tease you anymore. He grabbed your hips harshly and with a rough thrust of his hips he was fucking you into the mahogany desk, your ribs bruising as he held you down against it. He wasn’t wasting any time, wasn’t stopping or going slow to let you adjust, he was reminding you of how tightly you’d wound him up.“So fuckin tight” his voice was a strained whisper behind you, and you made a noise you could barely recognise as your own at his words. “Hurts” you were whining again,this time at the sting,  and you knew he didn’t care but you couldn’t help yourself. “Yeah baby hurts when daddy stuffs you full of his cock? My poor thing.. But you like it don't you babygirl? Like it when I stretch you open” he wasn’t wrong. The feeling of him splitting you open had turned you into a puddle, a moaning mess. “”S too big” his hands smoothed up and down your back erratically.  “I know baby, I know, but you’re gonna take it aren’t you? Gonna take it how I give it to you dirty little girl?” You were, you took it how he gave it to you. “Gonna ruin this pretty lil pussy” He squeezed the flesh of your hips till you squeaked, the pain only adding to the pleasure as his hips smacked against yours. 

You felt your legs shake as his cock pounded your aching pussy. “Jus’ needed daddy to fuck all that brattiness outta ya huh?” You nodded your head and he cooed at the way you melted into his touch. “Oh baby, that’s it, just like that.” Gazing up with hooded eyes you caught his reflection in the glass of his office window, half illuminated by the dim lighting– his own face scrunched up with pleasure. The sight only had you fucking back against him. You felt like jello, your heart pitter pattering at his little praise. 

“My good little slut” 

Wrapping his arm around you he grabbed your face roughly again, dragging you up and against his chest again. 

“My slut, hear me?” 

Yours, yours, yours 

Your brain was a fog, and the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you, making you clench around him as that burn built in your core– a string of incoherent “daddy’s” being the only thing you could manage to get out your mouth.  “My dumb fuckin baby, my whore, squeezin’ my cock”. You repeated like a broken record; “daddy’s, daddy’s daddy’s”, the feeling of your slick running down your thighs making you go dizzy. 

“Look at you, daddy’s little cumdump” your cheeks were burning, your eyes barley staying open. He pulled your face up from the desk. “Can barely look straight huh baby? Gettin all cock drunk on me.” You made out his dark eyes in the reflection. But you couldn’t bear to meet them. It didn’t matter. He was always looking at you.

“Only for you daddy”

Your release was building, like an inextinguishable fire, your pussy throbbing with need, just begging for it, and he knew it too, the way your walls quivered around him, the way you were moaning and panting, whispering soft calls of “daddy” when he held you against him. “Gonna cum babygirl? Gonna cum on my cock, bent over my desk? When ’m usin’ ya like a fuckin toy?” 

Your body went lax in his arms as you came, your lips parting in a wordless cry, eyes fluttering shut. “That's it… cum for me”. You cherished that almost gentle encouragement as you came undone, tummy swarming with butterflies as you shook in his arms. He was still fucking into your sensitive pussy, pushing you further into the desk as he neared his release. You heard a strained curse behind you, before he was fucking you full of his cum in deep, hard thrusts, your legs dangled off the table as you milked his cock. Shivering at the feeling you closed your eyes, his spend leaked out of your sore pussy when he pulled out, dripping down your inner thighs obscenely. You heard his belt jingle again as he caught his breath behind you, and you felt silly for the way you missed his warmth when it was replaced by the chilled office air. He quickly shifted your panties back in place, making sure you stayed stuffed full of his cum. You winced when he smacked your pussy lightly. Raising your head you caught his reflection again, but you hid your face back against the desk almost immediately when you saw the way he admired his work in the reflection, like he could see the way he’d fucked the brattiness out of you. 

With closed eyes you hummed as he turned you over and sat you on the desk. Now that you’d finally got Javier’s attention you were satisfied– all sleepy and fucked out. You wished he’d hold you, but you had to remind yourself fucking you hadn’t taken the asshole out of him. He was still Javier. Hardass DEA attaché Javier. You sat there for a while, and when you opened your eyes you saw him picking up his blazer and briefcase. 

“If you're not up in 10 seconds I'm leavin’ ya here.” He was back to usual in a moment, and in your fuzzy little head you heard a well meaningness in that tone. “In those messy panties.” You pouted at his words, once again, and he watched as you hopped off the table, rubbing your eyes as you gathered your things, albeit clumsily–your knees wobbly to the point where you could see Javier’s smirk behind you as you shoved your laptop into your bag. 

Turning off the table lamp he motioned with his head for you to get moving along, and you rolled your eyes at him as you walked out the door, stumbling slightly as you did. He gave you what you now recognised as that look, brows raised, and you didn’t have the energy at the moment to be combative. 

Maybe you didn’t want to be. 

“Come on now, runalong”

—

My old man is a thief, and

I'm gonna stay and pray with him 'til the end

But I trust in the decision of the Lord, to watch over us

Take him when He may, if He may

I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

And we're off to the races, places

Ready, set, the gate is down and now we're goin' in

To Las Vegas, chaos, Casino Oasis

Honey, it is time to spin

Boy, you're so crazy, baby

I love you forever, not maybe

You are my one true love

You are my one true love

You are my one true love

Let me know what you think please!! I’d love to hear your nasty thots. I really hope you lovelies liked it. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work. You keep me writing! Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗💗🐝🐝

[yawnderu]

so I saw u were taking requests and I wanted to request something lolol (I don’t have to write this if u don’t want to lolol)

prince!miguel x evilwitch!reader? Where the reader kidnaps miguel to try and torture him with their magic but miguel gets a crush on them instead

cw: edging, vulgar language, ruined orgasms, blowjobs, rough sex, ass fingering, creampie, implied anal, Miguel whimpers, pure filth.

"Cállate." Miguel barked as you kept teasing him, his handsome face turned into a frustrated snarl, fangs bared as you simply tightened up the dark magic rope constricting his body.

It has been two weeks since you kidnapped Miguel in hopes of getting him to tell you the location of an ancient flower that you need for potions, yet he refuses to tell you.

No matter how much you beat and torture him, this man doesn't break, so you decided to approach the issue at hand differently. This is the fifth orgasm you've ruined for him, denying him of the privilege of cumming. He let out a frustrated growl, struggling against the rope uselessly.

Your hand kept working his thick cock up and down, his precum leaking down on it like a faucet, mixing in with the sweat that dripped down his forehead. Miguel was a strong man, yet the way one of your hands worked his shaft while the other one fondled his big balls had him weak. Any other man would have fallen for your charm, no? Miguel tried convince himself, he tried his best to ignore the way you teasingly kissed his dick, to look away and pretend this wasn't happening, yet you always know how to get him to react.

"Eyes on me, pretty boy." You command, teasingly licking the slit of his dick. That earns you a sharp hiss, his heart rate accelerating and his body heat increasing as your hand moves faster up and down his dick. This time you take it a step further, putting his tip inside your mouth as your tongue teasingly licks circles all over it. Miguel thrusts his hips up and you allow him to fuck into your mouth, the salty taste of his precum mixed in with tears and sweat instantly hitting your mouth.

Just as you can feel his dick throb you pull away with a loud "pop", shooting him a smug smirk as a strangled whimper comes out of his lips. His hips are still slightly thrusting up, hoping to get any sort of relief.

"You look so pathetic like this, principito." You tease, not touching him for a few seconds as you take in the sight in front of you. It's comical, almost, with Miguel's behemoth frame tied down to a chair, fully clothed as only his cock and balls are out of the expensive fabric of his pants, your saliva and his precum already staining the clothing yet neither of you seem to care. Miguel only wants to cum, and you only want to tease him. Something about the man whose pridefulness is always on his shoulders like a weight crumbling down and whining like a bitch is doing things to you.

"Por favor... por favor, let me cum. Just once, brujita, please." He begs pathetically, groaning as your hand goes back to fastly rub up and down his massive cock. Your fingers can't even fully wrap around it, yet Miguel doesn't seem to care

"Ay, así..." He slowly thrusts his hips up to make you jerk him off faster, his eyes closed as his full focus goes to how damn good your hand feels wrapped around his length. He's blubbering nonsense in Spanish as his hips thrust harder and you stop moving your hand, allowing him to jerk himself off using your hand.

"Dios mío... te quiero embarrar la cara de leche." He speaks softly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you. Miguel looks completely out of a porno, a slight red tint to his tanned cheeks and mouth slightly ajar as his gaze focuses on you with pure adoration. You see his eyes roll to the back of his head when you start moving your hand again, working his shaft all the way from the base to the tip. He drops his head back, groans and deep whiny whimpers leaving his mouth as he focuses on the pleasure.

"Mi amor... mi vida, me voy a—" He cries out as you remove your hand again, ruining his orgasm for what seems like the thousandth time. Miguel is about to protest until he sees you starting to lift up your skirt, turning around and looking back at him with a smug grin that shows you're up to no good. You hold his cock as you sit on his lap, teasingly rubbing the thick length between your soaking wet folds just enough for Miguel to let out a strangled moan, his forehead resting on the back of your shoulder as tears begin rimming his eyes. He wants to cum so bad— he needs to cum so badly.

"Por favor." He pleads, voice barely above a whisper, and you comply. You lift your ass enough to line up his thick uncut tip to your soaking wet cunt, hissing softly as you begin to sink down, feeling him complete stretch you out. It stings, and yet it feels too good to stop. You take a few seconds before slowly grinding on his dick, moving up at down as he stirrs up your insides, throaty groans and whines coming out of Miguel from behind you as he thrusts his hips up, fucking into you desperately.

"Please, please, I can't—" He mumbles out your name like a mantra, already picturing the moment you'll pull away and ruin his orgasm again, yet you don't pull away this time. You bounce on his fat cock faster, your tight, warm walls engulfing him completely as your hand goes down to rub your hard clit, the other one gripping his meaty thigh for support as you slam down his dick harder.

Miguel can't take it anymore, groaning out your name as he thrusts his hips harder and faster into you, ramming himself into you in a way only a man with his size and stamina could. You're so lost in pleasure you don't fully register the strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you from behind as Miguel uses your own body as leverage to fuck balls deep into you, drawing a sharp hiss out of your pretty lips.

Just when you're about to look back and see how the fuck he got out of the bindings, your body is being ragdolled and moved until you're in all fours on the floor, his big palm forcefully making your back arch as he fucks into you at an unlawful pace. You're not ruining his orgasm this time— not when he's finally free from your magic and can move you around to his pleasure. His hand moves up to your hips once he realizes you'll keep it arched, ramming into you as he gets on one knee, his meaty thigh against your side as he pushes all the way inside, heavy balls slapping your clit.

"Who looks pathetic now, huh, princesa?" He asked teasingly between sharp breaths, his gaze dropping down at the way your squelching cunt is completely swallowing him up, your lips gripping his fat cock making him smirk. His hands go lower, spreading your cheeks apart as he spits into your puckered hole, teasing it with his thumb before he eases it into you, grinning as he can feel his dick moving between the thin layers of flesh.

"¿Te gusta por el culo? You always looked slutty to me." He was clearly trying to get into your head, to be petty for those two weeks you kept him captured, and for all those ruined orgasms. Your cunt tightening up on him as you came made him groan, his thumb still moving into your asshole as his hips stuttered, giving a few sloppy thrusts before pushing himself all the way inside, finally being able to cum with a loud growl. It was easily the most intense orgasm Miguel has ever had, that much is clear by the way his thick, creamy cum is dripping out of you even when his fat cock is still pushed all the way inside.

"We're not done here, brujita." He says teasingly, pulling his hard dick out of your cunt before he lines it up with your asshole.

[gyubakeries]

𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | j.ww

a/n: i had a terrible nightmare, but it inspired this lmao. apologies if the plot seems weird, i just went with the flow. hope you like it! (p.s. took me just a week to write this bad boy, but trust, there's more angst on the way! itll take more time bcs im super busy but i promise im gonna deliver angst)

word count: 5k contents: dystopian au , kinda inspired by divergent too , wonwoo x afab!reader , doctor!wonwoo , reader is going to die , a little graphic at the end but for like 2 seconds , flashbacks , forbidden love , HEAVY angst , sad ending

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"756, your three hours begin now," an automated voice booms through the speakers placed in your cell, reverberating through the small metal chamber you've been kept in for as long as you can remember.

the door to your cell slides open, allowing you your last bit of freedom, last few hours of life, before it was all going to be taken away from you.

hyejun, the girl who occupied the cell next to you, comes into view, her eyes already filled with tears. the two of you had become friends of some sort over the last twenty-one years of captivity. although, your friendship wasn't like the ones people wrote about in books or played out in movies.

the Misfits would never have the privilege of a real friendship.

you couldn't tell each other about childhood memories, dreams, goals, or regrets, because the last twenty-one years of your lives had been spent inside the same grey walls. you couldn't go shopping at the mall, or watch movies at the cinema, because you weren't allowed to leave the facility, no matter what.

yet, hyejun was the closest you'd ever have to a friend, which is why it hurt you to see her cry profusely.

"don't cry, you idiot," you laugh, trying your best to keep yourself calm and composed. nothing good ever came out of the both of you crying together. "don't act like you forgot that this would happen some day."

"it hurt less to pretend like it wasn't," hyejun sobs, hugging you tightly. "why did we have to turn out this way?"

you wish you could answer that question.

there wasn't really any research or accurate information on how the Misfits came to be. the only piece of information told to every Misfit child the day they turn three years old is that they didn't have a place in society.

and the next thing you know, you've been shipped off to a facility to spend the rest of your lives as outcasts; as children who were deprived of their life too quickly.

at least once during their twenty-one years in a prison, every Misfit has wondered how this system came to be. who was it that decided what the Misfits were? was there a war? or an uprising? why was it declared that upon turning twenty-four, every Misfit would be executed?

you had resigned to your fate a long time ago. somewhere between the age of five and eight, when you realized that this was your life—living locked up in the facility. it wasn't as restrictive as a prison, as you were allowed to spend time outside your cell for meals, showers, interacting with others, and visiting the in-house library, theater and much more. but you when you learnt that you were strictly denied any permission to leave the place where childhood innocence came to die—you had given up.

you stopped throwing tantrums and crying like all the other children. you stopped wanting to see the outside world again. you stopped trying to live your life. you stopped hoping. you stopped loving.

it was a cruel realization to come to at such a young age, but you never had a choice. your entire life had been decided for you, because of some goddamn reason no one knew, so you gave up on trying to fight the system.

which is why, on the day of your twenty-fourth birthday, when your last three hours on this earth were announced, there wasn't any dread or anxiety filling you. there wasn't any urge to resist and rebel against the oppression you've been subjected to.

you were just another number on the list, the seven hundred and fifty-sixth person to be killed this year.

one of the things you were thankful for was the painless death. back when you were thirteen, an old lady who worked at the facility as a cleaner had given into hyejun's incessant pleas to know how the executions occurred.

the lady had said, "it doesn't hurt at all. first, they inject you with some drug. then, you're taken into an empty white room. they have a machine in there, which i don't know much about, but in merely three minutes, you're gone."

hyejun had ended up in tears after she got to know, but all you could do was laugh to yourself. three years to live a normal life, three hours to spend before you die, and three minutes to completely wipe out your existence, as if you ever really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

ever since you came into the facility, you've seen countless people being escorted upstairs to meet their end. some scream and yell for mercy, some stab a knife into themselves before they die in a way they're not even aware of, and some people, like you, have this empty look in their eyes. they look like lifeless dolls being dragged to their doom, because anything worth living had already been snatched from their hands.

—

"one hour and fifteen minutes," hyejun whispers, looking at the timer on your wrist counting down your last few moments. "y/n, how am i going to live without you?"

"this isn't called life, junnie," you chuckle, the sound hollow and meaningless. "they should've just killed us before we were brought into this prison. this isn't a life worth living."

"how can you say that?" hyejun asks, and you look at her to gauge her expression. hyejun is one of the many people who still haven't accepted that their days are marked. she's one of the many people who hope that there is a second chance at life.

"i can say it because it's the truth," you sigh. "there's no point in grieving the loss of a life you never had."

hyejun falls silent, her expression distraught, and you feel bad for this being your last conversation with the one person you've spent your entire life with.

your heart softens just a little bit for the person who's shared this meaningless life with you, so you move closer to her on the single bed in your cell.

"i'm sorry, i guess i hadn't realized that you haven't accepted this fate like i have," you apologize, wrapping an arm around hyejun's shoulder to comfort her. "don't be too upset after i'm gone, okay? probably not the best source of motivation, but you'll just have two weeks to spend without me before..... you know." you trail off awkwardly.

"i know," hyejun nods, looking up at you. "promise me you'll find me wherever we end up once we're gone?"

"i promise," you smile, and it's probably the most genuine thing you've felt your entire life.

the two of you huddle closer, spending your last hour in silence.

the door to your cell remains open, which is why you aren't startled when two women, dressed in all-white clothing, appear at the door, one holding a glass of water, and the other a pill.

hyejun isn't as calm as you, and tears quickly spring to her eyes when she sees the two officials at the door. "y/n, it can't be-"

"764, please return to your assigned cell," one woman speaks, her tone cold and sterile, devoid of any emotion.

"i- please, just some more time, please," hyejun begs, her hands clinging onto yours, as if bargaining for more time would do anything to delay the consequence you were going to face.

"please return to your assigned cell," the woman repeats. "i will not hesitate to call security."

"junnie, go," you whisper, slowly freeing your hands from her grip. "i'll be fine, you'll be fine."

hyejun shakes her head, sobbing incessantly. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too," you admit truthfully. "i'll wait for you, okay?"

hyejun nods, and after another threatening glare from the officials, she shares one last knowing look with you, and for a moment, you feel thankful for being loved by someone in this life, no matter how short or miserable it was.

hyejun goes back into her own cell, and you let your last ever interaction with her sink in.

"756, please take this pill, and then follow us upstairs," the second woman instructs, and you get off the bed to approach the women.

"happy birthday to me," you scoff to yourself, taking the pill and swallowing it down with the water.

as if some countdown has started, the two officials spring into action. each grab one arm of yours and escort you out of your room. out of the corner of your eye, you can see hyejun by her door, collapsed to the floor on her knees, sobbing and grieving the only real connection she had with anyone in this ruthless world.

you wish you could say the same, but it would be a lie.

because when you finally climb the last step, and the door to your death is opened in front of you, you find yourself looking into the chocolate-brown eyes you had foolishly let yourself fall into.

jeon wonwoo.

—

[ flashback - 28th october, 2022 ]

"i wasn't aware that you were allowed to be outside your cell past 11 p.m.," a deep voice speaks from behind you, and you nearly jump five feet into the air.

you turn to see a tall, bespectacled man standing in the kitchen, a white lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders.

he's a doctor.

"i-i'm so sorry," you gasp, realizing that you're in deep shit now. realistically, you knew that the only way you were going to leave this facility was when you died, but you had no idea what the protocol was for people who snuck out of their cells at midnight, which was against all the rules. "i just really needed some water and i didn't have any left in the cell and-"

but the doctor just smiles at you, his intimidating demeanour replaced by possibly the only smile you'll ever see that is so beautiful.

"it's alright, don't be scared," he assures you, in that rich, warm voice of his. "i'm doctor jeon. you are?"

"y/n," you reply, confused about the whole situation. were doctors supposed to be on a first-name basis with the Misfits? "i'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but are you supposed to be talking to me?"

a flicker of sadness appears in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly. "it's alright for me to talk to you. you do realize i am required to interact with everyone in this facility if they visit the infirmary, right? i'm a doctor, it's kinda my job."

your face burns with embarrassment. "sorry, that was a stupid question."

"no worries, y/n," doctor jeon laughs, seemingly endeared by your mini-meltdown. you had no idea why you were behaving this way. never in your life had you been this embarrassed or flustered around anyone. you've been living in a prison all your life, where showers are taken in communal bathrooms and privacy was a rare luxury. why did this man have to change that?

"i'm going to head back to my cell now," you clear your throat, eyes focused on the water bottle you had just filled for yourself.

"alright," doctor jeon nods. "goodnight, y/n."

you give him a nod in return, stiffly walking past him to tiptoe back to your cell. you catch a glance at his name-tag.

dr. jeon wonwoo.

the name stays on your mind for way longer than it should've.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"have you taken the prescribed pill?" wonwoo asks, his tone formal and cold, as if he's never seen you, never known of your existence.

you know that's far from the truth.

"yes, doctor," you reply promptly, attentively watching as wonwoo goes through a few files on his desk. you see his features harden for a second at the name you addressed him with, a giveaway of how much he hated it when you called him that.

"it'll take a minute for the pill to take effect," wonwoo says. "please head over to the chair."

you wordlessly move over to the black leather armchair in the room, sitting on it as instructed. the situation is built on similar circumstances from the past, but it feels so devastatingly unfamiliar and strange.

you don't know if it's the air-conditioner or the cold look in wonwoo's once-loving eyes that makes you shiver.

—

[ flashback - 24th november, 2022 ]

"i'll walk you to the infirmary," hyejun offers. the morning of your twenty-second birthday, you had woken up with a high fever. your body was so weak, you couldn't even move to get off the bed.

thankfully, despite the prison-like feel, the facility wasn't too restrictive with regards to the cell doors being locked, or neighbouring cellmates interacting, which is why hyejun could come into your cell and take you to the infirmary.

you're barely conscious when you enter. you can hear hyejun's muffled voice talking to the doctor on duty, explaining to them your condition, all while you struggle to stay standing upright.

soon, a familiar pair of glasses swim into your vision, strong arms lift you and place you on one of the beds, and a gentle touch on your forehead lulls you to sleep.

the name-tag catches your attention before your eyes close.

—

"doctor jeon?" you croak out, voice groggy with sleep. the doctor looks up from his desk to see you sitting up in bed, finally awake after being asleep for almost the entire day.

"ah, y/n, you're up," wonwoo smiles at you. "how are you feeling now?"

"the fever seems to be gone," you reply after a moment, feeling much better than earlier in the morning.

"that's good to hear," wonwoo nods. "your friend mentioned that it was your birthday today. happy birthday, y/n."

you sigh. "doctor, i appreciate your gesture, but having a birthday is hardly an occasion that calls for happiness, is it? birthdays are never happy for someone like me."

a similar flicker of sadness flashes in wonwoo's eyes, reminding you of the first encounter in the kitchen a month ago.

"i'm sorry, i should've known-"

"it's alright," you interrupt his apology. "at least the infirmary is a change of scenery. never had a birthday party in here before, doctor." you joke, because somehow, seeing a frown on wonwoo's face felt like it should be a crime for him to be anything but happy.

"call me wonwoo, please," he chuckles. "being called doctor by someone who's the same age feels a little embarrassing."

"we're the same age?" you question, sitting up a little straighter. "next thing you're going to tell me is that we have the same favorite color."

"i like blue," wonwoo says.

"me too!" you gasp, the both of you bursting into laughter instantly.

the infirmary was empty for the rest of the day, and the two of you filled it with laughter and stories. wonwoo gladly took the lead, telling you all about his life up until he was hired to work at the facility six months ago, and you listened eagerly. it felt like you lived life through his stories, and it stirred this dangerous feeling inside you.

you had found something that gave you hope, in a universe where hope never worked in your favor.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"details of subject 756. full name, lee y/n. sex, female. date of birth, 24th november 1999-"

wonwoo's voice reading out all your details, the only pieces of information that gave you any form of self-identity, was getting hard to listen to with no response.

"stop."

"756, not interrupting the procedure would be advised," wonwoo addresses you, not even looking your way, his eyes trained on the file in front of him.

"why are you treating me like you don't know who i am?" you ask him in a quiet voice. "as if we didn't spend almost two years together, in love-"

"756, no interruptions, please." wonwoo grits out, sounding just as hurt as you felt.

"you hated it when i called you doctor, and now you won't even call me by my name?" you scoff, and that seems to rouse a reaction out of wonwoo.

"you are nothing but a number on this long list of people that i have to kill," wonwoo seethes, leaving his desk to come stand in front of you. "this is our reality now, 756. whatever happened in those two years, it was a dream, a fantasy."

"our love wasn't real? the hope you gave me wasn't real?" you challenge, standing up from the armchair. "you promised me, every day, that you'd change this, that i wouldn't have to-"

"then you were stupid for believing me!" wonwoo yells, cutting you off. "you should've known that i was an idiot in love, that i would've promised you anything if it meant i could see you smile. if it meant i could see you live the last few years of your life happily."

—

[ flashback - 1st january, 2023 ]

soon after your twenty-second birthday, you had grown much closer to wonwoo. you'd visit the infirmary for no reason, just to spend hours with him, learning about how the outside world worked. there were afternoons where he'd show you pictures of mountains, oceans, parks, children, and animals that he'd taken. there were evenings where he'd sneak you into his quarters, where he'd read you a book, or turn on a random movie he thought you'd appreciate.

it started feeling less like a friendship, and more like love. the way his eyes would light up when you entered the infirmary to greet him good morning, the way his ears would turn red if any other staff at the facility would get close to figuring out his relationship with you, the way he'd hold your hand or run his fingers through your hair, and the way he'd smile at you, kissing your cheek as a goodnight before going back to his own quarters.

you knew you were foolish for falling in love with wonwoo, especially when you had such limited time to love him properly. so you began to distance yourself from him. you stopped visiting him, avoided his attempts to talk, and tried your best to forget him.

it didn't work.

it only ended up in you being dragged to the infirmary by hyejun, when you woke up on january 1st complaining of a terrible stomach ache.

it was wonwoo who took care of you then.

"you've been avoiding me," wonwoo says quietly, watching you take the medicine he gave you. "did i do something wrong?"

you stay silent, wondering if you should tell him the truth or keep it hidden.

"i've fallen in love with you."

the truth it is then.

wonwoo gapes at you, blinking repeatedly as he tries to process your words. after a minute, he regains his composure and says, "i love you too. now why were you ignoring me?"

he asked you to be his girlfriend three days later, and for the first time since you've entered the facility, your heart starts to long for more time.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024]

"yeah, i was stupid," you laugh sadly. "i was stupid to believe that you'd actually do something to fight for us."

"and risk both our lives in the process?" wonwoo argues. "if anyone would've found out, we'd both be killed, and not the painless way."

"well, one of us is going to die anyways!" you raise your voice, the tears you've desperately held back finally spilling over. "why did you have to love me? why did you have to make me want to live? do you know how hard it is for your face to be the last thing i see before i die?"

"and you think that this is making me happy?" wonwoo says, anger, love, helplessness, all emotions bleeding into his voice. "i loved you too. heck, i still do, and even after you're gone, i'll-"

"just do it. do whatever you need to do to kill me," you stop him from finishing his sentence. five-year old you had promised to give into your fate no matter what happens. and even though seeing the only man you've loved about to end your life is breaking your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn't be alive for too long to feel that pain.

"no-" wonwoo shakes his head. "i was stupid. i should've done something sooner. i was scared and i'm sorry. i'll get you out."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2023 ]

"i'll get you out," wonwoo whispers into your ear. you've just pulled him into a hug before you go back into your cell for the night when the words are muttered into the skin of your neck. "i won't let you die, y/n. not like this."

"won, what are you saying?" you ask, pulling away to face him. "are you nuts?"

"i love you and i can't bear the thought of having to lose you," wonwoo breathes out, his voice sounding strained. "i can't lose you."

"wonwoo, this is the system," you scoff. "i can't not die, it's not possible."

"just trust me," wonwoo shakes his head. "i'll get you out."

you let yourself believe him.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"i'm not letting myself fall for empty promises anymore," your words ring out loud and clear. "just get this over with, doctor."

"y/n-"

"756. that's how you're instructed to address me, doctor," you correct him.

"i can't. i won't do this to you," wonwoo refuses, moving closer to stand in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders. "we can get out, y/n. please, let me try."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2024]

"there's no way out," wonwoo mutters, and you feel the hope building in your chest crumble to dust.

"what- what do you mean?" you stammer. "wonwoo, you said you'd find a way-"

"i couldn't," he sighs. "not with management breathing down my neck. they already suspect i'm in close contact with one of the Misfits, and i don't want to give them a reason to make your last few months any worse."

"did you even try?" your voice breaks, your hopes and dreams slowly getting crushed.

"i didn't," wonwoo replies hesitantly. "i'm being monitored, especially after the promotion-"

"promotion?"

"i've been assigned to the room upstairs."

the room upstairs. where every Misfit goes to die.

"you- you never told me about this," your voice is strangled, the weight of wonwoo's words pressing down on your chest like an invisible weight.

"that's because you had no business knowing about it," wonwoo snaps. "look, y/n, from now on, you and i are nothing but strangers. whatever we had between us, it has to end now."

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"you ended things. we're strangers now," you remind wonwoo, and the tears finally escape his eyes. "you shouldn't care this much for strangers, doctor."

"y/n, i'm sorry," wonwoo chokes out, tears streaming down his face, and you belatedly realize that you’re crying too. with the back of your hand, you wipe away the unnecessary and immature tears. this was your fate.

“you didn’t try when you said you would, wonwoo,” you lower your gaze, staring at the floor. "there's no happy ending for us now. there never was."

"i know. i was an asshole for promising you something i couldn't give to you, but i know i'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting not helping you now," wonwoo argues. he holds your hands in his.

"please, y/n, give me another chance."

"you know what's funny, wonwoo?" you laugh bitterly, looking up at the man you will love till the moment you die. "at least you have a lifetime you can spend regretting. at least you have a lifetime to start afresh, find someone else, fall in love. i only had you. you were my world, and it hurt so much when you lied to me and showed me dreams i never should've seen."

"i only said all those things because i loved you then, and i love you now as well," wonwoo's voice is shaky now. he knows your time together is nearing to a close, and with every passing second, he dreads the passing of the remainder of his life without you. "i was foolish to promise you freedom, but it was only because i hated that look of hopelessness in your eyes. and you have all the right to blame me, but let me just try-"

"if you're so sure you can get me out now, why didn't you do it earlier?" you cut him off. "why now? right before i have to die?"

you see the look of guilt flash in wonwoo's eyes. your eyes fall to the white lab coat he's wearing, the symbol of the facility embroidered into the fabric, right above where his name-tag sits.

you raise your hand to brush your fingers against the only name you had desperately hoped to call out for the rest of your life.

you realize that while it was your fate was to die, wonwoo's fate was to live. the purpose of your life was to live twenty-four years on this miserable earth and then vanish, while wonwoo's role was to take your life.

no matter how realistic those two years felt, it was impossible for the two of you to be together. you were carrying out your meaningless life, and wonwoo was fulfilling his duty. a duty that never involved loving you or rescuing you.

the bitterness brewing in you for the last couple of months comes to a rest, because you understand.

"i don't blame you," you utter quietly, hands coming up to rest against wonwoo's chest. if you tried really hard, you could delude yourself into thinking that this was just another morning you would spend with wonwoo, in his embrace, living life as if you had the gift of endless time.

"you were scared too, weren't you?"

wonwoo's face crumbles. he leans forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder as his body shakes with the intensity of his cries.

you hold him tight, and you feel sorry for giving him this warmth and comfort right before you left his life forever.

"you should have never loved me," wonwoo sobs. "i thought i was making your last years something you wouldn't hate, but i just-"

"you made my last years the happiest i've ever been," you stop him. "i don't regret loving you wonwoo, not even for a second. and i'm sorry i was angry at you for not helping me get out. i was too blinded by betrayal to realize that it could cost your life too."

"it wouldn't have mattered if you got to live," wonwoo shakes his head.

"it would've, because i wouldn't have you to live my life with," you say softly. wonwoo pulls away from you. his eyes are red and puffy, and your heart aches with the urge to kiss him, one last time.

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "i'm sorry that we ended up this way. god, if i had it any other way, i would've done anything to grow old with you."

"i'm sorry too," wonwoo sniffles. "for not fighting enough for us."

"it can't be helped now," you smile sadly at him. "maybe in another universe, we get to travel the world with each other and do everything we couldn't do in this one."

"it's time to let go, wonwoo," you say, pressing one final kiss against his lips.

wonwoo inhales deeply after you back away from him. he walks back to the desk, takes out a syringe filled with a clear liquid with shaking hands and comes back to face you.

"i'll find you in every other universe, and i'll love you till the end of time," wonwoo looks into your eyes, and this one feels like a real promise.

"i know you will," you hold the wrist of the hand holding the syringe to steady it.

wonwoo presses the needle into the skin of your neck, the place where he had whispered a promise of a better life before, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"it won't hurt at all," wonwoo whispers as an assurance, and his free hand holds yours tightly.

the needle breaks through skin, the liquid is injected, and your last three minutes begin.

you open your eyes, and nothing feels like it's changed, but then wonwoo approaches you with a black eye-mask.

"i don't want you to see what happens," he explains, and you nod to give him permission. he slips the fabric onto your head, and your vision is blocked.

the last thing you see is his name-tag.

you hear the turn of a door knob, the sound of a door creaking open, and wonwoo's last words to you.

"i love you."

you feel gentle hands guide you into the room just opened, a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of wonwoo leaving you.

you're alone.

you smell the sterile antiseptic used to clean the room, a vague burning scent, your impending death.

your time is nearly up.

you taste the salt of the last tears you'll ever shed, the sour flavor of tragic love, blood.

it's almost over.

and then, nothing. it's like your senses have stopped working all of a sudden, and you're in a vacuum.

your hands tug off the eye-mask, but you can't see anything either. you realize it's the effect of the injection.

and it's good that you can't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anymore.

otherwise you'd see the transparent glass wall separating you from a sobbing wonwoo, hand trembling above the red button that brought about your end.

you'd hear the lasers in the room charging up.

you'd feel a scorching heat all over your skin.

you'd smell your flesh burning till you're reduced to ashes, meant to be swept off.

you'd taste the kiss of death.

the timer rings; three minutes are up.

dr. jeon wonwoo ticks 756 off his checklist.

- fin.

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[rebelliousstories]

Somebody Knows

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Light Fluff, Mentions of Violence and Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,465

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part One: Did You Know?// Part Two: I Know Now// Part Four: What We Know

Summary: As soon as he thinks he has her back, she is snatched away at the last second.

“I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once in a lifetime love.” Leo (The Vow)

Spencer tried to call his wife, and was sent to voicemail once more. The SUV pulled up to the women’s correctional facility and his heart began to race. All he wanted was to wrap his wife up in his arms and keep her there; and here he was being denied that privilege. All he could do was hope that she used the FBI part of her brain again, and kept the both of them alive.

It was dark in the trunk of the car. She could not see any light,but she could feel Diana behind her shaking. The duct tape on their mouths and hands made it difficult for her to comfort her mother-in-law, but that did not stop her from trying to provide some indication that she was alive.

However, her brain kept circling back to the “nurse” that had kidnapped them. Even with all her previous training, she was not immune to being put into a dangerous situation like this. The face of the young girl did not trigger any recognition in her, but maybe it did with someone else. Maybe Spencer would know, if he was ever allowed out of prison to help on the case.

The car that she was shoved into was stopped, and she could faintly smell gasoline. They had to be at a gas station of some sort. She did not know how long they had been stopped, but Diana was starting to wake up again and make some noise. Not too long afterwards, a gunshot was muffled through the lid of the trunk, and then bright lights. It was nighttime out, but the contrast between neon lights and the darkness of the trunk blinded her.

“Get out.” The girl in front of her demanded, pointing a gun at her. Cautiously, she struggled to pull herself up and out of the trunk. Apparently the girl with the gun thought that she was taking too long, and cocked the weapon with a demand to hurry up. In what she may have come to regret, Mrs. Reid tried to remove the gun from the woman’s hands. The struggle ended up on the ground, but she had yet to disengage the weapon. She had to give it to the girl; she knew what she was doing with that.

Before she could move, another gunshot rang out. This time that bang was loud, but the screams of pain from behind the duct tape were louder. A bullet was lodged inside her thigh. All she could hope for was that it missed the bones and artery. Her hair was pulled by a small fist to another vehicle where she was dumped unceremoniously. Diana followed shortly after, and she saw the flames encompass the previous car that she had spent time in.

After that, it was a blur. She did not know if it was the blood loss, adrenaline, or pure exhaustion. It was probably a mixture of all three. This was why she went into being a professor after the bureau. Her hands rubbed soothing circles on her stomach and thought back to when she found out.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. The day prior, she had watched her husband with desperate eyes being escorted out of the court room in handcuffs. Today, she was sitting in their shared bathroom while her mother-in-law slept in her bed, staring down at the little blue line in her hands.

It was a relief to know that their dream was coming true, but what would happen if Spencer lost his case? Could she raise a child alone, while having her career and taking care of his ailing mother? There were so many questions to be answered, but none of them would be answered. She just knew that if Spencer were here, he would be nervously rambling off facts as he tried to contain his excitement.

Making her way to the living room, she tucked herself upon their couch, and pulled a book to read. But she just sat there rereading the same page over and over again. Her brain was racing a million miles an hour until Diana came to her.

“What’s eating at you, kid?” Turning her head, the younger Reid let her mother-in-law sit down next to her as she shut the book.

“Just something I wish I was able to tell Spencer before he was left. But I’m hoping he’ll be back soon so I can.” It was better to go with whatever state of mind she was in right now, as confusing her would just lead to another problem for her to stress about.

“Well, whatever it is, you two will make the best decision you two can. Both of you are so smart, and very clever. You’ll have time to tell him when he gets back.” Diana patted her hand, before she got her own book out to read.

But there might not be another time to tell him. The blood loss from her leg meant that she had to be carried inside by some big man that she could not even remember the face of. Her brain was so foggy and was blurring constantly. There was some comfort in knowing that if she had clipped her femoral artery, she would be dead by now.

The sight of her husband’s team bursting through the door provided some comfort in her hazed mind. She could not process that there was something important going on with the woman who had kidnapped her and, was that Emily? Yeah, Emily was here. She would be okay. Someone ran over and checked her pulse while yelling for an ambulance. They patted her face to bring her focus back to them, and that is when she saw the comforting face of David Rossi right next to her.

“Hey, hey bella, you need to keep your eyes on me. We’re going to get you out of here and to the kid. Okay? But you have to stay awake.” The Italian pleaded, but she was starting to phase in and out once more.

“Rossi? Where’s Diana? Is she okay?” Those were her first questions, scratch that, her first words since this had all happened.

“She’s fine. She’s being checked out by the EMT. Which you also need, but you’re going to stay awake, stay with me, and stay here while they get ready for you so you can go home to Spencer.” Rossi held her hand in one of his, while the other rested gently on her face. Eventually, he did have to give way to the medics so they were able to do their work, but he was riding in the back of the ambulance the entire way to the hospital. She tried to keep her eyes open, but pain, exhaustion, and the loss of blood meant that her eyes eventually slipped shut despite everyone’s protests.

This night would forever go down as the night where she could not remember, but she couldn’t not forget. There were such large gaps of time missing, and still so many questions. By the time she came to, bright lights and a sterile smell greeted her. Her eyes were squinted in the blinding lights, but there was a warmth next to her that was difficult to explain. Looking to her right, she noticed that her tall, lanky husband was hunched over uncomfortably in the thinly cushioned chair next to her bed in the hospital.

Picking p her left hand, she twirled a curl on his head in a comforting gesture which caused the man to be woken. He looked to her with an impossibly wide smile, and held her hands in his. Pressing a kiss to them, Spencer looked deeply into her eyes.

“You’re here.” He whispered with gravel in his voice.

“You’re here.” Sounding equally as rough, the couple leaned in and just rested their heads against one another’s.

“Spence, I’ve gotta tell you something,” came her words. But the man just cut her off with a quiet shush.

“It’s alright. I figured it out. Plus the doctors told me. We can talk later. You need rest, okay?” He argued, leaning her back down where she laid. The husband and wife did not speak for a long while. They just sat in silence as the events of the last few hours weighed heavily on them. But they both knew that with the other, they could make it through.

Ngina Otiende said, “Marriage is meant to keep people together, not just when things are good, but particularly when they are not. That’s why we take marriage vows, not wishes.”

[max-nico]

Sonic has been called an "overprotective big brother" over the years many times. Not his fault that Tails is small, impressionable, and reckless. He's known the kid since he was a toddler, if anyone else had been around that long they would understand too.

Or at least he thought they would, but it seems he was wrong because his own two best friends–Amy and Knuckles–are the ones who call him overprotective the most. This is a huge betrayal on their part, especially when they bring up valid points like Tails' intelligence and skill, because how could he disagree. Sonic has the coolest, most awesome and amazing, little brother ever. 

With that being said, Sonic is pretty sure he has the right to interrogate the little fox this time. He's like 90% sure his panic is warranted when he sees his little brother load and cock a very real and deadly gun. Because that kid is 9. He is 9, and he is putting on his watch and his plane gear to leave, and for some reason he needs a weapon wherever he's going. Sonic thinks he has a right to exercise at least a little big brother privilege here, honestly it would be negligent to not at least question him. 

"Hey bud. Whatcha up to?"

Tails' ear flicks toward him as he packs a few things into the Tornado. "You remember that hard drive that GUN thought they stole from me, but I actually knew they wanted it so I lowered a few of my defense systems so that they could grab it and leave me alone?"

The answer is no, Sonic has no recollection of that happening at all. Though he supposes it's his own fault for only half listening when Tails was talking. He's really gotta break that habit.

"Sure do." Sonic lies.

"Well, I actually have a little bit of data on there that I forgot to back up to another hard drive since I didn't think I needed it, so I'm going to go get it."

"And you need a weapon for that? Why don't you just ask Shadow?"

Tails finally turns to face Sonic, floating down off the Tornado and in front of Sonic. He stands with his hands on his hips, leaning just a little into his personal space. He takes the chance to absentmindedly scratch behind his little brother's ears, making him push his head into his hand.

"I did, actually. He's the one who told me to bring some weapons, he said he wants to help me improve my stealth techniques."

"Huh, and he didn't even bother to text me about it." Sonic huffs. It comes out playfully, but he won't deny being a little peeved that Shadow didn't message him. Tails is a genius and can make his own decisions, sure, but he's also not even in double digits. Sonic is literally his guardian, he feels like he should've been consulted about this. "I find that quite rude."

Tails smacks Sonic with one of his tails. The fur gets trapped in the small quills on his face, which makes his brother giggle.

"Then how do you find that, hm?"

"I find that the person who did it has another thing coming."

Sonic is so gonna fill his pillows with quills and shaving cream again. The fox constantly complains about not being able to get his quills out of any furniture, but he also got his fur stuck on Sonic's face, he figures this is pretty good retribution.

"Sure I do."

This is what Sonic means. Where did his wholesome brother go? Ignoring the fact that he has been a little menace since they first met, this is obviously team Dark's fault. Their devious ways are corrupting his little brother, who has obviously only learned nice things from him, like dad jokes and spindashing.

Tails has been constantly hanging out with team Dark for a few months now. After spending time with Rouge on Amy's last birthday he seemed to acquire a sort of childish fascination with them. Honestly, Sonic didn't really see it as a bad thing at first. They got Tails to spend more time out of his lab, and they always seemed to take care of him so Sonic had no qualms as long as Tails was having fun.

Then the habits came. Habits that Sonic had managed to completely purge a couple years back. Sure, he's not building bombs willy nilly anymore (as far as he knows anyway), but a few weeks ago Tails showed him the Empire nuclear launch codes just because he could.

Just yesterday they were having a conversation about a grocery store in station square. Amy had apparently told him that the cashier was kind of rude, so he asked if she wanted him to "blow up the entire store". She laughed and said no thanks, but when Sonic just shook his head at him Tails had the audacity to say "he'll make sure there's no one in it", as if that was the problem with what he said.

Sonic will not claim to have clean hands. He will not say he's never killed anybody on purpose or on accident, but is it so much to want to spare his brother from the same fate? Sonic still has nightmares over things like that, and even if his little brother is joking, he just can't find it in himself to laugh.

It's obvious Sonic will have to talk to Shadow and Rouge soon, he would talk to Omega as well but the robot honestly just does whatever he wants. Sonic can respect it. He cannot, however, respect Shadow and Rouge teaching his kid brother bad stuff, like how to get away with murder and other things of the like.

"I'll be back before you know it, Sonic, I swear!"

It's obvious Sonic has just missed most of the one sided conversation Tails was just having with him, he zoned out again. Damn it.

"And I'll have my communicator on me so if anything goes wrong, you'll be the first to know! I'll stay safe, Shadow will be with me."

Tails says that as if it's any comfort to Sonic. He may trust Shadow with his life but he does not trust him with children. He's sure Tails will come out physically unscathed, but mentally? This is going to be a trainwreck.

Sonic sighs. He already knows he won't be able to convince him not to go, at least not in the small timeframe he has, so he just pulls the kid in for a hug instead. "Call me as soon as you're able, okay?"

"I will, promise!"

"And if you're not back and not answering in 24 hours, I'm coming to find you myself."

"Yes, Sonic." Tails says, pulling away.

"And I'll give Shadow a piece of my mind if I have to, you know I will."

"I'm leaving now."

"And so will Knuckles and Amy!"

"Goodbye!"

"Remember what I said about calling!"

"I can't hear you anymore!"

Sonic smiles as Tails starts his plane, the kid will be fine, he knows it. After all, he's sure Shadow and Rouge know the consequences if he's not.

woe, the brothers be upon ye I wrote this in like two sittings and its barely been edited, I'll probably put this on ao3 later after I've looked at it again lol. you're welcome to hit me up in my dms or askbox, but if it's a request I would prefer my ask box lol. Remember you have to be nice to me forever and ever and ever if you decide to talk to me btw

[yeen-meteor]

I want to take a moment to try to express why i appreciate Haru's sadism as an actual serious part of her characterization and not just a funny contrast joke and 'yay girl violence!' don't get me wrong i love me some yay girl violence for the sake of it, but like. i think there's a lot to work with there for genuine drama writing, too, not just comic relief and i want to talk about it! (cw sugimura)

for all of haru's backstory and her life with her father, sure she's rich and has a lot of privileges, but the one thing she completely lacks is any sort of control. Everything about her life is being decided for her, her father has decided on the shape of her entire future, and she can't do anything to change it - she's being raised just for the sake of being outright sold as a sex slave trophy wife to a perverted creep who is certainly too rich and powerful to ever face legal trouble for marital rape. She's going through the motions, enjoying what she can of the life she has while she still has it, completely hopeless in the face of this horrifying future that other people are forcing her into. Her will means nothing, what she wants means nothing.

And then the Phantom Thieves come along, and they give her the power to make her will matter, to fight for her own freedom and happiness. And that power comes in the shape of violence, physically fighting images of all the things and people standing in her way.

But more than that, she starts to feel 'shivers of excitement' when she hears shadows begging and pleading beneath her. She feels what it's like to have something absolutely, pathetically desperate to make her stop, to deny her what she wants - and to bask in the feeling that she doesn't have to listen, she's the strong one, she can shut them the fuck up with an axe through the skull because their will, their selfish desire, their plan for her doesn't matter anymore, her will, Haru's will matters. It's catharsis, it's intoxicating, it's a rich and indulgent feeling of real actual control and the freedom that comes with it, something she's been denied all her life, and it's probably an unhealthy way to get that feeling but who cares? these are just shadows!

And that catharsis and relief and self-assured confidence she gets from that just makes her better able to be her sweetest, kindest, purest self around the people she loves! It doesn't undermine the sweet person she is, it helps it!

And then, she makes the choice to try to cure her father's brain-rotting greed and see if there's anything worth salvaging in his heart. It might not be the best choice, it could certainly be argued about, but it's her choice, it's her will, and she finally, finally feels like she's able to make that mean something-

and Akechi takes the choice away from her, and forces her to live in the future he decided for her.

I think when people write the dynamic between Akechi and Haru, they can sometimes miss the forest for the trees - 'you killed my father', without the underlying 'this was the first time i believed i ever had a choice in my own life, and you took it away from me and fucking crushed it before my eyes'. I've also seen it done very well too, and I love it! but i think a lot of writers are sleeping on the potential a bit, of haru & akechi focused stories, or even of haru as a source of drama and an interesting supporting character in shuake stories. In general, haru's potential for anger, frustration, violent desires and just a need to feel in control of her own life has a lot of potential in drama writing!

Atlus certainly dropped the ball on the akechi and haru dynamic, and kept the sadism thing as mostly comic relief, but Persona canons are all half-realized outlines of good ideas just begging for fic writers to come and actually flesh them out, anyway, so ah well!

all i hope for is that if you're a persona writer that doesn't know what to do with haru or how to use her, or doesn't pay her much mind, maybe this might inspire you or give you a clearer idea of how to write her dramatic side!

[goreinfested]

Take your time dear, love that you’re getting into writing again.

Can you do protective rko hcs pls?

PROTECTIVE RANDY ORTON HCS:

(c’mon you know I HAD to use my favorite picture for his first request, how could I not ? Imagine reader is the person in the picture thoooo)

I feel as though Randy is kind of possessive so that goes hand in hand with being very protective of his significant other

Will get into a lot of fights for you.

Like one time some random guy was catcalling you after Monday night raw just finished airing, you were clearly trying to tell him nicely that you weren’t interested but this idiot would NOT take no for an answer

Randy of course is walking over to you since you had plans to meet up after he was done changing and so when the scene was unfolding before him he wasted no time walking over to your side

“ hey babe.” He would say nonchalantly as he towered behind you BUT the veins popping out the side of his forehead tells you that he is VERY pissed off

Of course you see the fucking legend killer you’re not sticking around long enough to find out what consequences of your actions were so it didn’t tell long for the guy to fuck off. Scary dog privileges <3

He’s very hesitant when it comes to introducing you to all the guys he works with since not everyone in the business is actually nice backstage. Which probably makes you feel sometimes that he’s hiding you but really he just doesn’t want you to end up in any situation where you’re in danger ( not that he’d EVER let that happen to you )

People rarely get the privilege of even LOOKING at you let alone trying to mean mug you any sort of way

This man will give them the nastiest glare

Constantly stands beside you with his arm hung over your shoulder. any sort of contact to make sure he can jump in the moment anything happens

Though he doesn’t ever verbally express how concerned he can get over you his actions definitely show it

Will deny deny deny if you ask him

“ hey why are you always so close? I don’t need to be protected” you say and he always replies with “ oh don’t flatter yourself, I just need arm candy at all times” but we all know that is a lie

He stole your phone one time to make sure he was listed as an emergency contact

gets HEATED if his fans try to harass you on social media because why the hell are they harassing his significant other? I’m talking about full on rants with some of the people in the comment section ( he’s definitely chilled out the longer you’ve been together) now he makes it a point to post stories of you two on Instagram with him hugging you from behind or just holding you- just to show that if anyone wants you they have to go through him

Does not like letting you go anywhere alone which is actually ironic considering his job.

He definitely tries to talk you into or bring you with him while on the road whenever possible

You’re going to a cafe? He’s going with. You’re going to the bar? Not without him.

He tries to dress undercover when you’re out in public but it never really works so really at this point is he helping protect you or is he just bringing more attention to you?

Is your nurse 100%

If you get sick he will cook for you ( probably just warms up a can of chicken noodle soup TBH) “ can you stop being an inconvenience and get better already?” Kind of mean about it which makes you feel bad but again his actions are always more truthful to you than his words

Refuses to sleep unless you are in the bed with him

[chvrrycola]

STRAY KIDS X CLICHE MEETCUTES - YANG JEONGIN

word count | 0.9k

warnings | food mentions

now playing . . . appointments by julien baker

AN // the final part !! i hope you've enjoyed

the other meetcutes!

you didn’t know why, but you were not in a good mood today. no real reason behind it, no good excuse for the nasty look you had given the old lady in the street who almost bumped into you. you hadn’t slept badly, no one had said anything particularly mood-ruining, but something in you seemed to have just decided that you were not going to be good company for the next 24 hours.

you didn’t feel like spending time with anyone, didn’t even feel like looking at people, all you wanted was to head to the convenience store, grab your favourite ramen, take it home and let your grumpiness melt away with a dozen or so episodes of your favourite anime. 

headphones on and hood up, you made a beeline for the aisle where you knew the noodles would be waiting for you. you were lucky, there was only one original flavour left, if you had been even a minute later you might’ve missed your chance.

as you reached out a hand to grab the packet, a muffled voice breached your space. you couldn’t hear what it had said over your music, so, reluctantly, you pulled your hood down and removed one earphone, not wanting to mislead whoever had spoken into thinking you might want to have any kind of real conversation. 

you faced the voice, and the human it had come out of, and made an ‘i’m-sorry-what-did-you-say?’ face. 

‘“damn, is that the last pack?”’ he repeated sarcastically. the guy was around your age, and clearly thought he was hilarious, though with your current mood, you were less inclined to think so.

‘uh, yeah, i guess so, sorry.’ you weren’t sure that your response would be much more intelligible than his voice had been, but you really just weren’t in the mood to converse, even if you were denying this guy the privilege of eating what was, as any intellectual would know, the superior instant noodle option. 

he didn’t look particularly satisfied with your answer, and tapped you gently on the arm as you walked away.

‘i know this is probably really annoying, but are those like, your absolute favourite? i haven’t eaten them in a while and they’ve like my all-time greatest ramen.’

he did look apologetic as he begged you to exchange, and you found yourself almost feeling willing to make some sort of a compromise, but they were your favourite too. 

‘kind of, yeah, i’ve tried all the variations but none of them are really on the same level.’ 

‘ugh yeah, you’re so right, i remember thinking that the crispy chicken one sounded really good when they first announced it but i tried it the first day and it was just… bad.’ 

you suppressed a laugh, finding it funny how intensely serious this random man seemed to be about his taste in ramen, before realising that you couldn’t really talk, considering that you still had no intention of sacrificing the packet. 

‘how about this,’ he began, re-energised somewhat by the apparent genius of his idea, ‘you let me have the original, but i’ll pay for whichever other one you decide to get.. no? okay how about i buy you three more packets then?’

he seemed genuinely convinced that this was a good deal - at least until you pointed out that you didn’t want three packets of random sub-par ramen when your favourite would probably be back in stock the next day. 

the man had just opened his mouth to try and offer a different reason why you should give up the noodles when a middle-aged man entered the aisle with the pair of you.

‘sorry you two, you don’t know if they keep the original flavour somewhere else do you?’ he noticed the packet in your hands, ‘ah, i must be too late, my daughter told me they tend to go quickly, nevermind.’ 

he began to leave and you caught your new debate partner side eyeing you as he walked away. maybe you weren’t feeling quite as icy as you thought.

‘excuse me,’ you called out, ‘you can have these, i hope your daughter enjoys them.’

the middle-aged man tried to object, insisting that you kept them, but you were sure. 

‘it’s fine really, there are plenty of other good flavours.’

he smiled and thanked you, turning once again to go and pay. 

‘plenty of good flavours? so there are plenty of good flavours now?’ you rolled your eyes, but he continued, ‘what is it about that guy and his daughter that’s so deserving of the world’s most magical instantaneous ramen noodle experience?’

‘maybe i can buy you three other packets to make up for it,’ you suggested dryly, picking out another flavour at random and moving to go and pay yourself.

‘hey wait up!’ the voice came from behind you, followed by a quiet rustle suggesting that he too had bitten the bullet of semi-disappointing ramen.

‘i’ll pay,’ he said once you were back walking in step, ‘cos i was so annoying about it earlier.’ 

you tried to object but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, taking the packet from your hands easily and beginning to scan the barcodes. 

‘besides, if i pay, this can officially be our first date.’ 

he tried to wink at you, failing miserably and instead awkwardly blinking in your direction, but you laughed and went along with it, agreeing to sit outside with him as the sun set over the river. 

[crimeronan]

Oh, the great maker of trauma for the beans that are part of Princess Luz Au, heed my query and answer me:

Did Luz get any big bad evil guy energy or skill from being raised by the waste of space previously known as Belos?

I mean as we all know Luz is a precious bean, but I think she deserves to be a little evil towards bad people, like I assume that Hunter is already planning how to murder (or worse) Amity's parents, even if he isn't fully aware of it/is in denial that he is planning the horrors on the for making Amity, but I stay with me for a moment and imagine the verified cinnamon roll Luz Noceda Wittebane putting the fear of Titan into Odalia after learning that she abused Amity.

Also, her snapping out of it after Odalia faints out of fear (and pain), and panicking that she is just like below only for her parteners to be like, 'nooo~ it was hot normal and perfectly sane thing to do'.

this answer Might be disappointing in some ways, mainly: i don't Think luz would be physically violent with them without provocation, and i also don't think she's likely to lose emotional control around them. she'd want to be just as poised around amity's parents as she always was around belos and always is around the coven heads.

HOWEVER. as for the questions of "does luz know how to be scary" and "did she learn that from belos": UNEQUIVOCAL yes. to both.

i've been wanting to play with luz in this space with amity's parents for A While, actually, so. have a little fic :)

-

"Oh, Amity is my pride and joy," Odalia says, placing a hand over her heart. "I taught her everything she knows."

"Yes, I did get that impression." The Empress smiles, rising to her feet. "It's incredible how much she's accomplished in spite of you."

Odalia's breath catches around a shocked, bitten-down laugh. "Your Majesty, begging your pardon, I believe you meant 'because of-'"

"In spite of," Luz repeats, very firmly. "It's fortunate that Lilith Clawthorne has taken such an interest in her wellbeing."

Odalia's smile doesn't waver, but it does remain frozen for several seconds before she says, "I suppose Amity feels the need to invent an adversary. Some great trial she overcame to earn her place here. It's understandable. Children often lack the foundation to understand the sacrifices their parents make. She had a very privileged upbringing."

"Amity has never spoken unkindly of either of you," Luz says, although this she seems to mean more for Alador, whose face may give more away.

She steps lightly down the stairs from the throne, joining the pair of them on the ground. "Amity rarely speaks of either of you at all, actually. That isn't why I've called you here."

Odalia's voice turns cool, corporate. "Then how can we help you, Your Majesty?"

"Did you know that Blight Industries has a higher rate of workplace accidents than..." Luz slides a folder out of her tunic, flips it open, and raises her eyebrows. "...any other company on the Isles?"

This time, Odalia's laugh covers something else. "That's - that's preposterous. Our workplace safety records are excellent. Why, we haven't needed a single intervention by the Healing Coven in... oh, is it three years?" She taps the side of her mouth, frowning. "Four? Five?"

"That's fascinating," Luz says. "Not even for a scrape?"

"Abrasions heal quite well by themselves, given time."

"Absolutely fascinating," Luz repeats. "Did you know that it's illegal to purposefully deny people healing services?"

Odalia scoffs, incredulous. "For scrapes?"

"I know," Luz says pleasantly, "I was surprised, too. There are a lot of laws like that, it turns out. Text on paper that hasn't been enforced in half a century. From what I understand, this one is a holdover from early Empire anxieties. People were terribly worried about not having access to personal healing magic anymore. So healing services had to be protected."

Odalia's smile has become more teeth than pleasantry. "What a fun little history lesson. I'm sure you know all sorts of facts about the early Empire."

"It turns out that it's very easy to put laws in writing," Luz says, "without the intention to enforce them. My father, may the Titan bless him, had precious little interest in the rights of individuals to be seen by healers. But this isn't his Empire anymore. And I find the topic just captivating."

Odalia has stopped trying to hide her impatience, now. "So you'll fine us for not having healers on hand to wave away every little paper cut. That's fine. I apologize for the oversight. We'll settle up and make sure that going forward-"

"Mr. Blight," Luz says, ignoring Odalia entirely, "would you kindly remove your gloves for me?"

Alador startles.

Odalia doesn't glance at him. Her eyes are fixed unblinking on Luz. She speaks through her teeth, nearly a hiss. "Don't feel compelled to do that, dear."

"I assure you, I can compel him to do that," Luz says. Then, in a tone that would almost pass for apologetic if it wasn't so practiced, "I am sorry to compel it of you. I try not to compel my subjects very often. But if you find it difficult to remove your gloves, my scouts would be happy to assist you."

The scouts around the base of the throne don't move. Odalia's eyes slide uneasily over them anyway.

"That won't be necessary," Alador says, speaking for the first time. He pulls the gloves off without fanfare, holding up his hands.

Half of his left ring finger and pinky are conspicuously missing.

If Luz is uncomfortable with this revelation, she sure isn't showing it. "Oh, that's so interesting," she says, leaning forward to get a closer look. "The Healing Coven keeps meticulous records, and I'm certain a partial amputation was never reported to them. You were born with all five fingers, yes? I'm sure Amity will attest to that."

"This was from an accident in my personal lab," Alador says, with the mechanical precision of something rehearsed. "The severed digits were not... salvageable."

"It's so amazing that you were able to make that determination," Luz says, "without even needing to consult the Healing Coven. You must be a very proficient magician."

Alador blinks.

"Regardless," Odalia interrupts, "it happened outside of Blight Industries. The company isn't liable. You haven't 'gotten' us."

"Do you ever test Blight Industries products in your personal lab, Mr. Blight?"

"Prototypes," he says.

Odalia makes a sharp, exasperated gesture. "Alador!"

"That seems like company business to me," Luz says, still pleasant, still conversational. "Now, I will be fully transparent, before you accuse me of anything with regards to prejudice - it is true that I hate you both. It is true that I've hated you both for a while now. If you feel like I'm targeting you because I hate you, then you're very astute."

Odalia's fingers twitch, threatening to curl into fists.

Luz continues, "However, it's also true that there is no bias where my judgment is concerned. Not legally, anyway. So it doesn't matter whether I hate you or not. Whatever I decide to do with you is the Titan's will. Government is amazing."

Odalia exhales sharply.

When Luz doesn't waver, she shakes her head. For the first time, her voice cracks - properly cracks. There's a tiny tremble in her hands.

"Amity won't forgive you if anything happens to us," she says - but there's no bravado, no power, only pathetic uncertainty. "Regardless of any... petty grievances she may harbor. Family is everything to a Blight. She won't forgive this."

"I know that," Luz says. "I promise, I have no intention of doing Amity any unkindness. It's not her fault you two have chosen to be what you are."

Another sharp exhale. Odalia's breathing is ragged, audible. She's clearly not a woman accustomed to fearing for her own safety.

"That's fantastic news!" she chirps.

Luz's smile is beatific, magnanimous. The serene expression of someone who's never questioned the divine right of kings.

"Unfortunately, I'm not wholly opposed to doing an unkindness," she says, "if we can't seem to reach an agreement. It's really up to you how this goes."

She looks from Odalia to Alador and back, tilting her head.

"So. How badly do both of you want to live?"