#and he just happened to be driven enough to be successful

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Summary: Don't trust anyone. That's the advice you were left with. How much should you follow that advice? How much will you have to follow it?

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,058 words

Warnings: ANGST, heavy emotional turmoil, very detailed descriptions of depression, ANGST, panic attacks, lots of thoughts of death and crisis, distrust, anxiety, ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, ANGST, betrayal, weapons, guns, blood (barely), brief violence at the end, drugging (more sedation than anything), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, incorrect medical stuff again, oh and ANGST

A/N: Sorry

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The world is painted in grey as you stare at the wall. Your eyes trace over the pencil lines on the paper as if it might bring you some sort of comfort, as if it might bring them back to you. 

Johnny put the drawings up after your heat, ones he'd done while watching over you as you slept the days away. Strawberries, rolling hills, you asleep in a field of flowers. Visages of the outside world, a place that seems almost foreign to you. 

Despite their absence you're still a prisoner, still locked in your tower. Dr. Keller is your guard now, dutifully watching over you as she had promised Simon and Johnny she would. She’s done it successfully before, or at least she was as successful as you allowed her to be, as you had kept her in the dark just as much as your pack. Obviously they trusted that she hadn’t known, otherwise they wouldn’t have left you here with her. 

It’s not like they had much of a choice. 

She's moved into the spare room temporarily so you're not alone. Your pack's barracks are far more spacious than her own room in the barracks with the rest of the medical staff. You almost wish you'd gone to stay with her. Anything would be better than your grey prison. 

You get to leave now, only long enough to walk to the mess and back, and occasionally to the med center. You don’t get to eat in the mess, staying just long enough to grab food before you’re ushered back to your grey prison. You've gone to Dr. Keller's office twice, but even then it had been a short stop so she could grab some paperwork before you returned to the barracks.

The grey and white of your home has never affected you in such a way before. You've been able to look past the sterile halls and prison grey walls of the rooms until now, until you’ve become a bit stir-crazy. You’re afraid you might actually go crazy, driven to insanity in your isolation. 

There's been no word on when your pack might return. There's been no word at all from them.

For all you know, they’re dead. 

You've gone numb to that thought, the tears not even stinging at your eyes at the idea. You're empty, the only thing you're capable of feeling is the steady churning of your stomach. It's been two months since you revealed the cameras and you're still sick, still in pain. 

What if they don't come back because they hate you? What if they've abandoned you here? 

You're not sure you could even react to that if it does happen. You can’t even react to the thought of it happening. There’s no drive to, no instinct to be upset by the idea of being abandoned. For all you know it’s already happened. 

You turn over onto your other side, facing the room. It’s Johnny’s room you’re in, the most welcome place in the barracks. It’s the place you spent the most time before they left, isolated just to Johnny’s arms by Simon’s anger at your betrayal. He’d only cared for you out of necessity, the progress you made with him all wiped out because of your own stupidity. 

Those thoughts don’t even bring a tear to your eye anymore. He never wanted you, he wouldn’t have chosen you. 

So why did it hurt so much? 

Dr. Keller is worried, but it's her job to be worried. You've shut down, shut out everything. You're not capable of much more than laying around numb and depressed. The scents are fading, quickly disappearing and being replaced by the bitter scent of your depression. 

Depression. That's what Dr. Keller said. Not surprising given the circumstances. You're not surprised either. Then again, you can't feel much of anything anymore. There’s no hope left, the memories of them fading as fast as their scents. They’ve moved on, or they’ve died. Regardless, they’re not coming back. 

You’re alone again, abandoned by those you loved, those supposed to take care of you. 

You can only count leaves on the plant hanging from the ceiling of Dr. Keller’s office so many times. You’ve given up sitting, instead curled up in a ball as you stare at the plant, counting leaves up and down the vines. Dr. Keller is at her desk, writing and shuffling papers, doing what she normally does during the day. Doing what she had last time you had been left alone. 

She had the idea that leaving the barracks might be good for you. A change of scenery, a more comfortable and warm setting, might help your depression. Escaping the oppressive grey walls of your prison for some fresh air might aid in her efforts to help you wallow less in your misery. Being free of the suffocating walls of the barracks might help free you from the constant memories of what was, what might have been, what’s left you behind. 

Your stomach still hurts. The ache had intensified as soon as they told you they were leaving too, that John and Kyle were so desperate for backup they had to call everyone in. It had made you uneasy, the idea of being alone so soon after everything, the idea that things might be going so badly that they need help. The memory of what had transpired while you were alone the first time makes you nervous. 

What if it happens again?

What if something worse happens? 

You won’t be stupid this time, you told yourself. If anything is off, you’ll notify Dr. Keller immediately. You’re not making that mistake again. If you did make that mistake, the consequences wouldn’t just be dealt out by whoever is so desperate to get to you, to watch you. Your pack will leave you, will mark you as untrustworthy and give you up, or worse, throw you in a cell until you can be sent back home, back to the institute. Maybe they would be merciful and send you back to the CIA. What would the CIA do though? They couldn’t send you to another pack, not in the initiative, not with you already having been claimed. They wouldn’t take that risk when the severing of those bonds would destroy you and everything that you are. 

Maybe if you’re lucky, it’ll kill you. Save you from the pain and mental anguish after the severing of a bond. 

“Hungry?” Dr. Keller asks. It’s close to lunch, you think. Time is meaningless, the only routine you have left the necessary mealtimes Dr. Keller insists on keeping. Even then, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t know when those were supposed to be. 

“No.” You murmur, still staring at the plant. The leaves have begun to blur, blending together as your eyes unfocus. 

“You should eat.” She says. 

“Not hungry.” You say. “Stomach hurts.” 

She sighs softly, pushing her chair back before walking over to you. She drops to a knee in front of the couch, staring at you. “How long has it been hurting?” 

“Weeks.” You say, still not looking at her. 

“Weeks?” She sounds surprised. “You didn’t say anything. Nausea? Any headaches?” She asks. 

“Uh huh.” You nod.

“Any fever, body aches, congestion, dizziness?” She asks. 

“Body aches.” You say, finally looking up at her. 

She hums, staring at you for a moment. Her face is the usual clinical mask she wears when she’s in doctor mode, but you can make out the slight furrow of her brow as she thinks. She puts a hand on your forehead, your skin cold instead of the warmth it would usually have. Even you’ve noticed it in your numb state, your fingers and toes aching constantly from how cold they are. 

She removes her hand, letting out a quiet breath. “Well, my dear.” She says, staring down at you. “I’m diagnosing you with stress.” She says, resting her arms on her knee. “It’s been a long few weeks, and then with your alpha leaving on top of it, I’m not surprised by your symptoms. I know you may not feel like it, but eating will help. You’ll be no good to your pack when they return if you’re wasting away.” 

“If they return.” You say, not even able to sound worried like you did last time. There’s no tears, no panic, not even a hint of worry. 

“They will.” She says, pushing herself up to stand. “They know what they’re doing and all we can do is trust their skills.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You murmur, taking her offered hand to get yourself up off the couch. You’ve heard it a thousand times. “I know.” 

“Come on,” She says, giving you a smile. “Let’s get some lunch and then we can eat in the barracks again. Watch some dumb daytime TV show for a while.” 

“Yeah.” You say, trying to sound excited as you follow her out the door. It’s been your routine for weeks. You’re growing sick of it, but what else is there to do? Read? Sleep? Lay numbly in bed staring at the ceiling until it blurs together or until you inevitably pass out from exhaustion? 

Your life has become sad and pathetic, and it’s all your fault. 

The days continue to drag on, every one without a single word of your pack driving you deeper and deeper into the hole you’ve already sunk into. You’re not drowning anymore, not clawing desperately to the surface, praying you can cling to hope long enough to drag yourself out of the depression. Now you’re just sinking, letting the weight of your numbness drag you down until the pressure becomes too much and you implode. 

You miss them so badly it hurts. 

Do they miss you? Do they think about you? Have they even thought about you? Did John and Kyle ask about you when Johnny and Simon arrived? What did they ask about? What did they say? 

Or perhaps they just mutually agreed this was the opportunity to leave you, the chance to move on and make the job 100% of their lives again. No more worry, no more stress, no more distraction, no more needy omega clinging to them every minute of every day. 

Maybe you should have been less needy, less reliant. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so close. It would at least have been easier on you. The job comes first. Why couldn’t you have kept yourself under that rule, distanced yourself to make this pain less severe? 

Why didn’t you just tell them right away? 

“How are you doing over there?” Dr. Keller’s voice breaks through the endless haze of thoughts. 

You’re in the rec room with her, your most frequented place over the last few weeks. You might as well have moved in there. It would almost be better than the four places that only serve as constant reminders of what is gone. You could sleep in your room, but it’s been tainted, ruined. It’s not safe anymore. Even with your pack you hadn’t felt comfortable to be in there longer than it took to grab clothes. 

“They left me.” You say quietly, voice muffled by the pillow your face is pressed into. You’re on your stomach on the couch, a blanket thrown over your back. 

“Not by any choice of theirs.” She says. She’s sitting in the chair, Simon’s chair, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her. He’s gone. It’s not his place anymore. 

“They’re not coming back.” You say, fingers digging into the front of your sweatshirt where they’re tucked under you. 

“You don’t know that.” Dr. Keller says, closing her book. “Those men would fight from the brink of death to make it back to you.” 

“They hate me.” You say, nails digging into your palms from how tightly you’re gripping the fabric. 

“They don’t hate you.” She says softly. “They may have been a bit upset, but they’d never hate you.” 

“Simon does.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh. “Lieutenant Riley is his own beast.” She pushes herself up to stand, taking a seat on the edge of the couch next to you. “He’s in his head just as much as you are. In my professional opinion, he could use some therapy as well. Some extensive therapy.” Her hand comes to rest on your back, rubbing it gently.

You’re thrown back to the times you were sick when your mother would rub your back, almost as if she was trying to ease the sickness away. You are sick. Sick in your own grief and disappointment and anger with yourself. The depression is its own sickness eating away at you. You’re not even sure your pack’s return could cure it now. You might be too far gone, your brain too convinced that they’re not coming back that you won’t believe it when they do. They won’t return for you, they won’t be happy to see you. They won’t be real. 

Dr. Keller lets out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think any of them are capable of hating you. Even Lieutenant Riley. They love you too much to abandon you like that. I don’t think they’re capable of abandoning you at all. I’m sure they’re just as worried, just as eager to get back here.” 

She pats your back before holding her hand still. It’s warm through the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s almost comforting, almost seeping through the chill that’s taken over you despite the warm summer air outside. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” She continues, her voice soft and laced with emotion. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it. It’s not good for you mentally or physically. It’s downright cruel. I thought maybe at first that you’d be taken care of, that you’d be taken into consideration as much as they are.” She scoffs. “I was stupid to think they’d ever give an omega the decency of being considered a human being.” 

Her voice is determined, almost angry. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the program, at the initiative, at those above you making the decision, pulling the strings, controlling every part of your pack. You can almost feel it, the passion, the compassion for omegas that she carries. She knows firsthand what it’s like. Even before she became a specialist she knew. She could have presented as an omega herself. Instead she was blessed with presenting as a beta, able to be seen as a human being, able to have rights and make decisions for herself. 

“I’m not going to give up on you.” She pats your back gently. “Once your pack returns, I think we need to have a long discussion about the future of this initiative.” 

“Are they going to take me away?” You ask. 

“No.” Dr. Keller says. “Your pack will fight for you. I will fight for you. But this isn’t good for you. It’s making you sick. I’m worried about what might happen if it continues.” 

You slide your arms up, wrapping them around your pillow. “They’re not going to give it up, their jobs. They won’t. I hate it.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them. “I hate that they don’t put me first. I hate that they have to hide things from me, keep things from me. Why is it fair that they can keep things that might put me in danger hidden, but I can’t do it without them getting mad at me? I hate that they have to leave, that they can just leave so easily. I hate their job, I hate what they do when they’re away. I hate them sometimes because they don’t even think twice about hurting me.” The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to rise again. “It hurts a-and t’s not fair!” 

Dr. Keller shushes you gently as you press your face down into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes for the first time in almost two weeks. “I know. The CIA should have had an omega expert in on this from the start. There should have been someone that could advocate for the omegas they want to throw into these positions. I hate this too, what they do to you, what they put you through,” Her voice goes quiet, so quiet you almost can’t hear it. “What they will put you through.” She runs a hand over the back of your head, trying to soothe you. “All we can do is cling to the hope that word will come in soon that your pack is on their way home.” 

You want to believe her. You want to believe she’s telling the truth, that they will be coming home. You want to have that hope, but hope has long faded from your mind. You don’t have hope anymore, as much as she tries to instill it in you. 

The days continue to drag on. There’s been no word on their status, no calls, not even a text. Dr. Keller has tried to get ahold of Kate, but she’s been unsuccessful. It hurts. You feel abandoned, even by those that were supposed to be available, those that were supposed to help you. It all feels wrong. There’s something happening. You can feel it. 

Something is changing, something is ticking at the back of your neck. It could just be the paranoia, the fear, the unease brought on by the isolation and the separation from your pack. It’s not normal. Johnny and Simon promised they’d do everything in their power to get a hold of you when they can. 

Unless they can’t. 

What if they’ve been trying but no messages are getting through? What if there’s something along the line blocking them? What if there’s someone purposefully keeping those messages from coming through? Purposefully isolating you from your pack. 

The thought has a chill running down your spine. There’s things happening behind the scenes you can’t even fathom. Things beyond you, things beyond Dr. Keller and even John. Someone had those cameras put up. Someone was watching you, even after you found them and hid them. Someone wanted to see you, wanted to watch you with your pack. 

Why? 

It all seems too coincidental. John and Kyle being called away and then Johnny and Simon weeks later, isolating you from your pack. No word has been coming through, possibly no word from anyone getting to them. They won’t know what state you’re in, they won’t know something is wrong. If anything happened to you, they wouldn’t know. They’d have no idea until it was possibly too late. 

You’ve been isolated on purpose. 

All five of you. 

What if it’s Kate? 

You don’t want to believe it. You don’t want to even think about it. Who has contact with them during their missions, though? Who has been in control of relaying messages back and forth to everyone? Would she do it? Was she capable of such betrayal? John trusts her more than anyone besides the members of your pack. They’ve known each other for a long time, why would she betray them like this? 

You can’t trust anyone. 

The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to choke you for a different reason this time. You’re beginning to panic, and while it’s nice to finally feel something, this is almost worse. You’d prefer the numbing depression, the emptiness, the inability to think. This is worse. It’s so much worse. 

So many thoughts are flying around in your head, your stomach aching as you begin to panic. You’re not safe. You’re not safe here alone, not even with Dr. Keller. There’s too many chances. You’re too open and exposed. 

You can’t trust anyone. 

What if your pack is in on it? What if they were responsible for all of this? What if they knew Shepherd was coming and hid it from you on purpose? What if they had the cameras put up to watch what you do when they’re away? What if they’ve been surveying you to report to the higher ups about your progress and the initiative? 

What if they pretended they didn’t know to see how long you’d hide it, how you’d take it if they were upset at you, how far they could push you before you’d crumble? 

What if they left on purpose to make you crumble?

You can’t verify it. You can’t even know if those orders were real, if they ever came in. You’ll never know because you can’t because they have to keep you safe. What if Kate doesn’t even know they’re gone? What if they’re sitting in a pub in Hereford watching you fall apart at the seams? You want to leave, you want to run there, comb every inch of town just to find them and scream at them. What if they’re too cowardly to force you out themselves? What if they want you to leave, and they’re pushing you to the point you want to?

“Hey,” Dr. Keller kneels in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. “I need you to breathe for me.” 

You stare at her face, the furrow of her brow, the worry in her kind eyes. You feel sick, your stomach churning. You want to vomit, you want to puke up all the worry and the depression and the stress. You want it all to be over with, you want it all to end. 

“Come on.” She says, squeezing your shoulders tighter. “In and out, nice and slow.” 

You can’t. You can’t breathe. The world is falling apart around you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your breaths catch in your throat, stuttering as your lungs spasm. You’re beginning to tense, your joints locking into place. It’s not all that different from a few weeks ago in the rec room with Simon as you panicked. 

Only there’s no alpha to help you this time. 

“Come on.” Dr. Keller says, hauling you to your feet. It’s like trying to move a mannequin, your joints locked into place, dead weight as she half drags you down the hall and into one of the exam rooms. She manages it, stronger than you thought as she moves you easily into the private room. It’s the one you spent your heat in, still set up just like it had been then.

She gets you into a chair, wheeling over the oxygen. It’s cold as it hits your face, a clammy sweat covering your skin. Your hands close around the arms of the chair, fingers clenching until they pop and ache, shaking from the force but you can’t let go. You cling to the chair like it’s the last thing keeping you sane, keeping you in place, keeping you from floating away. 

Maybe then they’ll come back. Maybe then they’ll feel guilty for doing this to you. 

Dr. Keller approaches with a syringe, wheeling the tray closer before setting it on top. You stare at it, tears slipping around the mask before dripping onto your chest. “It’s a sedative.” She says, putting a damp paper towel on the back of your neck. It’s cold, still dripping water. “If you go into distress, our only option is to put you under and hope it calms your brain fast enough that you’re not going to lose yourself to your omega.” 

You almost wish she’d let you. It would be an easier end than finding out your pack was involved in all of this. You’d fade away, let your omega take over until the toll was too great on your body and you died before you even knew what happened. 

It almost sounds blissful right now. 

“Easy.” Dr. Keller says, cupping your face. “Don’t think too much. That’s just going to send you spiraling even more.” 

If only it was that easy.

She gently peels your fingers from the arms of the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. Your hands close around your arms, squeezing until it hurts, until you’re sure you’re going to have bruises. It’s a comforting position though, even without anything pressed against your chest. 

You miss your bear. You miss having John wrapped around you, offering you comfort only he can. You want him back, you want to be in his arms again. You want your safe space back, your nest, your pillows and stuffed animals. You want your alpha no matter what. Even if he is behind this or not, if he’s involved, you don’t care. You need your alpha again. 

The air in your lungs rattles as Dr. Keller replaces the paper towel on your neck. It drips down your back, sliding down your spine. Goosebumps rise on your skin but it begins to calm you, shocking your system out of the edges of distress it had been rapidly falling towards. It makes you miss being numb. Numbness was at least better than the dangerously high panic of distress. 

You can’t even be stressed without being in danger of your own body. 

The churning in your stomach intensifies and you rip the oxygen mask off, bending forward as you take deep breaths. You don’t want to vomit, especially not on Dr. Keller’s nice shoes. Your hands grip the arms of the chair again, eyes squeezing closed as you breathe. 

“Good.” She says, rubbing your back. “Keep breathing like that.” 

She steps away for a moment to grab another wet paper towel as you continue to focus on your breathing, in and out. You pretend John is there, breathing with you slow and even. You can hear it in his chest, feel the rise and fall as he inhales and exhales with you. The steadiness of his heartbeat that never seems to raise, even when he’s stressed, thumps under your ear. He’s always so calm, always so aware, always so capable of acting even in the most stressful situation. 

A strength he possesses thanks to his job. 

“I miss my alpha.” You whimper as your joints begin to unlock, muscles relaxing. 

“I know.” She says, replacing the cold paper towel. She squeezes the back of your neck gently for a moment, sending a cascade of cold water that soaks into your shirt before she releases you. Something prickles in the back of your mind as she moves her hand, the back of your neck tingling and not from the cold. 

You continue to breathe deeply, the hitch in your lungs slowly lessening until it's gone, the air flowing in and out evenly. The air in the room is cold, only made worse by the sweat on your skin. You’re trembling, the effects of the almost distress coming down, leaving you a mess. More of a mess than you had just been. 

“I just want him back.” You croak out, the tears still falling. 

“I know.” She repeats, easing you back so you’re reclined back in the chair. She stares at you for a moment, chewing on her lip before she nods. “I’m going to make a few calls.” 

The days continue to go by in a haze. You’re not sure what to think anymore, the numbness  and stress battling in your brain for control. The near distress you went into has left you exhausted and burnt out, yet your thoughts won’t let you relax. You just want your alpha, the need sinking deep into your bones, nearly consuming you now. 

It’s getting colder, Fall making its rapid approach. A couple short months and it’ll mark a year since your arrival, a year since this entire thing started, since you joined your new pack. To think it might not even last a year. That was the point, though, to test if it would work and how long it would work. 

Less than a year. Hope you’re happy with those results. 

It’s windy today, blowing hard enough you can hear it inside the barracks. The whooshing as the air hits the side of the building, being forced over the top of the immovable object in its path. It’s grey outside too, the sky cloudy. It might rain, though it’s hard to tell. It’s been grey for the last couple days, the weather always seeming to be in tune with your emotions. 

You’re seated on Johnny’s bed, knees pulled up to your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen your packmates, since you’ve seen your alpha. They almost feel like a distant memory, thoughts of them floating around the empty barracks like a ghost, haunting your mind. All of them seem like ghosts now. You’re scared you’ll forget what they look like, what they smell like, what they sound like. Your brain is being clouded by your own roiling emotions, slamming up against the sides of your brain like the wind outside. 

It’s confusing, the violent rocking of your mind between numbness and stress in the storm that’s raging in your amygdala. It would be nice if it could pick one, choose a direction and send you head on into the storm or the doldrums. You want the numbness back, the clouding of your thoughts, the slowing of your body to a crawl. It would be a relief over the alternative point where you risk distress every minute. 

There’s no help for you. 

“Ready?” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door as she knocks quietly. It’s lunch, the usual time the two of you go. Early enough the mess isn’t as crowded. The last thing you need is a confrontation, or for you to panic like you did the day you revealed the cameras to Simon. 

Dr. Keller could help you, would know how to help you through that, but you’re not sure you could handle that stress, that embarrassment of falling apart in front of the soldiers that already send judgemental looks your way. Falling apart again. 

Not when you can’t trust anyone. 

The words still float through your mind, one of the last things John had said to you before he left. Before he abandoned you. 

Don’t trust anyone. 

Anyone could be a threat. 

Dr. Keller knocks again, calling out your name softly. 

You force yourself off of Johnny’s bed, your joints cracking as you stand. You’ve been in that position far too long. Your body has stiffened, losing the flexibility you once had in the weeks since John left. You’re not even sure you could run as fast as you used to. There’s no space to do it in the barracks, and with how numb you’ve been, you have no drive to even reach down and touch your toes anymore. For all you know you’ll fall forward onto your face and break your nose if you try. 

You open the door with a sigh, looking up at Dr. Keller. You’re sure you look like death...you have probably looked like death for a while. The constant rocking between stress and numbness has made you feel that way, and has likely made it worse. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror, you’re not even sure you remember what you look like. 

You don’t care anymore. 

There’s no one to impress here. 

The less alive, the less enticing you look, the more likely it is to keep audacious alphas away. 

“Ready?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowed slightly as she looks down at you. 

You nod, knowing you have no choice. “Yeah.” 

She nods. “Okay, I-” She’s cut off as her phone begins to ring, the loud ringtone slicing through the air. She keeps it on at all hours in case someone calls about your pack. 

For just a moment you feel hope, something coming back to life inside of you as her phone rings. Could it be Kate? Could it be someone with word of the status of your pack? Maybe it is your pack, calling just to let you hear their voice. 

Maybe for the last time. 

That hope fades as Dr. Keller frowns. “One second.” She steps down the hallway to answer, leaving just enough space between you, you can’t hear what’s being said on the other end. 

You don’t really care to hear, leaning against the wall as you wait. It’s not about your pack, obviously. The thought stings. Still there’s been no word, not even a text. The drop of excitement is almost worse than the numbness, the acceptance that you’re not getting any word, that had begun to form in your mind. 

Dr. Keller walks back up to you, the frown on her face deeper than it had been. It had been a short call, most of the talking done by the person on the other side, you assume. Her answers had been short and simple. Whoever it was...it must not have been good judging by her face. 

“I have to run to my office.” She says. “I need you to stay here.” 

Your heart rate picks up at her words. She’s leaving you alone? You’ve gone back and forth with her so many times, why does she have to go alone now? Maybe whoever had called wanted to continue the conversation without the risk of anyone listening in. 

Who called her, and what did they say to get her to break her promises to your pack? 

“I’ll be right back.” She says, sounding anxious to get to her office. “You’ll be okay here? I won’t be gone long.” 

You nod. You’re not sure you have much of a choice but to agree, but you’re also not about to argue. It’ll be the first time you’ve been alone since the day you confessed to your pack. You’re itching for it now, just a second to be truly alone. Just a second to breathe.

“Don’t leave the barracks.” She says pointedly. “John will have my hide if he finds out.

You shrug. “Don’t know where I’d go anyway.” 

She nods, accepting your answer. It is the truth. You wouldn’t have left anyway. “You call me immediately if anything happens. I’ll be just a couple minutes.” 

You nod in understanding. “I’ll be here.” 

“Good.” She seems satisfied by your answer as she turns to jog down the hallway. 

Good thing she’s wearing comfortable shoes compared to the ones she normally does.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as soon as the door closes. You stand there in the silence of the barracks for a moment. You’re finally alone, the oppressive feeling of being watched, of being held prisoner lifting just a bit. Sure you can’t leave, but you couldn’t do that before anyway. You head for the rec room, walking as silently as you can, almost as if one of your pack members will jump out from around the corner and reprimand you for being alone. It’s not your fault. Dr. Keller was the one who left you. 

You try not to think about what that phone call had been about as you grab a snack, tiding yourself over before Dr. Keller returns. She said she’d only be a minute, but you’re not sure how long it really will take. You’re silently glad for the break, silently glad for the ability to rest in silence, even if it is only for a couple of minutes. 

You’re not sure what to do with your newfound freedom. It’s not like you didn’t have freedom before, but at least now you feel like you normally do, free to wander around and go to the bathroom by yourself. 

You’re going to do just that. 

It’s instinctual that you choose Simon’s room. You’ve been using his shower still, comforted by the routine you picked up during the time he and Johnny were still with you. It’s comforting, so much so you’ve made sure you hang your towel where it’s supposed to go, and put your soap and shampoo back in place with his. He’d be angry if he came back to find his room a mess, the order he exists in disrupted. 

More angry than he already is with you. 

You let out a sigh as you leave the bathroom, eyeing the books on his dresser. You’ve read all of yours already, and there’s nothing new in the rec room. You haven’t felt like reading much, and you’ve already read all of yours. Now, though, as life begins to fill you again, you feel the urge to do something. 

The spines of the books are slightly dusty as you run your fingers across them. You’ll need to clean again soon. You’d forced yourself to do all of their laundry once their shirts lost their scent. It was beginning to stink and after being gone so long, you doubt they’ll want to come back to stinky dirty clothes. 

Maybe you should clean their rooms too. Dr. Keller has been saying it might be helpful to do something productive. 

And this way it might help in case they do return. Omegas are supposed to keep house. It’s what you’ve been taught to do. The last thing you want is for them to be upset with you for not doing your duties. 

You grab one of the books randomly before slipping back out of the room, closing the door behind you. Your steps are still instinctively quiet as you make your way down the hallway. Until you freeze mid-step. There’s a sound ahead near the rec room, the wind outside getting louder for a moment before it quiets again. 

Someone opened the door. Someone is inside. 

Your breathing hitches as you take a step back, then another moving backwards down the hallway. Dr. Keller did say she’d be back soon, but why would she go through that door? She knows your pack always uses the door at the front, the door behind you to enter. That door only gets used when the guys smoke outside, or when Simon and Johnny have to leave during your heats. 

Whoever entered wouldn’t know that. 

Dr. Keller doesn’t smoke. 

You stumble back to the nearest door, fumbling with the handle for a second before slipping inside. You close the door quietly, clicking the lock before pushing the dresser in front of the door. It’s your room you’ve taken refuge in. There’s dust coating everything, floating around you as you disturb the stale air. You hold your breath, fighting the urge to cough as you wait, hoping the air filters hide your scent before they make it down the hallway. 

Your hands are shaking, gripping the book tightly in your hand. If nothing else, you can use it as a weapon. Simon would be proud of that, improvising a weapon to protect yourself. The panic is rising in you as you wait, the silence of the barracks the only thing allowing you to hear the quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. There’s a nervous fluttering in your chest as you wait, trying to keep your breathing under control. If it’s Dr. Keller she’ll knock, she’ll say something to let you know it’s her. She wouldn’t sneak around the barracks. She knows how much stress you’ve been under. She wouldn’t try to scare you like this. 

A scream dies in your throat as the door handle starts to jiggle, forced back by your own panic. Whoever it is on the other side is trying to get in. You're thrown back into the terror of your first time alone, when someone tried to enter your room in the middle of the night. 

You’re not going to be stupid this time. You’re not going to face this alone. Your fingers fumble around your phone, barely able to unlock it as the jiggling of the handle gets more aggressive. Whoever it is, they’re determined to get in. 

You press Dr. Keller’s number, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you lift it to your ear. It rings in your ear, the sound echoing outside the door. Your stomach drops, following your phone as it slips out of your hand, still calling Dr. Keller. The ringtone echoes in the empty hallway, quickly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. 

The sudden phone call, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks to run to her office, entering through the wrong door...

No...it can’t be. 

The door shudders as something rams against it. You have to hide, you have to get out. You can’t hide in the closet or under the bed. Even the bathroom wouldn’t be smart. It’ll leave you too vulnerable. If whoever it is can break through your door, they’ll get through the bathroom easily. You turn to look at the window. You have to get out. You have to get help. 

There could be others out there, waiting for you to try. 

You have no other choice. Better to try and fight than to stand there and let it happen. That’s what Simon always says. 

You can defend yourself. You can fight until you get a chance to run. You can run. You’re an omega. Running is what you do. 

You barely remember to pick up your phone before you climb onto your desk, not caring as you knock things off. You have to move fast. Whoever it is on the other side of the door probably heard that, probably has figured out you’re going for the window. You have to get out. You have to run. The window slides open slowly, the adrenaline pumping through you, giving you strength you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re not sure you’ve ever opened the window in the time you’ve been here. You squeeze through the opening just big enough to fit you through. You don’t waste time looking back as you take off running, heading in the direction of the trees. 

You’re alone, kicking up gravel as you run to the road. You have to find someone to help you before whoever it was catches up to you. Would they be that brave to attack you in the middle of the base? Would they try something with witnesses around?

You can’t trust anyone.

Would they even believe you if you did try? Or would they take advantage of your state, tricking you into believing them before dragging you into a dark corner? Even if you try to go to the higher ups on base, who would you tell? How would you even find them? 

You can’t trust anyone. 

Instead you choose the trees, racing down the road you had followed Price down not long after your arrival. You thank the CIA for making you run, you thank the guys for letting  you run laps to keep your strength and stamina as you tear down the road, getting glances as you go. You haven’t lost much of your ability, not even in the weeks you’ve been almost completely sedentary. It’s partially the adrenaline, partially your own fear, partially your instincts to escape from danger helping you sprint down the road. 

It’s lunch time, most of the soldiers probably in the mess by now. Maybe you should have run there. Someone would help you. Someone would help you. 

You’ve passed a few on your way down the road, only getting passing glances. If they really cared, they would have followed you, tried to intercept you to ask what was going on. 

None of them stop you as you reach the trailhead, breaking through the brush. Don’t follow the trail. Weave through the trees and double back. Confuse them so they can’t follow. Price’s advice rings loud in your ears as you rush through the forest. Confuse them, and then make for the tower. You can hide there, call Laswell, get help. You’re not sure how much help she can provide from across the ocean, but if nothing else, she’ll at least know. 

If she answers. 

If she’s not behind all of this. 

She might rat you out. 

Maybe going for the tower is a bad idea. Maybe you should double back and head for base again. If you can make it to the gate maybe you can convince one of them to help you, or if nothing else you can force your way through and get off of base. You recognize landmarks well enough you can hike to Hereford, find the police, find anyone that might help you. 

You can’t trust anyone. 

Your chest hurts as you run, tears burning in your eyes, making the trees around you blur. You can’t cry now. You can’t let the ache of betrayal settle in yet. You really can’t trust anyone. John had been wrong. But why now? Why wait this long? 

Something has happened to your pack. 

The whole thing has been organized. 

You trusted her. 

You dart across the trail, a sharp pain biting through your calf before you can reach the other side. You yelp as you fall into the dirt, your leg giving out from under you. You push yourself up to look, a roughly half inch wide hole cutting through your jeans. Blood is starting to seep into the fabric, darkening it around the edges of the hole. 

You’ve been shot. 

“You’re a quick little thing.” A voice says, stepping out from the brush next to the trail. “Though, I suppose with all the running they made you do, you would be.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at the gun pointed right at you. Will it go off again? Will it rip through your chest, giving you a slow painful death out here where no one will find you until it’s too late? Or will it go through your head, giving you a quick death before you even know it’s happened? 

“Why?” You choke out, your heart pounding in fear. You can feel it, the edges of your vision darkening as you begin to panic. You’re going to distress, you’re going to die no matter what happens next. 

“Money.” The gun shifts with the accompanying shrug. “Sure the pay in these positions is decent, but it’s never quite enough. And, you know, I’m all for helping with experiments.” 

The gun lowers, but that does little to ease the panic flooding through you. You turn your upper body, trying to claw through the dirt away from your assailant, trying to escape the shoes getting closer and closer. They’re tennis shoes, practical and easy for running if need be. Your mouth has gone dry as you gasp for breath, your heart thudding in your ears. It’s getting dangerously high, the dark edges in your vision continuing to get bigger and bigger. Your muscles are tensing, ready to tighten painfully, joints locking into place. It’ll be too late to do anything, but then again, it’s too late now to do anything. 

You can’t run. If you try, you’ll get shot again, and maybe this time it will be fatal. 

One of the shoes lifts, stepping down on your leg. You scream as pain ripples all the way up to your hip, stopping your movements. Tears slide down your face, dripping down your nose and onto the dirt. 

A hand reaches out, gripping your chin and forcing you to look straight again. Fingers dig into your jaw, making you whimper with pain. “I always hate when omegas cry.” The hand releases you as their right hand rears back. 

Pain erupts across your cheek, your body being thrown to the side. You fall into the dirt, your ears ringing as the entire left side of your face throbs. You can taste blood, the coppery tang making you want to gag. 

“That was for fucking up the cameras and making me do more work.” 

You’re forced onto your stomach in the dirt, a knee digging into your back painfully. 

“You’re going to go to sleep now.” You can barely make out the words over the ringing in your ears. “When you wake up, you’re going to wish you had never been picked for this initiative in the first place.” 

A stinging pain bites into the skin of your neck, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing in your cheek and the burning ache in your leg. Tears continue to slide down your cheeks as you lay there, your vision going blurry as the sedative kicks in. There’s no help coming. 

No one even knows you’re out here. 

NEXT ->

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[thesassypadawan]

Birthday Boy (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: It’s your man’s birthday! A day filled with all the love, presents, and…special ‘treats’.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Birthday head and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Birthday, Hay! 💙🤍

And also Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

- It’s Hayden’s birthday! One of the few days during the year when you can spoil him totally rotten…and he can’t object or complain.

- You always make it into a big deal. Showering him with love and affection. Making his fav foods. Getting him so many thoughtful presents. Planning all sorts of little surprises and special ‘treats’…that you just so happen to enjoy too.

- The sound of your alarm fills the air, and your arm flies out from underneath the covers. Hand fumbling for your phone, trying to silence it before a moose starts to stir.

- Luckily, you’re successful and no harm was done. Because you can hear the soft snores echoing out from behind you.

- Yawning, you try to blink yourself awake. You had set it with the intention of getting up early enough to prepare him breakfast in bed. But having that deliciously warm body pressed up against and those strong arms wrapped around you…

- A sleepy smile spreads across your face and your eyes begin to close. Until you feel a very hard, very familiar something poke your backside. And suddenly you’re no longer going with the original plan. Instead you’re opting for the new, amazing one you just thought up.

- Somehow you not only manage to untangle yourself from Hay, but you’re also able to get him to lay on his back. From there you make quick work of removing the sheets and pulling down his sleep pants. Cock springing free and standing proud.

- Positioning yourself between his toned legs, lips hovering barely a few inches above his dick. You pause a moment, making sure he’s still asleep by whispering… “Oi, Big Dork; Leafs suck.”

- Nothing. Not an angry grumble or eyes cracking open to glare at you. Nothing.

- Boldly you kitten lick his fat tip, happily lapping up that first salty bead of pre. Before popping it into your mouth, rolling your tongue around and sucking gently. Teasing at and playing with his slit until more of that bittersweet goodness explodes across your taste buds.

- Moaning softly, the vibrations cause Hayden to shift a bit. But you chose to ignore this, taking more of him in. That slight, pleasant ache in your jaw making you pant through your nose, your own arousal spiking. Cunt clenching around nothing, dripping…soaking through your panties.

- Bobbing your head up and down, you set a steady pace. Lips and hand wrapped tightly around his impressive length, adding more friction as you pump. Teeth nipping and grazing at him lightly.

- You’re so caught up that you don’t hear the low groan, but you certainly feel the big hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Those long fingers lacing through your hair, tugging.

- With his cock still nice and warm in your mouth, you not so innocently gaze up at him. Hay’s blue eyes are blown so wide, a lazy smile on his face. “Happy Birthday to me,” he chuckles, voice raspy from sleep.

- Humming, you swallow him greedily. Head brushing and hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best to not choke, fighting the urge not to gag.

- “That’s it,” he grunts. Pulling harder, hips starting to slowly buck. “Keep Going.”

- Driven by his words and that wonderful burn on your scalp, you double your efforts. Picking up speed, you match his rhythm. Baring down, letting him slide deeper with each thrust. Squeezing and playing with his heavy balls.

- First you feel his dick twitch, then his thighs begin to tremble, and…

- Growling, Hayden shot his hot cum down your throat. Curses falling from his lips while you hungrily drink every last drop.

- Releasing him with a wet sounding pop, you eagerly crawl on top of and straddle him. “Happy Birthday, Hay!” You giggle, grinning and wiggling like crazy…some of his ‘frosting’ trickling down your chin. “Today it’s all about you and-”

- A squeak escapes you as your suddenly flipped over. Back pressed against the mattress, caged in by his arms. Tip pushing at your drenched core.

- “Thanks for the gift, angel,” the birthday boy smirks, hand slowly trailing down your hip. “I’ll open it right now.” And with one quick movement, tares off your panties.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[withahappyrefrain]

I ALMOST MISSED THIS?!

“You’re a sweetheart” “Believe me, I’m really not” + Jake Seresin pls? 🥰

FE YES THIS IS SO HIM also would you like a little Jake and Venus AU? We got some language and sub!Jake here aka my favorite

Jake Seresin had a routine.

Step one, find who he wanted to talk to have for the night. Not someone who was clinging to the corner (they were for Bob), but also not the life of the party. He didn't like to share.

Step two, make eye contact. Sometimes Jake would be able to make it happen with the power of his lustful stare. Sometimes it meant playing pool at a different table or going up to the bar.

Tonight it meant going up to the bar, to order his drink loudly, ramping up his accent and 'yes m'am's to Penny. He didn't mind, he loved the spotlight.

Once eye contact was made, he could move on to step three. Bring her a drink.

He noticed she had ordered a gin and tonic at the bar. Jake practically strutted to her table, feeling confident that he would be walking out of here with the woman of the night in less than an hour.

"Howdy darlin'. I've always been told a lady should never have an empty glass. May I?" Jake pointed to her first drink, which was nearly empty.

She pursed her red painted lips together, looking Jake up and down, as if deciding whether he should be allowed to stay. At least, that's how Jake felt under her strong gaze. He tried not to falter, fighting the urge to close his free hand into a fist.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was seductive, dripping with honey like a trap to lure Jake in.

"Aren't you a sweetheart?" Her coy smile gave Jake the confidence to sit down at her table. Though, he couldn't help but chuckle at her words.

"Believe me doll, I'm really not," it was said with a wink as he handed her the drink.

"Oh, I think you are," she winked back, causing Jake's heart to skip a beat, "However, I'm not a doll."

"Then what shall I call you? I was also thinking Goddess," Jake smirked.

She playfully rolled her eyes, "Sorry to break it to ya, but you aren't the first to call me that. My name actually means Venus."

Venus. How fitting, with her full lips and big eyes and hair full of curls. Jake couldn't think of a better name. If she was Venus, he would be her Mars, her fiery, passionate lover.

Just for tonight.

"I'm Jake," he stuck his hand out. He was a gentleman, after all.

She hesitated, just long enough to see his large hand begin to tremble before taking it.

Her skin was soft, though her grip was firm. She never broke eye contact, holding her own. This woman, this goddess, was different, confident. Jake couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't out on the dance floor or talking to other pilots.

"So Venus, what brings you here? Other than faith," He asked with a charming smile.

"Work was hell and my coworkers kept saying I should go here to blow off some steam," she shrugged, "I'm just looking for a sweet man."

Jake leaned back in his chair. Her words didn't match her mischievous tone. And there was that word again, sweet.

Sweet was not what anyone had ever used to describe him. Hot, charming, driven, successful. But never sweet.

"Well Venus," he shrugged as he looked up at her, "I don't know if I can offer you that. But what I can offer is a night you'll never forget."

"Shouldn't sell yourself short, Lieutenant," she giggled before taking another sip of her cocktail, "But why don't we just see where the night takes us?"

Jake expected the night to end one of two ways; either on top of her or going home with someone else.

What he didn't expect was to be underneath her in his car, her manicured fingers stroking his cock as he whined into her neck.

"That's it," She encouraged, "You deserve it. Been so fucking sweet to me."

Jake groaned, not caring if the whole bar heard him. He continued mouthing at her breasts, not caring about the tank top she had on.

"Made me cum with your fingers, let me get off on your thigh," She admired the stain he now had on his khaki pants, "What will your teammates think Lieutenant?"

"Don't....Fuckin' care," Jake gritted between his teeth, hips jerking up towards her.

"I knew you were a sweetheart. Makes up for your ugly as sin car," Venus chuckled.

Jake didn't care about her comment on his car. Truth be told, he didn't care too much about whether he came or not.

Truth was, he was too busy thinking of what engagement ring to get his Venus.

[chuunai]

Can we get Dazai, Chuya and Fyodor with scenario 19 and prompt 13? (drabbles)

hey did you know I LOVE Chuuya Nakahara?

✧˚ · . drunken confessions - dazai osamu, nakahara chuuya, fyodor dostoevsky

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, SFW. also clingy insecure chuuya. fyodor also kinda takes advantage of you mentally/emotionally while drunk

Dazai Osamu

He somewhat planned it all out. The invitation sent to you to watch movies with him at his dorm, right next to yours. The drinks, too. Cheap cans of beer and sake that are lazily passed to you. The futon too that you two are situated on is more neat and tidy than usual with no forgotten crab legs or alcohol stains in sight. It’d be easier to confess if he had liquid courage, right? Dazai didn’t want to fuck it all up.

When he confesses this way, it’s because he can’t think of anything better. Dinner at a restaurant is nice and dandy, sure, but it’s not quite intimate enough. A letter doesn’t express the tone of how serious he is with his love for you. You’ve been with him since his days in the Mafia. You saw him at his worst, and so he wishes to give you the best.

So when you’re both slightly tipsy and giggly at the sights on the TV, he tugged at your clothes and brought you in closer, pretending to shiver and whine about the cold. Unsurprisingly, you had snuggled into him back—such an affectionate drunkard. What Dazai did next was probably purely driven by intoxication and the need to confess. Jokingly (not really), he asked if you could be with him every night to warm him up just like you did already with his heart.

Dazai nearly had a heart attack when you took so long to ultimately respond with a yes. He doesn’t waste time, already carefully maneuvering you on top of him as a pretty body pillow while he sleepily mumbled that he loved his pillow. Loves you. Sure, it was all planned out, but it worked. He’d keep you forever by his side.

Nakahara Chuuya

It’s such a total fucking accident. The whole thing was never intended to happen when Chuuya took you out for a drink after a successful mission. You were his subordinate—albeit a close one of his—and it’d be wrong to act on his feelings for you. Death is a common and accepted daily occurrence of the Port Mafia, and he doesn’t want to accidentally get you hurt or even killed because you were his partner. Even if it hurts, he doesn’t want to confess. For your safety.

Although two glasses of wine later and a guy hitting on you stirs jealousy in his mind, and the fact that you seem uncomfortable increases it by tenfold. He didn’t hesitate to walk over with a thin smile on his face, wrapping an arm around your waist and cooing in your ear that he missed his baby and if you could please dance with him—your fake boyfriend. That’s how he ended up dancing with you to the beat of the music. His eyes were glued to your lips, admiring the shape as he wished they’d cover his body in rouge lipstick.

But Chuuya Nakahara lost everyone he ever cared about. Kouyou was still here, but he doubted the world would let her stay by his side for long. The drunken urge to kiss you was pushed back by the logical side of his mind, screaming out the fact that he’d be a creep if he did that. And he didn’t want you to think he was a sleazy guy. You were his muse from afar, and he wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you.

So instead the wine in his veins opts to merely drop his head onto your shoulder and hesitantly intertwine his fingers with you. Next? He mumbles in your neck that he loves you. Loves you to the point where he’d kill everyone in the world if they dared to cross you—his heart. All he wanted was your heart, your undying love. But at the end of the day, you’re too good for him. He’s not even human, after all.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He wasn’t drunk whatsoever and capitalized on your inebriation. Fyodor was a smart man, able to read moves of his opponents and acquaintances alike. This included you, of course. He knew absolutely everything about his little mouse, from your family to your darkest secrets. It was no surprise that he discovered your deep admiration of him as well.

What was supposed to be a meeting between the two of you discussing the DoA’s plans, instead ended up into him gently coaxing you to sip at the wine he had given you. He didn’t drink himself—a man as great as himself would not taint his mind with such a poison—but merely watched as your cheeks flushed with the telltale sign of tipsiness. The scenario would’ve been baffling for any outsider. Two terrorists in a room that both have a crush on each other. How utterly perplexing and unsettling!

Once he was certain you were to be easily manipulated to whatever he wanted, he began asking more personal questions and other matters. Coyly asking if you needed to visit a doctor with how red your face was whenever you two spoke. Or when he began to poke fun at your habit of stammering when he’d appear behind you and give your head that small condescending tap. Poor, poor you who didn’t stand a chance. You were so easy to crack. The seed at the middle of it all was your confession and the way he invited you onto his lap and began stroking your hair like one might do with a beloved pet.

While he’s not entirely sure what love truly is other than the definition, Fyodor felt a deep sense of affection and responsibility for you. Nearly every ruler in history had a beloved at their side to witness the fruits of their goals, so naturally he should as well. It wasn’t like you’d leave either. He’d make sure of it and keep you with him forever until he decided to end it.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

[alfredosauce50]

Parent headcanons: Alfred, Allen, Matt, & Mathias

When it comes to the trials of adulthood, they have their own ways of getting on top. But parenting is what really puts them to the test. Starting a family and being one of the sole carers for another person will shine a light on the best and worst parts of them.

The big news

Alfred

He has the most normal reaction out of the four. Panic, acceptance, then excitement, he’s finally moving onto the final stages of adulthood and achieving his lifelong dream. Being a suburban dad and getting that white picket fence. It’s not just about liking kids, Alfred is rather traditional when it comes to his values; he has always romanticized the American dream. He already has a good job, all he needs is to make it happen.

“Fuuuuuck,” He whispers, eyes wide as he rakes his hands through his hair. He stands there for a few minutes, staring into space as you watch him tensely for his reaction. “We’re ready to be parents, right?”

Allen

He will freak out. Planned or unplanned, he’s not mentally prepared to be a father. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, but knows deep down he has to be. That’s what really scares him. If he needs to improve himself, it’s now or never. So after a week of panicking and catastrophizing, he’s ready to give himself a second chance — even if it’s for someone else. But his selflessness is key to his perseverance, and eventual success.

“I fucked up,” He squeezes you like a lifeline. It was the only conclusion he could come to after hours of talking about it, the only thing he could ever truly understand. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mathias

He’ll be over the moon. He’s gonna be even more excited than you, but that’s kinda given when he doesn’t have to carry the baby and deliver it. Point is, Mathias is very family-oriented, so don’t expect anything less. He’s the most self-affirmed a person can be too, so he’s always ready to move onto the next stage in life. His nurturing character and openness to change will help you immensely in periods of stress and uncertainty.

“I’m so happy that I could cry,” He whispers with his head on your tummy. He’s half-awake after burning out from his own excitement, but his spirit is still in the right place. “We’re finally gonna have a family.”

Matt

Letting you into his life was already a miracle, and now he’s gonna be a dad? This is a human being that he’ll have to be responsible for, not something he can simply tap out of and run away from. Matt is driven by his interests, solitude, and above all else, his freedom. A baby would take away all of those things, and he’s so troubled by it that he disappears for a few weeks. He comes home to a slap, but it’s well-deserved.

“Are you gonna keep hitting me, or are you gonna let me go to my shed?” He sighs, closing his eyes as you keep wailing on him. And he just takes it, absorbing every strike that was your burning love for him.

“Why, so you can keep—” You shove him harshly so that he actually stumbles back. “—hiding from me?”

“No, I’m gonna build a crib and make some toys.”

Parenting style

Alfred

He’s everything you’d expect from a new parent. Freaking out over the little things, screaming when they do something new, burning out after weeks of sleep deprivation, etc. He isn’t perfect, and you’re gonna have to work with him like any other partner, but before you know it, the house is filled with photo frames. He’s your best friend, and sometimes before your partner, so he has a hard time giving and taking. But it’s also why you two will stick together through thick and thin.

Alfred eventually evolves into the archetype of fathers. He takes the backseat and tells his kids, ‘I don’t know, go ask your mother,’ or even gets in trouble for doing stupid things like leaving the toilet seat up. When you just finished yelling at the kids, he comes to them later and goes, ‘someone’s in a bad mood today,’ when he’s just glad it wasn’t him. But when it’s something really serious, he flips like a switch and takes the lead. When that happens, there’s no talking him down.

“Alright gang, ready to get the show on the road?” Alfred rubs his hands together excitedly before he starts the car. “When we get there, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. I’m already on thin ice.”

He has high expectations for his kids. Ever since they popped out, he’s been giving them the best of the best, like nice clothes, family trips, sports leagues, and dance. He also wants them to go to a prestigious university in the future and to do all the things he might have missed out on. Cue the ‘that’s your dream, not mine, dad!’ Alfred can be hard on his children when it comes to success, so you need to remind him they’ve got minds of their own and are not carbon copies of him.

He says he prefers sons until he gets a daughter. Alfred is an absolute sweetheart to his girls, and is way more lenient with them than his boys. He doesn’t mean to play favorites, but it’s just how he’s wired. However, it also means being quite strict and protective when they get to that age. No drinking and no sleepovers with boys present. Men are all animals according to him. But dad, aren’t you a man? Exactly! He’s the pioneer of ‘anything you do to my daughter, I do to you.’

Allen

He tried his absolute best to prepare, but it starts off a disaster. What can go wrong will go wrong. The baby gets sick, you’re away on urgent family business, so he needs to do it all without you. Allen stays in hospital with the baby overnight, and slowly, but surely, they get better. He ends up neglecting himself to put his child’s needs first, and by the time you get back, he’s burning up with a fever. But the baby is perfectly content and sleeping soundly in the crib because of him.

He wants the best for his family, even if it means sacrificing everything he has. He understands his limits, but there’s nothing he won’t do to make sure his kid gets every opportunity he never had. Sports, college, you name it. If everybody in class has branded sneakers, he’ll buy a pair just so they don’t feel left out. He’s always proud of his baby, and if anybody tried to bully them, they’ll have to answer to him. Allen sees the best of him in his child, but usually fails to see it in himself.

“You can have my egg. I’m not hungry, baby.” Allen says, sliding his plate to his little girl. He knows that you won’t be back with the groceries for an hour or so, and no kids are going hungry on his watch.

Allen doesn’t think there’s a particular way of parenting because no one child is the same. So long as they do their homework, get out under the sun, and have a good attitude, the rest is to be decided. If his child needs extra support, he’ll give it to them, and if they need a reality check, he’ll give that to them too. He reminds them how hard life can be without stability, so they should take their future seriously, but at the same time, he’s always gonna be there to give them a home.

Nobody would mess with his kids after one look at him. He’s an ex-marine without the ‘ex.’ His daughter will have trouble finding a boyfriend to begin with because of him, and when she finally does, they’re gonna have to gain his respect to be trusted with looking after his little girl. If his son ever gets into a fight, he’ll ask if he won then whoop his ass later. And in the principle’s office, he’s giving the other kid the worst stink-eye ever. He’s the dad that could beat up the other dads.

Mathias

He’s a total natural; all is well when the baby is in his care. He may be all over the place, but when he really cares about something, he’s in a constant state of hyper focus. The baby will always be clean, well-fed, and happy, so don’t worry about a thing. There’s also no such thing as 50/50 with Mathias. He knows that there will be times when one person has to take the lead. It’s not in his nature to keep track of who’s giving and taking the most. He’s too mature for that.

It’s like experiencing a second childhood for him. Reading picture books, fairytales, playing with legos, or going to places he went to as a kid, he treats parenthood as a chance to relive his best memories and love every second of it. He will never miss a parent event, performance, and appointment. His dedication makes him very perceptive of his child, so he always knows what to do or say to cheer them up. As they grow up, they maintain a very close relationship to him.

“We wanna go to Legoland!”

“You mean, you wanna go to Legoland,” You laugh at him, “I heard you talking to Bjorn about it last night.”

“That’s so he can make an informed decision, of course,” Mathias grins, not showing a hint of shame as he shuffles over with his phone on the home page of the Legoland site. “So I take that it’s decided?”

He’s a great parent, but he’s by no means strict. All he wants is for them to have a fighting chance in the world, like doing a job that they enjoy. He’s great at communicating with his kids and has a lot of compassion, which takes them a long way. He’s never had to discipline them besides setting boundaries and occasionally grounding them. You rule the home with a firmer hand, and maybe that’s why your kids respect you more but treat him more like a friend than a parent sometimes.

Mathias doesn’t bat an eye when his kids first start dating. He’s always been quite liberal, so he just tells them to be careful about the birds and the bees, then to talk to him if things get testy. The one thing he’ll do is to ensure they have high standards. Love is life’s reward, not something to cry yourself to sleep about. Eventually, he’ll invite their date over for dinner, and as it turns out, he’d be a great father in law. He’s very welcoming and treats any future Densens like one of his own.

Matt

He’s a trial-by-error, improvise as you go along kinda dad. He hasn’t put much thought into the trials of childcare, but he always works things out in his own way. If the bub keeps crying because they don’t want to be bottle-fed by him, he will cover his face with a picture of you. Easy-peasy. If they’re crawling around the bed, he will use them as a mousepad as he scrolls on his laptop. That way, he gets some leisure time while making sure they don’t actually go anywhere.

Matt is the opposite to a helicopter parent. When his kid trips and face plants into the ground, he doesn’t react. The trick is to not acknowledge it, because only then will they cry. He isn’t afraid to let them explore the world and gain their own agency. It’s good for them, he says. Some part of you thinks he just wants them to grow up quicker so he doesn’t have to take care of them anymore, but there’s always those special little moments.

“How about I teach you how to drive the truck?” Matt asks, walking back home with the family.

“He’s eleven.” You remark.

“Is that a problem?”

He’s all about the family business. If his children don’t want to go fishing and logging with him, fine, but if they show even the slightest bit of interest, he’s bought. Matt will be more than eager to show them the ropes. He takes them on camping trips to show them the beauty of the great outdoors, and the humility it takes to be apart of it. The art of it all is there’s no problem that can’t be solved, and even a rugged man like him can be domesticated by the right person.

If his daughter got a boyfriend, he’d be waiting at home with a shotgun. Matt will then play it off like he just got back from a hunting trip. He’s the type to use silent intimidation, and it works like a charm. If not, he’ll tell jerks to get off his lawn even though he doesn’t have one, and when they ask what lawn, he’ll just say “all of it.” What he means is to get out of his sight and the woods, which is the lawn he’s talking about. (Ha!) On the flip side, he’s nice to girls his son brings home.

Losing the spark

Alfred

He has a tendency to let himself go when he gets comfortable. This usually happens when his first kid reaches their teenage years and he can afford to sit back now that they can do their own thing. He’s established a stable family unit, but he takes that for granted and gets a little lazy. As a result, he packs on a few pounds and tries less in the relationship. He’s not as attractive as he used to be, and you’re having more petty arguments.

“Why do I feel like you hate me?” He watches you mop the kitchen after you told him to do it. Only he delayed it to sit around on his phone and eat crisps. Even then, he still has the nerve to be upset about it.

“I don’t hate you, I’m just annoyed at you.”

“But you’re annoyed with me everyday.”

Allen

Losing the spark? Not on his watch! He never stops trying, ever, and keeps chasing you like when he first started dating you. His stability doesn’t come from money, it comes from you. You’re his rock, and nothing else matters so long as you’re here. He’s the epitome of ‘you know how daddy is about mommy,’ and he’s proud of it. He also takes great care of his body, and with his good genes, he practically ages backwards.

“You better wear that button-down shirt tonight, Al. A tank top isn’t gonna cut it,” You tell him.

“You callin’ me a deadbeat?” He questions.

“No, but you dress like one.”

“I thought you liked my clothes, babe.”

“I do, but the teachers won’t.”

“True that.” He fixes his collar in front of a mirror. He peers at his reflection, marveling at how well he cleaned up. A dress shirt and belt? He’s practically unrecognizable — until he grins, that is. “Still got it.”

Mathias

He’s always gonna be young at heart, so his spirit never dies. His love for you is as constant as a river, and he’s not afraid of putting on a show for the kids to the point they get a little disgusted. (Ew!) He doesn’t think he’d ever be too old for romance, and his good faith shows up in how gracefully he ages. He might occasionally grow out a thick beard, and when he shaves it off, he looks devastating close to when he was younger.

“Are we ever gonna be alone again?” He mumbles, pouting. His thirtieth birthday is coming up, but he hasn’t changed a bit, save for the more pronounced smile lines around his mouth. “I need some love too.”

“We will, Mat. I just don’t feel comfortable leaving the baby alone right now,” You shake your head.

“We could call Amy and have a date night.”

“I don’t know, Mat.”

“I’ll shave off my beard.”

“Huh?”

“You wouldn’t say no to me without a beard.”

Matt

The longer he’s with you, the harder he loves. His feelings don’t change when things get hard, or as time passes. They just get stronger. In that same breath, he also ages like wine. In the end, he ends up being the bigger romantic. He used to be a lone wolf, and he thought he was okay with it, but now that he has you, he can’t imagine his life without you. To think you actually stuck around and gave him a chance, he’ll never forget that.

“Wanna go back inside and do it?” He mutters.

“You’re disgusting, Matt.” You walk inside without sparing him a single glance. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always have a mouth on him. No matter how old you get, you’ll always forgive him for it.

“Is that a no?”

“Make me dinner and let me think about it.”

“Deal.”

[shrenvents]

Competition

Warnings: Smut, M!receiving, penetration (w protection), language, enemies (ish) to lovers

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x reader

Summary: After "Beef's" rebranding as "The Bear," business at your cafe has declined, which left you furious, and that anger only worsened after meeting the restaurant's owner.

Word count: 3.4k

...

Ever since I was young, I've always had this unnecessary, aggressive competitiveness, which has only grown since its opening; The Bear, formerly known as "Beef," has become Chicago's newest hit. Its success has been so impactful, that it's driven away numerous customers, including regulars from my spot, just across the street.

My cafe has been open for years. Its income has been steady from the get-go, and the presence of a certain sandwich shop has never deterred that. Not until said sandwich place suddenly turned into a high-end restaurant. It crossed my mind that it simply shut down due to its infamous unpopularity, but Richie was still waltzing into my cafe to order coffee, as per usual.

So, being curious enough about what had happened to "The Beef," I go visit, expecting to be greeted by the "ever-so-pleasant" owner, Michael. But instead—

"Uh, he died," Neil mutters rather awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers. My eyes expand in complete shock.

"Oh my god, sorry, I had no idea." I grimace at my lack of sensitivity. "It's alright." He shakes his head.

Silence envelops us both before I speak again. "So, um, how come you're still here? If you don't mind me asking?" I grimace again at my poor choice of words, saying, "I swear I'm not trying to be rude." Neil tilts his head in confusion. "Whatta mean?"

"I just assumed you wouldn't be, here, since...?"

"Ah, yeah, Mike left the place to his little bro, Carmy." He waves his arms around, gesturing to the restaurant's interior. "And he did all this, sick right?"

"Yeah... Sick." I mumble with a pout, failing to hide my contempt, but my sour mood goes right over his head.

"Fak!" A man's loud, demanding voice, quiets my rearing thoughts. "Fak! What the fuck are you doing? I need you in here." The voice grows stronger as the chef it belongs to pushes through the kitchen doors. I just about hold my breath at the sight of him. In his all-white get-up, his deep blue eyes have yet to notice me, as he addresses Neil angrily. "The fucking toilet's still broken." He throws his arm up in frustration, "So would you please, get off your ass and fix it!" He commands Neil, and I jump at his dangerous tone. My brows furrow. There was no need for him to shout so rudely, not to mention that it was really bothering me, how he had yet to acknowledge my presence even once. Not only was he stealing my business, but he didn't give a rats-ass about it.

"Shit! Yeah, on it! I was just talking to—"

"Y/n." I announce my name roughly, and his eyes bounce from Neil to me instantly. Appearing startled, he hesitates to extend his palm for a handshake. "Carmy, sorry about him—" Just as he begins waving off Fak, apologizing for his behaviour, I snap.

"No, he was the perfect gentleman, as always," I protest, "I just came to check on the competition." Carmy's brows knit together, and I can feel the vein in my forehead pop out. "I own the cafe across the street," I state plainly, and he slowly nods in recognition. "It was nice to see you, have a great day," I commend with a smile, directed only to Neil. With that, I spin out the door, stomping vigorously towards my shop.

...

The next time I saw Carmy was nearly a month later, on garbage day. He happened to be taking the trash out that evening, exactly when I was. I sigh at how little he struggles to lift several trash bags. Looking away, I huff as I throw the plastic sacks into the massive tin container. After finishing, I stretch out my back, rubbing my hands together. Shortly rolling my head back, I observe the evening sky. I exhale, releasing a breath of cool air from my lips.

My skin pricks as I feel someone watching me and shift my gaze towards "The Bear." I instantly identify the sapphire eyes latched onto me. When I catch Carmy, his eyes fly in every which direction, clearly embarrassed. 'The hell? Okay dickhead, hello to you too.' I think, shaking my head as I go inside, once again, feeling the heat of his stare as I do.

An hour later, I complete the last of my chores before locking up the cafe. Removing the key from the door, I pivot towards my car. However, I stumble when a figure standing not far behind me approaches, causing me to unleash a horrid scream from the depths of my throat. Carmy's eyes widen, evidently apologetic and equally terrified. "Uh sorry! I didn't mean—"

"What the actual fuck, is your problem?" I practically hiss.

"Sorry, I was thinking about saying something before you turned around. But then I second-guessed myself and just did nothing," Carmy blabbers, "I'm really really sorry."

"Okay okay." I put up my hands in surrender to stop his rambling. It's rather disarming, after our first meeting, hearing how he sounds so... Timid. "Sorry." He mumbles once more, head hung low.

"You're good," I reassure him with a sigh, to cover up an unexpected giggle. "Um, so what're you doing, here?"

"Oh!" He jolts upright and his eyes shoot from the ground to mine. "I just wanted to uh, talk."

"You 'wanted to talk'?" I question, a brow arching in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah," Carmy replies with uncertainty.

Folding my arms, I sigh, "About?"

"Oh, um, just about, how I acted when we met," Carmy scowls at the memory. "I should've introduced myself way sooner, and not in such a—"

"Rude way," I interject, which seems to be a common occurrence between us.

"Heard." He huffs out what sounds like a laugh, "Exactly that." I then shift uncomfortably under his intense watch. "It's alright, I didn't exactly intend to be gracious myself," I utter, returning a similar, shy smile.

"No, no." His smile widens, "You were..." He and his gaze trail off, lowering to the concrete. "'Were'?" I repeat, imploring him to continue.

"Great." Carmy finishes, peering up again. His eyes appear somewhat different, and I feel an unfamiliar chill slide down my spine. "Wow." My eyebrows rise. "'Great,' that's a, really, kind of you," I splutter with a chuckle. Carmy joins in, laughing at himself.

After a beat of silence and a few stolen glances at one another, Carmy speaks up. "I know I should've said it a while ago, but I'd like to be on good terms, rather than 'competition'." My sight hones in on his active hands as they switch between fiddling with his back pockets and shaking. "I'd like that too," I murmur, scratching the back of my head. "If only you'd stop stealing my customers," I smirk.

"Oh?" He smiles playfully and tilts his head, "So that's how it's gonna be," he jests, laughing again.

"Hmmm," I hum in confirmation, slightly troubled by how flirtatious I'm being. But damn, the way he's always looking at me —it's throwing me off...

Flushed, I conclude our conversation, "I'll see you around," then walk to my car. He almost, absentmindedly, wanders alongside me. "Yeah, see you."

While I unlock my car, Carmy's already one step ahead of me, hauling the car door open. I thank him in a whisper as I bend into the front seat, brushing past him, and he tenses. He then mumbles my name with a "Goodnight," and I sit in silence, long after he leaves, breathless.

...

The next day, I feel giddy at the prospect of seeing Carmy. It's ridiculous, considering he was my neighbour, and I was bound to see him. Though I've actually had to refrain from seeking him out.

However, that afternoon, through the glass of both our eateries, we see one another, pause, smile slowly, and head back to work.

From that point on, that sort of thing became a routine. Every day that week, I saw him for at least 50 seconds. It was even better knowing he was a chef, so the likelihood of him seeing him out front was low, but still, each time he'd be there.

Come Sunday, I couldn't delay things any longer. It was a little disheartening that he hadn't come over himself or even thought to come and ask for my number.

Thus, I knew I had to be the one to make a move. So, after closing earlier than usual, I saunter across the street. Inside, Neil greets me with an ample smile. "Hey Neil," I wave. He virtually shouts my name in return. "Hey! What you in for?" He asks cheerfully.

"I was hoping for some dinner," I chuckle. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and the anticipation is killing me. While Neil leads me to a table, my eyes don't leave the kitchen's entrance.

Neil takes my order, and my ears attentively listen for those few moments, when the restaurant's crowd temporarily quiets down, and I hear his assertive voice filter through the walls.

...

As delicious as my meal is, I can't stop my anxiety from getting the best of me. It's plausible Neil didn't bother letting Carmy know that I was here. But I'm nearly vibrating with dread, waiting for him to materialize.

Eventually, it's closing time and the herd of patrons leave. I take the opportunity to call Neil over. "Hey, I was just wondering if Carmy was in? Just wanna say hello, be neighbourly and all," I beam innocently.

"Course!" He winks but doesn't move to get Carmy. So, after a long beat staring into Fak's clueless eyes (bless him), I come up with something dicey. "Could you let him know that my food's uncooked, and I'm very, very upset," I express sharply, biting back a grin.

"O-okay?" Neil stutters, confusion and distress written across his features. I suppress my laugh with my palm.

Five minutes later, I hear a loud and hostile "what" seep through the walls. My attempts to muffle my laughter are stumped when Carmy abruptly bursts through the doors. He freezes when he sees me, and I watch the doors rapidly swing behind him. I awkwardly raise my hand in hello, and I swear he gulps.

"I was joking, Carmy." Now growing nervous, I tear my eyes away from him, onto my clear plate and see him move towards me from my peripheral. "It was, pretty good actually," I remark, downplaying the truth.

As I open my mouth to fill the silence, I peek up to see Carmy sitting right in front of me, and I lose my train of thought. It's as though we're on a date, and that's the most normal thing in the world, something we've done countless times before.

"I was planning on coming to see you after work." His sheepish, yet deep timbre makes me shudder.

"Beat you to it then?" I smirk smugly.

"Didn't we say this wasn't a rivalry?" He smirks back, and my stomach forms knots. "Nothing wrong with some friendly competition," I retort, and his reply is a simple, pleasant smile.

"Well Chef, I'm sorry to hear you're closing soon," I sigh. Still smiling, he raises his brows, "Because?"

"Because the food was decent, but I'm still quite hungry." I proclaim teasingly, shrugging. He chuckles lowly, "We can't have that."

...

Now sitting on Carmy's kitchen stool while he cooks me an omelet on his stove, I inspect his backside. The muscles tense and shift as he moves expertly through the room.

"I hope this suits your refined palette," Carmy remarks with a certain ease that he didn't have before. He pushes a plate towards me, and I reel at how domestic this all feels. I lick my lips in excitement as the delicious, potent smell of the dish consumes my senses.

Taking a bite, I withhold a moan, and close my eyes so he doesn't catch them rolling to the back of my head. Swallowing, I open my lids to see Carmy's eyes studying me, expectingly awaiting a reaction. "It's alright," I state monotonously.

Eyes and mouth expanding, he smacks his hands on his chest, overlapping them over top of his heart, like he's been shot, and a laugh escapes me. "I make it better," I contest.

"I don't doubt that," he responds without a hint of condescension, and I gape at him before giggling nervously, eyeing my omelette.

"So, what would satisfy your elite tastes?" His words may be rather suggestive, but his tone is short and reserved. Glancing up at his expression, I note the way he sluggishly runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His view then trains over my features, lingering on my lips...

Not giving him a chance to refocus on anything but my mouth, I lunge at his. Capturing his lips with mine, I hear a fumble of noises leave him pitifully. The sounds morph into a mixture of bewilderment and a cavernous groan. His hesitancy is brief as one of his hands curves behind my head, into my hair, while the other gropes my waist, bunching up my shirt in a tight fist. His groaning becomes more brazen, and I devour every single one.

Our tongues fight each other, and our hips wrestle with the kitchen island that separates us. Determined to feel more of him, I pull away from his wretched kiss. He instinctively chases after me, but my hands firmly press against his chest, which seems to bring his attention to my eyes. He more or less whines to himself.

I lick my swollen lips, holding eye contact in hopes it would help him understand what I wanted.

His grasp moves from my torso, to hold my hand, tugging me towards what I assume is his bedroom. As he maneuvers around the counter, I decide that I just can't wait. So, when we pass his living room area, I drag him back, and to his surprise, shove him onto his couch.

His back hits the cushions and he releases a grunt. Immediately, I straddle his hips and he makes haste to grip my hips, pressing me further onto his crotch. I whimper nosily, and it's his turn to hum back. "You're so..."

"Great?" I quip.

"Beautiful, is what I was gonna say— should've said." His baby blues melt me to my core. The intimacy of his look and words, somehow mean so much more, than everything we've just done.

After a short break of just breathing in each other, I press my lips to his gently, pecking them. This seems to snap him out of whatever trance he's under, as a peck is clearly not enough.

His hefty grip on my hips increases and encourages me to lean closer. His mouth dictates my every move and sound, and I wriggle above him. "Carmy," I whine desperately, begging for more.

He lets go of me to strip, sitting upright to remove his white-collar shirt. I moan at the sight, before copying him, working my shirt off. When I struggle, he rips the cotton over my head, throwing it to the floor in one swift motion. His mouth quickly draws me back in, nibbling my bottom lip.

Breaking away, I whisper, "As good as you taste, this isn't enough to satisfy me, Chef." Peering up at me through hooded eyes, he looks dazed but nods nonetheless.

My breath hitches as Carmy rears me onto my back, moving us so that his larger frame hovers over my smaller one. He unbuckles his belt clumsily and glides his jeans down his stocky thighs. I chew my lip as I gawk at the impressive bulge tucked into his black briefs. When he reaches for my bra clip, he freezes. "Shit," he exclaims airily, shoving a hand into his curly locks. I flinch, stammering, "W-what?"

"Condom," he states flatly.

"You ran out?" I joke, brows lifting.

"No, I don't do this often," he discloses, ears reddening. Silence eats up the space, and allows us to register what Carmy so bluntly, admitted. Not that I minded at all.

"I have had sex before—"

"I know," I squeal, guffawing at his prompt confession. "I think I have some in my purse." I soothe, encircling his bicep with my index finger. He lets out a sigh of relief, and I giggle like a schoolgirl when he springs to his feet, racing towards my bag.

Carmy's footsteps thud against the floorboards as he races away, half-naked. I fasten my lips together to prevent an extensive grin. When he reenters the room, I lift my body weight onto my forearms for support, cruising my eyes over his body, spying the condom between his dense fingers.

When he straddles my legs, meaning to resume where he left off, an impulse consumes my thoughts. Wordlessly, I place my palms on his thighs, spreading my digits atop his sturdy legs, to push him back. Then, kneeling on the floor in front of Carmy, I smile devilishly. I feel him trembling and the whole scene feels so erotic.

Looking up, I catch his gaze, as it adorns me, in a sort of awe. "There's something I have been craving, Chef," I murmur whilst running my tongue over my teeth. Carmy shudders as my fingers weave into his waistband, tugging them down.

While he's undressing, his briefs hanging on his chaves, I admire how his eyes flutter shut, and he mumbles nonsense to himself.

His cock engulfs my sight and brushes my cheek a bit. Carmy sucks in a sharp breath, tilting his head to watch me. Despite being taken aback by his size, I begin to stoke him. He gasps and his stomach constricts immediately.

Picking up my pace after a few pumps, I kiss his tip and his thighs shake. "Christ," he mewls. I take his noisy reaction as an encouragement to surge forward, wrapping my tongue and lips over him, and driving his cock to the back of my throat. "Fuck!" Carmy shouts.

As he gets closer to the edge, his words of appraisal jumble together in fits of, "yes, like that," "faster," and some "perfect" comments, among many other things I can't comprehend anymore. I'm lost in his touch, which tangles my hair, clasping it tightly. Before Carmy finishes, he cups my face and yanks himself out of my mouth.

Eyes shut and face twisted in both euphoria and frustration, he grumbles, "Fuck, I said I didn't wanna cum yet."

I simply smack my lips together, savouring his taste. Carmy appears stunned as holds my face. I smirk wickedly and a short puff of air abandons him.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, and his jagged voice makes his question sound like an order, and I love it. "Please," I pant and he kisses my forehead before dragging me back on the sofa, underneath him again.

Positioning himself, Carmy rips open the condom with his teeth and rolls it over himself. He sucks in a coarse breath as he pushes into my entrance, and I do the same. He moans my name and I choke on a sob as he bottoms out, in one, mind-numbing jolt. His hands tighten on my hips, pressing me into the couch as I arch upwards. We both moan nonsensically, adoring the friction and how seamlessly we fit together.

Moving synchronously, we fight for our highs, grinding into a rhythm that makes us gasp in pleasure. With my name on his lips, they seize mine, and his tongue laps every corner of my mouth, as he slowly takes control. I writhe under him and he thrusts harder, hitting all the right places. Shortly, my body grows almost limp, unable to keep up with the tide of desire above, bucking into me.

As I reach my end, he keeps going, simultaneously kissing and nipping my neck, surely leaving numerous marks, but I don't care. He just feels too good, deep inside, strong and brutal.

I cry out as core contracts, clamping down on him, and making his untamed movements stutter. I cum hard, gasping as tremors rack through me. Soon after, Carmy whimpers, craning his neck back as cums inside. With a lengthy sigh that eases into a loud moan, he holds us still. He dips his sweat-covered forehead into the crook of my neck and hums in satisfaction.

After a few minutes of catching our breath, and enjoying the weight of his body over top of mine, he heaves himself up to kiss my mouth once more.

"Go out with me, please," he urges politely as if he isn't still inside of me. I laugh lightly, then tense in surprise when my core clenches over his cock, and he winces as well.

Exhaling steadily, I breathe, "I would love to."

[gensational]

so. saw people kinda interested in my yi main antag AU. Here's a sketch page to try and capture more of my ideas.

so.!! corruption of the innovator. what is it? It's an AU with a select amount of differing circumstances that lead to what's ultimately a YI/Eigong roleswap. With Goumang tagging along out of pure spite and hatred/ wanting her mentor to approve of her after all this time.

i gently offer a portrait of this absolutely irredeemable trash heap, and a bit more of a blurb. Things start out relatively similar, save for one scene. And that's Yi and Heng's falling out. Heng does what most people I know in that situation would do. And that's cut Yi off entirely after making sure he really just gave her an ultimatum. Unfortunately, solidifying it in Yi's mind that every lunatic wanting to stay on Penglai is beyond saving. Including his own blood. They're all delusional, and he's not. They're the ones at fault. Eigong trusts Yi enough in this AU to give him the truth of what really happened. How could she lie to her favourite student, after all this? Some time into the success of New Kunlun's projects, Eigong of course, synthesizes what was meant to be a cure prototype. Though the results are obvious enough from the get go. Creating Solarian mutants that are unkillable. And lack any conscience in their indiscriminate violence. Eigong desperately wants to help them. However her prized pupil no longer sees them as solarians. They're just mindless beasts transformed beyond recognition by the tianhuo. Just like the apemen were made use of for his eternal cauldron, so too. Could these mutants be used to their benefit. And as such, experimenting with forbidden technologies he's not so aversed to, Yi manages to create a means to control the mutants. To which.. Eigong is absolutely horrified by the notion. They were her patients, if anything. And now Yi wants to control and use them for his own ends. Driven mad in his pursuits of greatness. Driven mad in his pursuits to prove everyone, especially his sister, wrong.

With Eigong's protests, it's...A matter of hostile takeover. To which the other sols simply relent. Leaving Eigong battered and broken, but still alive. as she hides within her own vital sanctum to recover. uh yeah i hate him so much :) god complex freak with meemaw as the protag

[hyuanlee]

Could you write BoyNextDoor “just the tip” smut when their really needy and clingy

ofccc babes tyy for the ask! not proofread!

minors do not interact!

i feel like sungho wouldn’t really be the type to propose a “just the tip” situation. when he makes love, he wants it complete and with both of your satisfaction filled but sometimes he gets needy at the worst times and that calls for a little quickie. he might ask for just the tip, but for some reason the thought of a quickie riles him up alot and eventually he gives in. maybe even going rougher than usual because for him, quickies are the perfect time to be rough.

“baby, i know this is unusual but just the tip, please?” and you agree, knowing damn well it’s not happening.

riwoo maybe likes cockwarming more than anything tip related. atleast with cockwarming he’s fully inside and its the best part but when he gets needy, he isn’t afraid to show it. maybe even begging and because you won’t cooperate, he proposes “babe, just the tip.” with pleading eyes, maybe rubbing your thighs to rile you up. it doesn’t take long for you to give in because his puppy eyes are to die for.

“can i fill you up, please.” he would plead, not being able to handle just doing the tip.

jaehyun is one whiny baby and isn’t afraid to hold back. this isn’t the first time he asks for just the tip and although the first time was lowkey a success? (if you call cumming inside a success), the next times he wants just the tip, you know its not happening. to be fair, he would be so whiny and begging for it that you just ask him to do it.

“hyun, just put it in, please.” you plead. he would smile softly before switching positions so that you could ride him.

with taesan, i don’t see him being that needy to the point of needing just the tip. i don’t really see him as someone too sex-driven in general. he likes to keep it to only when needed but sometimes with his busy schedule it could take weeks before you do anything intimate again and sometimes he is a man, afterall.

“what about just the tip?” he would ask, still driving the car, lowkey catching you by surprise. “oh we are not just doing the tip, baby.” at that point, there was no waiting to go home. he just pulled over.

leehan. oh leehan. he is whiny only when he wants something and has a habit of teasing you, maybe without even noticing. he would be riling you up, the whole day asking for a quickie or if he could finger you, even asking to go into the dressing room for “just the tip” but you would stand your ground, saying no because you wanted to enjoy the day. but he would be a menace and keep touching you up or even whispering dirty things in your ear. funnily enough, when you get home, it’s like he completely forgot he was horny. it’s a sudden switch cus you end up being the one asking for it.

“you rejected me earlier, what a slut asking for it now.” he said with a poker face.

[theeternalwombtarot]

how people see you ⭐️

disclaimer: these messages may not be for everyone, spirit seems to be talking to very specific collectives of people tonight!! Take what resonates leave what doesn’t on this one. 🖤

i.

I see someone whose really friendly or has many friends here. Some of you could even be someone whom many people consider to be their friend whether or not you reciprocate that energy or not. Like I’m hearing you’re a genuine person and you’re a friend to everyone, often times even the people you despise, you still find compassion and understanding for them. I’m even hearing that there may be people who really envy you or who really dislike you but they couldn’t truly dislike you even if they tried because they admire you so much. I’m also hearing there may be people in your energy especially old friends or people you no longer speak to who admire you so much that they may speak badly about you to others because it offends them or hurts them that they don’t have access to you anymore.

People see you as really healing and someone who puts most of their energy into realigning themselves with their higher purpose when you feel you’re being led astray or are ungrounded and unorganized. There may be people who are attracted to you for the healing qualities you exude and for the types of energy and love you send towards people. You could be someone who believes that even when they’re not in communication with those they love most that they’re always praying for them or watching over them. People desire to be prayed for by you. People are envious of those who you hold very dear to your heart because it’s very few. People are very flattered and feel very honored and special when they’re well liked by you or they’re someone you think about or send any of your love to. Im hearing people love to be loved by you.

People who know you see you deeply and even people who know you on the surface see you to be a very passionate and driven person. You’re someone who puts your all into everything you do, you always put your best foot forward. I’m hearing “she’s always preforming” like everything you do is effortless but it has the quality of a broadway production. People are watching you. People love to watch you. Their waiting on the edge of their seats to see what’s going to happen next. You’re a star ⭐️. And when there is a delay the show must always go on and so it does.

I’m hearing people love to be taken care of by you or you give off very nurturing energy. You are mother. You carry very mothering energy within you. I’m also getting you can give off sugar mommy vibes 💀 you could have a love language of giving and receiving gifts and you love to be spoiled and taken care of but when you really love someone and adore someone you like to shower them in gifts and people crave being in that position. They want to be taken care of by you, loved by you, spoiled by you. Men in your life or women or whomever you date or are attracted to may get really excited about the idea of you gifting them something because they feel that is a very high representation of how much you love and admire them. I’m hearing “if he/she gifted me something I’d pass out.”

People see you as a very disciplined individual like you see the magic in hard work and dedication I’m getting and people really value your work ethic and your ability to get down to the nitty gritty and really take over the whole entire show with your expertise or your capabilities. I’m also getting that people view you as a very long term partner and a large investment. Not just financially but emotionally and spiritually. People often feel they’re not good enough for you and if they wanted to be with you they’d have to work very hard to get in your good graces or even get you to look in their direction. You give very high status, five-star hottie energy.

There are many people who feel you’re destined for success or like you’re set to have a bright future in whatever you do as well. Like if this was a year book you’d get most likely to become famous or most likely to be successful.

There are people who say you’re very intuitive and all knowing pile one. You may pride yourself in your intuition or be some type of psychic or spiritual individual here. Many of you are divine beings living a human experience. The universe, the divine is within you. The universe is your mother. I’m hearing direct descendant. Some of you are star-seeds as well.

The people say you love and value yourself very much. You are unwavering and when presented with something or someone you know you don’t want and won’t accept there’s no breaking your walls down or talking you into having it because you’re so decided and intentional about everything you accept into your space I’m getting here. This is why people feel they aren’t deserving of you or like they’d have to work very hard to get your attention and your love. You’re everyone’s wish fulfillment. Anyone would love to have you. Like I’m hearing you could go anywhere, you could travel across many seas and find more than one person who would love to keep you, who would love to hold you, to smell you, to speak to you, to LOOK at you. You attract so much love. People are drawn to you. You’re magnetic.

***

ii.

lol um people often see you as very impulsive, unfocused and burnt out in life pile two. They sense tired energy from you or an air of depression and sadness here I’m getting. They could see you as someone who isn’t very financially successful either as well as someone who is very obsessed with status or very occupied with being accepted by people and who deeply desires to desired and wanted by others. I’m hearing “she/he just wants to be included.” Or “she/is just happy to be here.” Like you may go and hang out with people you don’t know or find yourself in weird and odd environments and situations, half the time you don’t know what’s going on, who those people are or how you ended up there but you’re just chilling out enjoying the warmth of human interaction.

They see you as someone emotionally detached or even unstable at times as well. You could be someone who heavily represses their emotions and may turn to bad habits or have very sporadic and unpredictable moments and behaviors. I’m hearing people often secretly hold a lot of compassion for you even though you may not be well liked or you may be someone who doesn’t have the best reputation. I see someone who may get in a lot of alterations or who may have conflict with people around them or may have grown up in a place where the people there made them an outcasts or didn’t accept them well.

I see people wondering whether to extend their care to you or to just leave you alone. Im hearing people talk about you or there may be rumors or ideas going around about what you’re like to be around or what you’re like in your personal relationships whether they be platonic or romantic and people believe you to be destructive or a heavy energy to remain around and this may lead people to avoid you or not involve themselves with you out of fear you’ll be a lot to handle. People could also see you as very unlucky and stagnant, resistant to change. Someone who doesn’t improve and won’t improve or won’t change because they don’t want to. They feel as though you have very scattered energy as well.

But I don’t see this continuing to be the case for very long pile two. You may be someone with a very trivial past here with a lot of different experiences that may have shaped you into the person these people see but this seven of pentacles upright leads me to believe that you are changing and you’re putting in the time and the energy to shift your own energy and heal. I see your mind healing, I see you finding some mental clarity and peace after a lot of inner turmoil, anxiety, depression, etc. you could be really smart as well. But there’s this energy that people only feel your pain and sense your trauma yet they don’t see you for who you really are and who you’re meant to become. The tower card in reverse is all the confirmation we need pile two. You are undergoing a transformation and your life is changing and people will begin to see you differently when you step into yourself finally and find some inner peace.

***

iii.

People see you as someone who goes through lots of ups and downs in life or someone who is constantly changing throughout the seasons. You could be someone who is really into social media or you share what’s happening a lot on social media, on a spam account, on an Instagram story, on Snapchat, etc. lol but I’m seeing just like like two some people see you as someone who is very impulsive and unfocused in life and in love as well. You could be someone who parties a lot, who indulges in a lot of things, who kind of lives life on a whim, talks to multiple people or invests their time in flirting or dating multiple people. You could be someone who sleeps till mid day or till the evening and goes out at night and does it all over again I’m getting. You may not also have a decided career path or a goal in life as well and people who know you or know of you see you as someone who doesn’t invest a lot of time in their future or in improving their lives you kind of just roll with the punches and girl boss your way through life.

The people see you as someone very flighty, someone who can’t sit still or is always moving around, always doing something, or up to something new. Some people may also consider you to be somewhat untrustworthy and deceptive lol or even manipulative and cunning. You may gossip a lot or may be someone who sort of mingles in multiple friend groups or spends time around people who don’t have good reputations or who are involved in a lot of drama or conflict all on their own and you may or may add to this drama and conflict but I’m getting that a good handful of you do whether you do it on purpose or on accident. You may go ghost a lot too or fall off the face of the earth occasionally as well. I’m hearing you have very high highs and very low lows and when you’re really low you sort of just disappear as a coping mechanism.

The people think or say that you have very unhealed feminine energy. Especially if you’re a woman but this can go both ways if you’re a man too. People perceive you to be insecure, manipulative, emotionally immature or unstable and incapable of making safe and wise decisions or creating a safe space for those around you whether that be emotionally or even physically. People may also believe that your kindness is performative and that you being nice to them or you exuding a nice energy is not always authentic. You may be someone who keeps their enemies very close or puts on certain facades rather than being overly honest and authentic. You may attract people who use you for validation or may put you in tricky or difficult emotional and physical positions due to the energy you give out or push out towards the world.

People also perceive you to be someone who lives in the past primarily or holds heavy grudges towards others even if you won’t admit it and you may have a tendency to hold negative energy towards others or subconsciously send them evil eye when they aren’t connected to you any longer because you hold onto things that they’ve done that may have made you feel betrayed or undervalued whether or not that’s really what happened or not. People see you as a very emotionally driven person as well. Overly consumed by emotions or sensitive.

***

lol I’m very sorry cause some of these messages are definitely not things people want to hear.. but I may tell a joke but I’ve never been known to tell a lie so- take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. I know how y’all like to tussle 😭😭

[starlostseungmin]

EMPYREAN PRINCE CASCADES, KSM.

✰ summary: “i am yours even if this is meant to be a loveless marriage between us. no feelings involved, just politics.” — it started with a diplomatic agreement between two kingdoms to stop a war but ended up cascading to a love-driven affinity.

✰ pairing: prince!seungmin x afab!reader (princess)

✰ genre: slow burn, strangers-to-lovers, fixed marriage, mediocre angst, romance.

✰ warnings: profanity, mentions of war, wounds, kissing, not proofread, let me know if i missed something.

✰ word count: 10.2k

✰ playlist — war of hearts (until kingdom come) masterlist collab. ♡

✰ notes: thank you so much @hyunverse for making this collab possible! i enjoyed writing for seungmo’s entry and i hope everyone will love reading each member’s endjng. as much as i want to write this longer than 10k, it is what it is for me tho T-T but i’m really happy that i am part of it! once again, thank you so much. and to the readers, i hope you’ll enjoy the rollercoaster ride! don’t forget to leave feedbacks and reblog! <333

✰ tags: @writerracha @princelingperfect @ggundeuri @orithyia-eriphyle @vumiixlyy @luvrhyune @hopeladybug @misitmoonlight @baldi-2 @baddecisionsworld @thetaytayray @midsoulz @hyunverse @realbangchan @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @rachabreathing @nixtape-foryou @ameliesaysshoo @jisungsdaydreamer @https-skzology @day6andetcetera @linonyang @hgema @seoli-16 @bokk-minnie @foliea @amagumorii @nhyunn @ravyaryn @ink-spilled-stars @himarose @sherryblossom @shakalakaboomboo @r-arrh @siriusly1 @catwonwoo @suebinn @foxinnie8

Seungmin stood at the altar, hands clasped below his waist as he watched you walk down the aisle. The Empyrean cathedral was packed with the elites and other royals from the neighboring kingdoms to witness the Princess of Noctifer betrothed to the Prince of Empyreanーeven the townsmen. A sigh escaped your lips as your hands tightened their grip on your bouquet. This marriage was too soon and both kingdoms wanted to rush the celebration. And for what? Treaties of peace, stronger alliance, preventing wars, and improving bilateral agreementsーjust for the sake of politics perhaps?

You were sick of it but at the same time, you were left with no choice but to stand for your kingdom’s well-being. And the smiles your parents are drawing on their faces hold the triumph and success while letting their daughter falls into the hands of someone they don’t know. 

The wedding march just comes in and out of your ears. A traditional sound you always hear when you were invited to all the wedding events that happened in the past. They were all arranged marriages, nothing has done it out of love. Royals would say love is an inconvenience to your duties, yours even, but you’ve never been in love. You were just another bookworm who loved to bury their nose between the pages of romance novels hoping for those stories to become your reality. But now that you are stuck with Seungmin for life, your fate started to change the moment you took a step toward the altar. 

You don’t know Seungmin, you don’t know a lot of things about him, you may have heard rumors that he is a snob and doesn’t-give-a-fuck type of prince but he is less or more than that. This marriage was made to strengthen the two kingdoms' alliances and fight together in matters of war. These reasons are not new anymore, they are always the excuse to gather wealth and a repulsive sense of power. But you were too independent to be the wife of someone you barely know. Two months wasn’t enough to get to know each other, but you know Seungmin isn’t as bad as what you heard from baseless rumors yet you could feel how cold he is. 

“It takes time,” They said. “The Prince is kind,” They said. “The Queen wanted him to marry to have grandchildren,” It made no sense at all. 

You don’t hate him, you don’t like him either and nothing is going on even if the priest asked him to kiss the bride. No spark and passion. That kiss you shared on the altar was just for show. A way to fool everyone that you were good and Seungmin felt the same. Nothing. Both of you admit that it was hard to pretend and force yourself to follow the things you were and weren’t supposed to do. He couldn’t even flash a smile or hold your hand unless necessary. It hurts your pride and ego to stand beside him, but who are you to complain? Both of you agreed to do this in the first place anyway. 

The candles burned as the black smoke escalated in the air—quiet. Sounds of crickets from the open garden outside and the wind casually enter your shared bedroom. You sat quietly as Seungmin was reading a letter from the parliament. He should be paying attention to you as a husband and wife, but there he is, covered with focus and thoughts as the words echo inside his head from the paper. It was hard to pretend that you are not hurt when you are not heard. You believed that ignoring each other would be easy in the sense that you’ve got no romantic feelings involved, but the fact that he is supposed to be a loving husband who pays attention to his wife. At least getting to know each other more. 

“It’s already bedtime, Your Highness,” You spoke as Seungmin sighed, rolling the paper. 

“Let’s not do this,” He said, sitting beside you on your shared bed for the first night. “I know you are not comfortable,” He added. 

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” You said, looking at him but Seungmin couldn’t even spare you a look. “Can you at least lay with me?” You asked. 

“No need,” He sighed. “We’ll get a divorce after 2 years anyway, you won’t have to pretend that you care.” 

“Because we’re in this situation? I’m still your wife, I have the very right to care.” You retorted but your husband just shook his head in response. 

“Good night Y/N,” 

Seungmin left the room leaving you dumbfounded. It was supposed to be your honeymoon right after the wedding celebration. The royal servants have prepared a place of your privacy and expected a night full of passion and love, yet both of you loved to disappoint everyone else and listen to your feelings. But still, you were going to try, for the sake of this agreement. And there he disappeared. He doesn’t care and you just heard the doors of the room shut as his footsteps faded in the hallway. Only a sigh escaped from your lips and took the candlestick from the table, blowing the flame away. 

Being distant from each other cascaded almost every day. You are often found in the library reading books, sometimes in the garden taking strolls with your maids tailing you, and rarely at the study. Seungmin doesn’t pay attention, maybe he trusts you a bit with intelligence and is dependent when it comes to politics. But who cares about politics when your husband wanted a divorce after 2 years? This marriage is also political from whatever angle you may want to look at. 

Many people believe that falling in love in this type of situation is accurate but dealing with this is the opposite of being written in a fairytale. You believe that they only exist in books and are never written in real life. People consider themselves lucky when they get to experience what falling in love feels like in a genuine manner. But risking your freedom for a loveless and political marriage is a whole different story. 

It holds the agreement: “I am yours even if this is meant to be a loveless marriage between us. No feelings involved, just politics.” You admit that it hurts your ego to jump into the well. The possibility of falling in love is crucial in this type of scenario especially when Seungmin doesn’t give a shit and you just try to be what you are supposed to be—the new Princess of the Empyrean kingdom and the wife of the only heir to the throne. But sometimes, you wish it was more than that. 

It was the usual Thursday afternoon where you are sitting on the couch inside the library disregarding the fact that you have to study the negotiations of Seungmin’s kingdom. Reading novels is a force of habit and you are always entertained which is disregarding the fact that you need to study. 

The big windows allowed the afternoon sunlight to touch the marble floor as they reflected on the glass making rainbows and shapes. It was pretty to look at and it added to the mood of your imagination. You know Seungmin loves to read, but his interest in books is highly different from yours, from the genre to the authors and use of vocabulary. He’s a little bit picky about it. But then again, why would you care about the smallest detail about him when you don’t even matter from his perspective? 

Only a sigh escaped your lips as the thought of him crossed your mind. Living inside the Empyrean Chateau—where you decided to stay after the honeymoon—for the last couple of weeks seems heavy and dull. The routine keeps on repeating itself every day and you rarely see Seungmin around. He doesn’t share the same room with you anymore and at the same time, his duty is in the palace of the King and Queen. It’s peaceful, somehow but you would still feel the loneliness inside despite the presence of your maids and the other workers around. You weren’t supposed to think about Seungmin when he’s not around but as a wife, you need to mind your commitment. 

Flipping a page on the book, you heard a knock outside of the library which had caught your attention. It doesn’t happen every day, but then you sensed a familiar presence that envelopes the Chateau.

“Come in!” You said, placing the bookmark in between the pages and standing up to place it back on its respective shelf. 

“Your Highness,” Your maid greeted with a respectful bow. “The Prince has arrived,” 

“He’s home?” You asked. “For what reason?” 

“He wants to see you,” The maid answered. It is probably about business. You thought because that’s the only thing that runs this affinity. 

Dismissing the maid with a polite thank you, you headed outside to meet your husband at the hall. His hair is disheveled from the strong wind, gushing outside but his outfit remains neat. You stood a few meters away from him as his eyes darted on the big portrait of you and him wearing your wedding attires being displayed at the center part of the wall—it would be the first one to see the moment you enter inside the Chateau. He is dashing and debonair, the type of Prince who is pristine and has a good reputation, minus the attitude or maybe that’s how he is treating you differently than anyone else. 

“Your Highness,” You called and executed a bow as Seungmin turned to face you. 

“Y/n,” He said, monotonously. 

“How was your visit to town?” You asked, flashing the most patient smile you have. 

“Good,” He started. “How is everything in the Chateau?” He asked out of nowhere which is not his manner when it comes to you. 

“Good,” You answered vaguely as he gave a nod in response. But to be very honest, Seungmin doesn’t know what else to say. Maybe he decided to come home to inform you about the news he had heard this morning from the court or not. He probably wanted to see you out of nowhere, well, he doesn’t know. 

“Would you spare me a minute? I have something to say,” He said. 

“I am listening, Your Highness,” You said. 

“Stop with the formalities, just call me Seungmin,” He answered as you smiled gently. 

“If that is fine with you?” You asked as he shake his head. 

“I insist,” He answered again. “It will be a little odd for a wife to call their husband so formally. This will stay for quite a while, Y/n,” It was weird.  

“Alright,” You smiled as you go along with it. “What are you going to tell me?” 

“Shall we take a stroll by the garden first?” It was new. 

For the past two weeks of almost ignoring each other, Seungmin’s attitude today seems different. The next thing you knew, you were both walking on the aisle watching the flowers bloom in the middle of summer. Roses are red, the lavender swayed with the air, sunflowers are standing tall and others made it healthy and lively. Seungmin fell silent as his hands were placed behind his back as he walked with you. No words were exchanged as you waited for him to speak up. 

You tried to observe him more as you indulge the silence you’d shared. His side profile is so beautiful, and how much more if you get to see the wholeness of his beautiful face? You don’t want to fall for his physical beauty yet you can’t help but admire him. It is dangerous to fall for looks but you admit you like the fact that he is a bookworm too. And as you had thought a while ago, getting to know Seungmin for the past two months wasn’t enough. 

“There’s chaos happening at the Western border of Empyrean. Terrorists from the Seraphina Empire wanted to cross our borders and raided a part of the town.” He started. “My father wanted me to go with him to settle a negotiation but I think I will be fighting for the war.” 

“Didn’t Noctifer deployed enough soldiers to assist?” You asked. You knew the chaos in the Western border but Seungmin coming with the King to fight for peace is should be not surprising but you felt the opposite. There is a part of you that you don’t want him to leave even if you barely see him around. 

“Your kingdom has deployed enough,” He answered. “But I still need to go. I have to provide aid and temporary homes for the victims. Might as well learn something to expand my knowledge and combatting skills.” He sighs in between. “It’s a hustle,” 

Your eyes didn’t leave his face. The expression he’s been giving is a serious one which made you hooked while listening. 

“When are you leaving?” You asked, studying his features. 

“In four days,” He sighed again. “I need to stay here to think. Will you be alright?” He asked, looking at you. It was your chance to look away and distract yourself from looking at the flowers. Yes, I will be fine, I am used to being alone in this place without your presence and why are you suddenly worried? You didn’t answer for a while, you don’t know what to say. Seungmin, leaving for a war? You don’t know when he will be back. 

“I will,” You smiled. 

“I mean, will you be fine having me around or when I’m gone?” He asked again, halting to look at you. 

“I mean, you don’t even care about me so what’s with the question?” That was rude. It was a straightforward question, but you were just being honest. How on earth would Seungmin ask about it? He never cared in the first place. You could clearly remember what he said the night after your wedding. Getting a divorce in 2 years after everything is just stupid nonsense. But Seungmin stood there in silence. 

“I just wanted to know,” He said after a few seconds. 

“It doesn’t matter Seungmin,” You said as he nodded in agreement. It was awkward for both of you. Getting married without feelings is already hard enough to deal with. The context is empty but with one purpose, politics. “We just have to deal with this and convince everyone we’re in love,” 

“It’s childish,” He smirked. “I’m not one for those,” 

“Me too,” You said. “But there’s nothing wrong with putting in some effort, right?” 

Seungmin looked at you as if you were a mad woman and you met his eyes. True he is not fond of the genre you love but he has a part to play for the sake of this marriage. But your husband shook his head at the statement and gave you a small smile, you didn’t know what for. He understands your point yet he doesn’t want to play pretend to fool everyone in the Kingdom, the fear of commitment is all he could think of. As a Prince, he has other commitments, but to you, it is different, the one that he is unsure of. Pretending to be in love. 

“You’re reading too much of that genre,” He said, shaking his head again. “There will be a gathering at the palace the night before I leave,” He said. “Everyone is expecting you to come,” 

“I will be there when you need me,” You smiled. 

“I guess you will have to deal with me in four days,” He smiled as you gave him a bow. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” You said. “So, what do you want to do?” 

Seungmin stood in front of his desk reading the reports of the chaos happening inside the Western border of the Empyrean kingdom. He remembered that this situation is quite familiar after rebel groups had messed up with the Kingdom’s sovereignty rights. Noctifer, however, has a large military capacity that the Empyrean needs to solidify their protection. Unfortunately, they were not on good terms. The King offered to marry his only son to the princess to make a peace treaty. The Prince thought it was unnecessary to build such a relationship when they only want an ally when war broke out. But it was basic tradition. Noctifer’s Princess needed a groom, as the higher-ups would say. 

It was confusing and hard at the same time. The plan flows for a year after several negotiations and proposals. The two newlyweds were given a couple of months to know each other, but as has been mentioned, it wasn’t enough. You denied it when they said you needed a groom to run Noctifer in the future but the parliament would always make questionable decisions for the sake of power and sovereign rights. It shouldn’t end up this way, but Seungmin agreed with no hesitation even if it was against his will. He didn’t think of any bad things about you. After having to choose Princesses from other Kingdoms to consider as the future queen of Empyrean, none of them tackled his interest. Maybe the thought of ‘need’ have made him impulsive to say ‘yes’ to you. 

Everything was awkward as he remembered your promise of loyalty; “I am yours even if this is meant to be a loveless marriage between us. No feelings involved, just politics.” There it goes again. He was amused at the same time, he doesn’t know you and he was curious as to why would you act as if you care about this marriage during the first night. Seungmin didn’t want to think about it but you keep on messing with his head. He learned that women are a distraction to his duties when he was young, he thought love doesn’t matter when it comes to politics, and he thought this marriage would be a waste of time just to preserve sovereign rights but you made an impact. 

“Your Highness, are you even listening?” Asked Jisung who happened to be inside his office, talking about the casualties that the invaders have made. 

“Pardon me,” He sighed. 

“You seemed distracted today,” Jisung added as Seungmin sat down behind his desk, frustrated about the King’s orders. “Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Seungmin denied. “You are lucky you are not married,” Jisung smirked at the statement and chuckled. 

“Your Highness, if this is about the Princess, you two should talk it through,” He suggested as the Prince looked at him in disappointment. 

“Do you even know what I’m thinking about?” Seungmin said. “My father ordered me to stay here to spend some time with Y/n and asked if I could bring them to the gathering in three days. They also asked me what I wanted to do,” 

“So what did you do?” Jisung asked, intrigued. 

“I didn’t have something in mind yet,” Seungmin sighed. “But at the same time, I want to return the favor for saving my Kingdom’s demise,” 

“Love,” Jisung suggested as Seungmin gave him that look again. 

“Shut up,” Seungmin defended. 

“Oh please, it will eventually come your way,” Jisung smirked. “The Princess is brave enough to settle disagreements by marrying you,” 

“Y/n is your wife,” “You should spend some time with the Princess before you leave,” “Who knows when will the war ends,” It’s like a chore to follow orders, it has always been since the beginning. Maybe he is too distracted with his chores to forget about you, or maybe you were too busy to give him a chance to know you more. You don’t even treat him like a friend, both of you were just committed to doing your chores. “And who knows if you are going to come back alive?” Seungmin doesn’t want that. 

“It feels like I owe Y/n if we put it at that,” Seungmin said vaguely. 

“It’s actually you two owe each other for the sake of diplomacy,” Jisung answered. 

“You sound smart,” Seungmin said rolling his eyes as Jisung scoffed in disagreement. “Anyway, you are dismissed, say my regards to Hyunjin,” 

“Very well your Highness,” Jisung smiled as he stood up from his seat and executed a bow before leaving his office. After a few minutes, you saw Jisung walk past the hallway as you were seeing Seungmin to visit him. You as well received a report about the Noctiferian soldiers who deployed the other day to accommodate the inefficiency of Empyrean defenders. The war between Seraphinian terrorists and the Empyrean Kingdom has extended to the southwest border. Casualties expanded, lives were taken, and the scarcity of basic needsーit was getting worse by every minute. Victims of war have already fled to the South. 

You knocked at his door twice before you could hear a faint voice coming from inside. The door opened gently as you enter with grace. Seungmin seemed frustrated the moment you came in, probably because of the war going on or the thought that Jisung left. 

“Good morning, Your Highness,” You greeted. 

“Good morning, Y/n,” He greeted back. “Now what did I tell you about the formalities?” 

“I apologize,” You giggled. “But I’m here for the report,” 

“Jisung already told me,” Seungmin said. “Have a seat,” 

Nodding at him, you took the seat Jisung used earlier and examined his office as well as his condition. Worry is painted in his eyes and the troubled expression he carries made you wonder. 

“You seemed distressed,” You said as Seungmin ran his fingers through his hair. 

“You can tell?” He smirked. “I’m fine.” 

“Doesn’t seem to me,” You answered. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” Seungmin said firmly. 

“Alright,” You smiled. “Anyway, I was about to give you information about the situation at the Southwest border but I think Jisung beat me into it. Do you need some time alone? I happened to drop by quickly because I’m still preparing for the gathering in three days,” You continued as Seungmin looked at you. 

“You can ditch it today, enjoy yourself at least,” Seungmin said which made you tilt your head. 

“For someone who stands firm in his duty is giving me free time?” You smirked. 

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” He said. “Forget about it for a while,” 

“Seungmin, you need some time outside rather than staying in your office ever since yesterday and thinking about the casualties. I know it’s your duty but you’re leaving in three days, so you won’t be able to take a break starting from that,” You said as he sighs. 

“Why do you care so much?” Seungmin asked which made you stop in your tracks. But he does have a point. Why do you care so much to make this marriage valid? 

“I don’t know,” You answered. “Maybe I just care about you? I mean, you’re not home every day. You’re always thinking about business and politics and I feel so lonely in the study. You know why I’m here, I know why we’re doing this but I just can’t help it. You’re my husband, even if this is a loveless marriage, I’m loyal, and I don’t care about the divorce you were talking about the night after our wedding, just let me do my part. You just told me to ditch this topic so why can’t you? Go out with me.” If you ever did have feelings for Seungmin, it would be assumed that you were confessing your love for him. It will be weird and at the same time, you are trying to avoid the fact of falling for him. 

“Do you like me that much?” He asked as you scoffed in response. 

“How dare you say that?” You said rolling your eyes. “I just care okay? Do I need to fall for you just to care?” You defended. But fuck, I already did and I don’t know why or maybe I was just lovesick?

“Whatever Y/n,” He said shaking his head, and grabbed the scattered papers on his desk.  

“Is that a no?” You asked. 

“Yes, and you may leave,” He retorted as he sat on his chair, pretending to read the papers in his hand. 

“Fine,” You sighed in defeat. “But just tell the maids if you want my presence or whatever the fuck you want me,” You added rolling your eyes. 

“Words,” Seungmin warned. 

“Attitude,” You backfired and left his office making Seungmin smile to himself while shaking his head. 

The next day, you found yourself playing the harp in the middle of the hall. Seungmin is still hanging around his office while holding a meeting and you were out of the frame. But if you were being honest, you don’t want to mess up the small gathering even if you wanted to play a very important role in resolving this conflict. You already sent Jisung in to raise your concerns and suggestions, afraid of being disregarded. The parliament doesn’t usually listen but you were thankful that Jisung is always ready to take part in it. 

The sounds of the instrument traveled through the halls of the Chateau but remained inaudible in your husband’s office. But it was faint and gentle. The maids and other workers stopped by to listen. You were bored in this big household anyway and Seungmin doesn’t want to give any of his time to you even if you already said your purpose. Unsure about the conversation you had yesterday, it was true that you were lovesick and he’s leaving in two days. It would make you feel more lonely. You admit you’re not used to his presence for the past two days but it made the Chateau a little bit lively and made your heart pound for a bit. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you stopped playing and headed toward the garden. Seeing the flowers and the fountain in the middle made you feel relaxed other than thinking of your busy husband. You admit you were disappointed that he didn’t go out with you yesterday but you had to understand his situation. Seungmin has a priority and you are just hoping he won’t ruin your night at the gathering tomorrow. 

You sat on the flat surface surrounding the fountain as you indulge in the fresh breeze of the wind, admiring the view of the garden. It was wide enough for your brain to relax but the thought of Seungmin is locked inside. It’s not like he did something to make you fall for him, maybe caring about him too much has carried the feelings. You are not wrong basically or probably it’s because of his looks and how he portrays his expression and attitude to the point that you don’t even understand what you were thinking. 

Seungmin dismissed his company and asked the maids where have you gone. He just missed your musical performance. It was a hectic afternoon anyway and he needed the time to breathe. He had to fix his looks before taking a stroll to the wide garden and looking for you. Seungmin knew he have to be formal with the meeting, a white blazer, white polo inside, black pants, and belt around his waist, his bangs parted, and he looked dashing. But you didn’t see it after he was out looking for you. 

“Why is my wife alone?” You heard his voice. 

“Haha, funny,” You said rolling your eyes and turning around to face him. Dashing as always that it made your jaw drop. You didn’t want to be noticeable but that’s how Seungmin’s visuals affect you, other than his other qualities. He is smart you admit, yet the attitude is kind of snob and cold just like how he had treated you in his office yesterday. 

“What?” He asked, raising a brow. 

“Nothing,” You retorted. “You don’t have to be so formal in this household,” 

“I had a meeting with the parliament, Y/n,” He said as you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Why are you out here?” You asked. 

“To know if you were here, I asked the maids where you’ve been,” He said, taking a few steps and sitting beside you. “You should be inside the meeting instead of Jisung, your ideas would’ve been elaborated properly,” 

“I don’t like those gatherings and I already told Jisung what to do,” You defended. “How did you like them?” You asked, looking at him. Damn it, why is he so overwhelming? 

“Well since it’s about resolving the conflict, you suggested bilateral agreements and military support. I agree with the military support Y/n, but are you sure about the bilateral agreements? These are rebelsー” 

“Seungmin, you can always talk to the Seraphina Empire about that,” You said. “The rebels came from that kingdom and I’m sure they’re playing their part too, but for the sake of peace, you need diplomats to talk to them and make negotiations right?” Seungmin suddenly smiled as you gave him a puzzled look. “What?” 

“I told you, you should have gone inside instead of Jisung. I get your point, I’ll send diplomats tomorrow morning to Seraphina,” 

“You didn’t think of that earlier did you?” You smirked at him as Seungmin laughed. 

“I did. I’m not stupid,” He said. 

“I didn’t say you are,” You retorted. 

“Of course, you didn’t,” He answered. “Do you want to go somewhere? I don’t have schedules for the rest of the day so I thought we could spend some time together?” 

You looked at him once again smiling at the statement, “I thought you will never ask,” 

Seungmin smiled at you in return, “I gave it a thought of what you have said to me yesー” But before he could say something, you pulled right out of the garden and dragged him out of the Chateau. 

“I have something to show you,” You said. “It’s not much but it’s beautiful as if you are inside a book. It’s so calm in there,” Seungmin stayed quiet but he is amused by how adventurous this was even if it was just inside the kingdom. It was a bit far from the town and you, holding his hand felt so special. He admits it was the very first time you agreed on something, the time where he gets to spend with you that it’s not about politics and marriage. It felt easier to breathe this time and maybe all you need is to get close to disregard the tension caused by this arrangement. 

Walking with you away from the crowd and headed towards the hills had him thinking. Seungmin knows every place around the kingdom but never the secluded ones. He may have missed the beauty of what’s beyond the mountains. You stopped walking when you reached the grass field with small purple and yellow flowers growing in wide spaces. Tall trees cascaded to the slope. The view of the mountains is visible from afar and he could identify the north and eastern borders. It was beautiful scenery and the sun setting adds to its beauty. Seungmin was fascinated. 

“How did you find a place like this?” He asked. “I thought you like to stay inside the Chateau,” 

“Just because I don’t go out that much I have a limited knowledge of these kinds of places,” You retorted. “Besides, I found it even before our wedding, I just didn’t get the time to come back,” 

“It’s beautiful,” He smiled. 

“You haven’t been here before?” You asked, looking at him not realizing you were still holding his hand. 

“Maybe I did, I just don’t remember,” He said. “And now that you showed it to me, I guess I have a reason to come back here often,” 

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” You scoffed. “You’re welcome by the way. Do you want to take a walk?” 

“Yes, but please let go of my hand now,” Seungmin smirked as you panicked, quickly shoving his hand back to him and leaving to a blushing mess. 

“I’m sorry!” You said, turning away because of the embarrassment but Seungmin just giggled in return. How on earth did this cold and snob prince become warm? He wasn’t the prince you were talking to about the divorce. Maybe he’s slowly opening up to become friends? He doesn’t have the choice to be mean to you because of this marriage but that doesn’t mean he’s forced when he likes you. And as what has been mentioned, it is easier to breathe now. 

“It’s okay,” He said as he sat down on the grass. “Sit with me Y/n,” 

You took a deep breath before facing him again and smiled, taking the space beside him. It was warm and bright, the fresh breeze of the wind came gushing around as they played with your hair and swayed with the light materials of your clothes. Both of you sat in silence and admire the beauty of nature. Seungmin must’ve fallen into his deep thoughts while you wonder about him. You shouldn’t think about him too much but his presence and connection with you have pushed it in. 

“You’re leaving the day after tomorrow,” You said without looking at him. 

“What, are you going to miss me?” He smirked as you snorted in response. 

“Of course not,” You defended. “Well, maybe? I don’t know,” Seungmin just smiled and didn’t say anything after that. “I don’t want to decide selfishly but yes, I’ll probably miss you. I mean, we don’t see each other that much around the Kingdom because you are always busy, how much more if you are not here,” 

“Are you confessing to me?” Seungmin asked as you smacked his arm lightly. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” But the prince just laughed as you jolted away, leaving the field. 

“Cute,” He smiled and stayed there for a while thinking about his fate. You took a stroll down, leaving him but the thought of what you just said to him made an impact. It was stupid, no, maybe it was or maybe not, what the actual fuckー. Shaking your head, you just went back to where he was and sat in silence, letting him have his moment. You know Seungmin has already a lot on his plate, you don’t want to mess him up more. 

“I thought you left?” He asked. 

“It was an impulsive reaction,” You answered. “Just don’t mind me here, I know you need some time to breathe,” 

“Thanks,” He smiled. “Thank you for caring,” You didn’t know what to say after that but it made your heart warm. 

The night of the gathering arrived, and only the elites and royals were invited for the send-off. Seungmin was already there, waiting for his wife to arrive. They were enjoying the buffet and champagne, the music was played by an orchestra and the place has an elegant decorations for the occasion. You decided to wear a beige ball puffy gown that shows your bare shoulders, the hems of the silk cloth fall gently on the floor as the person enveloped with it carries grace. It had flowers and spiral patterns designed on it and gems that glow when it captures the light from the chandelier. Everyone was left in awe and mesmerized the moment you arrived at the entrance. 

Seungmin's jaw dropped. 

He never felt this way during the wedding and never appreciated anything from you except that your efforts of marrying him are relevant to the purpose of why. The Queen had to push his son to approach you after being stunned and wasn’t able to function for a minute. You have welcomed with warm greetings as a waiter offered a glass of champagne. 

“Y/n, my dear, good evening!” The Queen greeted you as you bowed at her. 

“Good evening Your Highness,” You smiled and looked at Seungmin who was behind her. 

“Beautiful as always, my Dear,” Seungmin said, taking your hand before kissing it. It was new to both of you, but it was heart-fluttering and painted blush on your cheeks. You wanted to drink every glass of champagne to lower the panic. He’s been giving mixed signals or maybe it is part of the act of pretending to be in love. 

“Dashing as always, Your Highness,” You greeted back. 

“Let me steal your wife for a while, I missed their presence in the palace,” The Queen said hooking her arm around yours as she take you away. Seungmin was hesitating but his mother and you already emerged through the crowd. The King is even busier with his allies at the moment and the Prince is left with no one but Jisung, his assistant who also became your close friend. 

“Stop staring at Y/n, they’re going to melt in no time,” Jisung scoffed as he took a sip of his glass of champagne. 

“I am not staring,” Seungmin defended.

“Liar,” Jisung retorted as Seungmin glared at him. 

“Words,” The Prince said as the latter raised his hands in surrender. But it was a fact, he is indeed staring at you. Any Prince will stare at you at how you showed up this evening. Seungmin already acknowledged your beauty but never paid attention to the details until now. You are beautiful. 

“Attitude,” Jisung said rolling his eyes. 

“What’s with my attitude?” Seungmin scoffed as Jisung sighed in response. 

“An asshole,”

“Get out of my sight, stupid,” Seungmin said as Jisung just shrugged his shoulders. 

“I bet my position that you are falling in love, but if not, you can fire me,” 

“You need to convince me first,” Seungmin deadpanned as Jisung shake his head. 

“Whatever, Your Highness,” This was his cue to leave and Seungmin stood there with a glass of champagne in one hand. 

You were distracted with his mother and didn’t realize how many glasses of that strong drink you had taken. Maybe five or six? You are willing to have another one or more for sure even if you are already starting to get dizzy at the moment. The conversation is all about Seungmin and how she is going to miss him when he leaves tomorrow, not knowing when he will be back. You wanted to say that you would feel the same with his absence but you hesitated. Even learned that he is having a hard time expressing himself so you had to deal with it for a while. Maybe everyone assumed that this is a love-driven affinity but you two are still trying to build something. Maybe friendship first? 

You stood there with the seventh empty glass of champagne and placed it gently on the tray to the waiter who walk passed. “Seungmin is a responsible kid, he is smart, kind, and loving,” “Sometimes you can’t read him and he doesn’t know how to express himself,” “Understand him more,” But you are, he knows that you care and now look at him staring at you from across the hall. His black suit shines with the silver epaulettes adorning his broad shoulders and a white sash that adds to the elegance. He stood tall and firm with that gorgeous face of his. You want to blame the champagne for having weird thoughts and dizziness ーyou shouldn’t have drank too much. 

“I’m going to check on my husband first,” The Queen said excusing herself as you smiled in response. 

The busy crowd of royals and elites was filled with conversation about politics and relationships. Even the occurring war in the South and Western borders of Empyrean. It is quite weird to impose a gathering about sending off when his men are struggling to fight for the kingdom’s sovereignty. But of course, that is none of your business to mess up with this party. This is for a cause anyway. 

You stare at him as you slowly walk in his direction. He couldn’t stop looking at you either and he didn’t know why. Maybe because of how you look or was it the glass of champagne he had or was it Jisung’s words that struck him? He must’ve been drunk, no, he wasn’t, it was just you. You didn’t know what came all over you that you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you closer by the waist in response as your lips met his. It was impulsive but eventually, he kissed you back. A lot has happened, over two months and the past three days, maybe he will miss you. 

Yes, he will. His lips tasted the same as yours. The champagne took all over your mouths as you deepened the kiss. It doesn’t matter who saw it, you didn’t care but Seungmin suddenly pulled away as he grabbed your hand, took you out from the hall, and headed upstairs to the balcony where no one could see you. He closed the curtains and the door before turning back and kissing you again. It felt so exclusive when everyone knew about the affair. You pulled him closer as he hugged you tightly to kiss you properly. His head is tilted to the side, indulging the gentleness of your soft lips while tasting the lingering flavor of champagne. Seungmin bit your lower lip, slowly sucking it. A soft sound escaped your lips as he smirked in between taking your lips as a whole. Of course, it is different from the kiss you shared at the altar and this is on another level. 

“You had too much champagne, my Love,” Seungmin said, giving you a peck on the lips before pulling away. 

“No,” You smiled sheepishly, feeling the dizziness that causes you to lose balance. “I don’t know but—” You paused, almost fainting in Seungmin’s arms but he was quick to catch you. “I think I’m going to miss you,” The prince smiled, pulling you for a hug and burying his face in the crook of your neck. It’s probably because of the champagne. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” 

“Yes,” He said, looking at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. 

It’s probably because of the champagne… 

“You should be careful with your alcohol intake,” You heard him say as he assisted you on his bed, carrying you in bridal style. 

“For your information, Your Highness, champagne has only 12% alcohol—” 

“How many glasses did you have?” He asked, placing you gently on his bed. 

“I forgot,” You answered, feeling drowsy. “The bubbles had me drunk,” But Seungmin couldn’t stop smiling. “You look so cute, I’m going to miss that pretty face of yours,” He just sat beside you as he continued to listen to your babbling. It was cute, he admits. Your hands cupped his cheeks and smiled cheekily as he felt the redness of his face. “I’m starting to feel sleepy,” 

“You should go to sleep,” Seungmin said. “You have to send me off tomorrow morning,” 

“I don’t want to,” You pouted. 

“You’re drunk, Y/n,” Seungmin insisted as you chuckled in response. “Get some sleep,” 

“Give me a kiss first,” You said. He did not hesitate to lean closer and gave you a long kiss, making you play with his hair, but it didn’t last long. 

“Good night,” He said, pulling away and that’s when you fell asleep. Seungmin stayed awake for a while. The thought of leaving you tomorrow will make him miss you even if your bond only lasted for a few days. It is impulsive, everything happened in a rush, did you happen to fall in love already? Or you were just under the influence of that drink? Seungmin doesn’t know. 

He kissed your forehead for the last time before laying on the other side of the bed, anticipating what will happen tomorrow. 

You woke up with a headache the next morning and were curious as to why you are in an unfamiliar bedroom. Maybe you have been here before but a hangover struck you like lightning. Seungmin is nowhere to be found, he probably just left and flashbacks started to flood from last night the moment you sat up. You forgot the sunlight that peeks through the thin curtains that drape the tall windows to the floor. All you could think about was the thing that happened last night. I shouldn’t have several glasses of champagne, I don’t have a high tolerance, fuck!

“Your Highness?” You heard a maid knock as she enters the room. 

“Good morning?” You greeted. 

“Good morning,” She bowed. “The Prince is expecting you in an hour, we need to get you ready,” Then it suddenly sinks in… Seungmin’s leaving this morning. 

“Fuck,” You murmured. 

“Shall we fix you up?” She asked as you stood up. 

“Do what you must,” You said. 

An hour passed, and you rushed outside the room and headed towards the hall where the gathering was being held last night. Carrying your dress, you saw Seungmin talking with the Queen as the King stood beside him. All eyes turned to you as they heard your footsteps tapping the steps of the stairs and a smile formed on the Prince’s lips. He remembered what happened last night and probably it was nothing to you. But the impact it left made him feel weird. 

“You’re awake,” Seungmin beamed. 

“Am I late?” You asked. 

“I was about to leave,” He said taking a few steps and offering his hand to assist you. 

“Did you sleep together?” The Queen asked. 

“Mother, don’t,” Seungmin defended. 

“Just slept?” The King smirked. “My son doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” 

“Father,” Seungmin called as the King shrugged his shoulders. 

“I must go to the carriage first,” The King said as he excused himself and bowed before exiting the hall, followed by the Queen. 

“Excuse my parents,” Seungmin sighed. “Were you in a rush?” 

“I was afraid you’d leave without seeing me,” You smiled. 

“Was this because of last night?” Seungmin chuckled. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” He smiled. “Will you be okay?” 

“I guess,” You frowned. “But I will wait for your return,” 

“As you should,” He smiled again and kissed your forehead. “I will be back in no time,” 

The sounds of the horses from the carriage whine at the sight of the King and Queen made Seungmin look outside as you stared at the floor. A sign of hurry and immediate time. The King already settled inside as the Queen talked to him about a few reminders and the royal guards on standby on their horses both front and back of the carriage for security. Meanwhile, Seungmin examined the scenery outside as you took a deep breath before earning his attention again. You shouldn’t be feeling this way. But then again, the scenarios from last night have changed the shared feelings among each other. From loveless to a slow burn. You may have fallen first for your impulsiveness and the lack of thinking about your actions first. And yet Seungmin can’t blame you. Even if this was a loveless marriage, you had to agree about Jisung’s opinions about falling in love in between. Eventually. 

Everyone was waiting for the Prince to hop inside the carriage. He smiled at you and bowed. Neither said a word as he left the hall. You followed him to his vehicle and stood a few meters behind the Queen, unknown of how you should feel on his departure. Seungmin smiled one last time and greeted his mother goodbye but you couldn’t just stand there and watch him leave without giving affection. You ran towards him and gave the most endearing hug, a sign that you would miss his presence around the palace and the Chateau. His promise to come back immediately will remain and you promised to wait for him even if it would take months. The war already reached its worse. Murder and arson, invasion of the town in the West and South, it is dangerous. May God protect your people and the King and most especially the Prince. 

“Don’t miss me too much, Y/n,” Seungmin said. 

“I already do,” You smiled bitterly as he let out a small chuckle. 

“I will write to you, I promise,” He said. “And please handle the parliament for me?” 

You could only give him a nod in response before giving a peck on his lips. This is not about a loveless marriage anymore. It may have changed over a few days and you are willing to help him go through this war and wait for him to come back, no matter how long. 

“Keep safe,” You smiled and that was the last time you saw him before he disappeared from your sight. 

And for the first week, you never heard of him and never stayed in the Chateau often as you used to. You learned to ride a horse during his absence and raise to the field alone, studying more about diplomacy and war. The Queen ruled in her husband’s place and has gotten busier by his efforts. Novels and other fairytales were forgotten in your interest but the thoughts of your husband remained when you arrive home. The emptiness of your place is the same as you walk inside their palace. Distraction never helps, archery doesn’t do either, and studying makes it worse. 

You heard from a messenger that Seungmin is doing well in his duty. His intelligent mind is used efficiently on how to stop this chaos, unarmed or with the presence of weapons. He took your advice diligently and sent diplomats to Seraphina to further discuss the matter. The second week has been the same, no letter arrived that conceived your sadness. You miss him. You think of him. The bond that you created just then is enough to feel this way but you don’t know about Seungmin. Does he ever feel the same? Or has he forgotten everything about you? 

It’s every afternoon you visit the field with your horse to think about him, despite the responsibilities he left to you alongside Jisung. The latter seems to be more annoying than usual. But the comfort of his words that are devoted to the love of His Royal Highness to you gives you hope. You wanted to hear more than an expected letter to arrive. Yet you still miss him, dearly. Especially when he sent some poppies to your Chateau’s garden as a symbol of remembrance and hope. How could you not fall for such a man? His letter arrived three weeks later and it painted a smile on your face. It made you feel alive for once in the past few weeks, and time flies fast ever since he left for war. A month and a week and counting. 

You sat on the flat surface of the fountain in the middle of the garden as you opened the very first letter he sent. Hyunjin arrived just this afternoon, fresh from the five-hour horse ride from the Western border of Empyrean. The man was exhausted as he rested in your chamber and the maids left you alone. Jisung was nowhere to be found since this morning but you are thankful not to listen to his babbling and gossip from town. But it doesn’t matter for now. 

My beloved Princess,

It’s been a while since I left home and I miss you dearly. I think about you every day and never miss taking at least an hour to think about what to write. I apologize for taking my time to compose myself and send you a message of my love. A lot has happened in the borders of war but I guarantee my safe return home. 

How are the poppies that I have sent? I am sure they bloomed beautifully just like you. The garden probably looks more pleasing with you around. And I cannot wait to see them grow and take care of them with you. 

The sunset is lovely today but it will be much better to see it in the field that you showed me the last time and I wish to not worry you as I am doing fine. The Seraphinian rebels have made huge casualties in the Empyrean borders and my men and I are doing our best to protect our home. The war has taken many lives of our people including our man and has abused the sovereignty of our state. It might take a while before I can go home and hug you. I hope you are doing much better than me, my Love and I cannot wait to see you. 

Please wait for me. 

Sincerely yours, Prince Seungmin

Tears left your eyes upon closing the stationary on your hands. The envelope smells like him and it made you miss him even more and how much more on his side when you are the only one he could think of. Your husband made efforts and fought with his men and his father. He thought that you will be furious when you finds out he brought bruises and cuts to his beautiful face as well as the injuries for being brave. But he knows you are proud. And you always are. 

The second letter arrived after almost a month and your hair got longer, got busier and wiser. But the habit of coming to the field every afternoon still remains as well as the war. You worry about Seungmin every day and you wish him to come home. The letters he sent are the only ones who kept your faith stronger than ever. This loveless marriage has already climbed to a love-driven affinity and you wanted to feel more about it once the war is over. Hyunjin has been your messenger and he is always delighted to bring good news that the terrorists from Seraphina are slowly raising the white flag. The Prince might come home soon. 

The third letter came two weeks after the second one. You thought he is finally coming home but an ambush happened when they finally invaded the camping site of the terrorists on the Seraphinian border. It will hold him there for a little while. Jisung must’ve sensed your disappointment that he stopped sending a few reports for you to settle with the parliament for a few days. Instead, you went back to reading the novels of your interest in the library but Seungmin keeps messing with your head. You tossed the book on your desk and went out to the stables to fetch your horse. A little afternoon stroll would help you calm down. 

It has been days since you read the letter that brought your disappointment and you miss your husband dearly. Nothing beats this feeling of worry when he decided to stay back for another while. And to count the time he’s not around, it has already reached months. The full moon has passed, some of the flowers in the garden have wilted, the sunset that you witness in the field has changed, and the skies suddenly turned gloomy than those days that you are with him. The two months of pre-marriage weren’t enough and even the few weeks after that, the few days before he left and the night when you got drunk and kissed him for the sake of your impulsive feelings. 

You sat on the grass as your horse stood a few meters away to feed himself. It made you fall into your deep thoughts and how you miss him so much. The cold breeze of the afternoon had added to the solemn feeling that you felt at the moment. And just like every other afternoon you had spent in the field, Seungmin’s presence never came. You stared at the horizon and admired the mountains as the sun started to set slowly but it is still bright to go back to the Chateau and drown yourself in the study again. Never in a day do you miss him. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you straighten the lower part of your sage green gown on the cool grass to sit properly as your hair swayed with the moderate gushing of wind. The flowers that grew around bowed and some of the petals flew south. It was beautiful that you wish that Seungmin could see this. The view had stopped you from reading between the pages of a thick book that tells a story about a widowed queen who lost her husband in a war. You didn’t want that to happen to you too. The angsty vibe it gave made you sullen and hopeless. You know Seungmin will come home any day now and you hope that the war will end at dawn. Patience and prayers are all you have now. It was his promise. The Queen has been as restless as you but she encourages you to be strong. It happened once before you came to be his son’s wife and she is firm that her husband and the Prince will come home safe and sound. 

You closed the book and placed it gently on the side as your eyes focused on the view again. It didn’t matter how beautiful it was and all you did is lay on the grass in boredom. You looked at the blue sky as the clouds passed by in a rush. It is probably because of the wind. You grew tired of blaming other things for what is happening in everything and wish to the heavens for your husband to come home. Tired of studying, tired of reading, tired of archery and fencing, tired of expecting his presence, tired of showing fake smiles, tired of being alone, one more bit of this will make you go crazy and stuff. 

I will be home soon. 

That’s what he said in the last letter you got from Hyunjin. 

“Fuck, when will the war ends?” You asked the heavens. 

“It just did,” You flinched at the familiar voice coming from behind that made you sit up immediately and look. “Empyrean and Noctifer won the war Sweetheart, I’m home,” 

“Seungmin!” You cried as you stood up and dragged your gown, running towards him. His hair grew longer and his wounds are already healed but it didn’t downgrade his beauty. He was wearing his white satin polo and black pants with his belt that carries his sword. Seungmin is breathtaking as always. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled you by the waist to press on his body. His scent is built with fresh flowers and cinnamon. Tears formed in your eyes as they cascaded to your cheeks, the same with Seungmin who missed you so much. His lips captured yours to show how eager he is to be with you again and he couldn’t wait to spend his days with you. The war finally ended. He’s home now and you are happy. “I was worried that it will take you a while to go home,” You cried, pulling away. 

“I had dealt with Seraphina to execute the terrorists, we took over the ambush and captured themー” But Seungmin didn’t get to finish his sentence when you kissed him again. Your lips molded together as he deepened the kiss, desperate for more until you were out of breath. “Fuck, I missed you so much,” 

“Me too,” You answered in between your sobs. Seungmin’s hands reached your cheeks and wiped your tears away, with his forehead connected with yours. “Don’t leave me again,” 

“No, no, I won’t,” He said, kissing your forehead before holding your hands as he intertwined your fingers together. “I’m here now,” 

“How did you know I was here?” You asked. 

“Jisung told me but I always knew you come here,” He smirked. “You always think of me don’t you?” He asked, fixing your hair. 

“I always do. Every day, every morning until I sleep,” You confessed. “I don’t know, I think I have fallen in love with you, even before the night we kissed, Iー” He didn’t let you finish that now and captured your lips again, desperate, again, after the longingness he felt when he was at war. 

“I love you,” He said in between the kiss. 

“I love you too,” You smiled as he gave you a peck on the lips before pulling away and coming for an embrace, caressing your hair. 

“I can’t wait to spend my time with you, Y/n,” Hugging him felt so comforting as you close your eyes, hugging him tightly not wanting to let him go again. Seungmin felt the same. Maybe it is time to make another start where two people fall in love. The end of the war has sent them to their homes and find comfort. Desperate and excited to spend the rest of their lives together is something to look forward to. The Princess has fallen first, but the Prince has fallen more deeply. 

Seungmin placed a poppy in your hair before giving you another peck on the lips and smiled. “You’re so beautiful,” He said. 

“You’re beautiful too, so breathtaking,” You answered. 

“You’re only mine, right?” Seungmin asked before hugging you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled. 

“I’m yours,” You said and kissed him again. 

Maybe it was because of a drunken kiss that happened the night before left or the way he loves your attitude toward him. There are a lot of reasons to fall in love. Some may happen impulsively but they take time to form into something serious just like how your situation is with Seungmin. But sometimes there are unknown reasons. Maybe you two belong there. It may be confusing, but one thing’s for sure with Seungmin; the Empyrean prince cascades. 

all rights reserved by starlostseungmin.

[lulu2992]

“My New Father”

It seems this note is often attributed to John Seed:

It could be because, on the Far Cry Wiki, the document is described as “John's feelings towards Joseph”. Sadly, as we know, the Wiki is far from reliable, and nothing proves the Baptist did write this.

In my opinion, he didn’t, and here’s why.

First, John signed all the other notes he wrote:

If he had written “My New Father”, I imagine he would have signed it too. And if he hadn’t, I believe that his name would still have been mentioned somewhere, for example in the title, like “Jacob’s Manifesto” (which isn’t signed), just to make it clear to players who the author of the note is. In “My New Father”, Joseph is also only referred to as a “Father” and never as a brother, which I think is strange.

Then, this is where the document can be found in John’s Gate:

This is Silo A, Floor -04, in the A3 dormitory (Level -4 on the map I made). This is apparently where “regular” cultists live, so it would make more sense to me if the note had been written and left there by one of them instead of John. There reportedly are areas of the bunker only he can access, so I imagine this is where “My New Father” would have been located if he had written it.

Finally, whoever wrote the note is very self-insightful, seems at peace, and feels loved… so quite the opposite of John. To me, the Baptist doesn’t seem to be as aware of who he is and how he functions (as much as he likes to think he is), and although he tries to be in control of any situation he’s in, he’s everything but calm. In the message he left at Seed Ranch, Joseph explains his little brother’s main problem, the reason he suffers and makes others suffer, is that he was unable to fully cast away his past and, unlike the person who wrote the note, doesn’t realize how much love there is around him.

I agree that parts of “My New Father” describe John well, and that may be why people believe he wrote it. He too feels he was given a second chance and was “born again” thanks to Joseph, isn’t used to the feeling of love, had a troubled and abusive childhood, and made sure he was “society’s very model of success” on the outside while, on the inside, he was “full of suppressed anger” (to quote The Book of Joseph). The problem is, John is still “a tormented boy, damaged and afraid”, and he’s certainly not driven by “acceptance and love” because the conclusions he drew from what happened to him when he was younger are wrong. He didn’t heal from his trauma, he rationalized and weaponized it. John tries to convince himself he’s right, but deep down, I think he knows something’s wrong, and he’s obviously still in pain. The cultist who wrote “My New Father” healed from his trauma and feels safe enough to open his heart, but the same can’t be said about John, unfortunately.

It would have been better for everyone if John had recovered from his awful youth, understood how harmful the lessons he was taught were, and realized that it was now safe for him to love and be loved, without fear, but we know that never happened. This, plus the fact his name doesn’t appear anywhere in “My New Father” and that we find it in the dormitory where other cultists live, is why I don’t think he’s the author of the note… as much as I wish he had been able to write something like this.

[bonkbobl]

happy to please

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: this is set before anything bad happens in the show, maybe like early season 1 or even before. i know in the books there was domeric and i considered mentioning ramsays kinslaying but decided to just go with the show, which, my impression is that domeric just never existed and ramsay grew up at the dreadfort being cared for by roose. this fic comes from the book quote about him growing fond of walda bc she actually liked sex with him and buddy never experienced the loving touch of a woman with his past two wives

summary: roose bolton had two wives before you. so he thought he knew what to expect during the bedding but nothing could have prepared him for those sweet little noises and the way you writhed

warning: smut!!! roose bolton is very awkward and not very romantic, forced marriage but once you see roose irl you're like oh... wait guys hes kind of hot nvm im down

It was high time the Lord of the Dreadfort took another wife to try for more heirs. A bastard born to a Millers Wife was hardly a suitable option. The goal-driven Lord Bolton wanted a speedy affair and not too much fuss about it. When word was sent out that the “Dreadlord” was seeking a hand in marriage, the response was not sparse.

Several offers to meet Northern Lords’ “most beautiful” daughters landed on Roose Boltons desk. But Roose didnt want the fuss that came with that. There was no need to fret about which girl was the most desireable, only which prospect bred the most advantage.

You came from a semi prominent house, a large advantage was the fact that you had no siblings to succeed you and your uncles were all bordering on geriatric. Because of this, your father was eager to broker a marriage between you and any Lord to start producing more options for the succession of your house — you came with a heavy dowry.

All negotiations occurred on paper and before you’d learn anything about your husband, your father has your servants packing your belongings up into carriages. You were on your way to the Dreadfort

Dreadful name for a castle, you thought to yourself. Perhaps that set the tone for the marriage. You should expect nothing but that —dread.

The entire journey, you did not utter a word to your father, so upset that he’d gone behind your back to do this. You had been stubborn, growing up. You’d met several Lords from minor houses through the years and you turned all of them away.

They weren't handsome enough, weren't noble enough, weren't gentle enough, weren't firm enough. That one was too loud, too annoying, to full of himself, not sure enough of himself, too meek, too weak. There was always something. But you were never forced to. Not until now.

Perhaps it was the fact that your father finally listened to the whispers of those around him, telling him that if he doesnt marry you off soon, no lord would want an old bride. You think thats most likely. Theres also the fact that House Bolton was an extremely powerful house, your liege lord for centuries. They stood only beneath the Starks and the Crown.

When you stepped down from the carriage to greet your husband to be, you steeled yourself. You didn't know what to expect. You knew he was around your father’s age, which wasn't exactly a comfort.

But you met his cold eyes, your expression softened considerably. Your father had grown plump with unkempt hair on his chin. It was patchy and uneasy to look upon. His hair was also receding quickly as the years passed.

The years were kinder to Lord Bolton.

Giving a curtsy, you surrendered to his examination of you, suddenly feeling nervous. You found yourself hoping he liked what he saw because well… Lord Bolton, you think, immediately appears to be, well, lordly. He looks physically fit, cleanshaven, intimidating features. His stare was hard on you, and you almost shied away thinking he was, in fact, unhappy with you, but glancing back, you realized that he may be one of those men with a permanent hardness to their stare.

You mainly hope he isn’t cruel to you.

Lord Bolton nodded, then spoke, “My lady.” Taking your hand and pressing a courteous kiss to it, he continued, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You swallowed, trying your best to keep your gaze even. His voice was so smooth and deep… The kind of voice that you’d want reading to you in the darkness at night.

He’s everything you think a man should be, in appearances. The boys who wanted your hand in marriage would stumble about their words and it was endearing in their own right, but here, under his lordly gaze, you felt more willing to you resign yourself under his protection.

“Happy to please you, my lord,” You said softly, curtsying.

Roose’s eyes looked you up and down for what felt like the millionth time but he couldn’t really help it. He hadn't expected you to be the beauty you were — that wasn’t why he was marrying you — but he got lucky, it seems. You were a shy thing, barely able to meet his eyes.

Roose looked at your father, standing far away from you, awkwardly staring out into the wind and avoiding engagement. It wasn't difficult for him to make out that perhaps you might be unhappy to be here. If theres anything he can recognize, its a tense familial atmosphere.

But he watched you smile and speak your courtesies, sweet and polite. Yes, you would do just fine. You were perfect, he’d even dare to say, he was delighted by you.

You would make him rich, and it seemed like you had enough understanding and commitment to duty to not make a fuss about anything that may be unpleasant to you. He just hopes you’re fertile so that he doesn’t have to pain you unnecessarily with too many attempts.

“I’d like you to meet my son, Ramsay,” He brought his son forward.

You smiled politely at him and allowed him to kiss your hand, “My lord, it’s lovely to meet you.” You hoped it didn’t show that you were a little wary of Ramsay. It was hard to ignore the rumors of the Bastard at the Dreadfort. But you’re happy that you are not to be his or his fathers enemy.

“As it is for me to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Roose allowed a smile and began directing you to your handmaidens, who would lead you to your temporary room.

As far as first meetings go, it might have been awkward but it wasn’t completely unbearable. You’re grateful for it.

—————

When it came time to wed him, Roose made it clear that there was to be no bedding ceremony, and you let yourself relax, smiling to yourself gratefully. It was a tradition spreading all the way from the Wall to Dorne, but you really didnt know why. The thought of being stripped and groped by all the men in the room rained dread upon you.

Instead of being carried to your room by many men, you were led there by your husband, who you were growing more fond of in each moment. Sure you barely knew him, but he was handsome enough.

Not just handsome enough, you’d say that if there was to be a ball with all the Northern men and women, you would have stared at him in the corner of your eye all night hoping he’d approach you. He reminded you of those scenarios that you’d read about only in books.

He also seemed to be respectable and a gentleman, which comforts you greatly. The fact that he chose to forego the bedding was something you hadn’t expected but it certainly made you more amenable to whats to come.

It started sort of mechanically and passive. Your husband poured you a cup of wine for your nerves, and you exchanged some words about the ceremony and he watched you drink it.

Then when he deemed you relaxed enough Roose asked, “Did your septa teach you about what happens during bedding?”

You nodded, “My septa, yes. And I had read a book once that contained some details that she had left out, so I actually know more than many would assume,” You rambled out.

Roose tilted his head questioningly but gave an amused sigh and a nod.

It was true, you did read a lot. And one of those books included a scandalous romp between the main character, a man, and a whore. Your father found you reading that and burned the book but he couldn’t burn it out of your memory.

It was part of why you might have had such a high standard for the men who had approached for your hand. The men in the books were confident but not arrogant. They could please their women properly because they knew what they were doing but also knew to listen. They were powerful. Possessing a subtle dominance that was too nuanced for younger men to understand.

Roose exuded dominance. This brand of dominance.

It excited you just as much as the memory of those pages.

“Good,” He said, “Then I have little explaining that I must do.”

You watched him stand and offer his hand to you again and you took it, letting him help you up and to the bed.

Roose couldn’t really understand it, but he identified nerves stirring inside him at the thought of bedding you. Its been a long time since he’s taken any wife to bed and he is aware that most of the time, its only really pleasurable for men.

His past two wives would lay there, passive and unmoving, waiting for him to have his fill before quickly getting up to clean themselves.

He really intended to make this as easy for you as possible and wait a week to try again. After that, perhaps he’d take you every few days until you came to be with child. Ever methodical about everything, of course he thought of how to go about this.

Roose helped you with your dress, coming up behind to aid in unlacing it. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with taking out the pins that had been keeping your hair up.

You wanted to be comfortable, Roose was pleased to note. He was glad to know you were thinking of your comfort. Making this as easy as possible. You were a girl who understood what needed to be done, a good quality to have in a wife.

His past wives understood to an extent, as well, but not without at least a little bit of whining and whinging.

With your hair undone and your dress unlaced, you took it upon yourself to shrug it off your shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Roose watched you, gracefully doing your duty, a small smile coming to him.

You surprised him quite a bit, actually. Especially when you turned to him, a little shy about your exposure, but confident enough to pull him in by his collar and kiss him for the first time.

Your lips moved shyly against his, and Roose returned your gentleness. Each thing you did made him ever more curious about you. The two of you continued to mold your lips to each others as he worked on disrobing himself. He could sense the hesitation and curiosity behind your lips movements.

All the better. He'll let you do as you needed to feel more comfortable.

Very quickly, Roose had taken off all his clothes and the moment you realized your husband was bare and ready to finally take you, you parted from him. His eyes opened slowly to see you staring up at him with those big eyes and he held your gaze as you edged backward onto the bed, situating yourself at the edge of it. Then you laid yourself down, splayed out for him.

Roose watched you get ready for him, wondering what he did to score so lucky with such a sweet, innocent, eager little wife.

He pressed the tip of his length to your slit. The edges of your pussy lips were dry but as he moved the head of his cock through your folds, some moisture coated him. Roose paused because you mewled and turned your face to the side, eyes closed, hands bunching into fists in your sheets.

His cock twitched against you as he watched, something that hasnt happened since Roose was a teenager with his first wife.

It moved him to push inside. He watched your lips part with heavy breaths, eyebrows coming together as your breaths turned into soft whimpers. He had to pull out after a certain point and push back in, further. You whimpered, grasping the sheets harder.

Roose found himself completely and utterly hypnotized by you, watching your face, turned to the side, eyes pinched shut, gently chewing your bottom lip.

“You’re very reactive,” He muttered, catching your attention.

You turned back to look at him over your rising and falling chest and giggled, running your hand over your forehead, “Yeah, I… Nothing has ever been inside like this so... I’m reacting.” A coil in your stomach twisted as he pushed even deeper and your lips puckered, letting out an "Ooh..."

Roose chuckled at the first sign of a little bit of sass in his wife, amused at your playfulness during what most would deem to be a serious moment. Roose typically disliked those who cracked unnecessary jokes in inappropriate moments, but somehow it seemed appropriate in this moment.

Your hand came down to grab his and you guided it to your thigh. You felt your husband bottom out inside you after not too much struggle or pain and you laid there happily. You were happy to take his gentle thrusts. Your cunt grew wetter and sloppier as he fucked you.

He filled you well, and it felt good to be full like this. You wanted him to touch you… You wanted him to move more. Faster, harder. You just wanted more of him.

You breathed a heavy sigh, squeezing around him, trying to coax him into moving in you.

“Roose,” You whined, squirming beneath him. Your legs came to wrap around him and guide his movements in you.

Your husband gasped at your shameless neediness, responding quickly to your coaxing movements. You felt like heaven, squeezing so tight around him. But it wasn’t just the pure sensation of a cunt enveloping him it was the fact that your heel remained pressed against his lower back, pulling him toward you. It was the fact that little whimpers kept tumbling out of you, meanwhile you hid your face as if you couldn’t keep them in. It was his name, falling from your lips, in between the whimpers.

And then you whimpered, “Harder.”

An appreciative hum rumbled in Roose's chest, his eyes focusing even harder on you. You shuddered to look at him. His smolder could easily be mistaken for a glare and you'd hate to be a man in any other situation, on the receiving end of such a look.

Here, it just made you more excited.

You cried a loud, unrestrained moan when he gave a sharp thrust, his cock angled upward and hitting a deep spot within you. When his cock touched that spot, it felt as if a little burst of pleasure had come from it and melted into the rest of your body, the coil in your tummy tightening deliciously.

His pace slowly increased, as did your pleasure. You writhed beneath him... At times it almost felt like pleasure was too much, like you were about to tip off some edge, and you had no idea what could be found once you made it over that edge other than just even more, blinding pleasure. You didn't even know if you could take it.

But you had nowhere to run. So if you had to find out what was waiting for you over that edge, so be it. You fought to hold your legs open as much as possible but your thighs would sometimes beg to close, unused to the intense stimulation. And most of the time, you kept your eyes closed and your face turned to the side.

Roose stared down at you, burying himself in you over. And over. Watching as each time you had to succumb and give yourself away to the sensations. It sparked something primal inside him, and truly for the first time he felt an animal-like instinct that often came to be the failing of many great, even-minded men.

He felt lust. Inspired by the image of your body tightening and twitching as he plunged himself deep into you.

Grabbing your waist, he fucked you faster, snapping his hips at a faster speed while he used his strength to pull your pliant body into his.

It wracked your body from head to toe, a long, loud whine, pulled from your throat, enunciated by each meeting of his balls against your ass. Your hands shot up to grasp to anything you could find on the bed but all it found were more sheets. You buried your face in the soft flesh of your arms.

Roose slowed and gave you some hard, defined thrusts, grunting as he did so. You cried out each time and then managed to blink your eyes open and look at him, eyebrows still knitted together, hair a tangled mess under you, and your lips red and wet from your chewing on them all the time.

And then your husband rediscovered the energy to plow into you again.

You held your tits this time, to keep them from bouncing uncomfortably.

He growled, adjusting so that your legs were put over his shoulder before continuing. That felt amazing. But even more amazing was that he decided it wasn't enough, climbing on the bed and pushing you further up on it. He maneuvered his leg, planting a foot next to your side.

That. That had you crying out, damn near sobbing. At least, you wouldn't be surprised if anyone passed your room and mistook it for that.

Soon your body was twitching uncontrollably under him and Roose was sighing loudly, shocked by just how tight your cunt was gripping onto him. Your moans grew weaker and breathier and your body tensed to a peak before you seemingly began to come down from it.

Your breaths remained heavy as you attempted to catch yourself, small aftershocks of convulsions and shaking taking you. He was still fucking you just as hard and your body was oversensitive to the stimulation.

But thankfully you didn't have to endure the pleasurable torture too much longer. Roose released you with a few hard thrusts and deep groans.

He stilled in you and dropped his head in exhaustion, staying buried deep inside, as he attempted to catch his breath and recover and you stared at him, also trying to catch up with yourself.

You lowered your legs to the side though and in the process, his penis slipped out of you, quickly softening. You don't know what possessed you to do so, because there was really no need to, but you brought a hand up to your husbands face and moved it so you could stare into his eyes.

His soft, exhausted eyes met you, the strong hardened exterior that you saw on him at your first meeting, melted off.

Cautiously, you closed the distance, molding your lips to his again.

Roose kissed back fervently this time, no longer hesitant and letting you take the lead. His domineering hand coming behind to cradle your face.

Your eagerness had surprised him in the beginning. But once he'd entered you, it was as if a switch had turned on for both of you. He'd expected you to bravely take on the duty that all women had to endure but he'd never expected you to take to it so well, craving more, wanting him.

Roose had never been the type of man to think about, much less want to be wanted. But his cock nearly twitched back to life, remembering. You pulled him in with your legs, asked him to fuck you harder, you came, and even afterwards, you wanted more.

When your lips finally parted, he stared, evaluating you with a new lense, a lense of true fondness. It was something that — Roose wouldn't ever dare say out loud but — it was something that could even develop into something deeper than a vague fondness or physical attraction. Something like love.

You pressed one last chaste kiss to him and smiled widely, asking, "Is that what every night will be like?" You asked, "If so I think you'll make me a very happy lady."

Roose couldn't think of a proper, clearly worded answer, so he just pressed his lips to yours again, hungrily. A very happy lady indeed. And he'll be happy to see you happy.

[419jhat]

Steddie Addams Family Crossover

- in which Steve is an Addams who can see ghosts and Eddie is a vampire

I never finished this but maybe I should? 👀

It began when Dante Basilio Harrington di Aleramici attended the marriage of his best friend Gomez into the American Addams clan. It was at that wedding where Dante caught the eyes of the oldest Addams daughter, Macabra, and the rest was history. Stephano Addams Harrington di Aleramici was born a perfectly unlucky thirteen years later, on an unfortunately sunny August morning, with light brown hair and hazel eyes that were delightfully abnormal for an Addams child. The Addams loved abnormalities, and Steve was absolutely full of them.

While he was excellent at traditional sports like fencing, knife-throwing, equestrian, and dancing, he’d never enjoyed the arts like communing with the dead or casting curses for his enemies. He was awful at seeing into the future and summoning creatures from the beyond, and other than the usual Addams ability to heal fast, he couldn’t regrow missing parts like his father could. Even stranger, he flourished in public schooling, loved to spend time with other children, and was often invited to spend time in other people’s homes. They’d never worried, though. As far as they were concerned, he was just a little different; a growing boy who needed space.

So, when they bought a beautifully boring vacation home in Hawkins, Indiana, that was what they gave him. But three weeks of strange behavior in suburbia hadn’t been enough. When it was time for the family to return, Stephano decided to stay, and Steve Harrington was born. He enrolled in a school, joined sports that didn’t end with a battle to the death, and hosted parties without any blood sacrifices. They didn’t understand it one bit. But he was happy, so they nodded their heads and offered to send him fancy beers for his keg contest, whatever that was. (He’d refused. Apparently, it had to be cheap beer.) They returned to their mansion in Massachusetts, happy to let Steve live his life. After all, he was just a crystal ball away and he had his ancestors haunting over him. He’d be fine.

Meanwhile, Steve was content in normality. As an Addams or an Aleramici, he was the odd one out. His parents delighted in his abnormalities, insisting it was simply Addams tradition to be strange, but the thing was, Steve wasn’t strange. Not outside of their family. As an Aleramici, he was the guy who didn’t participate in traditions like summoning the dead for love advice with a fantasy creature. As an Addams, he was the guy who didn’t have a collection of human bones in his bedroom or a criminal record. As a Harrington, he was the star of the town. King Steve, they’d called him. He was the guy who people lifted onto their shoulders after the championship game. He was the guy people clapped on the back when they left a party, even if it wasn’t at his house. He was the guy girls talked about when they wanted a date to prom. He was the guy normal people compared their kids to. An example of success.

And then Nancy Wheeler entered his life and he wasn’t that guy anymore.

Steve was, in the end, an Addams. It was inevitable that weird found him even after he’d tried to escape it. His reign as King of Normal ended the second the demogorgon tried to eat his face off. Sure, he’d held on for a little bit. He’d driven Nancy to tears trying to ignore the craziness of Hawkins and savor his time as an ordinary teenage boy. He’d tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, as if the idea of another dimension was a new concept that just broke his brain to think about. The problem there was that normal was new for Steve. Parallel dimensions and flesh-eating monsters were new for Nancy. He’d maybe underestimated the shock it would bring to her. He was still getting a hang of what exactly wasn’t normal for normal people.

After their inevitable breakup, he’d tried to do the normal thing and get back together. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? That’s what guys in his position did in movies. Of course, since Steve’s life was destined to attract the supernatural, this only meant that his reputation fell even further when Billie Hargrove smashed his face in, and he was somehow demoted to the town babysitter. Something about hanging out with nerdy children and dropping his friends for the girl who’d dumped him was not normal at all, and even worse, he found himself spending more time than ever trying to be normal, just like when he was a kid. Except this time, it wasn’t Addams/Aleramici Normal, it was Everyone Else’s Normal, which somehow didn’t come naturally to him anymore.

What was he supposed to do when the person he’d wanted to be turned out to be someone he didn’t want to be at all? When he looked back on his attempts to fit in and could only think about how he’d ignored Nancy for his own gain and called Jonathan a queer because that’s what normal people said to be mean. He could have turned around and ignored it. He could have sold the house and packed up for a different boring town. But he didn’t want to leave his terrified group of weirdos, even if it meant he had to be weird with them. And as it turned out, being weird wasn’t so bad when you had people to be weird with. Suddenly, his family kind of made sense.

Robin had been the beginning of the end. Meeting Robin had been like meeting the other half of his soul. Someone who just got him without needing to ask questions. He was sure his mother would call them soulmates if they talked to her in person. He’d never felt so at ease to be himself around someone before. While he still floundered with normality around everyone else and failed to get any dates in result, he felt completely free with Robin, as if he could just be Steve, nothing more and nothing less. Which is why befriending Robin shook him up so badly. The kids had hobbies that freaked out their parents and Nancy was for some reason seen as too much by a lot of the guys in town, and he could understand all of that. But Robin couldn’t help that liking girls was seen as weird in a bad way.

And that was what got him- weird in a bad way.

Because weird in a bad way had been how he’d felt when he couldn’t summon a demon for his nonna and when he failed to tell apart poisonous mushrooms for his after-school mycology exam. Weird in a bad way made him think about how he’d been embarrassed when his mom came to parent-teacher conferences. How his cousins had made fun of him for being so interested in playing with animals rather than dismembering them for potions. But even with all those feelings and his years pushing to be somewhere he fit in, he’d never realized that some people didn’t have a choice. Some people couldn’t just turn it off like he’d been trying to.

So, after he’d had his face smashed in again and made his best friend in the whole world while fighting a giant spider creature made of dead bodies that his dad would have loved to see, he’d finally started to come around. And when the world broke apart for the fourth time and he babbled to Nancy about the American Dream nonsense he’d been imaging for himself since he was twelve, he realized with a bit of embarrassment that he didn’t even want that anymore. That he was quite literally just talking because he felt like they were having a moment and it seemed like he was supposed to, not because he wanted to.

And then there was Eddie.

---

When Steve looked out at the grey clouds brewing over Hawkins and the strange soot falling from the sky, he knew he that it was time to talk to his grandmother. He hadn’t talked to Belladonna Harrington in a good four months, partially because he’d been so busy pretending it wasn’t a thing he could do. But with the world literally split apart and Max unable to wake up and Eddie dead and half their strange group unreachable in California, it kind of felt ridiculous not to.

So, with Dustin and Lucas tucked away in the guest room and Erica and Nancy in the master bedroom and Robin keeping watch on an unresponsive Max in his room, Steve pulled down the little foldout ladder in the garage that led to the attic and made his way to a little alcove with pictures of relatives. Belladonna had died young, but apparently she loved being dead so nobody in the family was particularly sad about it. She’d been a fashionable woman and her picture showed it well. Seeing that this was one of Steve’s few talents, he didn’t actually need the picture to do this. But he did need the privacy of the attic he didn’t want to freak anyone out.

He sat down on the bare floor and closed his eyes. This didn’t need any preparation, but he hadn’t done it in a while. Something in him was always terrified his few skills would suddenly vanish. He rolled his shoulders and neck and finally, he whispered, “Belladonna.”

There was a pulse of energy- the light in the garage beneath him flickered, and then there she was, in a shiny black dress and a silver fur coat hanging off her shoulders, all sharp angles and long limbs. She held a pipe in her hand, which she took a drag from and then blew the smoke in his face. Yeah, he’d deserved that.

“I haven’t heard from you in two years, Stephano,” she said.

“We spoke during Christmas, Grandmama,” Steve sighed, avoiding her eyes.

“I’ve been dead for only forty years and my family has already forgotten me!”

Death had not eased her love for drama.

“I didn’t forget you, I just-”

“Nobody loves me!” she wailed, clutching a hand to her chest.

“Of course we love you-”

“Three daughters, two sons, seventeen grandchildren and five great-grandchildren and not one calls me unless they need something!”

“That’s not true-”

“Oh, then this was just a social call? Did you wish to tell me about your relationship with the Nancy girl? Did you mess up again?”

Steve didn’t say anything because she was right, he had messed up with Nancy again, and he also was only calling because he needed her insight. She blew more smoke in his face, and he let it go because he was one of the few in the family who she could do it to. She’d told him once that being intangible was the only bad part of haunting the world as a ghost. Apparently it felt like moving through water that wasn’t wet. Steve couldn’t really wrap his mind around that.

“See? I knew it. Well? What is it you need, my love?” she asked, dramatically sinking onto a box of Christmas decorations, and crossing one leg over the other. Steve bit back a smile. This wasn’t a smiling situation.

“One of my friends is horribly injured, another is dead, and this town is merging with the parallel dimension it’s connected to. I was hoping you’d know what to do.”

Belladonna took another drag from her pipe and nodded, probably because she’d been watching the whole time even if he hadn’t summoned her. She already knew most of it.

“Well, your uncle was always good at mending things. He and a few others are still at the house after celebrating the Spring Equinox with your parents. That little girl could probably use their help. And your father’s collection of books may have something about handling parallel dimensions. But as for the last one- are you sure?”

“Am I sure about what?”

She turned to look him straight in the eyes and he could feel the power behind her look, that she wasn’t actually looking at him, but at something beyond him.

“Are you sure he’s dead?” she asked.

And yes, Steve had been sure. He’d held Eddie in his arms as his body went limp and stiff, and a bit of him went with him, sad that he couldn’t explore the feelings that had sprouted during their attempt at saving the world. But when your undead grandmother questioned something, you started to question it too. So, Steve drove out to the trailer park and followed his grandmother’s translucent form through some woods as she led him to “the spot where the energy is,” whatever that meant, which turned out to be a random patch of dirt. A normal person would probably have started asking questions, but Steve knew his grandmother was waiting for something from the way she stared down at the dead leaves beneath their feet, so he waited too. He squatted on his heels, his bat in one hand and the radio in another.

“Whatever happened to your fencing lessons? That weapon is so gauche,” Belladonna said.

Steve didn’t answer. They’d had this argument already. Instead, he dropped the radio and reached his hand out expectantly. She handed him the pipe and he took a drag and then coughed like it was the first time he’d smoked. She took it back with a judgmental look.

“It’s not my fault you smoke literal tar,” he complained around the smoke slipping from his lips.

“I taught you better. It is your fault,” she said, tossing her perfectly curled hair to the side. Steve had missed this. Now that he had it, he didn’t know why he’d ever let it go.

“I missed you, Bella,” he said.

“Hush, it’s happening,” she said.

Steve looked back down at the earth. Nothing seemed different. He didn’t feel anything weird, either. He looked up at Belladonna, who was staring down as if she could. He turned back to the leaves.

BAM!

A pale hand burst through the earth, black fingernails sharp and dangerous, followed by a forearm and then an elbow and then a shoulder, and finally, a head. Eddie Munson was covered in dirt and blood and stared back at Steve with bright red eyes. Somehow, the look was hot.

“Steve!?” Eddie yelped.

“Holy shit,” Steve said.

Belladonna vanished with a laugh.

[forgeofthenine]

Jumping on the transmogrification bandwagon.

How would the three bachelors react when they find out their s/o is a dragon? Maybe their draconic s/o can let them experience flight in the form of their s/o letting them ride on their back? (Go with whatever you think works best in terms of what kind of dragon they have as an s/o!)

I have to admit, I spent so much time reading about dragons on the wiki and I couldn't decide on just one type of dragon 👀

Believe it or not, I'm low-key obsessed with dragons, I have so many more ideas for the bachelors' and their dragon lovers too. Thank you for the request!

The bachelors finding out their lover is a dragon

Dammon

Getting closer to Dammon is something that happened naturally

As with many other steel dragons, you'd made a successful life living among humanoids within baldurs gate

After years of building your own personal treasure hoard, a collection of buildings and businesses, you were approched by a tiefling refugee

He'd come to you with the proposal of using your long abandoned forge, a home you'd always had trouble keeping filled

It was an easy decision to rent the building to the charasmatic tiefling, even offering him a small discount

You'd find yourself at the property much more often now, popping in on your way past to check in on your new favourite blacksmith

Dammon himself was always excited to see you, happy to set down his tools and keep you in conversation for an hour or two

However, it was only when you and the tiefling were in that uncertain position between friends and dating that you decided it was time to reveal your true nature to him

It was out in the mountains near baldurs gate, where you'd originally grown up, that you spread your wings again and showed Dammon who you really were

It would be a lie to say he wasn't surprised, Dammon was close to a heart attack when he saw your wings and tail unfurl as you grew to tower above him

You both had a very in-depth conversation after the revelation, discussing the lifestyle and expectations a dragon has compared to a 'mere' tiefling

It doesn't scare the blacksmith away though, if anything he's excited to learn more about you

Dammon will definitely gift you lots of pretty jewellery he's made, including pieces that fit you while in your true dragon form

Zevlor

You first met Zevlor when he was still a general within the hellrider ranks

Like many bronze dragons, you never knew when to leave well enough alone, so joining a humanoid army seemed a good idea

You had been with the hellriders for years with them being none the wiser, you and Zevlor bonding over shared ideals

You both had a strong sense of camaraderie and justice, often finding yourself in each others company and soon in a romantic relationship

When Elturel fell however, you had been in your lair, only able to hope and pray that your darling paladin would be returned to you safe

And he was returned, but you'd hardly been able to reunite with him before the tieflings were driven from the city

It only made sense in your mind to join them, despite appearing very human to the naked eye

It was honestly hard to hide your true form as the group travelled

The water tempted you to swim or make a new lair, the endless fighting would've been easier if you'd let yourself spread your wings

It was when you'd reached the grove you also made it to your breaking point

Soon, Zevlor found himself standing on the sand of the Sword Coast watching as a bronze dragon appeared before him in your stead

He really has no words, hardly believing his own eyes as his lover reveals something from his wildest dreams

Zevlors also seen many things and met many people within his life, but this takes him some adjustment

There's also a few discussions that happen between you, and you greatly flustered the poor man when you revealed bronze dragons mate for life

It's certainly a self esteem boost for the older tiefling to know such a noble and loyal being has chosen him out of any possible suitors

Zevlor is also the type to insist on helping you clean and polish your scales, taking care of you even when you're ten times his size

Rolan

A small part of Rolan had always been surprised by your interest in him

The two of you meeting when he and his siblings were in their teens, despite you being seemingly the same age you'd always come across more intelligent and poised than others

He'd always found himself drawn to your company, the two of you easily engaging in conversation for hours at a time

The fact you always smelled like a fresh, rainy morning didn't hurt either

When Rolan and his siblings were driven from Elturel, you were all too happy to join them

Anyone who dared to try and harm the trio instead found a furious silver dragon in human form

The group of you were inseparable, and you'd spent so much time together that you were almost scared to reveal your true self to Rolan

It'd been so long, and anyone could tell that the fledgling wizard was a fussy man

It was only when your group had reached the Shadowlands that Rolan discovered your true form

The mere thought of the three tieflings being taken from you was enough to enrage you to the point of stretching your wings and desperately taking hold of the closest one to you, Rolan

He himself was in absolute shock, between the giant dragon fighting against the ambushers that managed to make off with Lia and Cal

The wizard was distraught, and spent much of his time in the last light inn drunk and angry, even you were a victim of his temper

He was hardly pleased at the secrets you'd been keeping from him

It was only when Cal and Lia were returned, the two fawning over the fact you're a dragon, that Rolan actually pays proper attention to his best friend and crush being a dragon

He has endless questions, knowing you're a long lived species with a great array of knowledge, it's like a neverending interview

He appreciates having a study partner, and then later lover, that can keep up with and even surpass him

Having you around keeps things interesting for Rolan, and you provide him with a sense of security little else can

[pampanope]

Graves Headcanons from Shadows’ POV (Part 1):

((Or, i wanna share some silly hc in this format in between all the art stuff • 3•))

Every Shadow, from the grizzled Spec Ops operator to the fresh faced civilian, no matter what background or experience, always had Graves as that one topic of gossip they turned to when things got too slow.

It’s become both habit and sport to catalog every detail of their Commander and then discuss their findings in a twisted peer review, preferably with alcohol involved, as if gathering intel on a high value target before the op.

Through the years it had been tradition for Elder Shadows to pass on Graves ‘lore’ to the newest Shadows and encourage them to take up the hobby of Graves Watching (it’s effective observation training, you see…if you happen to catch feelings for the boss, well, it’s par for the course)

There’s a ‘published’ (a fat binder of loose leaf) Graves Manual floating around,(bland cover and backing and with dick doodles all over for extra camouflage, pockets full of photos of the Commander from various angles) on base with multiple entries:

- first notable observation: Graves is fucking pretty. Too pretty (and relatively young) to be head of a band of mercenaries. And he knows he’s pretty (been seen smirking at tongue tied, blushing baby Shadows and civilians alike). Rival PMCs and militaries, on the rare chance SC has to cooperate with them, would ogle in envy as the Commander strutted around and barked orders in his tight preferred BDUs (the Shadows preen with pride at this. Every. Damn. Time)

- Graves is every bit the outspoken Texas stereotype. He’s loud, worships at the alter of Texas Barbecue, an avid Dallas Cowboys fan (staff found a jersey in his closet), had been winning gun competitions since he was old enough to compete (off-hand boast from the man himself) and blasts country music both out of love for the genre and out of sadistic spite (Every cookout. The trick is to get a stealthy Shadow to switch playlists while Graves is busy grilling)

- but he’s also been observed waiting for his Shadows to finish speaking, listening intently with full on eye contact (a bit overwhelming for the newbies). He prefers to workout in the evenings, alone, when everyone else would be in the rec rooms or asleep. He’ll take his tablet up to the roof and work in solitude drafting tedious emails or planning a difficult op. There are days, when nothing of note is scheduled, when he’ll almost retreat into himself and bask in the Company’s presence instead of engage.

- it’s this duality that started the Shadows’ fixation on Graves: a pretty loudmouth with Depth (the Shadows chuckled over this description but it was true dammit)

-the man is tight lipped about his childhood and family; braver Shadows have asked but were diverted to other topics or out right shut down (Note: more data needed on this!)

-his personal quarters are spotless and put together (bed made with sheets tightly tucked in, boots shined and neatly placed, everything in its place), his meeting room where he entertains clients is pristine and posh in furnishings, and yet his work office is an utter disaster, organized chaos is a charitable descriptor.

-the Shadows conclude each room represents a facet of the man; the orderly quarters is habit driven from years as a Marine, the opulent meeting room is the face of a successful CEO he wants to present to the world, and his work room, the one filled with binders, reports, coffee stains, knick knacks from his Shadows, is the realest representation of Graves out of the three, the Graves only they were privy to (high fives were exchanged over this big brain discovery, the Shadow who posited this theory was promptly dog piled)

((More to come, just wanted to vomit out these ✨t h o u g h t s✨))

[invinciblerodent]

okay I'm going through my endgame screenshots, and I remember, while playing I caught only the tail end of this voice line, and I made sure to screencap it so I'll remember to get into my feelings about it later, but then the rest of the endgame happened, and I totally forgot.

so here I am now, finally getting unnecessarily into my feelings about it.

(yes, I know most characters probably have a similar cry here. work with me, okay. let me have this.)

just.

"You need to go- I can hold them here".

and that sudden, weird burst of self-sacrifice made my ears perk up for a moment, but it's not even the first time, because even though I hadn't expected it from him after my first playthrough (when I wasn't paying as much attention to him), it's actually not even that unusual for him, the guy driven mainly by self-preservation, to be naturally putting himself in harm's way.

It's kind of subtle, but in these throwaway lines, it's really kind of sweet, how almost-uncharacteristically protective Astarion can be of the player? Especially for someone whose entire relationship with them starts off with him seeking protection (regardless of whether it's successful or not), and whose storyline is in part about overcoming self-interest in favor of self-realization.

Like, it's definitely not as overt as it is for some of the other characters, but the "your savior is here"-type barks he has for aiding a high-approval/romanced character, the "I don't want to see you hurt" and "I want to be able to protect you, too" lines...

Hearing it for the first time, I felt like it sounded maybe a touch out of place, a little bit uncharacteristically sincere, that he'd say "I'll always be here, my love" in the epilogue...

But you know what, yeah. I get it. He will always be there.

no im fine, ill get over this asshole soon enough, you just wait