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mlqueen89 · 3 days ago

Text

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).

word count: 9,776

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service.

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake.

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes.

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.”

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told.

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work.

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas.

“It doesn’t.”

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan.

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.”

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?”

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.”

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to.

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close.

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?”

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?”

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them.

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink.

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.”

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?”

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.”

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.”

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.”

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.”

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level.

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.”

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.”

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.”

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—”

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?”

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt.

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left.

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base.

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him.

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad.

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.”

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.”

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.”

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.”

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign.

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.

“Need a hand?”

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.

Hangman.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely.

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment.

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—”

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?”

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups?

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.”

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did.

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good.

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.”

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact.

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.”

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her.

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.”

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door.

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week.

“305.”

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing.

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door.

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke.

“Hey, Rio.”

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere.

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick.

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.”

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.”

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.”

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?”

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.”

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade.

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy.

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between.

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.”

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.”

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side.

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.”

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….”

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead.

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.”

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?”

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?”

“You know me, Mav—news is news.”

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm.

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.”

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type.

And there it was: the other shoe.

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?”

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.”

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.”

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.”

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.”

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.”

“Thanks.”

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.”

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying.

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.”

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden.

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime.

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign.

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh.

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best.

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight.

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together.

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug.

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions.

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O.

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again.

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner.

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter.

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day.

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?”

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.”

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,”

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.”

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad.

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?”

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?”

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?”

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.”

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.”

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm.

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.”

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.”

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.”

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

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neetily · 2 days ago

Text

Kinktober 2024 — Werewolf Alex

— ✧ pairing: Alex / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 6,856 — ✧ warnings: noncon, werewolf, A/B/O, knotting, pet names (pup), established relationship, breeding, size difference, biting, cervix fucking — ✧ synopsis: you were never meant to and he didn't mean to. you have to understand...

— ✧ A/N: we are SO late to posting this but yknow what. it's posted. thats all that matters. thank you for waiting for me mwah mwah much appreciated please enjoy idk if its good or not i havent written in so long thank you x

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

The end of the month is always a difficult time, right? It’s hard to relax when knowing that the next working period is just right around the corner, haunted by visions of dirt and hay in the corner of his eye. Like a ghost of continuous hardship— he assumes it’s that way for everyone, though not least for him especially. Completely spent, hours toiling over ripe land—the life of a farmer, he knows, he isn’t complaining beyond reason—has left his muscles all sore and aching, straining against the skin surrounding it with bulging exhaustion. If he’s feeling this weak and tired himself, then he can’t imagine just how bad you must feel every month… A pang of guilt leaving him momentarily breathless as he considers his appreciation of you; he can do better, no doubt.

But he especially feels lacking tonight, cosied up in bed with you beneath him, moonlight pouring in from the forgotten about blinds in the dead of night with stark remembrance. It’s a little cold, he thinks. A shivering running up his spine at the chill that envelops him whole, one that he tries to spare you from lest you’re forced to endure the unkind nature of the night with him.

Well, any more than you’ve already had to, anyway.

He’s sure that the nights are long for someone like you, manual labour wearing you down day in and day out… Perhaps the number one thing you look forward to is those comfy bed sheets you currently lay upon at the end of every night. Soft and sleek, slinking over your body with only the utmost of care— it sounds nice! Real nice. He’s aware of how hard you work and, subsequently, how hard you must rest. But selfishly, he thinks that nights like these might just be a little more difficult for someone like him, for someone undergoing his predicament.

Farm work is hard, but have you ever experienced complete and utter transformation in the light of the night? A horror in its own right, from scraggly fur to his shortened temper… It’s scary for him too, y’know? Exhausting, actually, to go through such change in such a short amount of time. Just a little window of moonlight, that’s all it takes for him to forget about his humanity, even in the face of your utter innocence. Have you ever felt the hardship of turning into that which you hate at the end of every month? Regardless of your own wants or wishes?

No, he didn’t think so.

He’d warned you beforehand at the very least. Given the state of things, he felt he owed you the bare minimum of that. He wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if he hadn’t, right? Now, he knows that he’s not responsible for his actions after the fact! He did his due diligence and you decided to ignore him. It’s not his fault. He did his best.

Oh, but as he stares down at you through hazy eyes, taking in the sight of your big wet puppy stare back up at him, he can feel the remainder of his humanity beg for a much needed break. Fluffy wolf ears twitching in contradictory excitement when you whine up at him in assumed confusion, long well groomed tail swishing from side to side eagerly behind him when you avoid his half-lidded gaze. He fucking warned you, little pup. Fucking knew that this would happen at some point, though he thought he’d have taught you better by now. Advising you against his pearly white fangs that shine in the moonlight swimming in from your bedroom window, urging you to leave him and his sharp claws all alone tonight like every end of the month, but oh, they look so nice when digging gently into your soft skin, right?

And, more than anything, he warned you of his inability.

He’s always prided himself on his ability, first and foremost. Strong, well cared for muscles bulging under the weight of the moon tonight, his efforts to be reliably strong for you have paid off in the worst ways possible, right? Knees firmly planted by either side of your hips, half his weight keeping you pinned atop the soft bed sheets he’d helped you pick out one day in town. You were right, they are pretty, and they do compliment you well… particularly when you’re wriggling around on them, attempting to worm your way out of the sticky situation you’ve now found yourself in. Because don’t be mistaken, this is your own fucking fault, pup.

And yet still, here he is, utterly incapable. The complete opposite of everything he’s ever wanted and strived for, an ache clawing at his chest far deeper than he claws at your waist at the realisation that he’s failing you right now. He wants to be better for you, chewing on his bottom lip enough to taste just a sting of metallic as his brows furrow in sheer concentration of the taste, veins popping in his arms in a subconscious attempt to hold back in spite of your stupidity tonight.

“… Warned ya.” He eventually mutters mid leering, huffing to exhale a stagnant sigh he hadn’t meant to hold. As if doing so would somehow temper him, keep you safe on the pretty bed sheets in his strong arms like you were earlier, back when he was frantically warning you to get away— “Sorry— I jus’, fuck, would ya quit fuckin’ squirmin at least—”

Cause you’re making it worse. Not just for him, though his fat cock throbs with barely restrained want at all the wiggling around you’re doing; even if it’s useless. You haven’t a hope in fucking hell of escaping him, not with how hard he trains his muscles just for you. But also, you’re making the situation worse for yourself… You really should have left him when he’d given you the choice, escaped somewhere, fuck, anywhere but right next to him, let alone in your own fucking bed. All you’re really doing is riling him up further simply by existing, pushing him closer to the edge he’s so dangerously perched upon, pleading for him to take that final plunge. And like the loyal little mutt he’s always been for you, he wants for nothing more than to please you. Give you exactly what you’re asking for, panting and pleading for the opportunity to, really.

Which is unfortunate, because he really can’t help himself when it comes to you. Never has been able to, and he bets he never will be able to. That is, providing you stick around him after tonight… Of which he’d never blame you for rejecting the offer, given how mean he’s been to you thus far— and that’s while trying to stay composed, too. You’ve got no fucking idea what the night has in store for you, and the thought alone has excitement welling up in his already racing heart. God he loves you. Fuck he wants to ruin you.

Don’t ever fucking leave me. I need you, you don’t understand—

“Mate—” he growls at you, chest rumbling with obvious affection, throat tight with choked up lust. “My mate.”

“Alex— W-wait, please—!”

You sound so soft right now. Scared, like a little animal. A mere pup to his much larger wolf stature, shivering with inherent submission as he paws and plays at every inch of skin he can reach. The moon hangs high in the sky for him, whispering sweet nothings down his ear with promises of forever— all it takes is one night to secure his place by your side forever. Forever and ever, his half lidded gaze stuck on your tummy as you attempt once more to flee his bruising grip, though the attempt is pitiful. He could fill you up so well y’know? Give you so many cute little pups— oh, and he just knows with a twitch of his cock that you’d be the best mama in the world. His perfect little mate; don’t you want that as badly as he does? Don’t you wanna be his pretty princess pup forever? He always imagines it, yknow. Thinks about it every time he fucks his fist silly, especially during his red hot heats when he’s left to fend for himself. Always thinking about you. Always wanting you. Just you. And the way you’re gasping and shaking from under him tells him that you like the lewd idea just as much as he does, right?

Because where you might babble for a break, your body is at least being more honest with him in place of your verbal lies. And he forgives you for that, for letting your inherently needy nature communicate with his own whether intentional or not. You can’t hide from him, he’s your mate, remember?

But to shut you up for a moment, he pinches at your waist a little harder than necessary. He doesn’t mean to, baby, but you have to understand his position here…

Cock rock hard before you, standing tall and proud as it bobs with precum adorning his red hot tip, arms tense and muscles taut under the amount of restraint he has to exude in order not to split you in half right this very second. You have to understand, that as the moon shines upon his back and his wolfish tail wags happily from side to side, that he’s no better than a mere predator animal right now. The man you’ve come to love and adore is there, distantly, behind the wolf mask smirking down at you.

You’re lucky he even gave you a warning at all, y’know? Not many of his kind would offer you the same sanctuaries.

He’s not sure where your sudden bravery has came from tonight, but he’s not one for complaining. You’ve left him to deal with his heat all alone on many occasions as per his wanting, and things have been just fine, right? You’re still with him for the time being, still consider him your boyfriend, right? He doesn’t understand why you’d ruin it all tonight, everything he’s worked so hard for previously. Doesn’t get why you’d prompt him into pinning you onto the bed with teeth bared and cock out; he can never stand the feeling of fabric rubbing against his heated skin every time his heat comes along. All scratchy and wrong, and besides— doesn’t it feel better to be bare? To be in your most natural state possible? It makes sense, given his animalistic nature.

And it’s only a once a month annoyance anyway. Trivial in the grand scheme of things, no? You really should have been a good girl like how you usually are and stayed the fuck away from him given his genuine pleading, but alas, here he tugs on your pretty skin just for idle fun until you settle down a bit. He can only hold off his instincts for so long, y’know?

And never long enough for you to go back on your stupid decision, that’s for sure.

Y’know, it was just so easy for him to undress you too, like you secretly wanted this to happen deep down. Hell, he has half a mind to actually believe that despite your thrashing around as he pulls and tears items of clothing from your heated body, that you do want this. Maybe you’re just playing hard to get, offering him a little fight to help kick start his prey drive— nothing but the best for you. And well, he can hardly blame you if that’s the case, given how hard his heart thumps with sheer awe upon gazing at your shivering naked frame, gaze glued to your perfect tits that his paws automatically grope at as if magnetic. As if home; he’s only doing what comes natural to him. And he could never be blamed for that, right? What’s natural is never wrong, surely.

“Sorry,” he’s not really, it’s just the he doesn’t know what else to say in the moment. Doesn’t understand how he could possibly bite back the moons influence on his hormones, a shiver running up his spine at the way you inadvertently rub your exposed tummy against his hot cock. Tip just drooling all over your front, a copious amount of precum to help aid in his sole goal tonight. “Don’t mean t’make ya wait.”

You just look so pretty when struggling for him like this, writhing around on the sheets with a wobble on your lips, you wear fear so well, such a little fucking tease aren’t you? The way your brows furrow before him in concentration—or is it upset? He doesn’t care much either way, really—is so fucking hot to him, has his cock twitching and trembling against your soft, breedable body with insatiable need.

“Alex, I— I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t— Didn’t mean to, I didn’t know—”

Bullshit, he seethes to himself upon hearing your lies, huffing with an air of arrogance while rolling his eyes at your misfortune. You fucking knew. Knew exactly what you were getting into tonight, and he’d even go so far as to claim that you want it too. After all, after tonight, you’ll be his pretty puppy mate. And nobody knows his mate better than he does, right?

Which is why he takes to cooing down at you gently. A sickly sweet attempt to warm you up— though he’s sure his excess pheromones will do much of the heavy lifting for him. Exuding his scent all over you, wrapping his tail around one of your legs to softly soothe and relax you into compliance. “Shh,” he whispers down at you, though he can feel the way his expression tugs into one of pain and suffering. Because it hurts to hold himself back for you, physically fucking pains him to keep himself in check for your own safety. If he had it his way you’d be face down ass up on the bed at this point already, but he’s not so far gone as to act the simple animal just yet. There’s still time. “S’okay, lemme take care of ya…”

The weight he pushes down on you from sitting on your lap is enough to keep you in one place for his affections, letting his cock rub along your tummy and pelvis, smearing precum all over your front as if claiming you in the meantime. His claws, once digging into your hips, take to travelling lightly up and down your sides to lull you into a false sense of security. Opening you up to what will come whether you like it or not, simply because it’s in your best interests to lay there and fucking take it— God, fuck… he’s already so hard for you, dripping his stink all over your pretty body to assert his dominance over such a lowly pup such as yourself.

Though what’s important is that you’re his lowly pup. All mine, mine, mine.

And the little squeals and kicks you let out only serve to turn him on further, cock pulsing and fucking begging for more, to feel the too tight squeeze of your cunt as a promise of shared devotion so late at night. It’s almost romantic, he muses to himself, if not for the brutal aspect of his transformation. His ears instinctively turn downwards at the thought, an unspoken apology— though he doesn’t stop. Can’t, really.

All hunched back and muted growls, he simply towers over you. There’s no chance of escape, no way you could ever get out from under him. And that, the complete and utter lack of control you currently have in the situation, turns him on more than anything else. Having you rely on him for anything and everything, just fucking gets to him, y’know? Tail travelling over your legs to leave your knees all wobbly before wagging eagerly behind himself.

You’re lucky he’s been able to hold back till now.

Heat overtakes him at the sight of your attitude, warmth swallowing his lungs whole with a mere gasp escaping him. Its like a light switch goes off in his mind, spurred on by your petulant demeanour— a deep rooted need to prove himself to you, to have you submit, preferably willingly, under his rough touch and leering eyes. The moon commands it, he simply perks his ears up to listen to her call.

“Sit still a minute,” he hums at you, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek to puff it out a little, a subconscious display of dominance as he manhandles you into proper mounting position with such ease even he’s a little surprised at himself. Causing you to squeak as he flips you over so that your face is squished into the soft pillows below, and his bulging arm can hook under your tummy to hoist your ass up in the air for his own selfish enjoyment. The heat, no doubt, has increased his strength. Always does, which is in part why he’d rather you’d leave him alone when the full moon comes. Your pretty little human body is no match for his fur coat.

Little lamb just wanted to offer herself up for the slaughter, didn’t you?

“Alex,” you cut him off with such a scathing tone, the tasty fear dripping your words as he shifts himself to be in a better position to give you exactly what you want in spite of your bodily actions has his heart skipping a loving beat. Like yeah, you should be scared of me. “I—” you attempt to follow up with something less important than his growls, but his harsh hand shoves your face further into the pillow below to shut you up once and for all, to teach you not to interrupt his concentration, or his begging cock that pushes and rubs pre all over your ass cheeks now that he’s primed and ready to mount.

Though he can still feel the twinge of sorry caught in the back of his throat, the way his cock twitches against your shivering frame when he dips the tip down automatically—instinct imploring him to go on, take what’s rightfully yours—the more beastly side of his existence easily convinces him to continue. Pointing his ears in your direction to hear those yummy muted sobs as the tip of his cock grazes against your soaked little slit and— oh, his pheromones are working, right? Either that, or, like he thinks, you fucking want this. Somewhere, deep down in that sexy little wiggling about body of yours, you crave his pups, don’t you?

And, well… Even if you don’t, you’re gonna get em anyway. Because your body is at least asking for it, and he promised to look after you. Every part of you, regardless of whether you ask for it or not— it’s the job of the alpha, right?

Poor little pup, he sighs to himself, one hand keeping your face smooshed against the pillows, while the other automatically takes to wagging his cock between your legs, teasing that puffy little cunt with his sheer weight and size. Everything about him increases during his heat; an attempt to secure a good mate, he thinks. Certainly not to attract a human such as yourself, but alas, he’s hoping that the meagre teasing he provides to your swollen cunt will be enough to help you take him somewhat at least. He’d ordinarily want to, and does, offer you far more in the way of warming you up to his sheer size, but the night wont last forever. And he can feel the ache of need well up in his tummy the longer he stares down at your slit with lust filled hearts in his eyes. Ogling at the tiny little peek of cunt your arched back position offers him, biting down on his bottom lip to suppress a lewd groan from escaping at the shiny slick that coats his cock all sticky with the shaking he does— tail and all.

He’s got alpha appearances to keep up with after all.

Precum oozes from his tip as he idly wags it against you to tempt your submission, humming groans and growls down at you in the meantime. “Behave,” he huffs when you still yet attempt to escape his grip, only prompting him into adding more pressure to your head to help pin you in place. “You’ll get it, fuck— wan’ it so bad, dont’cha?” he lulls, mind fogged with lust as the ache in his balls grows bigger and bigger and—

Ah, he’s rutting against you now. It’s hardly surprising given how hard you tug around his cock, writhing around like a little slut just for him. It’s nice, that despite how much your lips lie against the sheets, your pretty puppy pussy drools honesty all over him. And he wants so badly to lap it all up for you, clean you up empty with flat tongued sucks and greedy gulps, but his cock fucking hurts when pulsing against you. An insatiable need to breed buried deep down in his soul, a tutting scold escaping him when he realises just how long he’s made you wait. That’s not very nice of him, is it?

“S’okay,” he reassures you with a full fanged smile on his lips. It’s short lived, wiped from his expression the moment he leans into the slow thrusts against your slit and fuuuuck— he’s so fucking sensitive, shit. Got the heat to thank for that, pleasure shivers running along his spine to leave him gasping for air simply from a little petting. Like he’s the pup, and not the wolf his appearance dictates otherwise. “Gonna— fuck me—” he can’t fucking focus, cutting himself off as his eyes roll to the back of his skull as if to signal that the transformation is complete, that he is now the wolf in sheeps clothing. Dragging his hips back to let his cock run along the line of your slit, pushing it upwards so that your folds wrap around his girth and— yeah, yeah, “That’s it,” he huffs from behind you, tip pressed dangerously close to your twitchy hole. This is it, God, he can’t wait to fucking take what belongs to him. “Atta girl—! You got it, promise t’take it real nice an’ slow fr’ya.”

He’s smiling wide and toothy to try and hide his lie, because he knows that he wont be able to last like that. Not with his favoured mate bent over before him like a bitch in heat.

He supposes you are now, at least in theory. Soon to be practice.

And it’s so easy for him to let go in the end. Disregard those well intentions he’s spent so long building up for you, casting your wellbeing aside in the selfish pursuit to do only what comes natural to him, which is to say… It’s so easy for him to tilt his hips at the right angle so that his tip catches on your hole, and the resulting squeal you sound from your pillow muffler has a fat bead of milky pre rolling out to leave you stickier than before.

Remember: he gave you his warning. Whatever happens tonight, it’s your fault.

But he doesn’t blame you too much, not when he starts to push his soaked with pre tip inside of sopping cunt, letting it dip into your hole enough to hear you gasp at the unnatural stretch already. Poor babe, he’s struggling too! Holding his breath as a means to concentrate on just how unreal you feel right now, immediately squeezing down on his throbbing cock, choking every slow inch he manages to shove inside of you with impatient minuscule humps. He even whines in sheer sexual frustration over just how much he wants it, how badly he needs to split you in two on his cock, desperately in puppy love with how good you’re making him feel. Got the big bad wolf keening for more, like he was a filthy fucking virgin all over again—

Ah, but you’re just so tiny, and he’s just so big. Comparatively, at least. Little puppy cunt doing her best to accommodate his girth, but no amount of lube could ever hope to have him squeeze in his full size any time soon. And though he may be lost in your tight heat, hazy eyes struggling to take in the sight of your sobbing frame, he’s not evil. Not even as he forces you to endure the burn of his cock humping into you bit by bit, the veins running along it throbbing with every squeal and mewl you let out in response to his bullying, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Not intentionally.

Then he’d have no mate to play with, y’know?

Selfishly, he hunches over you, ‘accidentally’ fucking more of his cock inside of you until you sob in too much pain. Mumbled sorries drip from his puffy lips, bitten bloody from how downright difficult it is for him to treat you with any ounce of respect, especially when his body is practically screaming at him to rail your shape into the mattress under you right this second, to fuck you straight into next week with wobbly legs. But the new angle he provides is a deeper one, greedily so. Instincts kicking in full swing when you wiggle around to attempt getting comfortable on the end of his fat cock— he’s barely even fucked any of it inside of you yet, puppy…

And yet, he finds himself gasping for air alongside you. Forcing his way inside of your too tight little cunt with eager huffs and knowing growls. You’re just so soft and squishy, like what a good little pup should be, gushing around his cock as he pours precum against your hot insides. His tail straightens in his efforts, as if to help him worm his way inside of your tight cunt just a little more, fully gasping for air as the tightness and wetness of your creamy cunt has knocked the wind out of him.

For such a big alpha wolf, all it takes is one little pretty princess pussy to render him stupid, huh? Truly fucking dumb, tongue lolling out from his open maw as he moans openly in enjoyment, pleasure prompting his toes to curl as you attempt to claw away from his unfair little humps, but he’s far too strong for you, isn’t he? Got you pinned pretty in place, hovering over you to completely encase your meagre frame under his much larger stature— he can see the swish of his tail from side to side cast in the shadow he causes above you.

He shifts his weight around a little, letting his sweaty front rest heavily upon your sweaty back while he pins your wrists above your head. Surely causing you to fall off balance and fold into the sheets a little more in the process, but it’s this action that finally allows his sopping tip to kiss against your cervix, and a low howl to escape his dry throat in utter enjoyment. All scratchy and rough, crawled up to his lips automatically as his grip on you tightens, claws digging into your soft skin for better leverage.

“Fuck—” escapes him, hushed and whined with a droop of his ears. Maybe you were right, maybe he should be fucking you for every rut, right? The sobs of pleasure you let out upon the pop of his cock filling your poor little angel cunt right up convinces him to continue, humming to himself as he pats your ass once or twice as encouragement. You’ve got him feeling better than he’s ever felt before, stark hot stimulation coursing through his veins as your tiny hole squeezes the life out of him so well— “Feels good, right?” he huffs just as much for himself as he’s trying to rile you up some more too, taking in the sounds of your gratification before matching you with his own happy sounds. Smiled moans pressed right against the shell of your ear— of course you’re enjoying being filled to the brim with his fat cock, yeah? You wouldn’t be shivering otherwise, he thinks to himself. Wouldn’t be mewling his name over and over again all pretty like that, high pitched and broken, vibrating with excitement as he lets his fat wolf cock rest heavily inside of your hole for a moment or two. Not for your own benefit or anything, but because he’s sure that if he were to move immediately, he’s bust a load before even getting to fully enjoy himself.

And he wants to fuck you into submission too, remember? He cant rightly do that if he cums within seconds like some sort of loser. No, he’s your alpha wolf mate. And he intends on taking care of you, because it’s whats best for you, especially given the way your cunt leaks all over his cock all pretty and sticky like that, dripping down the length of it and onto his balls, and—

Oh. He’s only managed to fuck half his cock inside before you’re fit to burst. The remaining half still pulses outside, jealous no doubt of the warmth his tip his currently experiencing. It’s a shame, of course, that this is all you can manage at the moment, but he’s willing to wait for you. Willing to fuck you again and again during this heat, and for the future heats he’s sure to experience. There’s no escaping them really, so you should be happy to deal with that which you’ve caused. Willing to fuck you until your meek little body learns to accept his full fat cock.

He’s happy enough to fuck you wide open eventually, internally promising to himself to train your cunt to accept his affections sooner rather than later. But it’s difficult to deny just how good it feels to know that he’s so much physically bigger and stronger than you are, as well as the obvious ego stroking your cunts doing to him right now. Stroking him almost as well as she does his cock, squirming around him so well that he has to hang his head lower against you in sheer enjoyment, a greedy curse escaping him in the motion, prompting a small huff to escape your squished lips.

He can’t help himself any longer.

“Gonna ruin you,” he starts, voice low and tense, just like his muscles as he tugs on your body to get you situated perfectly on his cock. Still his hands remain on your wrists, keeping you sufficiently pinned in place, but his other hand spreads your ass cheeks apart so that he can enjoy the sight of your hole twitching around his assaulting cock. “An’ don’t be shy,” he teases, flashing his fangs as a display of dominance even if you can’t see him right now. Surely you can hear his taunts loud and clear through your babbles and bubbles of sobs, picking up on the dominance of his pheromones, right?

“Wanna hear jus’ how much y’enjoy it, kay?”

And he doesn’t give you much of a chance to respond before taking what he wants from you, well past his limits of holding back by now, all thanks to how inherently lewd you’re being for him tonight. Ignoring his well meaning warnings, wiggling your ass impatiently on his cock, and sobbing for more— it’s obvious that he couldn’t refrain from indulging in your sweet scented cunt; he can practically taste the want dripping from your twitchy hole.

Relenting to his natural wolfish instincts, he gives you exactly what you need.

A good dicking down, yeah? A nice, breeding, fuck.

There’s no tenderness to his actions as he pulls his hips back once more, letting just his tip remain inside for you to cry about so sweetly that his cock trembles against you, and there’s similarly no love to be found in his full force slam back inside— unfair in his affections, selfishly seeking to fulfil his sole reason for existing through your tiny little body; God, he could fucking eat you right up if you’d only let him. He just might anyway, regardless of your consent.

Because that’s how fucking feral he feels right now. Unable to listen to reason, or even his own humanity for that matter. Turned into a useless fucking dog at the whim and mercy of his precum coated cock. For all you probably care, he’s a mere tail wagging, drool spilling, hips swinging, fucking dog right now. Fucking into you at such a brutal pace— you aren’t so used to the strength he gains from heats, he’s made sure of that, though he normally has a decent weight behind his thrusts when fucking into you like an animal, there's just something more about him when he inhabits his instincts, right? Complete brutality, an utter disregard for anything other than how good he feels. The bed immediately creaking under your shaking body to match your girlish squeaks thanks to his rash thrusts, fucking as much of his cock inside of you as he can; which is merely half, still, despite the endless supply of lube he offers you. Tiny little puppy, you’re sooooo fucking cute, it’s unfair!

And for a moment he’s choked. Cock and throat, really. In awe at the way you do your best to take him in spite of the stupid size difference, his knees digging into the sheets below to keep himself stable enough to fuck you raw and heavy. Fuck you like you deserve to be, ruin that pretty little pussy, yeah? He’s only returning the favour considering the sheer amount of overstimulation your tight cunt is sucking him into right now has truly ruined him from spending his heats alone. This is what you deserve, yeah? For not leaving him alone like he’d asked.

Oh, but he forgives you for it. Truly, he does. For if not for your stubborn nature, he wouldn’t get to experience the sight of your cream frothing a ring around the mid of his cock like you’re doing right now, body jerking up the bed from how heavy his frantic thrusts are inside of your tight hole. He’d be disallowed from listening to your cute cries for more if you hadn’t been so adamant on sticking around, the mix of no and stop sound so pretty and broken when falling from your lips, got his hips pumping in and out faster out of pure need to hear you make more of those pitiful sounds alone.

You truly are the perfect mate for him.

Nobody else would have him acting this unruly, fucking into your tight little cunt like a man starved, unable to keep up with the brutal pace he’s set for himself as he humps your hole raw. And God, he’s never felt so fucking good before, completely giving in to his selfish desires as he lets go of your wrists now that you’re sufficiently fucked out on half his cock, only to immediately paw and grab at your pretty hanging tits as they bounce in his clawed hands and fuck, he can feel the tacky sheen of sweat line his forehead as he gulps for air and—

You sound so pretty too. All high pitched and cracked, voice barely able to escape the stupid bout of whines and gasps his girth fucks out of you, but pretty all the same. Like you can’t handle his cock, struggling to take his utter adoration of you as he forces his cock shape against your insides, throbbing inside of your hole with seedy intent. Feels good, too fucking good, so unfair in the tight suck of your cunt, he’s got no choice but to give you his all, right? Growling down at you when you yelp at his rough tugs and pulls on your tits, prompting his hips to stutter just a little against your ass as he huffs with feigned annoyance.

“Be a good girl,” he almosts warns you, though he doesn’t intend on it. It’s just that your cunt has him so riled up, heat radiating from him to meld where his cock pounds into you, a rough tone to his voice as if communicating just how downright fucking desperate he is for you tonight. Like he always is, of course, but this time is different. It’s more feral, isn’t it? All teeth and claws and disregard for human nature. Fucked like a filthy animal, so fucking hot, right?

“Be a good girl an’ cum fr’me, yeah? Wanna— shit, wanna feel ya so bad babe—“ he punctuates his begs with greedy fucks forward, incidentally knocking you a little off balance to fall further into him. A welcome mistaken, given that it allows him further leverage to fuck you open, the feeling of your insides squirming around his fat cock is enough to have him on the edge already— which reminds him. “Gotta feel ya cum around me, kay? Jus’ once, promise, I— oh fuck, that’s it— I, I promise, jus’ once baby, c’mon—”

To be honest, he’d say just about anything to you right now if it meant you’d cream his cock, any sordid lie or exaggeration, fucking anything to feel the way your walls choke his cock off so well like that, fuck.

And he’s close too, can feel the way his thighs start to shake and his tummy tightens under the strain of your submission. So cute when you’re being so obedient for him, laying there without a care in the world, just so that he can use you to his hearts content. It’s what he deserves, he thinks, for being suck a good alpha for you, right? Leaning over you just that little bit further so as to clamp his teeth down on your neck— not too hard! He doesn’t intend on harming you from biting, but his fangs are deep enough to promote your compliance, to keep you in place long enough for one of his hands to sneak between your thighs to rub at your clit. All messy and sloppy, barely coordinated from how lightheaded and dizzy he feels thanks to your tight hole sucking him off so well, but he nonetheless urgently attempts to get you off before he busts himself.

He slurps and sucks around your neck wound, making sure to clean it all up for you before you have a chance to cry about the mess, cooing sweet dirty words down your ear and huffing moans for you to hear just how good you’re making him feel, how thankful he is to finally have a mate to spend his heat with. Flicking at your clit the way he knows you enjoy, incidentally fucking into you a little deeper given the way your cunt pulses harsher around his cock— “That’s it, m’so close too, c’mon—” he urges you, listening intently to the loud wet slap of his balls against your slit; he can only imagine the puddle of slick gathering under your creamy cunt. And suddenly his throat is dry with want to suck it up from the sheets immediately following— “Give it t’me, feel s’fuckin’ good, holy shit babe—”

It’s a good thing that you cum almost as soon as he’s finished provoking you, and the confirmation of your returned affections is enough to trigger his own orgasm. Pumping you full of his fat wolf load as deep as he can; it’s an attempt to mark his territory. To claim you as his own pretty pup, his cute little mate that’s currently creaming his cock, gushing around his girth as he offers you meagre little thrusts to make sure as much of his seed stays inside with breeding intent.

His tail wags the whole time, clearly happy with his work as his cock swells and he’s forced to wince at the displeased sounds you let out in response. He’s barely caught his breath enough to reassure you with “I know, I know babe, jus’— fuck, jus’ hold on a minute—” all breathless and moaned, still yet painting your insides white as you come down from your high and come back to your senses. “Know it hurts, God—” he sighs, blissfully unaware of just how much he must be stretching you out on his knot, because he’s too busy feeling the gratification of successfully breeding his perfect pet. “Jus’ wait, you’ll get used to it, promise.”

Keeping you locked under his weight, it doesn’t really matter whether or not you want to get used to the feeling of his knot. All swollen and locked inside of your cunt— you can’t get away from it. Forced to lay there like the breeding bitch you are to him right now until he’s fully empty, letting his seed pump copiously into your already full little hole until it inevitably dribbles out and down his balls, the feeling of which causes him to whine with frustration.

What a waste, he thinks to himself.

“Will give y’more, don’t worry…” he whispers down your ear, humming gently to the sound of your weary weeping.

#alex🏈#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #kinktober #sdv alex smut #stardew valley alex smut #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #kinktober2024 #kinktober 2024 #i think thats all the tags idr lmao

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grayve-mistake · 13 hours ago

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It's good to know how to protect yourself, but I agree that a lot of people take it way too far. I think the best general rule is; Like the first person said, highly populated areas during the day are generally safest for the first few dates. Cafe, movie, restaurant, picnic at the park, whatever suits you. As long as there's cameras and people and it's not the middle of the night. Shoot someone a text about where you are if it makes you more comfortable but it's generally not necessary to be too stressed about it. NEVER go to a bar or a club with a guy/date without telling anyone. Yes, even if you're gay, mlm and wlw dates aren't always safe either. Tell people where you are and when you plan on coming home, don't take your eyes off your drink. Common sense. Never go to a house or secluded location unless you know the person REALLY really well. Shoot someone a text letting them know where you are beforehand. If you get a bad gut feeling to the point where you feel the need to use a million extra security measures, just listen to your feelings, make an excuse, say "sorry i have to go, thanks for your time", and politely leave. Don't try to push through it or make it work if you're getting a bad vibe. Just end the date early, don't bother with a million extra paranoid measures. You're better off just going home if you feel unsafe. If you think someone's following you home, drive around a block a few times to confirm they're actually following you, then drive towards a police station. Usually they'll back off.

You don't need a million self defense devices and gadgets. Learn some basic maneuvers, keep one or two REASONABLE self defense tools at most if necessary. You only really need any of this stuff if you're walking home alone at night a lot. You don't need a million alarms and locks in your house either, they're probably more dangerous than whatever threat you're trying to protect yourself from. Simple latches on your doors and windows will usually do just fine, especially if you're not in a high-crime area (most of the women posting their elaborate security systems online, nay, the only people that can AFFORD elaborate security are white people in a nice little middle class neighborhood with white picket fences. They have nothing to be scared of). You don't need 50 guns, you don't need a husband with you 24/7, most of you don't need 10 alarms or 100 different locks on your door and barricaded windows that'll be real inconvenient when you're in a housefire or a more realistic emergency. Let loose a little. enjoy your life. Go on a cute date without checking your phone 80 times. Live in the moment for a change. It's ok. A while ago I had to walk a mile in the dark after a long shift at work. I share transportation with someone and I live too far away to just walk home, but they had the car, and we worked in the same town so I thought I'd just walk over and ask for the keys instead of waiting around for the next few hours for them to get off their late night shift. The sun went down before I left, it was quiet, dark, and there were lots of run down houses. I passed by a few strangers on the way there. You wanna know what happened? Nothing. Well, my legs were tired and I got a few stickers stuck to my shoes. But other than that, nothing. Did I have the means to defend myself if I had to? Yeah. I keep a couple practical things on me just-in-case. But I've never needed them, and hopefully I never will.

You know the most dangerous thing I encountered on that walk? The lack of fucking sidewalks and crosswalks. Had to strategically dart across some very busy roads and watched a guy slam on his brakes past the white line because he was going to run a red light until he saw me step forward a bit. The danger was not the random guy or two I saw walking around, probably in a similar situation as me, and minding their business. If you want to make your city safer, advocate for better walkability or public transit, lmao.

i'm sorry the self-victimization of some women i see online is crazyyyyy, they're saying shit like "yeah being a woman is so crazy, if you go on a date you have to text his full name and picture to your friend, and also where you're meeting, and share your location throughout the date, and check in hourly" girl the only safety measure you need is meeting in a populated place. that man is NOT going to kidnap you from Popular Cafe on Well-Frequented Street in broad daylight at 2pm. i promise. do you go forest hiking as a first date or what the fuck.

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kckt88 · 3 days ago

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Scorched Hearts XVII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

After spending sometime with her brothers, Valaena makes a discovery.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Revelations, Brother/ SIster Teasing, Aegon Being A Menace, Mild Violence, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, P in V.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 6000

A.N - Bit of a fluffy/cheeky one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Jace and Luke strode purposefully through the corridors, their voices low but heated as they bickered.

“I went last time,” Jace argued, his dark brows furrowing. “It’s your turn to ask.”

Luke scoffed. “No, it was me, and I got the door slammed right in my face.”

“No. That was me,” Jace countered sharply. “And, I also got called a bastard.”

“Well, so did I,” Luke snapped back.

Jace’s pace quickened as he turned to face his younger brother.

“What if we both go this time? Aemond can’t stop us both. Valaena is our sister. We’ll demand to see her. He can’t just keep her locked away forever.”

Luke tilted his head, considering. “That’s not a bad idea. Safety in numbers and all that-”

The two brothers quickly nodded in agreement as they neared the door that would lead them to Valaena and Aemond’s chambers.

However, their path was blocked by Lirri and Arro, who were sat nearby, guarding the entrance, as they played some sort of card game with each other.

Arro glanced up, his stoic face giving nothing away. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.”

Jace frowned. “Why not?”

Lirri, smiled as she, leaned forward. “My lady and my lord are very busy.”

Luke blinked, tilting his head in slight confusion. “Busy doing what?”

Before Lirri could answer, a muffled yet unmistakable sound of pleasure came from behind the heavy oak doors.

Both boys froze in place as the noise repeated, louder this time.

Jace groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re at it again?”

Luke cringed. “How is that even normal?”

Lirri, clearly amused, grinned as she answered. “My lord has a ravenous appetite for my lady. He is very virile man-”

Jace grimaced. “I did not want to know that.”

Luke shook his head quickly. “Neither did I.”

Before either could continue, Aegon strolled into the hallway, a mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

He spotted Lirri, and his grin widened when she blushed and smiled back.

“What are you all standing around here for?” Aegon drawled, hands on his hips.

Jace cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “We were just—”

Another sound of pleasure, unmistakable and unabashed, spilled into the hallway.

Aegon burst into laughter. “So, my brother’s back to getting his end away, and you’re all standing here listening. You dirty little buggers.”

“Hey!” Luke protested. “That’s not true. We were coming to see if Valaena wanted to go dragon riding.”

Aegon arched an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “From the sounds of it, she’s already riding the dragon.”

Jace groaned in disgust. “You are so disgusting-”

“Me?” Aegon laughed. “You’re the ones standing here listening to your sister being fucked into the mattress.”

Luke turned the tables quickly. “And what are you doing here, then?”

Aegon’s smirk faltered for a moment as his gaze darted to Lirri and then to Arro.

“No reason. I-I was just-out for a walk.”

Luke let out a heavy sigh, clearly done with the entire situation. “Maybe we should come back later.”

Arro nodded slightly. “Might be best to give it an hour or two. Just to be certain.”

Jace blinked at him, incredulous. “Are you actually being serious?”

Lirri nodded cheerfully. “In Qarth, sometimes my lord would take my lady many times, until he very tired and needed many hours sleep-”

Luke stared at her in disbelief. “So they’ve always been like this?”

Lirri’s smile widened. “Oh, yes. My lord is not shy about the love he gives my lady.”

Jace tugged on Luke’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go. We’ll wait until later.”

“You coming, Aegon?” Luke asked.

Aegon muttered under his breath, “I would have been if you weren’t here.” Then, louder, he said, “No. I’ll finish my walk.”

As Jace and Luke trudged off, grumbling to themselves, Aegon exhaled in relief, glancing at Lirri.

“Thank the fucking gods. I thought they’d never leave.”

Lirri chuckled. “They’re nice boys.”

Aegon’s brow furrowed in mock offense. “And what about me?”

Lirri’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re a very naughty boy.”

Aegon seized her waist, pulling her close. “Maybe you should punish me then.”

Lirri glanced at Arro, who gave a small nod of approval.

Aegon’s grin grew wicked. “Arro may join us, if he wishes. As you know, I enjoy it when he does.”

Arro inclined his head. “As you wish my Prince-”

Without another word, the three slipped away toward Lirri’s chambers, leaving the hall outside Aemond and Valaena’s chambers blissfully quiet—save for the occasional muffled sound of passion behind closed doors.

Valaena watched Aemond for a moment, her fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone as his silver hair spilled across the pillow.

His serene expression as he slept, so free of the tension he recently carried, made her heart swell.

Leaning down, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, brushing away a stray strand of hair.

He didn’t stir, merely exhaling a soft sigh of contentment.

With a small smile, Valaena turned to the bedside table where the moontea sat.

The smell made her nose wrinkle, but she lifted the cup, holding her breath as she downed the liquid in one gulp.

She grimaced, sticking out her tongue slightly as she muttered under her breath, “So gross.”

Setting the cup aside, she walked to the door, opening it just enough to poke her head out.

“Lirri?” she called softly.

No answer.

Valaena frowned. "Odd," she murmured before closing the door quietly.

Moving quickly but silently, she took a warm, damp rag from the washbasin and cleaned herself, ridding her skin of the evidence of her many vigorous encounters with Aemond.

Her insatiable husband was determined to make up for the weeks he had deprived them both due to his fears, and he had been unrestrained when they had returned to the Red Keep.

He took her many times with passion and ferocity in equal measure, his cock stirring as soon as he’d spilled his seed after every encounter, until he’d passed out from exhaustion.

Once refreshed, Valaena dressed herself in a comfortable gown and headed toward the nursery.

Rhaegar, Elaena, and Daenys were spending the day with Alicent, leaving only Aemon too check on.

She entered the room to find her youngest child still fast asleep, his tiny hand resting on the dragon egg nestled in his cradle.

This egg, gleaming with faint golden scales and red streaks, had been gifted from Syrax, her mother’s dragon.

It was a hopeful token, though it weighed heavily on her heart.

Neither her nor Aemond’s eggs had hatched in their youth, and they both knew the sting of disappointment as they were left on the ground as the others took to the skies.

Valaena prayed silently that Aemon would not have to endure the same fate, but upon closer inspection it would seem as though he would not, as she noticed a faint crack in the shell.

She let her hand hover over the shell, and she smiled as could feel the warmth and the unmistakable presence of life.

Leaning down, Valaena placed a soft kiss on his silver hair. “Dream sweetly, my little dragon, for you will also soar amongst the clouds alongside your brother and sisters-” she whispered.

Gently closing the door behind her, she turned to leave when a muffled scream caught her attention.

Her brows furrowed as the sound came from Lirri’s chambers.

Panic surged through her as she pushed the door open without hesitation.

The sight that greeted her made her freeze in the doorway.

Lirri sat in the centre of her bed, naked and flushed, her long hair dark falling in disarray around her shoulders.

“Oh, my gods-Lirri I’m so sorry I-AEGON?” shrieked Valaena.

“Good sister-” Aegon drawled, his grin widening as he folded both arms behind his head.

“W-What are you doing?” exclaimed Valaena.

“Errr-I think it’s fairly obvious what we were doing” said Aegon, moving his hips slightly, making Lirri gasp at the movement.

Arro quickly removed his hand from Aegon’s chest and scrambled out of the bed; his face red as he fumbled for his breeches.

“M-My l-lady-I-I apologise-” stuttered Arro.

Valaena’s violet eyes darted between the three, her voice faltering. “The three of you?”

Lirri covered her face with her hands, mortified, while Arro stood awkwardly, half-dressed, still stammering. “My—my lady, I-I-”

“How long has this been going on?” asked Valaena.

Aegon shrugged nonchalantly. “Couple of months, maybe?”

Valaena placed a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. “And you join in with them?” she asked Arro pointedly.

The guard blushed extended to the tips of his ears. “Yes, my lady. Sometimes I join in and other times, I just watch-”

“Right, and I take it Lirri is the woman you was telling me about?”

Aegon nods “Yes, she is-important to me”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Valaena let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Well, I guess I’ll leave the three of you to it then.”

Lirri slid off Aegon’s lap, clutching the sheet around her as she rushed after Valaena.

“Wait, my lady, please let me explain!”

Valaena turned, smiling gently. “You don’t have to, I will admit that I’m a little shocked, but it’s fine”

Lirri hesitated. “You’re-you’re all right with this?”

“As long as you’re happy and safe, that’s all that matters,” Valaena replied sincerely.

Relief washed over Lirri’s face as she nodded. “I am very happy, my lady and safe-”

“I’m glad,” Valaena said warmly, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

From the bed, Aegon piped up, “You’re not going to tell my mother, are you?”

Valaena snorted, rolling her eyes. “Gods, no.”

Aegon let out a sigh of relief, lounging back with his arms behind his head again.

As Valaena reached the door, she paused, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Out of curiosity-” she began, turning to Lirri. “-Is Aegon, you know-good?”

Lirri’s face turned scarlet as she glanced at Aegon, then back to Valaena. “Very good, my lady.”

Valaena burst into laughter, waving a dismissive hand. “You and Arro are excused from your duties for the day. Enjoy yourselves, all three of you-”

She left the room giggling, her laughter echoing down the hall as the door clicked shut behind her.

The gentle sound of Aemon’s cries carried down the hall, immediately drawing Valaena’s attention.

She quickened her pace finding her son fussing in his cradle, his tiny hand still resting on the dragon egg.

Scooping him up, she held him close, murmuring soft reassurances as his cries settled into quiet whimpers.

Cradling Aemon against her chest, she made her way back to her chambers.

Pushing open the door, she found Aemond now awake, sitting in bed with his legs draped over the side, rubbing his face while wincing slightly as his fingers brushed too close to his left eye socket.

The sapphire embedded there glinted in the morning light, a stark contrast to his pale complexion.

“Are you ok?” Valaena asked, concern evident in her voice as she shifted Aemon to rest against her shoulder.

Aemond sighed, nodding faintly. “The sapphire, it’s irritating my eye socket a little today. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Valaena frowned and quickly moved toward the vanity, pulling out a soft cloth and a small jar of salve.

She also grabbed a bowl of clean water before turning back to Aemond.

“Here,” Aemond said, extending his arms toward her. “Let me take him.”

Valaena hesitated but then handed Aemon to his father.

Aemond took his son gently, pressing him against his bare chest.

Aemon immediately calmed, nestling into the warmth of his father’s skin, his tiny fist resting against Aemond’s collarbone.

“Lie back,” Valaena instructed softly.

Aemond reclined against the pillows as she approached with the damp cloth.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she dipped the cloth into the cool water and began to carefully dab around the edges of his scar and the sapphire.

Aemond hissed softly at first, but her touch was so gentle that the discomfort soon eased.

“How does it look?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

“A little red,” Valaena admitted. “I don't think it’s nothing to worry about, though.”

Aemond nodded, his hand absently stroking Aemon’s fine silver hair as the baby rested quietly on his chest.

“He seems content,” Valaena observed with a soft smile. “I think he enjoys the sound of your heartbeat.”

Aemond’s expression softened as he gazed down at his son. “I’m glad my children can find comfort with me,” he said quietly.

“You’re a wonderful father, Aemond,” Valaena said firmly as she set the cloth aside and began applying the salve to the reddened edges of his eye socket and along the scar. “I know you worry about it sometimes, but you truly are.”

“It’s not like I had a great example of what a father should be,” he admitted, his tone tinged with the bitterness of memory.

Valaena paused, her gaze meeting his as she gently worked the salve into his skin.

“As much as I loved my grandsire, I also hated him for how he treated you, your brothers, and your sister. No child asks to be brought into the world—it was his duty to guide you, to love you. And he failed you all.”

“I got used to it,” Aemond said quietly, though there was a flicker of pain in his voice.

“I once asked him why he loved my mother the most,” Valaena said, her voice soft but contemplative. “Even as a child, it was obvious how he favoured her. He told me it was because of Aemma—the guilt he carried for her death. My mother was the last piece of Aemma he had left.”

Aemond reached out, taking her free hand in his. “In part, I understand his grief-especially after I almost lost you.”

Valaena paused, her thumb gently brushing over his knuckles. “But he still should have been there for all of you, not just one of you.”

Aemond nodded silently, his grip tightening on her hand. “Do you know how much I love you?” he asked after a moment, his voice low but full of emotion.

Valaena smiled, leaning closer. “A lot, I hope.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded. “With every fibre of my being. I love you.”

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. The moment was quiet, intimate, and full of unspoken promises.

And then Aemon let out a loud fart, his tiny face scrunching up as it turned a vivid shade of red.

Followed by a loud squelching sound.

Valaena pulled back with a startled laugh. “Well, I think someone’s cloth is soiled,” she said, as she lifted Aemon from his father’s chest.

Aemond leaned back against the pillows with a groan, folding his arms.

“Way to ruin the moment son,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose at the unmistakable smell.

Valaena laughed, bouncing Aemon gently in her arms as she laid him at the end of the bed.

“Don’t worry, my love. There will be plenty more moments,” she teased, flashing him a playful grin.

Aemond huffed but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips.

Valaena finished securing the fresh cloth around Aemon, who was now kicking his legs eagerly.

She leaned down, nuzzling his tiny tummy until he squealed with delight, his little hands reaching for her face.

Valaena grinned, her heart full as she placed soft kisses on Aemon’s face.

“You should know,” she said, glancing at Aemond, who had just finished getting dressed “Aemon’s dragon egg has cracked.”

Aemond’s single eye lit up with a rare, genuine smile. “It shouldn’t be too long before another hatchling joins us.”

“No,” Valaena agreed warmly. “-but speaking of hatchlings, we need to talk to Rhaegar about Sapphyre. He’s getting far too large to be staying in his chambers.”

Aemond sighed, folding his arms. “I know Rhaegar won’t like it, but perhaps it’s time for Sapphyre to be with Vhagar and Silverwing. He needs space to grow properly.”

Valaena carefully dressed Aemon in fresh clothes, smoothing the soft fabric over his tiny body. “I think Rhaegar fears that Sapphyre will be chained in the pit.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “I will not allow such a thing to happen. That place-it is not fit for dragons. Or any living creature, for that matter.”

Valaena nodded, meeting his determined gaze. “As you know, I hate that place too.”

Aemond stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “I swear to you, the hatchlings will never see chains. Not while I have breath in my body.”

Valaena’s expression softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. “I believe you, my love.”

Aemon let out a loud gurgle, his legs kicking energetically again. Valaena laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Someone’s eager to be on the move”

Aemond chuckled as he reached out and took Aemon into his arms, cradling him close. “How about I take this little one out flying with Vhagar?”

Valaena nodded, smoothing the baby’s hair. “Sure, I think he’d enjoy that. Oh—but before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Aemond furrowed his brow. “What is it?”

She hesitated, then said with a wry smile, “I walked in on Lirri and Arro earlier-but they weren’t alone.”

Aemond’s expression shifted to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Aegon was with them,” she said bluntly. “Seems the three of them are-a thing.”

Aemond blinked, then pursed his lips. “A thing, as in—”

Valaena nodded, cutting him off. “-Laying with each other. Yes”

Aemond exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “So that’s who he was talking about the other day-”

Valaena raised a brow. “You knew?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, adjusting Aemon in his arms. “I knew he was involved in some kind of dalliance with a woman and a man. But I didn’t know it was Lirri and Arro.”

“Should we be worried?” Valaena asked, leaning against the edge of the bed.

“When it comes to Aegon, I’m always worried,” Aemond muttered. “I suppose the only thing we can do is keep an eye on it. And for the Seven’s sake, make sure Lirri drinks moon tea. I’ve accepted that my brother and sister have an understanding, but I won’t have Lirri birthing his child. He has enough bastards running around the streets of silk; he doesn’t need more.”

Valaena nodded. “I agree. But it’s not exactly ideal, especially if she wants a child with Arro.”

“That’s for them to sort out,” Aemond said firmly. “But I mean it, Valaena. I won’t have it.”

“I know,” she assured him, touching his arm again. “And I understand.” She smiled down at Aemon, who was squirming in his father’s hold. “Right—let’s get this little one ready. He’s clearly getting impatient and I said I’d help Aegon and Viserys with their high Valyrian-”

Aemond grinned, shifting Aemon to a more comfortable position. “Our little dragon. Is eager to get into the sky.”

Valaena laughed as Aemon gurgled in delight, his tiny fingers grasping at Aemond’s tunic. “He’s certainly determined-”

“Of course-”Aemond said with mock seriousness. “He’s my son, after all.”

The library was quiet except for the soft murmur of Valaena’s voice as she spoke in High Valyrian, guiding her younger brothers, Aegon and Viserys, through a lesson.

Aegon leaned forward, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempted to mimic her pronunciation.

Viserys, meanwhile, sat cross-legged on the floor, doodling dragons in the corner of his parchment when he thought no one was looking.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Luke’s dark curly head popped through the gap. “Is it safe?” he asked cautiously, his eyes darting around the room.

Valaena laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Aemond has taken Aemon flying with Vhagar. You’re safe—for now.”

Luke’s face lit up. “Jace! She’s in here and finally free of Aemond!”

The door burst open as Luke came barrelling through, Jace trailing behind him with a less enthusiastic stride.

“Sister,” Jace greeted her with a grin, “It’s good to finally see you without your one-eyed—never mind,” he quickly corrected, catching the venomous glare Valaena shot his way.

Luke flopped into an armchair, his legs hanging over the armrest. “What are you doing?”

“Helping Aeg and Vis learn High Valyrian,” Valaena replied, gesturing to her brothers.

“Why didn’t Mother just ask Gerardys?” Jace asked, frowning. “He was the one who taught me.”

“Because he’s the Grand Maester,” Valaena said, rolling her eyes. “He has more important things to do. And if I recall, you didn’t actually finish learning the language of our forebears.”

Jace scoffed. “Just because Daemon taught you—”

“And Luke,” Valaena interrupted with a smirk. “You’re just lazy.”

Jace stuck his tongue out at her. “Am not!”

“Yes, you are,” Valaena shot back without missing a beat.

Jace sat up straighter, puffing out his chest. “Keligon lēda nūmāzma!” (Stop with mean).

Valaena exchanged a knowing look with Luke before sighing. “It’s actually Keligon issare nūmāzma, ao rōva mittys.” (Stop being mean, you big idiot).

Jace blinked. “Did you just call me a fool?”

“No,” Valaena said with a grin. “I called you a big idiot.”

Luke burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Sīr skorkydoso glaesā mandia?” (So, how are you sister).

Valaena smiled warmly. “Iksan sȳrī kirimvose.” (I am well, thank you)

“That’s not fair!” Jace grumbled, glaring at them.

“Well,” Valaena teased, “-If you had kept learning, you’d know what we were saying.”

Little Aegon, who had been following the exchange with wide violet eyes, giggled before chiming in. “Aōha sīr doru-borto rōva lēkia.” (Your so dumb, big brother)

Both Valaena and Luke burst into laughter as Jace glowered at his younger brother. “What did he just say?”

Viserys, still doodling, added helpfully, “Se ziry’s jiōraton quba ōghar.” (And he’s got bad hair).

That sent Valaena and Luke into another fit of laughter.

Jace scowled. “Ao aspo!” (You bitch),

“Oh, so you know what that means?” Valaena teased.

Jace crossed his arms. “I called you a bitch.”

“Yeah, I know,” Valaena replied with a smirk. “Duh-”

Aegon yawned, looking up at her. “Mandia, issi īlon tetan?” (Sister, are we finished?)

“Syt tubī kessa,” Valaena said gently. (For today, yes).

Viserys perked up. “Can we go play with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera now?”

“Of course, I’ll come with you-” Valaena said, standing and stretching. “I want to see Helaena anyway.”

Before the little ones scampered off, Jace slouched deeper into his chair, sulking. Valaena walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, ruffling his hair.

“Turn that frown upside down, little brother.”

“Pffft” muttered Jace still scowling.

Luke stood and stretched. “I think I’ll come with you with you as well”

Valaena nodded. “Are you coming, Jace, or are you going to keep throwing a tantrum like a little girl?”

Jace grumbled as he stood. “I don’t like it when you pick on me.”

“Now you know how Aemond felt when you used to do it to him,” Valaena said pointedly as they left the library.

“That wasn’t just me, you know!” Jace protested.

“Yes. I’m well aware of that,” Valaena said with a knowing smile.

Later that night, Valaena had just finished tucking her children into bed and was on her way out of Rhaegar’s chambers when a figure rushed past her, sobbing.

She barely caught sight of Lirri’s tear-streaked face before the young woman disappeared into her chambers.

Alarmed, Valaena turned and followed, pushing the door open to find Lirri crumpled on her bed, her body shaking with quiet, wrenching sobs.

Valaena approached and sat down beside her, resting a comforting hand on her back.

“Lirri, what’s wrong?” she asked gently.

Lirri sat up, her breath hitching as she wiped her face with trembling hands.

“Aegon has ended our involvement,” she managed between sobs.

Valaena frowned. “How come?”

“He said he worries his mother will find out,” Lirri said, her voice breaking.

Valaena let out an incredulous scoff. “A pathetic excuse. Since when has Aegon cared about his mother’s approval? He certainly didn’t when he busied himself with the whores on the Street of Silk.”

Lirri sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “I love Arro very much. He’s kind and gentle, but I—I—”

Valaena’s expression softened. “You love Aegon too,” she finished for her.

Lirri nodded, her face crumpling again. “Yes. Very much.”

Valaena sighed, squeezing Lirri’s hand. “It’s a rather unique situation, that’s for certain.”

Lirri hesitated, looking down. “Are you ashamed of me, my lady?”

“Never,” Valaena said firmly, taking Lirri’s hand in both of hers. “How could you even think such a thing?”

Lirri lowered her gaze. “Because I do not act as a woman should.”

“And who decides how a woman should act?” Valaena asked, her voice sharp with disdain. “A man? Please. Most days they don’t know their arse from their elbow.” She softened her tone. “All I ask is that you’re being careful.”

“Careful, my lady?” Lirri asked, frowning.

“The customs in Westeros are vastly different from those in Essos,” Valaena explained. “I know Aegon has some kind of understanding with Helaena but—”

“Yes,” Lirri said. “He loves her like a sister, not a wife.”

“That may be so, but she is still his wife in the eyes of gods and men,” Valaena said. “Having his child would dishonour her.”

Lirri stiffened. “He’s sired children on other women before.”

“Yes,” Valaena admitted. “But given how close you and I are, it wouldn’t be fair to Helaena to have her husband’s illegitimate child living in the Red Keep.”

Lirri’s face burned with shame. “Have no fear, my lady. Aegon does not spill his seed inside—”

“That’s something, at least,” Valaena muttered. “But what else did Aegon say to upset you so?”

Lirri hesitated, her voice trembling. “He told me he had fun but that it’s over. And then he became cruel and called me he called me a byka līve.”

Valaena’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing with fury. “Oh, Did he, now? We’ll see about that.”

Before Lirri could stop her, Valaena shot to her feet and stormed out of the room.

Ignoring Lirri’s frantic calls, she marched through the Red Keep, her anger bubbling hotter with every step.

When she reached Aegon’s chambers, she didn’t knock. She shoved the door open, finding him mid-conversation with Aemond.

“You!” she shouted, pointing at Aegon.

Aegon turned, startled, but had no time to respond before Valaena barrelled toward him.

She knocked him to the ground and climbed on top of him, her fists flying as she struck any part of him, she could reach.

“You dare call her a little whore?” Valaena snarled, her words punctuated by punches. “The only whore around here is you—rude, selfish, arrogant, pig!”

Aegon giggled through the chaos, half-laughing, half-wheezing.

Aemond finally stepped in, wrapping his arms around Valaena and pulling her off. She struggled against him, still thrashing.

“No! You don’t understand—he needs to suffer!”

“What has he done?” Aemond asked, his voice calm but firm.

“He ended his involvement with Lirri and called her a little whore,” Valaena spat. “I won’t have it—I won’t!”

Aegon groaned as he climbed to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, all right?”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to, you vicious little CUNT!” Valaena shouted, lunging again.

This time, she wrapped her hands around his throat, shaking him.

“Valaena” exclaimed Aemond, his arms folded across his chest, watching with mild amusement.

“You will go to her, you will apologize, and you will do whatever it takes to make her happy again. Do you hear me?”

Aegon gasped, clawing at her hands. “Aemond—help—get her off me!”

But Valaena released him on her own, shoving him away.

Aegon staggered back, coughing and rubbing his neck. “Gods,” he wheezed. “You really are strong.”

Valaena stepped forward again, ready to pounce, but Aemond quickly grabbed her. “Whoa there, my feisty dragon, that’s enough-”

Valaena struggled briefly against Aemond’s vice like grip, but then relented.

Aegon straightened, still catching his breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I-I just got scared.”

“Scared of what?” Valaena snapped. “We’re not going to say anything.”

“Y-You’re not?” Aegon asked, eyes wide.

“No,” Valaena said firmly. “I would never allow harm to come to Lirri—or Arro, for that matter.”

Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I love her. Gods, I love them both.”

“Then go make it right,” Valaena said, her voice low and dangerous. “Or so help me, I’ll cut you from cock to throat.”

Aemond smirked faintly. “Better do as she says, brother, she’s serious-”

Aegon nodded quickly and fled the room.

As the door slammed shut, Aemond turned to Valaena, his expression dark and intense.

He grabbed her and slammed her back against the wall, pressing his body against hers.

His hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

“Watching you kick the crap out of Aegon was-incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Valaena smiled, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders. “Oh, really?”

“Made my blood hot,” Aemond admitted, leaning closer, before capturing her lips in a ferocious, searing kiss.

Without breaking contact, Aemond gripped her thighs and lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the cool stone wall.

Her hands flew to his shoulders, anchoring herself as her breath hitched, her body heating under his touch.

Aemond’s hand slid down her side, rough and eager, while his other braced her firmly against him.

His lips left hers to trail down her jaw, nipping and kissing the sensitive skin of her neck as she arched into him.

“Aemond,” Valaena breathed, her voice shaky yet teasing.

His eye, dark with desire, met hers as he rasped, “Hmm?”

“Are we really doing this in here?” she asked, her lips curling into a faint smile despite her breathlessness.

“Why not?” Aemond murmured, his voice gravelly and thick with longing.

His hand reached between them, fumbling with the ties of his breeches.

Valaena laughed softly, her cheeks flushed, as her fingers tangled in his long silver hair, tugging lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, capturing her lips again with fervent intensity, his body pressed hard against hers, the tension between them crackling like wildfire.

Aemond’s hand then moved beneath her dress and with a sharp tug, he tore her smallclothes away, the fabric ripping with a sound that echoed in the room.

Valaena gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Oh gods, Aemond,” she breathed.

Aemond growled low in his throat, his hand moving to guide himself.

Without hesitation, he thrust into her in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. Both of them cried out, their voices mingling in the air between them.

Aemond wasn’t gentle. His movements were raw, driven by an all-consuming need.

Each thrust was powerful, stealing her breath and leaving her clinging to him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her hips moving in time with his as they chased the same desperate rhythm.

“Valaena-fuck-” he murmured against her neck, his voice rough and low.

The sound of her name, spoken with such intensity, sent a shiver through her.

Her hands moved to his back, her fingers pressing hard.

“Aemond, don’t stop-oh gods” Moaned Valaena, her head falling back against the wall.

The tension coiling between them threatened to snap, the sheer intensity of their passion overwhelming.

He kissed her again, his lips bruising and fierce, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“You’re mine,” growled Aemond against her mouth, his hips driving into hers with a possessive fervour that left no doubt of his claim.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tightened around him. “Always.”

“Tell me how it feels” demands Aemond.

“It’s good, so good-yes-yes, don’t stop-oh god. Please-please-”

Valaena praises sets something off inside Aemond as he continues to pound into her.

“Aemond, please, I’m close, so close” whimpers Valaena.

Aemond moves a hand down to where the two of them are joined, and rubs her pearl in slow circles, dragging her closer the edge of the precipice.

“I never want to leave this sweet cunt–fuck,” groans Aemond as he marks each of his words in tandem with a rough snap of his hips.

Valaena peaks with a loud, scream, her body shuddering.

Aemond then shifts his hold on Valaena, pulling her away from the wall without breaking their connection.

He carried her to Aegon’s bed, laying her down against the dishevelled sheets.

His hips snapping against hers with unrelenting force.

Valaena’s hands roamed over his back, her fingers clutching at his tunic as she arched into him.

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, her voice teasing as she gasped, “Fucking your wife in your brother’s bed, Aemond? Really?”

Aemond chuckled, his laughter low and rough. “Oh well,” he said, smirking as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, driving deeper. “I’ll send him new sheets as a gift.”

The humour in the moment only heightened the passion between them, but then Aemond’s eye caught on something sitting on the bedside table—a smooth, carved wooden object.

Aemond’s rhythm faltered for the briefest moment as he frowned. “What the hell is that?”

Valaena followed his gaze, her cheeks flushing faintly as she realized what he’d seen.

She quickly tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his face back down to hers. “Best not think about it,” she whispered, her voice sultry as she claimed his lips in a searing kiss.

Aemond resumed his relentless pace, his hips slamming into hers.

“Are you close my sweet?” asked Valaena, her teeth nibbling Aemond’s neck.

“Gods yes. I’m close. Fuck-Valaena” groaned Aemond.

“That’s it. Let go”

“J-Just a little longer-fuck I’m going to-” groans Aemond as he slams into Valaena before reaching his own peak, spilling rope after rope of seed inside her.

After a few moments, Aemond gently moved Valaena’s legs from his shoulders, his chest heaving with every breath he takes, his cock still twitching.

“I-I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?” asked Aemond.

“No. Gods, I-It was so wonderful” exclaimed Valaena, her body shaking slightly.

Aemond smirks as he slowly removes his softened cock from her slick cunt, his singular eye fixated on the drops of seed that spill out.

He takes a finger to Valaena’s opening and pushes his seed back inside, delighting in her moan of surprise.

Aemond then leans over to press a gentle kiss to her lips, before bringing his finger to his own mouth and sucking it clean.

He then lays down on the bed, pulling Valaena close to him.

After a few minutes, Aemond’s curiosity got the better of him as his eye returned to the offending wooden object. His brow furrowed in obvious confusion.

“Valaena, what is that thing?” he asked, his voice tinged with equal parts irritation and intrigue.

Valaena groaned, dropping her head back onto the pillow in exasperation. “Aemond, you really don’t want to know-”

Aemond then had an inclination of what it was and wrinkled his nose, glancing back at it with a grimace.

“Gods, my brother is such a deviant,” he muttered, his expression twisting between disgust and begrudging amusement.

Valaena burst into laughter, grabbing Aemond’s face and pulling him in for a kiss. “Forget about it, my love,” she murmured against his lips, her tone soothing but with a playful edge.

With a small sigh of resignation and a shake of his head, Aemond kissed her deeply. “Fine. But I’m having that thing burned later.”

Valaena bit her lip to stifle her laughter. “Good luck explaining that to your brother and Lirri-”

TBC.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen

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spicedwatermel0n · 2 days ago

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Young adult designs

Finally redesigned them!!! I wasn't really comfortable with keeping my late teen designs and young adult designs looking mostly the same aside from a few minor details so this is to fix that!! I've said I was gonna do this for a while lmfao... Anyways this look will span from 21 to 30 in which they undergo changes that I may not post rn? Adult and early teens are both sort of untouched designs. I have the looks in mind, but they're not really heavy on plot so... They haven't been drawn out. But I will post middle aged designs!! Now for obligatory "what are they like"

Nigel: looks pretty dead beat. He lost his arm in a mission for the KND some time ago. He's difficult to find, as he doesn't really... Live anywhere. If you need him, just wish for him. He'll probably arrive... Or not, because he's not a mind reader. He's starting to get into minor conflicts with the police. No one knows anything more about him, and that's probably his goal.

Hoagie: went cold turkey on EVERYTHING when he got his apartment. He's too busy fooling around with Wally or working to do anything bad to himself... He works a pretty rough 7-5 at a store where he does whatever they ask him to. Stock shelves, mop the floors, deal with customers... But it keeps a roof over his head, so he does it. He tends to wear a basic company uniform to work, that he absolutely DESPISES. Once he's home, he usually gets into something feminine. His job sometimes requires him to work extra hours or stay a bit longer to finish something. He holds internal anger for it, because he just wants to get home and smother Wally with love, but he does it because he DOES get paid for overtime. That's the least he could ask for, really.

Kuki: working a 9-5. She plans on getting to college to become a lawyer at some point. No one knows what exactly her job is. It's not her fault, she just doesn't care for it enough to remember. She got top surgery at 22 after working her ass off for the money she'd need. Don't tell anyone, but Hoagie helped a little. Also, she has her own apartment, too. It's really fancy and decked out, but she lives alone. She likes it that way. After years of living with her parents, she needs alone time all the time, unless she actively decides to invite someone over.

Wally: also went cold turkey on everything when he moved into the apartment. He's taking college classes at UVA to become a pediatrician. It's not quite Harvard, but it's damn near close. He's actually pretty dedicated to it. ADHD medication is the sole reason he can be so dedicated. He tends to wear somewhat feminine attire, as he's learning to understand that he doesn't have to conform to how society believes the genders should dress, and isn't any less of a boy just because he wants to wear feminine clothing.

Abby: going to an unknown college for her therapist degree. She doesn't tell anyone because she worries they may show up there to bother her, or something along those lines. She's often very busy studying, and if she isn't, she's doing volunteer work. She lives with her parents still. Chronically tired, just like, a little bit more than before. She has stopped caring about what she wears and just puts on whatever the hell works. She visits Kuki whenever she needs socialization or love.

Additional piece: the layout of Hoagie and Wally's apartment. This was for my own reference but I'd figure I'd post it

#knd #codename kids next door #codename knd #numbuh 1 #numbuh 2 #numbuh 3 #numbuh 4 #numbuh 5 #reference sheets #adult designs

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hestzhyen · 2 days ago

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Analysis: Hakuri & Abusive Backstories

Hello dear void. Hakuri is a character that is near and dear to my heart so I wanted to yap about him and why his story is so important to me on a deeply personal level.

This is a LONG yapfest- the Tumblr Edit Post UI is hitching and lagging while I try to type this little notice there's so much word vomit in here. I honestly don't expect anyone to read it all the way through. I just wrote this to figure out why I was so goddamn attached to a fictional character and decided to jettison it into the ambivalent embrace of the internet. I spent too many hours on this to just delete it all once I found my answers, so... if you wanna strap in, go ahead. But maybe make sure you've got a decent chunk of free time and high tolerance for extremely subjective interpretations first.

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DISCLAIMER: This is purely my opinion- I can't speak for anyone's experience but my own.

First, this isn't a trauma dump. Not for me at least. I'll be talking about what Hakuri endured and how it shaped his character in relatable ways thanks to the quality of the writing. But there won't be anything discussed outside of what happens in Kagurabachi canon, so rest assured on that front.

Second, please don't assume I had a terrible life because I latched on to a character that was literally tortured for years! Even though the major themes resonated with me and many of my thoughts were eerily similar to Hakuri's, nothing I experienced rose to such an extreme level. Like, I genuinely deserved the one time I was hit for being a shitty over-dramatic teenager so it doesn't even come close lmao. Fictional characters don't have to be 1:1 mirrors in terms of type or severity of trauma to be helpful self-reflection tools is all.

Third, I started writing this around chapter 53 and it's being posted as of chapter 58. If it ages poorly, well, I'm not saying I'm smart just because I yap a lot.

Without further ado... prepare for an expansion of massive proportions under the cut.

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All too often we see shounen characters have an abusive sob story background to give them a sympathetic hook and a reason to start from zero. There's little to say about them other than they go from zero to hero for the good vibes and catharsis. They begin their story as a victim first and foremost, and there are little or no lingering effects from trauma once they have their moment of triumph. In the "good" cases they're healed and whole. In the "bad" cases they have negatively warped personalities for the rest of the story. There's not much in between the two extremes.

Portraying the abuse characters endure in such a shallow way is not the best way to write about it, from my point of view. Writing it as something that can be overcome with strength of will alone is harmful. So is writing the victim as a permanently damaged, defective person. Instead, we need more characters like Hakuri that are shaped but not wholly defined by their abuse, and aren't completely healed by putting the manifestation of their torment in the dirt.

Hakuri is the first character the [abusive past] attribute that actually worked as a hook for me. This is largely due to two key writing decisions: not centering Hakuri's entire narrative around overcoming the abuse he suffered, and carefully depicting how trauma influences his actions. It's necessary to read between the lines of what he says and does to see how much he hasn't said about himself- what he won't admit or recognize, despite how core it is to his character.

Chapters 19-23, Meeting and Getting to Know Sazanami Hakuri

Mantis imagery for courage!

The very first things we learn about Hakuri are as follows:

1) He pushes through hardship with sheer force of will 2) He lost his whole family and has probably been on his own for a while 3) #1 is a lie

I've brought it up before, but food symbolism is all over the place in Kagurabachi- it's often a short-hand for comfort and connection. So Hakuri spilling that metaphor out of his mouth right after telling us he's able to "push through" is a sign that he actually isn't coping with his situation that well. His thoughts about himself and his actual status don't match up. But it's ridiculous imagery that puts us off and pushes us towards thinking he's kind of pathetic rather than making us feel sorry for him. And the rest of his introduction, while accurate to his character, buries the lede on how much he's suffering.

As for his backstory: he was disowned, yes. He says his family will kill him if they see him, yes. But it reads more like Hakuri was punished for being a moral black sheep after he himself framed being disowned as punishment for "being weak" and "getting in the way of business". There's no hint of foul play on his family's part other than being low-life criminals to be fought as the arc villains. So he's primed for some sadness but probably nothing on Char's level. The only hints we have towards something serious until the chapter 24 reveal are not exactly obvious:

-He has a fatalistic mindset and thinks it's natural for him to be overpowered and kicked around because he's weak. (Could just be typical zero-to-hero shounen character things.)

-He's generally unafraid and highly tolerant of pain. He gives no shits about his condition after being kicked around by the Yakuza, smears the blood from his nose while casually talking to Chihiro, and willingly takes a strong hit and is able to yell encouragement to Chihiro while lying bloody on the floor. (Doesn't really stand out in a series as violent as Kagurabachi; this is kind of the bare minimum for being involved in the plot if you aren't a child to be protected.)

-Perhaps the only big tell-tale sign: we zoom in on his trembling fist when describing his older siblings as "strong and scary" in chapter 23. (Could be inferred as fearing for his life since he also says they'd kill him on sight in the same chapter.)

Hakuri's not written like a typical abuse victim in this intro. We don't get commentary from other characters about how much pain Hakuri seems to be in- they comment on how weak and dopey he appears instead. Nor do we get shots of him looking sad, flinching away from touch, or being hesitant to connect with other people. He's actually kind of unhinged with how passionate and eager he is to join forces with Chihiro. He's intense and ridiculous and gets used like a wholesome gag character more than anything else.

So there's not much to suspect here. Hakuri's got more to reveal to us but there are no signs of what we should brace ourselves for. Then the nightmare starts.

Chs. 24-26, The First Glimpse

This page goes from 0 to 100 REAL quick.

Well, shit.

Behold the understated reveal of Hakuri's status as a victim of abuse. The revelation at the bottom of the page only to see his suicide attempt on the page turn is an extremely effective "oh shit- OH SHIT-" two-hit combo that arrests the reader's attention, and I really wish that it was the most memorable part of the chapter for more people. Because holy hell, this recontextualizes everything we know about Hakuri. He's still a passionate, silly, and slightly insane guy, but damn he actually suffered more than he let on.

To find out like this is unusual, isn't it? Char's situation wasn't shown right away either, but meeting her as a scruffy orphan clued us in that she was going to have a tough past from the start. Hakuri, by comparison, gave us very few obvious hints about it. It's like he doesn't want to be seen that way. He openly admits to being "weak" and "useless" but his own pain? The suffering he endured? He's totally fine pushing past it all (lies).

But we're not even close to done yet.

Note how Hakuri's focused on Soya's hands...

Hakuri's first instinct being to jump to his death says a lot. Unlike standing up for the little girl or jumping in to save Chihiro, this is a purely reactionary response. There's no room to think back to Chihiro's bravery for inspiration as those memories overwhelm him. He's terrified. So he jumps and trembles in fear as Soya tries to talk him into coming back to relive his nightmares.

We laughed at the soda spilling out of his mouth and his expressions after he got hit in the face by Hiyuki, but this is deadly serious. Hakuri isn't okay at all. He's actually in very bad condition and the way he thinks about Soya says so much.

The panel explaining Soya's expression of "love" on the page above is important, but it's not emphasized in the same way as what's happening in the present. It feels like an unpleasant detour into Hakuri's inner thoughts for extra context while the main focus is on him and Soya in the moment. Hakuri doesn't even describe what happened to him directly- he says "punching and kicking" like it could be anything from hazing to broken bones, but the backdrop lets us know that it's probably closer to the latter. It gives the impression that Hakuri (understandably) doesn't want to think about this at all.

He also frames Soya's aggression towards him as an expression of "sincere" affection. That's preposterous and heart-breaking to most people- violence isn't love. Even most victims will acknowledge that... to a point. Violence hurts, it's unwanted, but it's still a valid expression of emotion to be acknowledged. It's something they earn or deserve. The rational people are correctly screaming NO IT'S NOT! And most victims would agree again... to a point. Somehow they're the exception to that mindset. Other people don't deserve it, but they do.

So despite it all, Hakuri is still able to be brave for Hinao's sake. He's not going to let Soya hurt anyone else if he can help it, even if it means putting himself back in harm's way. This adds an interesting layer to his character. He's laden with trauma, but he's still able to show courage for others. He thinks he's weak and won't prevent whatever abuse comes his way, but he will put himself at risk to stop others from experiencing the same or worse.

Why is he so devoted to protecting other people at his own expense? Sadly, it's not uncommon for victims to advocate harder for other people than they do for themselves. It also has something to do with the merchandise woman that was mentioned this chapter, but that reasoning won't be revealed for a while yet.

"This pathetic wretch was born a Sazanami, but he can't even do sorcery. He's useless. Worse, he's a hindrance. His life is worthless."

There's another thrill of panic when Kyora summons Hakuri to use his life as a bargaining chip. Hakuri's at his most pathetic here- he's on the ground, helpless under Kyora's foot, not even trying to resist or escape. None of the fire we saw when he saved the little girl, took that hit for Chihiro, or defended Hinao is present. Hakuri can't be brave for himself. He's quite literally trampled by what passes for the Sazanami version of "love" and "basic human decency". It doesn't need to be spelled out any clearer than this: Hakuri's woes come from his family, especially his father. The Sazanamis are fucked up even when it comes to how they treat their own flesh and blood. They're rotten from the head down.

It's obvious then why Chihiro's words and actions affect Hakuri so much. Hakuri thinks he has no value whatsoever- his father says as much, and he falls for Shiba's bluff implying the same. Only Chihiro steps in to directly repudiate Kyora's toxicity and say yes, Hakuri does have value. So much, in fact, that he's willing to trade the precious memento of his father (and the majority of his strength) to prove it. So they're able to leave, but not without Hakuri encumbering himself with a huge amount of guilt for how things went down.

The face of someone ready to spiral down and out.

It's telling that reassurances don't do much to help Hakuri feel better. Shiba tries to help by offering generic comfort (ice cream) and Chihiro tells him it's alright, but it's not until Hakuri hears that he's still needed that he's able to bring himself out of the mire of self-hate.

Of course it's extra effective for Hakuri because he was considered totally useless, but this is very relatable even for folks who weren't told they had no value on a daily basis. Offers of comfort only make the self-hate worse for some people who think they're utterly worthless. Even simple gestures like Shiba's twist the knife and reinforce the idea that the person doesn't deserve any kindness whatsoever. It just piles on the guilt. But being given something to do -especially if it's believably framed as something only they're capable of doing- feels incredible. They might have some value after all, even if only for this one thing.

It's something that I really appreciate the author doing since it's a touch that didn't need to be added. Hakuri could have just found a bit of solace in Shiba and Chihiro's words, which would have given more time for other things to be addressed in the chapter. But it's important to show that Hakuri struggles with accepting kindness because he took his father's words to heart. His feelings of worthlessness and uselessness are essential to who he is.

After this we see him at Chihiro's beck and call, prioritizing his requests over everything- relaxing with Char and Hinao, even his own comfort with another ice cream/food metaphor. It's framed as something silly and dog-like for the laughs, which once again encourages us to downplay the severity of this issue for him. None of the other characters ever directly point this out either. It's one of those informed traits that influences Hakuri's actions without any acknowledgment from himself or others, but just like the soda spilling out of his mouth, we're invited to treat it as a gag.

From here, the focus shifts entirely to building tension for the raid on the Rakuzaichi. Hakuri's circumstances are put on the back-burner to simmer for 5 weeks in real time until he confronts Soya in chapter 30.

Chs. 30 & 32-34, The Soya Rematch (what Chihiro and Shiba know):

Hakuri puts his fear of Soya aside to bait him out to help the mission. Chihiro and Shiba gave him a job to do, so he'll see it through no matter what. Unfortunately things don't go as planned and he ends up all alone with his biggest tormentor.

I'll have more to say about Soya himself in his own section with Kyora later, but it's very clear what his role as Chief Bully is, narratively speaking:

In a lot of ways, Soya is more object than actual character. He's our almost cartoonishly evil device to represent everything that's been repressing Hakuri. He's the demon in his head telling him he's useless, pathetic, weak, and so on. So Hakuri trying to square up to Soya is also him facing off against the things he's internalized that hold him back.

Hakuri's struggle against Soya before he awakens seems very hopeful and standard shounen. He's fighting the internal battle at the same time as the external, telling his brother to "shut up" while his mind races to figure out what he should do now that the situation went belly-up. He could keep playing the victim and take Shiba up on his offer to help since he can't reach Chihiro, or he could play dead and wait for it all to be over... or he could try believing in himself. Because Chihiro saw something in him and even if he can't bring himself to think he's strong and capable, he can at least have faith in Chihiro's words that they would end the Rakuzaichi together.

This time it works and he's able to shove Soya close enough to the tree wall so that Chihiro can give us a great visual metaphor to show us what just happened to Hakuri:

Chihiro is the one who broke Hakuri's mental barrier for him. He couldn't do it himself, but someone he admired believing in him in return made all the difference. Hakuri just needed a little support to start coming into his own.

He stays behind to handle the rest of the fight on his own while Chihiro goes ahead to meet up with Shiba- he can do this himself now that he's awakened thanks to their help. Very wholesome, extremely shounen. But there are deliberate writing choices which make it obvious that there's more going on beyond the surface that winning this fight won't fix or even fully address.

In Chapter 32, Hakuri tells Chihiro and Shiba a slightly condensed version of his experience as an uncomfortable reminder for the reader. Oh, right, Hakuri was abused- at least that explains why he survived a Flame Bone punch to the face. Anyway, let's move on to ditching John Hishaku and kicking Soya's ass.

The framing is so interesting to me. Chapter 32 uses preexisting panels that are cropped and presented slightly differently compared to how they originally appeared: Ch. 24

Ch. 32

Full page for reference.

When Hakuri recounts a version of the abuse flashbacks, they're not merely downsized to fit. They're cropped to downplay the gang-ups and are smaller in size compared to the rest of his story, almost as if he doesn't think it's that big of a deal compared to being unable to keep up with his siblings. We don't even see his own words describing what happened despite him talking freely about everything else. Instead, the abuse sequence is treated like the panel where he describes Soya's "love"- Hakuri talking to Chihiro and Shiba about his suffering is an unpleasant aside to give context rather than the main event.

Seriously. The dialogue of him explaining why his family gave up on him over the reused backdrop of the Sazanami estate is given more time than him being hit and kicked. Chihiro and Shiba get the "it wasn't so bad" version of events compared to what Hakuri remembers experiencing, and we're invited to treat what's normally the foundation of a character's entire existence as a convenient explanation for why he's so goddamn sturdy.

Neither of them noticeably react to his story too. We got a bit from Shiba in the car in Chapter 26 when he realized Hakuri was probably stewing in self-hatred, but we've never seen any of Chihiro's thoughts or reactions since he was disgusted by Kyora using Hakuri as a bargaining chip. He does reassure Hakuri that they'll be there to help him, but isn't it strange we don't see Chihiro's reaction to this information at all? We see little panels of his concerned faces all the time for less than what Hakuri talked about here:

Chihiro cares a hell of a lot, and he's very attentive to boot.

Obviously we don't see Chihiro and Shiba's reactions because they aren't important. This isn't about Hakuri's abuse- we already knew about it. The focus is on Hakuri's awakening and his faith in Chihiro, not the past.

This is a victim's mindset manifesting as clever visual storytelling, in my opinion. Of course it's not that bad when he has to talk about it; he invited it by being weak and not living up to standards. It wasn't a big deal though. There's more important stuff to do right now anyway. And the story moves on as if to agree with him- we go right back to our regularly scheduled action scenes interspersed with some flashbacks to contextualize other characters, namely Tenri and the Sazanamis before Hakuri was rejected.

That's right, Hakuri once again dodges abusive past cliches by being doted on and cared for before he was found lacking. He knew what it was to be loved, even if the Sazanami version is manipulative to the point of being abusive all by itself. There's more to say about this under Kyora's section but no wonder Hakuri's so fixated on being useful- he wants that affection and sense of belonging back more than anything. It's fucked up, but it's all he knows. So Hakuri was abused twice over: emotionally and physically. Damn. He turned out pretty alright despite it all, huh? Wonder how that happened...

Well, it's time to move on now so he can ascend and overcome it all. He's gotta yell "Isou!" and prove himself, and the next two chapters seem to be putting him on course to do just that, albeit with some difficulty. Can't make a character's awakening too easy or it won't feel earned. He's got some serious trauma to overcome thanks to his family's bullshit.

Then chapter 35 hits and we get the nightmare fuel.

Ch. 35, The Real Backstory (what Ice Lady knew):

Chapter 35 is that long-awaited full-chapter delve into Hakuri's painful past with the mysterious woman, and boy does it have some unsettling revelations.

Ice Lady's tragedy is framed as the important driving force for Hakuri as we know him- she broke him free from his family's grip and motivated him to seek help to end their evil ways. She's the entire reason we meet him in Chapter 19. Everything Hakuri is doing this arc ties back to how badly he fucked up with her, setting the stage for him to become the savior he tried to be when we met him. Oh yeah, we got more Hakuri abuse lore. Can you believe that WSJ let the author get away with showing someone slitting their throat in front of a kid?! And make it at least partially his fault? Jesus Christ. Now it's truly time for him to come into his own, though- oh man that cliffhanger at the end of the chapter...! Wait, what do you mean there was more to his suffering besides the situation with Ice Lady?

I was being a bit facetious there but the point stands. We didn't get a tear-jerker reveal chapter dedicated solely to Hakuri's pain and suffering at long last just to make us feel bad for him and nothing else. Instead, we got a full-blown tragedy caused by the Sazanami cycle of abuse. The nightmare of Ice Lady killing herself in front of Hakuri overshadowed the reveal that damn, Hakuri actually had it super rough. Because yeah, that was unexpectedly brutal even compared to Chihiro being baited with Char's severed leg last arc. It really drove home just how fucked up the situation with the Sazanami family was and how it affected everyone that got tangled up in their bullshit.

So the presentation of what he endured is once again subdued even though the panels showcasing the tools took up half the page. Soya breaking Hakuri's finger was called "bullying" (いじめ[ijime], not 虐待 [gyakutai, abuse]). A single flash back frame off to the side seems small compared to the emphasis on Hakuri telling Ice Lady (and us) that it's "not that bad" because Soya keeps losing the tools and going back to using his fists (the terror in Hakuri's expression in that panel is completely at odds with how calm is explanation is, though). It's also not unreasonable to presume that the jump rope, peeler, and wrench were shown for the audience's benefit to clue us in that Hakuri's holding back again, much like the panel describing Soya's "love" in chapter 24. He's always saying the bare minimum and trying not to think of the rest- he buries that shit deep.

But he has to if he wants to keep going. There's no way he can sit down and process all of this right now:

Hakuri: "It's normal for my brother to break my bones and worse before he loses the tools. He usually only hits me anyway, so it's not like this happens all the time."

Woman betrayed by the man she loved to be sold at an auction as merchandise to the boy overseeing her captivity: "That's messed up!"

"This is as close as I can get to being cherished by the people who are supposed to care for and support me."

He even misses the point when he finally does open up:

"You're the one who's trapped in a cage."

This part is the hardest for me to write about, honestly. Again: I was never tortured or anything, much less hit. But this chapter is the one that made me take a good, hard look at what I went through and connect some dots. Hakuri's mindset, the things he says, the way he phrases things- that's someone who doesn't want to acknowledge that they're in a bad situation that's not their fault.

Hakuri will talk about his own worthlessness and all his defects that "invite" the abuse, but he won't acknowledge that he doesn't deserve what's happening to him at all. He's not the kind of shounen character who understands that his situation sucks and uses it as fuel to become better. Instead, he's stuck in that oh-so-relatable spiral of self-deprecating negativity that keeps victims trapped.

It's easier for Hakuri to think he deserved it for his own failings. This wouldn't be happening if he hadn't earned it somehow. He's in this situation because he's weak and any "love" is better than none at all. Then it's reinforced by the genuine helplessness and vulnerability of being too isolated to escape or know better, compacting down into dense layers of denial and self-hate that act as defensive armour against emotions that are too difficult to face. Like anger or the desire for something better. Like hope. Those are only felt on behalf of others, not himself.

At any rate, it's a bit distressing that so many people forget that Hakuri's actually a hell of a lot more complex than he was hinted to be before this chapter. He's not an innocent in all this like Char was, which is incredibly smart and realistic writing from the author. Hakuri was also an abuser himself. An accidental one, but doesn't matter when you talk to someone the way he did to Ice Lady. He didn't swing the knife but he did kill her with the same mentality that was crushing him down on the inside.

He doesn't use his suffering as an excuse for anything he does, good or bad. Not even in the sense of wanting to save others- that's all about Ice Lady and his family's terrible legacy. What happened to him isn't worth mentioning or acting on. Yet another distressingly accurate facet of a victim's mentality, unfortunately.

But this must be it. This chapter was a depressing surprise but surely there's nothing left to reveal. We had his big moment of sadness so it's only going up from here. Hakuri's going to overcome everything and it'll all be okay! Back to standard shounen powerups!

Chs. 36-43, Putting the Past to Rest (things only Hakuri knows):

Oh.

In chapter 36, the storehouse reveal somewhat overshadows all the instruments of abuse Hakuri unwittingly stored inside it. There are a lot of people who completely forgot about the objects in there during the hype of the moment, and I never get tired of seeing "WTF?!" posts and comments from folks doing re-reads of the arc. It's so easy to overlook the rope and sticks and all the other tools when you're cheering hard for Hakuri to finally, finally overcome his tragic past by putting Soya down. Worst Big Bro is gonna pay and Hakuri's ascension will be complete! ... Wait, was that a goddamn chair?

There's also a point made of Soya's defeat not being a resounding victory.

Still framing Soya's abuse as love, but it's got a bitter feel to it this time.

Hakuri is the one who gives Chihiro strength in the moment despite everything he's just been through.

We're cheering when he awakens and pressurizes Soya's guts, but then these panels remind us that there's nothing to celebrate from Hakuri's perspective. He doesn't savor finally overcoming Soya as his abuser or the manifestation of everything that's messed up about his family. There's no immediate sense that things will be okay from now on either. To Hakuri, this isn't a personal victory. It's just something that needed to be done for Ice Lady and all the victims of the Rakuzaichi.

This is a sort of capstone to Hakuri's backstory. The second-to-last new thing we learn about him is that the abuse was still somehow worse than we thought. He really, truly buries the lede when it comes to what he suffered and the writing is in cahoots with him on it. He won't even take the time to smile or feel a little relief- he's not ready for that yet. Instead he just walks past Tenri's mutilated corpse to pull Chihiro along to get the job done.

If this was a different series we might get a little more catharsis- even just the barest hint that Hakuri's gonna be just fine from now on. But this is Kagurabachi and the author fucking gets it so there's still a little more to unpack before Hakuri can have an opportunity to begin the healing process.

In chapter 37, the pain of Kyora looking away was framed as just as important to Hakuri as the fond memories of when he was loved and wanted:

"... I still wanted you to praise me, Father."

The very last thing we learn about Hakuri is that he wanted his father's love despite it all.

Hakuri ended the torment from Soya- he'll never have to worry about his skin being peeled off or getting beaten with a pipe ever again. But the cycle that caused it- and the complex feelings for the people who hurt him- aren't so easily dealt with. It's not so simple as being hurt and flipping a switch to stop feeling affection for the perpetrator. So Hakuri acknowledges that he still wanted his father's praise in spite of the years of torment the man knowingly enabled.

In the end, Kyora grants Hakuri's secret wish and acknowledges him at the very last as the chaos fades away so that they're the only thing in each other's view. He really, truly won it all. He doesn't rejoice in victory, though. Once more there's no triumph for Hakuri to celebrate. Killing his father was just another thing that had to be done so that there would never be another Ice Lady.

It's hard to say what exactly Hakuri's feeling about Kyora's death since it's yet another thing we haven't seen him talk about- and may never. It's not too much of a stretch to think he's got a complex mix of sadness, relief, and guilt going on, though. At least the moment when their eyes met was intensely cathartic after all the times Kyora deliberately looked away. But Hakuri's still not okay yet.

It's not like life suddenly gets better when the abuser is gone for good in some cases. Hakuri's still struggling in the immediate aftermath of seeing his father die at last. It's a relief that there won't be any more pain caused by the Sazanami clan -and Kyora in particular- but it still fucking hurts to lose someone so important to you. It's also frightening to suddenly be thrust into the unknown without a guide of any kind.

Fortunately for him, Hakuri is able to find new purpose with Chihiro. He gets to walk away from his family and stay with the people who believed in him. This is another thing that I can't praise the author enough for. It's far, far too common for writers to frame victims reforming their abusers as some kind of ultimate victory.

No, no, no!

The most charitable way to explain this is that the survivor is so saintly that they'll even reach out to the ones who hurt them to help them become better people. But that is such utter bullshit I don't even have the words to express myself properly. It's terrible messaging for survivors. They don't have any obligation whatsoever to help the people who hurt them. They don't even have to keep tabs on how the abusers are doing in a general sense. They get to fucking leave and find happiness with people who treat them well. That is the true ideal.

Hakuri being given a clear out to leave is where the rest of the catharsis in his story comes from. He doesn't have to stay and fix things even though he absolutely could as the first person since the clan's founder to have both Isou and the storehouse powers. Kyoura and Soya are gone- he could have stepped in to make the clan right their wrongs and atone as a family. But there's not even a hint of guilt tripping from the author about Hakuri's decision to follow Chihiro. It's framed as the best possible thing for him to do, in fact.

If he stayed, he'd never work on the other issues around self-worth that he's burying so deep inside. Switching from villainy to good deeds won't resolve the issues with the clan's mindset about being living tools for a greater cause either. Not to mention the fact that there's nothing his siblings can offer him even if they treat him like a king for the rest of his life- the damage was already done long ago. There's nothing left for him there except more misery and stagnation. He needs to go with Chihiro, his new north star, to learn how to heal.

But lest this outcome be too heartwarming, Hakuri's still not directly facing everything that he went through. Hakuri phrases working alongside Chihiro as "proving the value that [Chihiro] saw in him", not "starting over" or "making the world a better place together" or even "paying Chihiro back" by helping him on his mission. He's still trying to be useful in the service of someone else like a tool.

Hakuri's bruises are already fading; or at least they were until I had to edit this part in light of the events of chapter 56 onward. But the mental scars of the abuse are still guiding his actions and thought processes even if he doesn't acknowledge it. And that's where we come back to the torture implements still hidden in his warehouse.

Hakuri's not home free despite us collectively sighing in relief that he got his Happily Ever After, subdued as it was. He needs to face what he's been avoiding and burying so that he's not endangering Chihiro's plan and the people around him by throwing himself in danger just to be even the slightest bit useful.

Oftentimes, trauma is an invisible scar that needs to be worked around for the rest of someone's life- hence why he's still got those physical manifestations stored deep inside where only he can see and grant access. Hakuri's only just started out on the path to redemption and recovery. He needs to start addressing the guilt over Ice Lady and learn some tough lessons about self-worth before he can even begin to look further inside to those Visual Metaphor Tools.

After that, if the author's interested in continuing this part of Hakuri's character, is exposing them and what they mean to someone who can help Hakuri get rid of them. Whether that's Chihiro, Shiba, or someone else doesn't really matter. Hakuri's got a long road ahead dealing with the lingering after-effects, unlike so many of his fictional fellow survivors. He's still very much in need of a lot of support from his new found family- now more so than ever after what happened in chapter 58.

Soya and Kyora

There's something to be said about the writing for the primary abusers, too. The Rakuzaichi arc was well-received in large part to Kyora being an incredible villain and Soya being... Soya.

Soya

And the "Worst Big Brother" Award goes to...

Soya serves two primary purposes in the narrative: to contrast Hakuri's character, and be the manifestation of everything that was wrong with the clan.

Soya and Hakuri share similar looks, hand gestures, and extreme expressions but they couldn't be more different. Soya has the inverse of Hakuri's character framing: he's shown to be competent and strong, and almost everyone in-universe acknowledges him as such-we're even told he's smarter than Kyora. But he's actually quite the pathetic loser due to his freakish obsession with his "weak" little brother.

More obviously, Soya is the rotten core of the family. He's obsessive over Hakuri to an extremely alarming degree- he even refuses his duties as the next clan head and a member of the elite Tou to find and stay with Hakuri. Kyoura tells him to "stop fixating on that failure" but Soya's having none of it, he just can't let go of his "endearing" weakling of a little brother. Bullying Hakuri is what he lives for and he does it all in the name of purest love. Just like the clan lives for the Rakuzaichi and are devoted to it mind, body, and soul. They're both extremely toxic and Soya's the guy who gets to represent the deleterious effects of cleaving to abusive mentalities on individual members.

Soya's fists and words to Hakuri are the blatant messaging about what the Sazanami mindset did to him. He had that mental block preventing him from using his sorcery because he was constantly being told he was weak and useless. It was literally beaten into him as a form of love, but not all abusive mentalities need to be reinforced with violence. Soya was just there to make the point too obvious to be missed.

Hakuri's final words to Soya say it all. Soya throws a tantrum over Hakuri refusing to lay down and take the abuse any more and screams "Why won't you go down?! Why won't you die?!" Hakuri simply responds that it's because Soya "always loved [him]" and deals the final blow. He was able to recognize the strengths his family gave him through Soya's "love" but he's not grateful in the slightest (and he shouldn't be). He's simply ready to sever all ties and move on with tearing it all down now. Hakuri was finally able to accept that he didn't want or need that kind of love in his life any more.

Kyora

And the "Worst Dad" Award goes to...

Obviously, Kyoura is the key to this whole mess. He's the one who instilled his children with corrupt values, enabled Hakuri's abuse, and generally Fucked Up Big Time when it came to loving his kids properly. But he thought he was doing the right thing because what's what he went through. He was both abuser and victim himself, just like Hakuri.

This is the key part of abusive backstories that are so often missed. Abuse doesn't always come from deadbeat caretakers that hate the innocent little kid. That scenario is actually way too over represented in fiction, honestly. Abuse isn't always constant malice- it can start later in life. It can even be born from love. Ultimately, it's all too often the unintended consequence of a family haunted by the specter of the cycle. And Kyora is the perfect summary of how and why it echoes through generations.

Hakuri was loved and wanted for at least half of his life. His family might not be wholesome or have healthy attitudes about affection, but he wasn't born hated and mistreated just for existing. He was cared for to the best of his dad's ability just like Tenri and his other siblings.

Even when Hakuri failed to live up to expectations, Kyora didn't just write him off and turn him loose. He kept Hakuri around for years feeding and clothing him and let him try to do what he could. Kyora simply couldn't justify protecting him or showing love since the family ideals were so warped around being able to serve the clan's tradition. He wasn't "allowed" to love a failure, no matter how much he wanted to.

Kyoura struggled about his feelings for his "worthless son" in the flashback we saw through Tenri's PoV- he wanted Hakuri to succeed. He acted like Hakuri forced his hand to punish and marginalize him for failing too hard, not out of ill-will. And during the raid itself he was actually "bent out of shape because he used Hakuri's life as a bargaining chip", according to Enji. It wasn't even until Hakuri showed up to break into the storehouse that Kyora truly cast everything away to prioritize the Rakuzaichi. He really did love Hakuri in his own way.

Kyora was a shitty dad and person, don't get me wrong. No one should put family tradition over their child's well-being and he more than earned his death just by being a human trafficker. But it's clear that Kyora wasn't written to be a shallow, irredeemable monster of a person- he didn't exist in the story just to be a villain and to make us feel bad for Hakuri. He's a tragic character in his own right.

He couldn't even understand why his wife's final words about the auction ruining their lives was replaying in his head near his final moments. The what-if scenario of his happy family sitting down to eat dinner in an apartment somewhere showed his longing for something that he could have had, if not for the goddamn auction. If not for the abuse that made him into the person he chose to be until the very end.

It's why Hakuri getting to walk away is such a poignant end to the Rakuzaichi arc. He's the one who gets to break the cycle on his own terms, and that's the true end of the Sazanami dynasty. The auction hall doesn't collapse until he decides to stand tall and follow a new path. Whatever Hakuri's siblings do with the Sazanami legacy isn't his concern any more- he's free.

What About Char?

Char's story was also well told! It's the earliest evidence that the author actually gets it when it comes to depicting abuse victims. She's reticent despite her desperation, unable to open up even when Shiba and Chihiro tell her she needs to or they'll send her to an orphanage. Eventually Chihiro wins her trust through his altruism and she comes to believe in him. She and us are the only ones who know exactly what happened with her mom, but it's not important for the rest of the cast to be in on it. She's safe and happy now and that's enough.

Even though Char's arc ended close to that overly-simplistic "everything is k now" scenario that I hate, there's one key difference that sets it apart to let us know that no, she's not truly okay yet.

Char's still got some attachment issues, which makes perfect sense. She lost her mom in a traumatic way so of course she's happily surprised that Chihiro came back to her. Char's on the path to healing- she's able to thrive thanks to Team Goldfish's care- but her abusive past still shapes who she is in small ways like this.

I doubt we'll see more development of her beyond checking in now and then. She's too young to be consistently involved in the heavy themes of Kagurabachi's story, much less the fights. But it's good to know that the author includes little details like this so we don't assume Char's 100% fine now. He understands that trauma doesn't just vanish when the victim's safe in their Happily Ever After scenario. That's why he made sure we knew that she's going to be okay in the long-run.

Ch. 26, right after Chihiro trades Enten for Hakuri

But Hakuri's not there himself yet.

Food as a metaphor for comfort, security, and/or connection is constant in this series. It's very obvious symbolism to let the author convey a bit more context in the scene than dialogue alone can. So when Hakuri rejects food here, he's rejecting reassurance from Shiba. Meanwhile Char's already comfortable enough to accept it. Good for her, truly!

Hakuri's situation wasn't necessarily worse than hers, but it was a lot more complex. So even though he's safe now, he's not really able to pursue his happiness yet. All those tools he keeps locked up inside, the mindset of being one himself- they're still issues for him to work through. But there's hope for him too.

The author went out of his way to show us that Hakuri's also on the path to healing here. The last time Hakuri shared food with someone, he was forcing his abusive ideology on Ice Lady. She started finishing the meals and truly internalizing the hopelessness of her situation. He fucked up the food as comfort/connection metaphor bad with her.

Yet in Chapter 47, we see Hakuri sharing some snacks with Chihiro on the train. Sharing food isn't connected to the situation at hand or the information dump it's serving as backdrop for, so it's definitely a deliberate choice on the author's part to depict this instead of literally anything else. It was shown to let us know that Hakuri's on his way to his own Happily Ever After.

He's able to connect to Chihiro and not worry about the repercussions. This is a huge step for his character and speaks volumes about the level of trust between them; this is the first time Chihiro's willingly accepted food from someone else too. Hakuri's not only still reaching out to other people, he's still able to provide warmth to others despite it all.

What's Next?

I'm not going to pretend that I can predict what Hakuri's story will look like from here on out. He'll have a hard time for as long as he's slated to get development though- Kagurabachi takes the adage "suffering builds character" very seriously. We're only 58 chapters in as of finally posting this so it's best to strap in and expect a lot more pain.

That said, I feel like Hakuri's self-sacrificing mindset is going to be addressed first. As of chapter 55, he's set up to fail and cause problems by throwing himself into danger despite not being fully healed or rested. The root of this issue would likely be his atoning savior mindset. Hakuri needs to protect and save others very badly after what happened to Ice Lady. He also loathes the idea of others making sacrifices for his sake. So he's willing to throw his life away even when it would be better for his allies if he stayed out of the fighting.

There's also a good reason we met the Makizumi clan in the arc immediately after the Rakuzaichi fell- Hakuri needs to start dismantling the "tool" mindset that was drilled into him. He's only switched his fervor from serving the Rakuzaichi to serving/saving others. This is extremely toxic when combined with his guilt over Ice Lady and drives him to go to extremes to do good, to the point where he's ignoring everyone trying to get him to rest and heal for the sake of the mission if nothing else.

In essence, I believe we are going to finally address the lie of his introduction- that he can keep pushing through hardship with sheer force of will. Because that is not how overcoming trauma actually works.

After that, only the author and his editor know exactly where things will go. But I hope that no matter what happens, Hakuri's lingering trauma is exposed and dealt with. It's informing all of his actions, positive or negative, whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. I have faith that this author can tackle this subject compassionately and realistically- he's already done it twice with Char and the Rakuzaichi arc.

So that's that. If you read all this... thanks. Take care, and choose kindness for yourself for today.

#kagurabachi #sazanami hakuri #Being an abuse survivor isn't the crux of who a person is #But it leaves permanent invisible scars that they define themselves around- knowingly or not #Promise I'll never get this personal again #long post #Only partially fueled by annoyance over how many people don't seem to understand Hakuri's character #He didn't get so much thoughtful and intricate development to be written out or killed off either #This is just my extremely long Hot Take but dammit I'm so tired of people asking why he's still around or why he's pushing himself so hard #Don't get me started on the BS about him “needing” to be nerfed either #Or giving up his sorcery to wield an enchanted blade #Writing another essay in the tags is how we roll around these parts

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disposable-semicolons · 2 days ago

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Okay, could someone please explain to me how bluesky is any actual, sustainable improvement over xitter? I am still looking into the details but as far as I can tell there are issues that I don't see it fixing. Please correct me if anything I said is incorrect, I have spent like an hour on this tops.

bluesky seems to be built around an open protocol that was apparently designed to allow twitter alternatives to become inter-operable. This is a good thing, but in and of itself use- and meaningless if there is nobody else using the protocol. In fact, the moment one particular service becomes too powerful, you can bet they will simply break the protocol to ensure vendor lock-in. Did you know that WhatsApp for example misappropriated an existing standard? To explain what that means: You know Gmail is a mailing service. Imagine now that Google added a ton of bells and whistles to Gmail and made it impossible to send mails to non-Gmail accounts. WhatsApp did the equivalent of that. And it can happen again. To any open protocol.

Art on twitter is not put on display, it is handed out for consumption. The way twitter works makes any art posted on it effectively unsearchable. The "media" page is useless, hashtags are practically used for anything but tagging, and everything is so algorithmically shuffled and hidden away into a long, unstructured feed that 99.99% of an artist's work might as well be swallowed by the maws of oblivion a few weeks after it was posted. The vast majority of people will not see it again. There is no meaningful archival, everything is a transient consumable to be forgotten. Anything that copies the twitter formula will inherit this and push archival duty onto the artist. Almost nobody is going to maintain a fucking deviantArt account in 2024 for people to actually discover their portfolio. At least not the artists I have seen that weren't on dA already when I was half my age.

We should not forget that Xitter is the way it is for systemic reasons. My first impression of Bluesky as a corporation was clicking on the page of its CEO. Her career path thus far was dabbling in crypto bullshit and this. I'm sorry that I am not confident that she won't sell off the site to the next hyperrich moron du jour. Sorry, but the crypto thing and the fact she worked in Mountain View, CA taints her by association. After having watched the entire social sphere hailing from there essentially inventing enshittification, I am not going to give anybody from there the benefit of the doubt. You can't wade through shit and expect to come out smelling of roses.

Bluesky looks to me like a band-aid solution addressing none of the problems it solves for more than a few years unless a lot of people from the tech sector decide to make a lot of decisions for the benefit of the internet as a whole.

should I join bluesky... anyone else on there?

#twitter #bluesky #tumblr polls #rant post #free software #social media #meta post #text

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imthenextrobin · 9 hours ago

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i need the bats to go to america. please. pretty please

Bruce originally planned to take only Damian to America, just to scope the town that had been rumored to be holding the main factory for a new toxic chemical. However, his kids decided that they wanted to venture with them, and soon they all landed in a [random] southern state.

and. it’s a huge culture shock. because let’s be honest, the bats are not ready for the south. the bats are not ready for the north. they are not ready for the east. they are not ready for the west.

Immediately, the people were nicer, way nicer. This wasn’t surprising, as they came from GOTHAM. which yes, is known to be the most dangerous city, and that reputation led to lots of mean people.

(In reality, Gothamites were actually really chill with each other, the only reason being that nobody wanted to create another villain of the week)

But these people? They casually greeted others, even strangers like Bruce. A random teen would come up to Dick and compliment his outfit, a grandma would come up to Jason and ask for his help (which did not make him tear up, shut the fuck up Tim.)

A kid would accidentally bump into Bruce, only to instantly apologize profusely and be called back from his mom. Group of teen girls came up to Steph and Cass to ask them where they got their clothes from, only to talk for more than two hours at the mall the batfam were visiting.

Multiple more interactions happen, but i’m too tired to write them.

The biggest difference they experienced?

The high schools.

(but that’s another post, where I drop the batfam in high school.)

#southern life #can you tell i’m a southerner?#batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #batman #some aren’t mentioned but trust they are there #high school episode coming out soon #pls let me turn them southern #realistically they would be startled by the different tax brackets #but the world isn’t ready for that talk either

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midnight-mourning · 2 days ago

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Better Strangers. (Unless?)

Well it took a bit more time than I expected, wonder why THAT is (side eyes the wizard that put a curse on me, currently tied up in the corner) but it's here now, so I hope you enjoy! She's long, and I had to cut some stuff because it wasn't working, but such is life

If you've never read Confused Spirit, this will make a lot less since to you lol, so I recommend reading it first (though it's not a requirement). Again, this bad boy is canon to the story, but will never be directly mentioned in it

Word count: 7500

Song rec: Tommy's Party - Peach Pit (ignore the lyrics, it's the vibes that matter here)

Also posted on Ao3 if you prefer reading that way.

Content warning: Mentions of self-depreciation, self-gaslighting, depression, bits of yelling, etc. Small bits of using alcohol as a coping mechanism. Additionally, if you've never experienced what it's like to be anxious-drunk, you're in for it. Reader discretion is advised

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

"Okay, money's on the counter, Lisa needs to do her math homework before cartoons, and if you could do some flashcard practice with Gabe that would be super great but no worries if not, okay bye!" You say in a rush before opening and closing the front door.

You lean back against it briefly, take a deep breath, and force yourself to march over to your car.

It's your least favorite day of the quarter, second only to your least favorite day of the semester.

Parent-Teacher Conferences.

Comparable to Report-Review day at work, or tax season. The reason it was your second least favorite was because the other Parent-Teacher Conference day usually landed on a Friday, meaning you had one more night of the week you had to go out.

This one was just a bit more bearable in that yeah, you had work afterward, but at least you could use all of tomorrow evening to recharge. And you certainly intended to.

The school parking lot is filled with parents coming and going, chatting with those they know. You briefly greet anyone who says hello, but keep on your way, you want this to be quick, you've only got an hour or so before your late shift.

The meeting goes about how you'd expect, Lisa's the perfect little angel at school, it's just with you that she's a complete and utter menace. You'd considered the evening to likely being end on a high note based on this, but you'd be wrong.

Very wrong.

It's as you're walking out that you run into what would be your catalyst.

"Oh, funny seeing you here, dear!" Helen says as she approaches.

Inside you're saying every swear you can think of, outwardly you smile, "Hi Helen. It's parent-teacher night, of course I'd be here."

"I know, I know, merely joking."

You stand there, awkward, head nodding once, "Well if that's all then I'll be on my way then-"

"Well it's just, how do I put this," She tutters, shaking her head, "I can't imagine what your meeting must've been like. And I won't speculate of course, I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you, is all."

Your brows furrow briefly, but you try to remain neutral. Chill, you're chill. You can kick Helen's ass in a fight if you wanted, it's fine.

"The meeting went well, actually. Lisa's a good kid, I only stopped by because Mrs. Isley's been wanting brag on her in person."

This doesn't deter Helen, which you'd been, actually you can never tell what to expect with her. Doesn't matter, she keeps that sad look on her face, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, "Well, I wasn't sure if she was aware of the tumultuous situation with your family is all. It sounds like something that would greatly be affecting Lisa's performance. But I'm so glad to hear that's not the case."

"What, what do you mean?"

"Well, I ran into your aunt, Hannah's her name, right?" Helen tsks, "She told me all about your situation. Just awful to listen to, you know."

It occurs to you to glance over to where Helen came from, her typical group of parents she gossiped with. They're looking at you now, that same, bullshit look on their face. And you can just catch some of the things they say.

"To think someone like that's taking care of Lisa."

"I know, could you imagine, being so cruel to your family?"

"Typical twenty something, has no regard for anyone but themself."

"It is selfish, isn't it? Their parents would be ashamed."

You freeze then, something in you shutting down. You don't know what to say, how to react, how to even, think, for a moment.

This is possibly one of the worst case scenarios you could ever imagine. Helen knows an exceeding amount of information about you that you've done your best to hide for the sake of your siblings. Stuff that would otherwise be harmless, where you work, where Lisa goes to school, what daycare you use, etc. But could be incredibly dangerous when the wrong person find out about it. And at this point, you have no idea one way or the other if they have.

Has Rick's family tried shit in the past? Of course. Have they ever taken it that far? Debatable. You'd done your best to keep your personal life unknown to them for a reason however. But did you really know what their limits were? You had absolutely no clue.

And that terrifies you.

And it's your fault in the first place.

"Are you alright?" Helen asks, in a tone that is so fake you swear you can taste plastic.

You snap out of it. Not here, not now. Instead, you beam, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

This throws her for a loop finally, "I, well I-"

"I appreciate all the concern, Helen, really, I do. But we're doing just fine," Your hand pats the one of your shoulder and she flinches back. Ironic, you know.

You laugh, it's loud and fake as hell but it does what you need it to, "I don't know what you've been told, but let me assure you, there's a reason we're not on great terms. Didn't file that police report for nothing!"

At this, people start to turn towards you both, muttering quietly. Usually, such a thing would embarrass you. But you're channeling your rage to smother your panic. Your shame.

Hannah and the rest of Rick's family lives on the complete other side of the city. Helen would have had to go out of her way to manage to run into any one of them. And it sounds like she had.

If you had to guess, it was probably incidental, you have no social media, they all do. All it would take is a bit of profile browsing to find the connection and if she ever came across any of them, could easily strike up a conversation. Still crazy, but slightly less crazy than other options.

"Is everything okay over here?" Looking to your side you see Mrs. Isley, glare on her face, pointed toward Helen, before sharing a concerned look briefly with you.

You nod, "We're just fine, but I do have to get going now. Thanks for the, words of encouragement, Helen."

Her face has grown red, and can't even muster a response. Satisfied, you lean in as you pass her by, voice low, but still loud enough for the teacher behind you to overhear, "Hope you got what you wanted from that. Because next time, I won't be so nice and just say outright how the PTA president goes out of her way to find someone's toxic family members and delve into their personal life for no damn good reason."

You give her a rough pat on the back, and march out of there. Behind you, you can hear Mrs. Isley start to lay into the soccer mom who had so much free time on her hands to try and upset the 23 year old who, apparently, must be doing a better job at parenting than she was, as that what the only explanation you could come up with for her vendetta against you.

Once you make it out of the building is when you allow the facade to start to break down. You're panicked, you're freaking out. You're trying to determine if you're going to have to switch school districts now or what. You really don't want to uproot Lisa because of a mistake you made, which was believing that Helen Chase would mind her own damn business and-

Someone is calling after you. You look up from unlocking your car to see it's Mrs. Isley.

You raise a hand as she makes it over to you, out of breath, "It's fine, Aubrey. Just the typical bs. I'm okay."

"I'm sure you are," She says, pointing back to the school and shaking her head, "But that, was unacceptable behavior on her part and I am not going to let it fly by, rest assured. She's the head of the PTA, she's well aware of the school's 'no-contact list'."

"I-"

She raises her hand now, "No. Not this time. I get it, you don't want to make waves. But this was too far, and it's not fair to you in any which way to just leave it lie. She will be reprimanded, and if anything happens because of it," She shakes her head, "Well, I'm not going to let it."

"Thanks," You manage to choke out. The stress and relief both getting to you in that moment, due in large part to her firmness on the matter.

The teacher hugs you then, squeezing tight, "We have rules in place for this kind of stuff. And I'm sure once her husband hears wind of this he'll do his best to make sure nothing comes of it," She pulls back, hands on your cheeks, "Okay?"

You nod, hoping she can't see the tears pricking your eyes, "Okay."

Aubrey lets you go, "You're sure you're fine?"

"Yeah," You shake your head, "Just the words of someone who doesn't know how to mind their own business. I've had worse."

She nods, "Alright. Have a good night, and be safe."

You say goodbye and she walks off. You have to grip your wrist with your free hand to keep the one that's shaking steady enough to grab the door handle.

You drive in silence to the Plex, both hands tight on the wheel.

You're not going to let it get to you, you're not going to let it get to you, you know she's wrong, she's always wrong, she's just an asshole and you know that you're doing your best, you're doing great! Lisa's proof of that, Gabe's proof of that. You're fighting and you're trying, you're trying, you're trying-

The doors to the Daycare shut behind you, interrupting your thoughts.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you look around for your beanbag, finding it absent.

"What are you doing here?"

You turn, finding Sun cleaning up art supplies across the room.

You shake your head, "Not in the mood for this tonight, Sun. If you didn't want me around you could've just said so."

His rays flick back and forth, "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, my beanbag?" You nod to the empty spot, not ignoring the confusion he also displays, "Not the end of the world, really, but still."

He just stares over at you.

Then, "Bright Eyes, it's Friday."

Shit. It is Friday. You'd lost two days. Too caught up in work and stress and so on, to the point you'd hired Clara for the night and hadn't even realized. Not that it was her fault, she had no reason to question your foolishness. Your fault. Your mistake. Your fuck up.

Like always.

"I, right, yeah."

"Now, as much as I'd be thrilled to continue to entertain you, I have a preparations to be making," He walks over and starts to guide you, not gently, towards the door, "You understand I'm sure."

You shrug him off, embarrassed, not helping your already growing negative feelings and thoughts, "Yeah, I got it. Night."

You walk out, a bit aimless now. You're frustrated, you're upset, and you really, really, are feeling a bit shitty. There's tears pricking your eyes again, and honestly, you don't know what you need right now to fix it.

"Boss? What are you doing here?"

You turn, "Pete? It's eight o' clock on a Friday, why aren't you home?"

He puts both hands on his chest, "I'm here for my best buddy Jacob's birthday. See the hat," He points to his head, where indeed, he's wearing a party hat, "Did you want to join?"

"I, you know what? Yeah. I would."

"Great! Come on," He slings an arm around your shoulder, changing your direction to the West Arcade, "Some of the gang's upstairs. Savannah was busy, and Jesse's out of town, like a loser, but you'll know most everyone I think."

"You're not going to question me anymore?" You ask.

He shrugs, "Well no, not my business what you get up to. Unless you want it to be?"

You shake your head instantly, you didn't need to embarrass yourself by telling your coworker you let a middle-aged woman's words make you cry.

He nods, looking forward again, "Besides, you looked like you needed a distraction. For a bit anyway."

"Thanks, Petey," You sigh, "I do."

The atmosphere inside the West Arcade hits you instantly as you walk inside.

People are chatting, dancing, drinking and making fools of themselves, what you'd typically expect from a Plex party. Or really, any party with a bunch of burnt out twenty-somethings.

You meet up with Liv and Tyler, and are given a party hat and a drink shortly thereafter.

You stare down at it for a moment, briefly, and check the time, you have Clara until 11:30, you can have one and sober up in time.

You say the same thing after the second, and after the third argue that you can just, pick up your car tomorrow, grab an Uber.

After, drink four, you take the time to sober up for just a moment, which ends up being a mistake. Because now you're alone with your thoughts, and after the night you've had, that's the worst place for you to be.

The words said to you by a bunch of women in their 40s should not upset you like this, they're the ones choosing to pick on someone half their age. Sure, maybe they weren't wrong but that didn't, that didn't give them the right to talk like that, right?

You weren't just thinking about yourself, right?

They wouldn't be disappointed in you for not trying to make ammends.

Right?

Fuck, you really should sober up, sober up and go home.

"Hey, you alright?"

Liv's sitting next to you now. You give a practiced smile, "Just need a little more water. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" She waves over the bartender to get you another water and order another drink for herself.

You nod, "Positive. If I wasn't I wouldn't be here."

Lying through your teeth is somehow so much easier when you're drunk.

You drink another water, and don't feel any better. You just feel more, aware. Aware of how you don't fit in, how you're here because Pete took pity on you, how awful of a friend, a sibling, a daughter, a partner- No, not that last one, we're not getting into that mess tonight.

Has it really been that long since the last time you drank this much? You check the time, it's been an hour or two. You still had time. Fuck it, have another drink and try to have some fun. Something's gotta distract you from this feeling eventually, right?

When you check the clock again and realize it's 10:40, and it'll take at least twenty for an Uber to get here, you fumble for your phone and call Clara.

"Hey, I'm uh, gonna be home a bit later, is that okay?" You ask against the loudness of the room. You should have went outside instead of going to the quietest corner you could find, but you're kind of losing your logic.

You have to strain to hear her response, "Yeah, not an issue, I'm mid breath of the wild playthrough so time has no meaning to me."

"You've got breath of the wild? Jealous," Focus, you need to focus so you don't sound stupid, "Anyway, I'm guessing another hour or so, and if it gets too late you can stay over so you're not driving home so late."

"As long as you don't mind me gaming in the living room into the late hours of the night that's cool with me. What are you up to out of curiosity?"

You swallow, "Birthday party."

"Oh, Jacob's yeah? Savannah told me about it but since I was busy I couldn't swing by."

"Oh?" Why does that make you feel bad? Why do you feel so excluded now? That your coworker's sister got an invite and you didn't? Or did you get an invite and you forgot? Why do you care? You're not friends with Jacob. You’re not friends with these people out of work, really. Right?

"-speaking class."

You don't know what she just said, "Gotcha, gotcha. Well, I'll see you later tonight then."

"You got a ride?" You can just make out her button-mashing, followed by a sigh, "Sorry, if you've been drinking I mean."

"Yeah, I'll be good. Thanks."

After hanging up, you just stare down at your drink, then out to the dancefloor. You see everyone having such a great time, so why can't you? Why do you have to be like this? Why can't you just let yourself be happy? What does it take to make you relax and just, chill the hell out?

You haven't relaxed in months you realize. Not after what happened that night. Ironically, at the last Plex party you attended. If anything, you think being here, doing this, has just made everything that much worse.

You need to get out of here. You need to go somewhere else, do something else, be someone else.

Too bad you can't make that last one happen.

You finish your drink, and after a small head rush, walk over to where your friends? coworkers? are and say your goodbyes over the music.

"Hey, it was really good seeing you tonight!" Pete says, then nods to where Jacob's at on the dancefloor, "Jacob appreciated it for sure."

He's lying. He's just being nice because you're his boss.

Liv gives you a quick hug, "We should hang out outside of work more often. Maybe somewhere a bit more quiet."

She doesn't mean that. She's pitying you.

"Yeah, that'd be great!" You smile.

Tyler raises his fist and you bump it, "See you Monday, broski. Stay safe out there."

"Can do, have a good night guys."

"See you!" And "Be safe!" are shouted out behind you.

You believe the genuity of that. You may know that they hate you, but they're nice people.

Your feet walk you in the direction you don't want to be heading. Split between this impulse decision and just going home. But you can't make yourself go home, you can't go home, home just remind you of everything, and everything you're not-

The Daycare doors feel heavier than usual, which makes sense considering how much you've had tonight. Inside, you find it's, pretty much the same as usual, you don't know what all the fuss was over on Sun's part.

Speaking of, where is he?

You shuffle in, taking note of the small plastic tea cups and saucers sitting on a table that's been moved to the center of the space. Along with... snacks? Right, Chica's supposed to be here. Seems she hasn't shown up just yet.

You're trying to remind yourself why you came here as opposed to calling for a ride, when you hear the doors open again.

"Oh. You're back."

You turn, Sun is holding a tray with a teapot, and there is indeed, steam coming out of it. Now you know.

"Did you want something or are you just here to bother me?" He swiftly walks past you, setting the pot and tray down with pointed showmanship.

Something about his tone sets you off. Not unusual. But because you're not sober, you speak your mind in a way you otherwise wouldn’t. Unfortunately unusual.

"You know, starting to wonder that myself."

"Really now?" He speaks with a bored enthusiasm that grates on you.

"Yeah, really. You know, I don't sleep at night because of you," You shake your head, "My dreams are just, filled, with nothing but that night. Over and over again, it plays in my head. And you see, the worst part is that it's not even the idea of seeing him in that stupid machine. You know what keeps me up? You. And what you did to me," You take a deep breath, looking back to him, "And what I did to you."

Sun's rays tick a few times.

Then, "You're intoxicated."

"Yeah, no shit, glad you finally got up to speed."

"I'm just rather surprised you'd be interested in taking such risks again considering what happened to you last time."

You scoff, "Don't even try to pull that, I wasn't wasted, I had a concussion."

"I was referring to being at the Plex so late alone, Starshine," His gaze narrows, "But rest assured, you're increasing my concern the more you speak."

"Concern for what? Because we both know it isn't for me. And that's fine, shouldn't expect, don't deserve it. Even if I-" You stop yourself, you're not out of it enough for that, "I'll just give it to you straight; you have no reason to be concerned. For my siblings? They don't need me, Clara sees more of them than I do and she does a hell of a lot better job. My work? Someone else would fill the gap when I'm gone, my team's more than competent without me. My friends? They've got each other, or, or partners. And our little investigation? You," You slow down for a moment, "Well, I'm sure with that charming personality of yours you could trick another sorry sucker into helping you with ease."

You throw up your hands, laughing, "So, no need for concern here, Sunny. If something happens to me no one will notice!" Your face feels wet, "No one's going to fucking care. So, you can take your concern and shove it."

You bring a hand up to your face, confirming that you are crying, "Fuck, exactly what I needed to top off the night."

You sniff once, and then turn around, you seemed to get everything you'd wanted to say out of your system, maybe you can go home and be happy now. Or something.

"Why did you come here tonight?"

You pause, then laugh quietly, hand coming up to run through your hair, "Hell if I know."

A hand is set on your shoulder, one that makes you spin around. The motion slightly jogs you.

Sun's gaze is down at you, rays spinning once or twice but otherwise motionless.

"Stop that. I don't like being analyzed," You mutter, averting your eyes.

His other hand comes up to guide your focus back to him, "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Not right now."

You manage a half-hearted chuckle, "Give me some credit, Sun. I'm calling an uber as soon as I'm out of here."

You think if he could frown he would, instead, his eyes narrow and grip tightens just a tad, "Not wise. Not if you're alone. I suppose there's other options. Hold still. And don't look down."

"What are you-hey hey hey, what are you doing?" You argue, anger flaring momentarily as he takes hold of you, your feet coming out from under you as he lifts you into his arms.

Before you know it, you're up in the air, having to squeeze your eyes shut so you don't get dizzy from the change. You feel Sun land on solid ground again several seconds later.

"You say a word about anything and I'm putting you in the theater instead," A brief pause, "Or on a naptime mat down below."

You open your eye, "Wha-Oh."

"I mean it. Not. A. Word."

You put your hands up, "Okay, okay."

He didn't say anything about making private observations to yourself.

The Attendant's room is somehow exactly what you expected and not at all. Your first thought is organized. Your second thought is empty.

Clean also comes to mind, there's not a speck of dust in sight. You take note of the different standout features. An old, Hollywood style dresser with matching mirror and lights, string lights hang from the ceiling among the rafters. There's a set of cubbies containing spare toys, and some seemingly ongoing craft projects.

You spy your bean bag in a corner with a few others. There's also a large pile of blankets and stuffed animals, almost like a bed. Lying nearby you see a charging port.

The most interesting thing to you, however, is the green tube in the left wall, leading obviously to somewhere, you just don't know where exactly.

You don't get to find out, Sun sets you down on the blanket pile, and if you weren't so hypervigilant you'd sink right in, exhaustion is starting to hit you after the combination of drinking, yelling, and crying.

You hear a click and realize he's left the room. It's the perfect opportunity to snoop, but the desire for rest outweighs this urge. Besides, it's rude. And you're not that rude.

You feel like all you did was blink and he's back again. You rub your face and pat it a few times to try and wake up, glancing over to the bot.

"I've already taken the liberties of informing your babysitter that you will be home after several hours of sleep. And agreed upon compensation." Sun answers your look of concerned confusion by raising his hand with your phone, "You dropped it when I picked you up, she had asked about your well-being. You can check to confirm I did nothing else if that eases you."

The fact you can't recall that happening proves it's probably for the best he did that.

"God she's going to hate me," You groan, rubbing your face with both hands.

Sun sets your phone down beside you, and sits down in front of you, glass of water in one hand, "She does not. Drink."

You eye the glass with suspicion.

"Are you seriously debating whether I've tampered with it?"

"Should I not?"

A scoff, "It's a glass of water, I've done nothing to it."

"Sound like something someone who did something to it would say," You muse.

Another scoff, and he leans down, rays clicking, "If I was going to do something, Bright Eyes, it would have already been done. And need I remind you, I can't cause harm even if I wanted to."

"Fine," You huff, taking the cup and muttering as you sip, "I'm surprised they let you have glass."

No answer. You look over, eyebrows raised.

Then it clicks, "Ah. Contraband. Noted," You finish the glass and wipe your mouth, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

No words for a bit, your head hurts, but this helps. That might be a good thing to bring up, you're not a fan of this kind of silence.

"Why did you help me? Or I guess, why are you actively, helping me?"

Sun shrugs, hands clasped in his lap. You expected a snarked out comment that you're strangely not receiving.

Then, "I'll get you another glass. You should rest in the meantime." He stands up, and in your current state the action panics you.

"Wait," You reach out, grabbing his arm, "Don't go. I'm, I don't want to be alone. Please." God, you sound pathetic.

You also realize what it is you're doing, and to whom, and you let go, "I, shit, sorry. Just, yeah just go get the water. I'll be fine."

You pull your knees up to your chest, controlling your breathing. You didn't need to start crying again. You're fine, you know you'll be fine.

A soft jingling sound interrupts your thoughts, and looking up you see Sun unwrapping one of the ribbons from his forearm, then his wrist. Once he's finished, the ribbon and bells piled in one hand, he holds it out to you.

You furrow your brow, but take the offering.

"It's the best way I can think of to assure you I'll be back. I'd look rather silly if I went around like this, right?" He waves both hands up by his face.

You sniff, "Yeah."

"And if you're truly, concerned, just ring, and I'll be here," He stands straight again, taking the glass, "I'll just be a moment."

"Ok."

He leaves the room, and you're alone.

Having nothing better to do, you lean back against the numerous pillows and stuffed animals behind you, hands clasping and resting on your chest.

You take note that the ceiling has a few glow in the dark stickers you recognize from the Daycare proper. Someone must've snatched the extras when they had the chance. The thought makes you laugh softly.

It also occurs to you then that Moon is additionally assisting in this, mess, you've created, given that the theater is probably dark, and you don't believe that door leads anywhere else.

You close your eyes, shame welling up in you. This is pathetic on your part. Truly and utterly. You're an adult, and you can't take care of yourself after a night of drinking? You can't manage to drink responsibly, avoid the typical stereotype and make a fool out of yourself saying shit you shouldn't? God, you're so-

You're being gently jostled awake, "You can't sleep like that, friend. You'll regret it." More quietly, "And he won't shut up about it, for that matter."

You open your eyes, they feel a tad heavy from the short nap you got. Your senses perk up however, when you smell something greasy yet heavenly. Pizza, currently in Sun's hand, soon to be in your stomach if you have anything to do with it.

"Thought you were just getting water," You say, as if you're not two seconds away from devouring that pizza whole.

He scoffs lightly, setting the pizza in front of you and handing you the water, "I had a feeling if I told you what I was doing it would only make things worse."

"You'd be right," You take a brief drink of water, then open the pizza box and grab a slice. It's divine. And you don't say that lightly when it came to Fazbear pizza.

You groan mid-bite, leaning back against the plushes behind you, "God, I wish you could taste how good this is right now. Like," You take another bite, "So frickin' good."

You're too focused on eating to overhear Sun laughing quietly at your antics. You managed to scoff down three slices before he takes it away from you.

He places it over on the dresser, "You'll get sick. And preferably, I'd rather not be cleaning up vomit at 1 am, if it's all the same to you."

"Just one more! Come on," You whine, then pause, eyebrows shooting up, "Oh I am not sober, that's for sure."

You realize Sun's staring at you, and your face heats up.

"Don't look at me like that, it just makes it worse," Your hands come up and cover your face.

At that Sun laughs. And maybe you're a bit out of it, but it doesn't sound mocking, or pretentious. It's genuine.

You feel a compulsion to right your wrongs from earlier, or at the very least, try to.

"I'm, I'm sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve that."

"I don't accept." Sun states.

You cringe, and nod, "Fair."

He chuckles, "I don't accept, because it wasn't directed at me. You may have said those words at me, but I think we both know their true target."

You think for a moment, nodding solemnly, "Helen."

"Who? I-" He shakes his head, "Starlight, I meant yourself."

"Oh. That makes a bit more sense." You decide to give him a bit more context to save some trouble, "She runs the PTA. My third worst enemy, behind you, and Grab Ass. You got a Katie Chase in that little directory of yours?"

"Yes? But-oh. That one."

Your brows raise for a moment, "Wow, I've never heard you speak with that much disdain before."

"We all have limits, friend," His tone shifts, like he's about to boil over with rage, "We all have limits..."

You yawn, and his attention shifts. He motions for you to take off your shoes and the likes, and you get the hint. You lay back into the bed-you're pretty sure there's a mattress buried under here somewhere, feels like it-letting loose another yawn.

Sun takes one of the blankets and tosses out over you, it falls slowly down on top of you. Then, he bends down and presses his smile to your forehead, pulling back after a moment and patting your head.

"What was that for?"

His rays spin, eyes widening a fraction. Seems he's just now realizing what he did, "An unfortunate matter of programming. One I'm hoping you'll forget by morning."

You scoff, smile on your lips, "That's not how being drunk works, you know. Only if you've drank a lot."

That seems to relax him.

"So explain it to me then," He sits at the end of the blanket pile, "I'm curious."

You sit up slightly to make eye contact with him, "Really? All the stuff you could learn about and that's what piques your interest?"

He nods.

You stare at him a moment, then lay back down, "I mean, alright. Do my best here."

You explain. Sun asks you a question every now and then. You just, talk. You talk to each other for, awhile it feels like. You talk until your throat starts to get sore. You, you haven't spoken with someone like this in a long time. Long enough you can't remember when the last time you did was.

You start to get tired and Sun notices immediately. He mutters a brief goodnight to you, and the lights are shut off soon thereafter.

You roll over to your side to watch Moon appear.

"Thank you. Both of you," You say, as he walks back over to you, "You didn't have to do all this, it's, appreciated."

He nods, "You are welcome."

A sudden realization hits you as sleep begins to take over.

"My stuff..." You mutter, "I, left my stuff back in the West Arcade, if it's not stolen already."

Moon stands, "I'll retrieve it for you. Will you be alright?"

You sleepily raise your hand, bells jingling in your grasp, "Got these. And I'm a bit more sober now. I'll be okay."

Moon nods, "Then I'll return shortly."

"I might be asleep by then," You yawn, "So I'll preemptively say thank you, and goodnight."

"Goodnight, Diana. Sweet Dreams."

You huff lightly, "What, no goodnight kiss?"

It takes you all of 0.5 seconds to realize what you just said.

"Oh goddammit-"

Moon leans down, and presses a kiss to your forehead, his tone cheeky as he pulls away again, "Is that satisfactory, your highness?"

Your face is hot with embarrassment but you refuse to lose.

"'Twas," You turn over and away so he can't see your wide-eyed 'holy shit' stare, "But I'll have you know that I'm not that demanding when I drink. This was a one-time thing. Won't happen again."

"Of course not."

You snuggle further under the blanket, mumbling, "It won't. I mean it. It was a stupid mistake. One that's going to haunt me for a while."

Quiet. You feel him sit down beside you, "Everyone makes mistakes, Icarus. It's how we learn from them that matters."

"Trust me, I know."

A hand on your shoulder presses down and makes you lay back on your back. You stare up into red eyes, narrowed with concern down at you. The gaze makes you uncomfortable. You try to brush it off.

"I don't need a pity party, Moon. I gave myself enough of one earlier."

He tilts his head, "It's funny how you always assume care to be pity. I wonder why that is?"

You're about to say it, and play it off as a joke, but he beats you to the punch.

"Well, it's not fair to speculate. So I'll just tell you, you don't have to suspicious of such with me. Or either of us for that matter," His focus goes back on you, "We mean what we say."

You raise a brow questioningly.

"For the most part, I should say."

You chuckle, "Yeah, I know."

"Your friends mean what they say too, you know. They care about you. As does your family. It's obvious to anyone that sees it. You just simply need to allow yourself to." He pokes your forehead.

You sigh, looking up to the ceiling briefly, "Oh, that's a lot harder than it sounds, Moon-man."

"I never suggested otherwise. I merely intended to remind you."

"I've been reminded," You smile slightly, "And I'll do my best to continue to do so."

"You'll have assistance." You can't tell if that's a tease, a threat, or a promise. You'll just be on the safe side and assume all three.

You smirk, "Goodnight, Moon. For real this time."

"Goodnight, Andromeda. For real." He rises from the bed, giving a quick two-finger salute.

You snicker, shake your head, and close your eyes.

A few moments later you hear the jingle of bells fade out into the Daycare itself.

Your hand clutches the bells and ribbon in your hand a tad tighter, and you feel yourself start to drift off into sleep.

You find yourself awake some time, you're guessing, much later. Your head isn't nearly as heavy, and you feel as if you slept for at least a decent amount of time.

Groggily, you fumble for your phone, finding that it's been about three hours since you fell asleep.

You become keenly aware of someone staring at you, and scanning the room find Moon staring down at you from the rafters.

Normally, this would be an alarming sight at 4 in the morning, for you and your half-asleep mind, it arouses mild surprise.

"Why are you awake?" He asks.

You sit up, fumbling for the glass beside you, "I become very awake in the hours after drinking," You gulp down the glass, "For a very short period of time. I'll probably start feeling tired again in a few minutes."

You wipe your mouth and look up to the Attendant, "Why were you watching me?"

Moon shrugs, "Bored."

"Yeah right," You scoff, "Not with the amount of shit you get into on the regular. What's your real reason, sport?"

"Sport?" He asks.

You wave your hand, "It's a combination of sleepiness and leftover drunkenness, just ignore it and save me some embarrassment."

"Noted."

"You didn't answer the question. Don't think I didn't notice," Your arm moves jankily as you point your finger at him.

His faceplate spins, "We simply wanted to ensure you were alright."

"We? That's a shocker. I'm surprised he isn't having a hissy fit about you making such an implication."

There's a bout of binary before Moon answers with a sigh, "He is now."

You giggle, "Sorry."

Quiet for a few moments.

"Your belongings are located beside you," Moon points to where your bag sits on the floor not too far from the bed, "They appeared to be in order, though I can't say for certain."

Your eyes widen for a moment before you nod your head slowly, "Oh yeah, forgot about that. Thanks."

Moon nods.

"Sorry if I um, ruined your evening plans."

The Naptime Attendant chuckles, "Plans? What is it that you think we get up to, Pandora?"

"You know what I mean, I know you don't just sit and stare at the wall for hours until open," You shrug, "You explore, fuck around with your mechanics, which I don't approve of still," You send him a scolding glare, then continue, "Sun has gossip night with Chica, seems to be a bit crafty as well."

Moon whistles, or plays the sound, at least, "Impressive."

"Yeah, yeah," You wave him off, yawning.

"Seems you've expended your remaining energy."

You settle back into bed, "Getting there."

"Anything I can do to help?" He asks, shifting position to hang upside down from the beam, feet hooked over the other side.

You scoff lightly, "You, aiding those in desperate need of rest? I don't buy it."

"It's my specialty." He insists, and you both quietly laugh.

"Want me back to bed that bad, huh?" You ask, hands clasping on your chest while you stare up at him, thinking.

"Have any good bedtime stories?"

His faceplate spins, "More than you'd imagine."

"Pick one for me then, and I think that'll do the trick," You nod once, affirmingly.

"Very well."

He starts, voice smooth, soft. Really, perfect for storytelling if you're being honest. It helps your mind to settle again, and well before the end, you're asleep again.

Waking up the next morning, you find yourself face to, back? with a yellow animatronic.

Sitting up, you see Sun is slouched beside the bed, facing away from you. Examining him more closely you see there's a charging cord plug into the back of his head.

Curiously, you reach out to poke him.

"I'd appreciate the ability to recharge in peace, friend."

You jump back, cursing under your breath.

Then, you huff, "There's no way you could tell what I was going to do."

"No, but a bot can have his suspicions," He turns to look back at you, "And plenty of mine have been right about you."

"'Plenty of mine have been right about you.'" You mock quietly.

"How are you feeling?"

You sigh, shrugging, "Fine. Maybe a little hungover. I'll live, if you were worried."

"I wasn't," He retorts as you snicker, "But good to know."

You nod to the charging cable, "Thought the two of you switching kept you from using that too often."

At this, Sun flusters. Taking a moment to articulate himself.

"Typically. However, Moon felt-" A bit of binary, before doubling down, "Moon felt it would be unfair to have the lights on in any manner of speaking while you slept. So they remained off throughout the night."

You muse on the words for a minute, nodding thoughtfully. Inside, part of you is overjoyed, and the other is a mixture of shocked and maybe touched? You're not going to think on it further. Point is, Sun gave up his hours-willingly or unwillingly-to give you the chance to sleep.

"Well, it's appreciated," You reach up and flick his forehead, narrowly dodging around him to grab your phone as he shoos you away.

He grumbles a response you don't catch.

Checking the time, it's around 8 am. Looking at your messages, Sun told Clara you'd be home by 10. Yikes. Good to know how little faith he had in you. Well, best not waste it.

You stretch, giving a final yawn, "This place have a breakfast special? Feel like I swear I've heard about it at least once."

"It does, but I'll inform you it's not one that's served in bed."

"Relax. I can take care of myself just fine now," You throw off the blanket and stand up, "I'll be back. Hold down the fort in the meantime, yeah?"

Sun sputters, a "What?" As you pat him briefly on the back and march out of the room, on the prowl for food to satisfy your hunger.

Once you find it, you sneak your way back into the Daycare. The Plex is still pretty much abandoned at this point in the morning, but you don't want to have to explain yourself if you don't have to.

Walking in, you plop down on the bed beside Sun and dig into your breakfast sandwich. Either you're much more hungover than you thought, or this is delicious. Potentially, both.

"Sorry you missed out on your shit talking session," You say between bites, "As a fellow disgruntled employee I know how important those can be."

Sun scoffs.

You turn to look at him, "And thanks for taking care of me. It's appreciated."

This appears to surprise him, rays ticking to one side, "You're welcome."

"You're not the worst person I've ever met, you know," You take another bite, "Up there, but you have your good qualities."

"That means the world coming from you," He says, hand on his chest and voice syrupy sweet.

You nod, "I know."

He huffs, it turns into a laugh after a moment.

"You're not the worst person I've met, either," His gaze meets yours, "Not as much as you believe yourself to be."

You pause, surprised. Then, you swallow, coughing, "T-thanks."

He turns away again. You continue to eat.

A thought crosses your mind.

"You know, if you were really worried about the light, you could've just closed the curtains."

Sun freezes. Then, he sighs, heavily. Hand coming up to run down his face before falling into his lap.

"Yes. I suppose that would have, been an option."

You burst out laughing, which only grows as the two attendants seem to argue back and forth with each other.

As you bask in the moment, you find yourself thinking back.

Yeah, you weren't perfect, but you cared. A lot. And you think that says a lot. Means a lot.

To someone, at least.

☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙☀️🌙

Well, you can probably see now why this bad boy was scrapped as a chapter. Believe me I had the full intentions of saving it, but I'll admit once I saw an out by using it as a one-shot I jumped on it lol

I don't know if it's everything that I wanted, but I think I hit the main points I'd originally set out to.

To those who wanted affection with the CS boys, you got it! Just maybe not how you were expecting :) Ah, who am I kidding, you knew it was going to come at the price of angst

Sorry that I went awol for a bit, the antibiotics DID knock me on my ass and it was, rough, to put it plainly and I'm still going to have to get a scan lmao

idk man, I just want to be better already, I gotta propose (MY THESIS, I MEAN MY THESIS, I AM SINGLE) in a few weeks I don't have time for this >_< (she says, as if this hasn't been a 3 month saga)

Gahhh, anyway, hope you enjoyed! Have no idea how I'll feel from one day so you may or may not see me but know I'll be writing in the meantime (and enjoying it i promise, it's my hobby afterall) thanks for reading!

Tag list (hope I did this right, if you did not want tagged simply let me know and I'll remove you!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @eternal-soup (IT WON'T LET ME @ YOU I'M SORRY)

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse

If you want to be added to the tag list, or check out my other stuff, see this post here for more information, bye!

#i hope this is good you guys I've been staring at it so long I can no longer tell #still not feeling 100% but I'm functional now at least #we'll see how long that lasts lmao #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #dca fic #confused spirit #x reader #title is a riff on one of my fav songs by one of my fav bands btw :)

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