nycposter-blog

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (42/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The new bed is here! And Joris isn't happy about it!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: LETS GOOOOOOOO!!! FORZA FERRARI!!!

“It was really nice of you to take the photos for Enzo and Charlotte,” Charles says as you both get into the car in the afternoon. He buckles up and starts the engine. 

“It's my job, after all,” you smile and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Charles steers the car out of the driveway. "Well, actually it's your job to take pictures of me, not of my brother's engagement," he corrects you, for which you gently punch him on the shoulder. 

“I still enjoyed doing it,” you say. "I'm very happy for Enzo and Charlotte. They seem like the perfect couple.”

Charles purses his lips and nods. "They've been together for a long time. We were all wondering when he would finally pop the question. But I didn't think he'd actually do it during Christmas.”

You look at him. ”Why not?”

“I don't know,“ he replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have thought he would have done it in the summer, after a nice day on the boat and then maybe at dinner.”

You look at him. "Maybe he wanted to combine it with something nice – and Christmas is a celebration of love.” You can't help but grin. “And he didn't have to buy her a Christmas present, just a ring.”

Your roommate laughs. “Should I do the same to you next year? Just propose to you so I don't have to get you a gift?” 

You know it's a joke, but when the words leave his mouth, you feel warm. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Absolutely not.”

The Monegasque steers the car through the streets of his home country. “And how should I propose then? Do you want a trip in a hot air balloon? At Times Square, where everyone is watching? Or at a Taylor Swift concert while she sings Love Story?”

You can't suppress a giggle. ”None of that, please.”

“Then tell me.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Mmm. I've never really thought about it much. But I think I'd rather have a moment that's just for the two of us. Where no one else is watching, where we're on our own. No onlookers, no one to talk about it. Just the two of us – I think that would be perfect.”

Charles squeezes your hand twice. “Good to know.” He smiles at you briefly before looking back at the road. “By the way, I asked Pierre and Kika if they wanted to go to Lando's party with us tonight. I hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I feel like I haven't seen Kika in ages. But it was only – what – four days ago?” 

“I think so. They want to come around seven, so you two can get ready together and maybe have a drink.” 

Without thinking about it, you lean over and kiss his cheek. "You're the best, Charles." You can see the blush rising in his face, but you let it go uncommented.

“I know,” he says with a grin as he turns into the underground parking garage. When the car comes to a stop, you both get out and you press the elevator button while Charles takes your bags out of the trunk. 

“What are the parties like in Monaco?” you ask him as you both enter the elevator. ‘Do you have to dress particularly chic or does it depend on the club? How much money do I need to take with me? Is my ID card enough or do I need to take anything else?’ you bombard him with questions. 

Charles has to laugh. ”Haven't you ever been out partying?”

You shake your head and press the button for your floor. “Not in Monaco, no.”

The elevator doors close and you feel it transport you upwards. The Monegasque looks down at you. “The club where Lando's friend performs is chic, but not super chic. If you like –”

“Where the fuck have you been?” an angry Joris bellows at you as the elevator door opens. 

You almost have a heart attack from the shock, but Charles just looks at his best friend in confusion.

“Since when did you stop checking your cell phones? I've tried to reach you ten thousand times!” Joris's face is as red as a tomato as he snarls at you angrily and you get out of the elevator without saying a word. ”I was still asleep! And I didn't even get to eat breakfast!”

Charles puts your two bags down next to the apartment door. "And a good morning to you, Joris. How can I help you?” He walks past him, deeper into the apartment, Joris follows him, seething. You follow them in silence.

“How you can help me?” Joris asks snappishly, leaning on the kitchen worktop with his hands, before pointing at a few sheets in front of him with his index finger. “Next time you order furniture, at least be home when it's delivered, or leave your own cell phone number so they can call you if they ring the doorbell and you don't open it.” 

Charles opens his eyes wide. ”Our bed.”

Joris sneers. “This shitty bed has cost me valuable hours of sleep. And I certainly shouldn't have driven here.”

Charles can hardly keep a grin off his face as he turns around and opens the fridge. "How many bottles of wine did you drink yesterday?", he asks, placing eggs, vegetables and bacon on the counter in front of him. 

“Two.”

Your roommate gets a bowl and a pan out of a drawer before he starts to crack the eggs into them. “Did you throw up in your front yard?”

Joris rolls his eyes and watches as Charles prepares his hangover breakfast. "No.”

“Then congratulations,’ Charles grins. ”Then you had a successful Christmas.”

The omelette tastes so good that Joris's anger disappears with the first bite. He talks about Christmas dinner with his parents and his brother and the family vacation planned for next year, while he shovels the omelette into himself like a bulldozer. In between, Charles slides him coffee across the counter in a cup, but doesn't dare get closer to his hungry and hungover friend. 

“By the way, the bed is very nice,” Joris finally says, pushing the empty plate away. ‘You could have at least warned me.”

“I'm sorry,’ Charles apologizes with pursed lips. ”Are we friends again?”

Joris sighs. “Of course,” he smiles, getting up from his chair to embrace his oldest friend. They both pat each other on the back before letting go. “I have to go now. By the way, I gave the delivery man a €150 tip for kindly setting up the bed. Thank God you had some money lying around.”

Charles watches his friend go in the direction of the apartment door with confusion. “The setup was already included in the price.“

The photographer purses his lips. "At least they got a nice tip," he finally says, before leaving the apartment and leaving you two alone. 

Without saying a word, you take the dirty dishes and wash them in the sink while Charles puts your bags in the bedroom. When he returns, he stands directly behind you. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. 

“We also have a dishwasher, you know?” he whispers, laying his chin on your shoulder. His arms wrap around your middle, his chest pressing against your back. 

You nod and lean against him. “But we don't need to run the dishwasher for that,” you reply, breathing in as his hand slowly slides under your sweater. “It was very nice of you to make Joris breakfast, even though it's already afternoon.”

“Mm-hmm,” Charles hums softly. "It was the least I could do. It was really nice of him to come here to take delivery of the bed. I'd completely forgotten that I put down his cell phone number." 

“Joris is a good friend.”

“He is,” he murmurs and kisses your cheek. ‘But I prefer to have you lying in my new bed." He gently pulls you out of the kitchen towards the bedroom where the new bed is. Joris was even kind enough to make the bed; dark gray sheets are smoothly stretched over the mattress and you would love to snuggle up in them. 

“It looks incredibly cozy,“ you smile. 

“Come on.” Charles gently pushes you towards the bed. “I told you I wanted you in it.” He watches you with eagle eyes as you slowly crawl onto the bed and slip under the covers, putting your cell phone on the nightstand. As if you've been conditioned, you have to yawn. 

“The bed was definitely the right decision,” you smile and stretch your arms to fold them behind your head. "But it was definitely the wrong decision to trick me to get into it.”

“Why?’ your roommate chuckles. ”Too comfortable?”

“Definitely. I'd love to stay here forever.” You tap the empty side of the bed next to you. ”Come and try it out.”

Without wasting another moment, Charles circles the bed and lies down next to you. His arm wraps around your middle again and pulls you towards him so that your chests are touching. “I see your point. It is pretty comfortable.” His hand slides up your back under your sweater until it finds its place between your shoulder blades. 

You close your eyes and breathe out. “Do we have to go out partying tonight? I mean, can't we just order take-out and stay in?”

“Of course we could do that,” he smiles. 'But I highly doubt you want to cancel on Kika and Lando.”

You sigh. ‘We could invite everyone here," you suggest. ”The bed is big enough for all of us and –”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupts you and shakes his head vehemently. ‘The only ones allowed in this bed are already in it. Nobody else is allowed to snuggle up in the covers. Besides, I don't like the thought of you lying in a bed with Lando.”

You raise your hand and gently run your fingers through his brown curls. "Are you jealous?”

A deep growl escapes Charles' throat. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and kiss his stubbled cheek. ”You do know that Lando is the reason we're friends again, right? Because he called you when you were in Italy?”

“I am aware,“ he mumbles, pressing you closer. "Doesn't mean you have to share a bed, though.’ 

“You don't have to worry about that,” you grin. “There's only one man I want to share a bed with.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Don't worry, Charlie. You're the one I mean, of course.”

“Perfect.”

You lie in bed for a while, legs tangled and snuggled together. You gently run your fingers through his hair while his fingertips caress your back. Lying here with him feels so normal, so familiar, that you don't ever want to be in a bed without him again. 

“You still haven't answered my questions about tonight,” you say eventually, and your hand gently caresses the soft skin at the nape of his neck. 

Charles almost moans, his eyes closed. "I'll pay for you.”

“But I can pay for myself," you smile, even though he's not looking at you.

“Doesn't matter.” Your fingers pause in their movement. Charles fidgets a little, wanting for you to continue.

“You're about to fall asleep, Charlie," you giggle, but comply with his silent request. 

He moves closer to you and cuddles his face into the hollow between your jaw and your shoulder before taking a deep breath. “I'm not,” he replies softly. “But lying here with you is so comfortable.” He leisurely pulls at your sweater to reveal the skin on your neck and places feather-light kisses where your pulse is beating. Goosebumps spread across your body. 

“Charles...”

“Let's cancel on everyone,” he whispers, and his hand moves to your thigh to drape your leg over his hip so that you are literally pressed against each other, body to body. You feel his hardness against your clothed core. 

You sigh. “But you just said that we can't cancel,” you reply. “Besides, you already said yes to Lando and invited Pierre and Kika.”

“I don't care,” he breathes. “Let's be crappy friends and cancel at the last minute. I'm sure the others will understand.”

“What will they understand, hm? That the bed is so comfortable that we don't want to leave it?“ you ask him quietly. 

“That I'd rather be here in bed with you than standing in a crowded club.” His breath caresses your neck gently. “That I'd rather test out the new bed with you than yell at you over the loud music just to be able to talk to you.”

His words make your face heat up. You hope he doesn't notice. “Then we'd be very bad friends.”

“Then let's be very bad friends,” he grins against your neck before pressing a final kiss on your pulse. “We can make it up to them sometime. Just not today. Today I want you all to myself. Now that I finally have you back with me.”

You feel him press his boner against you and you absentmindedly tighten your leg around his waist. Your fingers gently press into his neck muscles and his breathy moans reach your ears. You can feel your arousal pool in your panties and you want to give in so bad. 

You want to stay home with him. In this bed. You want to repeat last night at his mom’s house, but this time the both of you would be able to show how much pleasure you give each other. You desperately want to hear him groan again, but now without the barrier of your hand on his mouth. You want to feel his cock against your pussy, sliding through your folds and gathering your juices. 

God, you want to repeat last night but without any clothes on. His cock nudging against your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your veins. His hands grabbing your ass and moving you over his length. You want to feel the the tip of his dick catching in your entrance before finally sliding in, stretching you deliciously. 

You want to fuck him so bad that it’s making you dizzy.

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” Charles asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Before you can answer him – which you don't really want to do anyway – your cell phone rings. The Monegasque reaches for it without hesitation, answers the call and puts the person on speakerphone. 

“Allo?”

“Hello, you two,“ Kika's voice sounds from your cell phone. ‘How are you? What are you doing?”

“We're testing my new bed,’ Charles replies with a grin, and you hide your face in the duvet. 

“You can't say that,” you say, reaching for your cell phone, but your roommate extends his arm so you can't get to it. 

“Why?“ Charles asks hypocritically. "It's true, isn't it?”

“Charles!”

Kika laughs loudly. "Should I call back in a minute? I don't want to disturb you guys doing whatever it is you're doing.”

“It's fine,” you call to her, although she would have understood you even if you had spoken normally. “What can I do for you?”

The Portuguese woman giggles. “I just wanted to ask what you would like to drink and what you are going to wear.”

You open your eyes wide. "Um, I have no idea. What do people wear in the clubs here?" You repeat the question you've already asked your roommate. 

“How about this?” She begins. "Pierre and I will come a little earlier and go through your closet together? The guys can play video games or something. And we'll get ready in peace and quiet."

You like her suggestion. ”That would be great.”

“Great. Pierre and I are going out for a quick shopping trip and want to buy some wine. You drink sweet, right? Then I'll bring you something.”

“Thanks!” you reply and with a big stretch you finally get to your phone in Charles's hand. "See you in a bit!" You hang up and put the phone back on the bedside table. When you turn to your friend, he's pouting. ”What's wrong?”

He turns on his back and crosses his arms over his chest, which is a little difficult considering your leg is still wrapped around his waist. “I was kind of hoping you'd cancel on them.”

A smile spreads across your face. You slide closer to him again and reach for his arms to separate them before you roll onto him. Your knees are next to his hips on the mattress and instinctively, his big hands find your ass. 

“I'm sorry, Charles,” you whisper, leaning down so that you are completely on top of him. Your elbows are next to his shoulders and your hands are finding their way into his hair again. ”We don't have to stay long.”

The Monegasque exhales. “As long as you promise me that we'll stay in bed tomorrow, that's okay with me.” When you purse your lips, he groans in annoyance and pushes his head back into the pillow. “Do I have to go to camp with Andrea tomorrow?”

You nod slightly. ”I'm afraid so.”

“That's terrible,” he complains, wrapping his arms around you. ”Then we won't see each other again until New Year's Eve! What will I do without you during that time?”

You don't want to think about spending the next few days without him, which is why you change the subject back to tonight. 

“How about this: Kika and Pierre are coming over soon and we'll party later with Lando and his DJ friend,” you begin your suggestion. 

Charles raises an eyebrow. ”I don't see any compromise I'm willing to make.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Just let me finish. So - we're all going out to party in a bit, and when we get back home we can make ourselves comfortable in bed here, watch another movie and not get out of bed until noon tomorrow.”

“Do we have to be dressed to watch the movie?” he asks mischievously, and as you move to roll away from him, he turns you both so that he is now on top of you. He grabs your thighs and puts your legs back around his waist, and as he nestles against you, almost crushing you under his weight – which feels better than you care to admit. You feel his boner between your legs. 

“Charles,“ you moan softly as his cock softly nudges against your clothed clit. 

“Do we have to be dressed?” he repeats his question and slides his hand under your sweater, his fingers spreading over your sides. 

You breathe in his scent and bask in his warmth. “We don't have to,” you reply without giving a thought to what it means for you. But you couldn't care less about that right now. 

Charles's lips breathe light kisses on your neck. “Then it's a deal,” he whispers before withdrawing completely – leaving you high and dry. “Come on. Our friends will be here soon. And I doubt you'll want to be in our bed then. No matter how comfortable it is,“ he grins and leaves the bedroom. But as he walks through the door, you can still see him put his hand in his sweatpants to fix his erection. 

Somehow you're glad you have the same effect on him as he does on you. 

Hot blood courses through your veins when you think about how the evening will end. You would love to pull Charles back into bed, rip his clothes off and let him ravish you until you can't walk anymore. 

That will have to wait. 

But anticipation is half the fun.

[amazinglyashy]

Hi , I love your LADs works it fits the would be characters reactions according to their personality and I look forward to your work. Can I request a LADs men reaction to reader reading smut manga or BL smut , only if your comfortable with it. Thank you and All the best for your future endeavours 🥰

I have a tab I'm going through right now of a bunch of josei manga and then I open tumblr to this ask LMAO I feel personally attacked, so of course anon! Thank you for the sweet words, and for the request!

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to discovering you being an avid smut reader

Sylus -

He is such an evil person.

If he manages to find a physical copy that you own, he's going to read it and he's going to do it in his own time when he knows you'll be coming over soon. He times it just right where he'll be near the ending by the time you get there.

You walk in to him looking absolutely exquisite in reading glasses, a small smile on his lips as he leans back in his chair to ask you how your day has been- book in hand.

The embarrassment is real, even if you claim to not care about 'cringey' things and consuming them. Your love is sitting there with a smutty book in his hand and a knowing grin, and you can't help how hot your face is getting.

"You know, if you like something, you should just tell me, kitten."

Maybe he's referring to the contents of the book, maybe he's referring to your general enjoyment of the genre, you can't tell. He does mean both, though. He would buy you a library worth of smutty books if it made you happy, and he would get all the needed supplies to commit the same acts the characters do for you the next time the two of you have a session.

"Did you really think I'd be upset by something like this, sweetie? You're cute. I'm glad you found something you enjoy. In the future though, don't keep secrets from me. I want to know about you. Everything, about you."

Rafayel -

He will come up behind you to ask you something, and realize that you can't hear him due to being engrossed or having headphones in. He doesn't mean to snoop, but your screen is on display for him, and you don't know he's there.

Oh, he's so happy he decided to try and ask you something.

By the time you realize he's behind you, it's too late, and attempting to shut off your phone proves unsuccessful because he's already giggling.

"How much did you see?!"

"Not much."

"Liar!"

And you're right, because after a moment of silence, he will proceed to recite the last page you had been reading, ducking out of the way as you jump up, your face reddening, as you chase him around the room.

He doesn't care in the slightest. In fact, he will absolutely surprise you with shipping merch from whatever it is you've been reading, and remind you when new chapters are about to drop in case you forget due to stress at work.

Rafayel will also ask you how certain characters are doing, or how certain relationships are coming along. If you enjoyed watching soap operas, he's absolutely the one to watch over your shoulder and ask you questions to catch up.

He still makes rude quips here and there, but you know he doesn't mean anything by it, and the involvement is strangely comforting.

Zayne -

He's known for a long time. Benefits of knowing you when the two of you were younger, he has a pretty good read on the things you might or might not enjoy without needing an explicit answer.

That, and you left a doujinshi on his coffee table once after you used his spare key to break into his home to clean and surprise him with dinner after you had gotten off of work surprisingly early.

No, he won't let you live it down.

He will find a way to calmly bring it up in the most absurd and unnecessary situations. It's his own little running joke that makes you so adorably frustrated, he can't help but continue it.

He'll find other ways to tease you about it, much like how you occasionally tease him over his sweet tooth despite you loving snacks just as much as he does.

Sometimes though, he likes to throw you through a little bit of a loop.

"But also, if there is any content in what you've been reading that you believe you would enjoy, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"I enjoy all of it, that's why I read it, Zayne."

"I assume you misunderstood me, so allow me to restructure my sentence. If there's anything in what you've been reading that you would like done to you, I would like to know. I would love to do those things to you, whatever they might be."

Xavier -

He has purchased you some of these books and ebooks.

Probably the Li that would know the soonest out of all four of them aside from Zayne, just because he kind of just... assumed, much to your own mortification when he told you this fact months ago.

He doesn't give a crap though, it's something you like. He doesn't see any difference between it and the claw machines, even though there is an extremely stark contrast between the two. He used to see no point to the claw machine games you'd love to play, but quickly saw the appeal when he got to play with you.

Maybe he can't share your enjoyment for this, but he does love sitting in the same room as you, reading together even if the two books being consumed are vastly different in content.

He just enjoys your company, it really doesn't matter to him what you both do, or in this case, enjoy during that time.

He thinks its really cute and endearing, especially if you reach a point in whatever you're reading that gets you squealing out loud. Because not only is it absolutely adorable to hear, it's also nice because he knows it means you're comfortable enough to react out loud to your reading, even if it's a rare occurrence.

It's nice to know you're relaxed around him, in every capacity.

[betweenstorms]

Part Six of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

Exactly five days had passed since Simon Riley’s last visit, and true to his word, there he was again, standing at your doorstep in the quiet lull of an overcast afternoon.

The clouds hung low that day, full with the promise of rain, but the city outside remained still, suspended in waiting, where time seemed to stretch, holding out it's hand for the storm to break. You had felt it coming somehow, the inevitability of his return, as if the universe had carved out this moment for the two of you.

Simon was dressed in simple, plain clothes as before, plus that damn mask that shrouded half his face in mystery. His hazel eyes, though, were unmistakable, cutting through the soft grey light that filled your small apartment. There was something different this time. The first visit had been sudden, unplanned—an unspoken reckoning between the two of you. But now, there was a gentle certainty to his presence, like he had come here with purpose.

And you were ready for him.

The past week had been a strange blur of careful planning and tempting hope. Each day, you’d found yourself cooking more than necessary, always for two, even though you were the only one in the apartment. Each time you did, you felt a little foolish, like you were preparing for a guest who may never arrive, but you kept at it. It had become a sort of evening ritual, a way to keep your hands busy, your mind distracted. You’d convinced yourself that you were just being practical, that having extra food ready was a good habit to get into, but in the back of your mind, you knew the truth. You were waiting for him, hoping that he would come back.

As you opened the door for him, you could feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach, but it wasn’t the same overwhelming rush of emotion that had floored you the last time. The tension between you wasn’t as suffocating, though it still hummed in the air. You met his gaze with a shy smile, and even though he didn’t return it, there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition, perhaps. Or maybe just relief that he hadn’t startled you again.

As you moved about the kitchen, setting the table, you could feel Simon’s sharp eyes on you, watching silently as you went through the timid motions of domesticity.

There was something almost surreal about it, how easily he had slipped into your life, into the rhythm of your days, despite the years of distance and the weight of everything unspoken between you.

“Hope you’re starvin’, cause I cooked,” you joked, your voice soft but carrying a note of pride.

He paused, his gaze shifting to you, and for the briefest moment, you saw it. Surprise, so subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did. Because you always did. For a man like Simon, who had probably seen and endured things beyond your understanding, it was hard to catch him off guard. But somehow, this had done it. You weren’t sure if it was the food or the fact that you had prepared for his visit, but either way, something had surprised him.

Simon sat down without a word, and you followed suit, sitting across from him at the small, worn table. The plates were mismatched, and the silverware was old, but it felt right, like the two of you had found a quiet corner of the world where the past could be left behind.

You ate in silence for a while, the sound of cutlery scraping against ceramic the only noise in the room. You tried not to observe him too closely, but you couldn’t help sneaking glances in his direction, noting the way he ate in a methodical way, as if food were just another task to be completed. Like it was sustenance.

But still, he ate everything you had made.

Feeling a bit braver, you tried to engage him in conversation, asking questions about where he had been, what he had been up to.

But, as expected, Simon deflected your questions. His answers were all vague, if he gave any at all, and more often than not, he responded with a noncommittal grunt or a quiet huff that left you with little to work with. It was like trying to pry open a door that had been stuck for years, but you knew better than to push him too hard. It frustrated you, yes, but you had come to accept it, in a way.

You knew that Simon’s life was full of things you would never be able to understand, things he carried alone. He didn’t talk about himself, didn’t share his burdens. It wasn’t in his nature.

But he did ask about you.

It was subtle at first, his questions slipping into the conversation like afterthoughts. He asked how work was going, what you had been doing lately, how your parents were. Safe topics. Ordinary things. You answered to all of them dutifully, at first feeling incredibly awkward, unsure if your life could possibly hold any interest for someone like him. However, there was something in the way he looked at you that made you feel like he genuinely wanted to know, like he was trying, however clumsily, to bridge the gap between you.

At first, you had been nervous, scared that your life was far too dull to hold his interest. What did you have to offer to someone like Simon, really? Your job was nothing special, your days were uneventful, and your life felt small in comparison to the things you imagined he had seen and done. But when you noticed that he was actually paying attention, that he wasn’t just asking out of politeness, something shifted inside you. His gaze never wavered from you, and though he didn’t say much, you could feel his undivided attention, his magnetic presence, in the way he sat there, letting you fill the space between you, only with your words.

So you told him about the small things.

The way the shop down the street had started selling your favourite lemon biscuits again, how your neighbour had adopted an absurdly large dog that barked at everything that moved, how you’d been thinking about taking up creative writing again, though you hadn’t found the time. Then, you told him about the music you’d been listening to, the films and series you were hoping to watch, even the latest book you’d picked up.

You watched his stoic face as you rambled on about your day, the corner shop, your plans for the weekend. Simon wasn’t the kind of man who offered much in return, his responses were still clipped, mostly just a nod or a grunt, but there was a subtle warmth in his attention. You saw the slight twitch of his lips, the occasional raise of an eyebrow, signs that he was more engaged than he let on. It was as if, for the first time since you were a child, someone was truly listening to you, hearing you, without judgement or expectation.

And that made all the difference.

As an adult, you tend to fade into the background, even in the eyes of your own parents, who no longer find your life as fascinating as it once was. It becomes rare to meet someone who is truly interested in you. As a child, everything was easier. Friendship came effortlessly, falling in love felt light and unburdened, and emotions flowed like crystal water. Adults would smile down at you, ask about your weekend plans, your schoolwork, even your little crushes, as if your life held some fond magic. But next to Simon, for a fleeting minute, you felt like a kid again, as though you were still filled with that magic. And you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude—for Simon and for the way he made you feel like you mattered again, even for just a second, like you were something worth adoring.

After dinner, he helped you with the dirty dishes.

You almost laughed out loud at the sight of him, this hulking figure built like a bloody fortress, standing at the sink, washing plates and cups like it was the most normal thing in the world. The kitchen felt even smaller compared to him, his broad shoulders brushing against you as he reached for the plates, and that made your heart press against your ribs, threatening to burst. There was something so tender, so wonderfully domestic about the scene, something you never imagined you’d have with him.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, handing him a dripping plate.

He took it without a word, his large hands handling it with such care that seemed out of place for a man of his size. But that was Simon, wasn’t it? Always full of contradictions.

After the dishes were done, you made a suggestion—an invitation to show him the little shop down the street you’d mentioned earlier, the one with the delicious lemon biscuits.

You didn’t expect him to agree, but to your surprise, Simon gave a small nod. It was strange, seeing him agree to something so ordinary, something as simple as a walk to the nearby shop, but you didn’t question it. You didn’t want to ruin the moment.

So, you slipped on your jacket, and together, you ventured out into the cool evening air.

Simon wore his mask, even for such a short walk, and though it puzzled you, you didn’t press him about it. He had his reasons, and oddly, that was enough for you.

As you walked down the streets, you noticed how the grey world seemed to shrink around the two of you. The city faded into the background, the sound of distant traffic becoming a hum that didn’t quite touch the space you two occupied. You told him how the owner had a strange habit of stacking the shelves in a particular way and how the colourful sign of the shop had faded to nearly nothing since you moved here. Simon listened, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze drifting over the neighbourhood but always coming back to you.

When you reached the tiny shop, you bought three packets of biscuits, a small indulgence you couldn’t resist.

As you walked back, you shared them with him, handing over a piece without thinking twice. His surgical mask made it a bit of a challenge for him to eat them, but the way he handled it, with such simple grace, surprised you. As if eating with a mask was something he’d mastered a long time ago. Nevertheless, you only smiled at him.

The months that followed were some of the happiest of your life.

Simon’s visits became more frequent, though never scheduled. Sometimes he would appear at your door unannounced, and sometimes he’d let you know he was coming, with a punctuated, short message that always felt like it carried more weight than it should. However, each time he showed up, your heart would lift, if only for a little while. There was a quiet understanding between you, a habitual rhythm that developed naturally, as if fifteen years apart had simply folded into the space between you without effort.

You began to treasure the time you spent with him, the quiet moments that made up the fabric of your strange relationship.

Late-night talks on the balcony of his apartment, where the two of you would smoke cigarettes and watch the city lights flicker in the distance, your voices hushed in the golden glow of streetlights. Cooking meals together in your tiny kitchen, where he would stand at the stove, helping you chop vegetables with the same precision you imagined he used in the field. Watching films and series you wanted to share with him, the two of you sitting side by side on your worn-out sofa, the space between you shrinking as the months passed.

It was the simple things, the mundane moments that you found yourself clinging to.

You were always struck by how he fit into your boring life, seamlessly slipping into your routine as if he had always been there, right next to you. Grocery shopping together, wandering through the aisles of the supermarket or the farmer’s market, picking out fresh produce while Simon trailed behind you, always quiet, always present.

Walking through your neighbourhood, pointing out places that held some meaning for you, while he listened with the same attentive intensity, nodding occasionally as you spoke. There were moments when the conversation was light, filled with teasing and sarcasm, and other times when silence stretched between you two, comfortable and unpressured. It was in those moments of stillness that you felt the most connected to him, as if words weren’t necessary to understand the weight of what lingered unsaid.

But the thing you appreciated most was the talking.

Even though Simon was a man of few words, over time, you began to unravel him, bit by bit. It was a painfully slow process, peeling back the layers, but you cherished every fragment of him he allowed you to see. You learned that beneath his gruff exterior and his hardened past, Simon had a dry, morbid sense of humour that made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in years. His wit was sharp, his sarcasm biting, and yet it was never mean-spirited. You found yourself looking forward to his jokes, when he would throw a quip your way, the corner of his mouth quirking in the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. And you loved it.

Oh, how you loved it.

You loved the way he made you laugh, the way he looked at you when you were together, the way he seemed to feel at ease in your presence. You loved every moment you spent with him, no matter how small or insignificant. You loved him in the quiet, in the way he listened to you rambling, in the way he paid attention to the smallest details of your life. You loved him in the way he let you into his rugged world, without ever making it feel forced or unnatural. And, slowly but surely, you began to realise that you were falling in love with him.

It wasn’t a grand, sweeping realisation.

Falling in love with Simon Riley was like the gentle embrace of the rising sun, a warmth that crept into your icy soul without fanfare or grand gestures. There was no single moment when everything fell into place—no sudden clarity or lightning strike of realisation.

Rather, it unfolded gradually, like the soft glow of dawn spreading across the horizon, casting its light quietly, almost imperceptibly, until the cold ground was warmed beneath your feet. It wasn’t until you stood there, basking in the radiant comfort of his presence, that you realised just how deeply he had become part of you, the warmth of him seeping into your very bones, making everything feel softer, brighter, without you ever noticing the shift.

At first, you tried to fight it, wrestled with the feelings that threatened to overtake you every time he crossed your mind.

You forced yourself not to think about him when he was away on deployment, not to let your heart leap at the thought of his return. You made every effort not to seem too eager when you were with him, not to act like a schoolgirl caught up in her first crush.

Bloody hell, but it was impossible.

When he made you blush, you looked away, pretending the burning heat on your cheeks was from something else. When his eyes met yours, catching you in the act of staring, you quickly turned, as if you hadn’t been completely mesmerised by him. And when your hands brushed, just the briefest of touches, you shifted, heart racing, trying to ignore the intoxicating pull that came with the smallest contact.

No matter how many years had slipped by since the days of your childhood, no matter how long you’d been an adult, standing next to him made time blur in a way that was both haunting and comforting. It was as if the weight of the years dissolved whenever you were near him, pulling you back to that distant time, so far away it almost felt like it had belonged to another. In his presence, you were that child again, caught in the same quiet awe, the same unspoken connection, even after all the miles you had walked apart.

And yet, you fought it with everything you had.

And he must have noticed.

Simon saw the signs, read the signals you didn’t mean to give away, and in his silent way, he respected them. He didn’t try to get closer. He was there, returning to you, keeping his promises, but there was a careful distance, an invisible line neither of you dared to cross.

Since the day he told you he had read your letter, he kept his space. He stood just far enough to be present, but never touched, never pressed, as if he understood your hesitance in the way you withdrew as well as his own.

You didn’t know why you looked away, why you pulled back from him, why his touch made you retreat when all you wanted was to feel him closer. It terrified you, this primal instinct to shield your heart from the very thing it craved the most. Because deep down, you knew—

—you loved him.

But love, for you, had always been tangled in something darker, something messy and painful. Everything you ever loved had faded, slipping through your fingers like sand, no matter how tightly you tried to hold on. The long, golden days of summer spent with your grandparents, the laughter-filled, drunken nights with high school friends, the passionate, young love with your ex-fiancé, your mother’s blooming rose bush, once so full of life—everything you cherished had withered, just like you had. 

So how could you tell him?

How could you ever admit that you fell in love with him, when you were so certain that love was tied to loss?

To let him know, to say the words aloud, felt like signing your heart away to another disappearance. You couldn’t bear to watch him slip away too, to see him fade into the same oblivion where all the things you once held dear now lived. The fear of loving and losing had rooted itself deep inside you, so you kept Simon at arm’s length, not because you didn’t love him—but because you did, you desperetely did, and that scared you to death.

You tried to convince yourself that this was enough.

That loving him in secret was enough to keep him close, enough to soothe the longing that bloomed in the quiet corners of your heart. It had to be enough. You couldn’t bear the thought of risking more, of laying your heart bare, watching it bleed to death. You didn’t want to hold his memory longer than you had held him. The idea of losing him, of watching him slip from your life like everything else you had ever dared to love, was far more unbearable than never speaking the truth aloud.

So you settled for silence.

It was the beginning of November when you two met again, a month heavier with the bite of cold winds, the days darkening earlier, and the air growing sharp with the crisp scent of fallen leaves. You could feel the promise of winter in the cold air, the way it clung to your skin and seeped into your bones, even after you’d bundled yourself in layers before stepping outside. The city had taken on a grey, muted tone, the kind that made everything feel distant and quiet, like the world was holding its breath.

It had been weeks since you and Simon had shared any significant time together. His work had consumed him more than usual, drawing him further into whatever grim business he was tied up in.

You understood, of course.

Simon’s professional life was a complicated web of responsibilities, ones you couldn’t begin to unravel, but you couldn’t stop feeling his absence like a weight in your chest, a quiet ache that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. That’s why, when you finally managed to pin him down for an evening, you decided to do something different. Instead of the usual quiet nights at yours, you had dragged him to the cinema for a change. Maybe a night out would shake up the routine. He had agreed, somewhat reluctantly of course, but you knew by now that Simon rarely said no, well, not to you and not outright, even when he wasn’t particularly enthused about something. Your idea seemed pretty sound at the time—a bit of mindless fun, a chance to forget about life for a couple of hours.

But halfway through, you began to regret it.

Despite his compliance, it had hardly seemed to hold his interest.

The film, Thanksgiving, had been a bloody mess of cheap jump scares and gruesome deaths, the kind of silly horror that mainly thrived on shock value. It wasn’t your typical choice, but you thought it might be fun. You could laugh at the absurdity of it all, maybe even hide your face in Simon’s shoulder during the worst bits. However, you caught him with his eyes closed at one point, and though you couldn’t be sure with Simon, it looked like he was trying to sleep through the entire thing. You felt a twinge of guilt for dragging him out of his comfort zone, but it was hard not to smile at the ridiculous way he handled it.

Now, as you sat in his car, the evening pressing against the windows, you rubbed your hands together, trying to chase away the embrace of autumn. The scent of leather and something distinctly him filled the small space, grounding you in the moment. It was strange how his presence, as imposing as it could be, brought a sense of calm.

Simon shortly joined you, his usual surgical mask firmly in place, obscuring half of his face, but leaving those sharp, assessing eyes visible. You could see the faint lines of a frown etched into his brow. God, he truly wasn’t impressed. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

He shot you a look so lifeless it was almost comical, as if your inquiry was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. It wasn't meant to be, but it was really funny. The way Simon could reduce any situation to its barest, bleakest elements always amused you, especially when you knew he had probably seen far worse in real life.

“Watchin’ people get butchered over a roast dinner’s not my idea of fun, love,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, as he buckled his seatbelt.

You snorted, your breath misting up the window a little.

“Not a fan of festive slasher films, then?” You hummed. “Could’ve fooled me. Wouldn’t have thought you of all people would be such a film snob.”

“Just not a fan of shit films,” he deadpanned, turning the key in the ignition. 

You giggled, the sound bright and unexpected, cutting through the solemnity of the moment, and for a second, you forgot about the cold seeping into your bones, forgot about the distance that had grown between you both these last few weeks. It was so Simon, his dry attitude never seemed not to amuse you.

“Alright alright, I’ll pick somethin’ better next time, promise” you offered, leaning back into your seat, watching the rain start to dot the windscreen in light, lazy taps.

He didn’t respond, not verbally at least, but the slight dip of his chin told you he’d accepted the truce. His eyes were focused on the road ahead as he eased the car into gear and pulled away from the parking lot, the city lights blurring into a mosaic of greys and muted yellows.

You were just about to continue your lighthearted roasting of the film when something caught your attention.

Nestled in the door pocket, half-hidden by your handbag, was a small, familiar box. Pushing aside your bag, you reached for it and recognised the brand instantly. It was the same one as your favourite snack, those lemon biscuits you loved so much, but this one was peach-flavoured. Your heart leapt a little at the discovery. A bright smile spread across your face as you held the box up to Simon, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips.

“Where the hell did you get these? Only ever had strawberry ones, but they taste like that god-awful medicine my mum used to force on me as a kid. But peach? My goodness, this is a fuckin’ revelation.”

Simon only shrugged, his eyes still on the road, as if it were nothing, as if his attention to this small detail in your life hadn’t just made your entire night.

“Saw them in Berlin,” he said simply, his voice almost casual.

You held the box of sweets like it was something precious, turning it in your hands as if doing so would reveal more about his thought process. It felt heavy, not because of the contents, but because of the meaning behind them. A small gesture, perhaps to him, something you would do for a friend, but to you, it was monumental.

He had thought of you.

While away, while on deployment, in the middle of whatever chaos he entailed, his thoughts had drifted to you. Enough for him to notice something as simple as biscuits, to pick them up and bring them back, just for you. Your heart swelled painfully in your chest, beating faster than it had any right to. You turned away from him, pressing your sweaty palm to your cheek as if that would somehow hide the flush rising to your cheeks. Your hair, thankfully, provided some cover.

The weight of your affection for him felt almost too much in that moment, as if your heart might burst under the pressure of it all. You loved him already, but every time you thought you couldn’t fall any further, Simon would do something incredibly thoughtful, and it would send you tumbling all over again.

You murmured a soft “thanks,” under your breath, your voice almost swallowed by the steady hum of the vehicle. Your fingers played nervously over the edges, then, clearing your throat, you asked, “Mind if I open it?”

Simon huffed, glancing at you for a brief second before refocusing on the road. “Brought ’em for you, didn’t I?” The tone in his voice was that signature Simon blend of exasperation, as though the mere notion that you’d need his permission was absurd.

You grinned, eager and unashamed now, looking down at the box one last time before diving in, tearing open the packaging with the same enthusiasm you’d had as a child on Christmas morning. The fruity smell hit your nose immediately, sweet and delicate. You took a biscuit, biting into it with a hum of appreciation.

“Shit, they’re delicious,” you offered him one without even thinking.

He shook his head, eyes still fixed ahead. “Not for me.”

You weren't surprised.

Simon didn’t seem the type to indulge in overly sweet things, not unless you counted tea and the occasional glass of whisky. His refusal didn’t dampen your spirits, of course.

The warmth of the treat spread through you, a sharp contrast to the damp evening that loomed just outside the car windows. The rain had started in earnest now, the soft pattern turning into a steady beat against the windscreen. You watched as the droplets raced down the glass, your mind drifting as the city lights blurred into streaks of amber, ruby and gold.

Finally, the quiet between you both wasn’t awkward.

It didn’t demand anything from you anymore. It had taken months of tentative conversations, stolen glances, and hesitant touches, but now, the silence had transformed. It felt like a shared language, a kind of intimacy beyond words. You could sit there for hours, side by side, saying nothing at all, and it would feel as though you’d spoken a thousand truths.

“Berlin, huh?”

Your smile was shy, hesitant even. You were testing the waters, trying your luck to pry into a part of Simon's life that still felt really distant and elusive. There was so much about Simon you didn’t know—so many parts of him shrouded in shadows you couldn’t reach.

You knew that he was a high-ranking military officer, that his life was filled with danger and violence, but beyond that, his world was a locked door you didn’t have the key to.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his tone nonchalant, a familiar wall sliding back into place.

“And what did you do in Germany, sir?”

You tried to ease him into conversation, something you knew was like drawing blood from a stone. You slipped a teasing lilt into your words, but the moment “sir” left your lips, you saw the shift in him.

His broad shoulders tensed visibly, his entire body going rigid, and the air in the car thickened with discomfort.

“Don’t call me that,” Simon muttered sharply.

The change in his demeanour took you aback, your frown forming before you could stop it. His reaction had been almost immediate, something instinctive, a reflex more than anything else, but it cut through the humour you were trying to build. You had thought he’d shrug off the title with a bit of banter, as he always did when you tried to joke with him, but clearly, this time you’d touched a nerve.

“Oh. Why not?”

The question hung in the air between you both.

You watched as his fingers flexed against the steering wheel, his body shifting uncomfortably in the seat. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer at all. You waited, the rain still tapping steadily against the glass, each second stretching into an eternity. His silence made you regret asking, but you couldn’t take it back now. So you waited, giving him space to either explain or ignore the question altogether.

Finally, after what felt like endless hours but was likely just a few heartbeats, Simon exhaled, his breath heavy and laden with a weight you couldn’t see but could almost feel. His voice, when he spoke, was low and gruff, laced with a bitterness that made your chest tighten.

“It ain’t who I am with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his statement.

His words were as heavy as the rain pattering against the rooftop.

It was an admission, simple and raw, and it sliced through you. You weren’t sure how to respond, how to grasp what he was offering with that small sentence. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of that realisation settle deep in your chest. For Simon, the titles, the rank, the soldier he was in the field—those weren’t meant for you.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to—I was just teasin’,” you mumbled, your words faltering as you searched for the right thing to say. “But it was a shitty joke. I’m sorry.”

“S’alright,” he grunted.

“I just wanted to, dunno, tease you into talkin’ more, I guess,” you added, eyes darting briefly to him. “Find out more about you. About what you do when you’re not with me.”

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just slightly, the tendons in his hand pulling taut like the silence between you.

Your heartbeat thrummed steadily in your ears, matching the rhythm of the rain, but you waited. He didn’t answer immediately, however, the fact that he didn’t brush you off instantly, didn’t give you his usual noncommittal grunt, was answer enough.

He was thinking, considering. You could almost see the cogs turning behind those familiar hazel eyes, weighing whether or not he wanted to open that specific door.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Simon spoke. “S’not that I don’t want you to know,” he said quietly, voice rough as gravel. “Some of it, you wouldn’t want to, trust me.”

You nodded, his words sinking deep into your chest. 

“Well, yeah but... if it’s important to you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain, “then it’s important to me. You don’t have to tell me everythin’, y’know, but I’d like to know more about you. What you do, where you’ve been—if you’re okay with that, of course.”

His jaw clenched under the mask, ever so slightly, and you could see the battle waging inside him. It was as if the weight of what he did, what he was, hung like a boulder around his neck, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to share even a piece of it with you.

You waited, breath held, afraid that if you pressed him too hard, he’d close himself off again.

“I’m in the SAS,” the admission rolled out like a stone dropping into still water. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, observing your reaction before he continued. “Been with ‘em for a while now. Means I’m involved in the kinds of things most bastards never even hear about. We’re the ones who get sent in when the situation’s gone south, when the regular lot can’t handle it. Clandestine tradecraft. Sabotage. Ambushes. Infiltration.”

For a second, you let his words settle, absorbing this sliver of his reality. You hadn’t expected him to open up, even to this degree, but you could see the cost of that openness, the weight of it etched in the hard lines of his face. 

“Uhm, I don’t really know much about that kind of stuff,” you admitted, your voice quiet but honest. “Sabotage, infiltration... sounds like somethin’ out of a bloody movie.”

He gave a low grunt, almost a laugh but not quite. “Clandestine tradecraft’s just a fancy way of sayin’ we go undercover. Sabotage means we disrupt the enemy. Ambushes, we lie in wait. Infiltration’s when we sneak in, undetected. We go into hostile environments, behind enemy lines, and we do what needs doin’.”

You absorbed his words, a silent acknowledgment of the reality that formed the backbone of Simon’s existence.

You nodded slowly, taking in each word.

You found your gaze lingering on his hands, strong and steady as they gripped the wheel, fingers worn and calloused from years of conflicts that were far removed from the world you inhabited. You wanted to reach over, to touch him, but you held back.

“And you’re… good at it,” you said, not a question, but a statement. It wasn’t hard to believe that Simon excelled in a world of calculated danger and precision.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m good at it.”

There was no arrogance in his tone, no pride.

It was just a fact, as undeniable as the rain that continued to beat against the windows. Simon wasn’t bragging about his skills, nor was he seeking validation. No, not even from you. He was simply stating the truth, a truth that had probably saved his life countless times. And the way he said it made it sound like it was something mundane, like he’d just clocked in and out of an ordinary office job, but you knew better. Work, for Simon, wasn’t something you could ever fully understand. It was the kind of job that left scars—

—on the body, sure, but more importantly, on the soul.

You wondered, as the weight of his words hung heavy in the car, how much of Simon’s soul had been lost in the shadows he so skillfully navigated. His hands bore no visible scars tonight, yet you knew they held memories of things you would never see, things he would likely never tell you. He had painted himself in muted greys and blacks, fading into the backdrop of a life that was dangerous, clandestine, and impossible to reconcile with the gentle, steady warmth you’d felt whenever he was with you. You realised he was both, this man of quiet domesticity and of ruthless precision—

—and the contradiction left your heart aching.

“So, when you’re here… with me… you don’t want to be that person?”

Simon’s hazel eyes flickered towards you, briefly, before he looked away. It was the faintest movement, but you caught it, that quick glance loaded with something unreadable. He released a low sigh, his shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly.

“No,” he said at last, the word as soft as the rain outside. “Not here. Not with you.”

And then, as if he had reached into the depths of your mind, Simon’s hand found its way to your thigh, his palm resting there. The warmth of his hand cut through the chill of November, spreading like wildfire across your skin. Your breath immediately hitched, a reflexive flinch, and you looked at him, wide-eyed. He didn’t return your gaze, not this time. His beautiful eyes were focused on the road, his expression a mask of calm, as though this touch was as natural as breathing to him, as though he hadn’t felt the tremor it sent through you.

But for you, it was something else entirely.

It wasn’t a touch you’d grown used to, despite the countless times you’d dreamed of it, wondered what it would feel like to have that quiet strength grounded against you. Your heart raced, an urgent beat that felt almost painfully loud in the silence. You wondered if he felt it, the way your pulse quickened beneath the weight of his hand, the heat pooling where his fingers pressed ever so lightly against you.

You let your gaze linger on his hand, his fingers resting so close to the inside of your thigh that it felt as though he was holding your truest and barest soul right in his palm.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling your own hand tremble slightly as you lifted it, reaching to touch him back. You laid your hand gently atop his, your fingers just barely grazing his knuckles, feeling the strength hidden beneath his stillness.

You felt your resistance dissolve like frost in the morning sun.

The car moved through the city streets, the streetlights casting harsh shadows across his face, softening the lines, making him feel almost otherworldly, yet solid—solid in a way you couldn’t ignore, in a way that made you feel safe. His hand never faltered, never pulled away, and you kept your hold on him, afraid that if you let go, you might never find the courage again. All the worries, the endless questions, they faded into nothing, replaced by a calm you hadn’t felt in ages.

You melted into him, allowing your hand to rest over his, tracing gentle circles over the rough skin of his knuckles. His hand remained still, firm yet yielding under your touch, as though he were afraid to disrupt the fragile peace between you.

For the rest of the drive, neither of you spoke.

It’s painfully funny how I only planned to write a one-shot for this story, yet here I am, unable to stop writing about these two...

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SIX

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing paige bueckers x black!fem!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @xxloveralways14 @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03

kalena speakss 🪽! this is easily my favorite chapter so far (for reasons that will become obvious towards the end) don’t expect another back to back update bc it’s not happening 😭 maybe thursday or friday at the earliest, i still have priorities!

June 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

“Paige, your shot wasn’t falling tonight like we are used to seeing from you. What was different tonight for you than either nights?”

It’s this that I’m not quite yet used to. The post lost pressers. It was different in college, where the team had way more wins for every one loss, but right now we’re at .500 and each time a loss follows a win and they ask me the same variation of the same question I get irritated.

But I’m media trained, which means I just answer the question no matter how dumb I feel it is. The real answer is that I played like shit tonight, forcing shots and getting into my head. Instead, I’m forced to say:

“We’re playing a team that has the reigning defensive player of the year and was just in the finals. It was gonna be a dog fight, for us to get settled against a defense like that, and they simply out performed us.” I look down at the stat sheet in front of me, I had 5 turnovers to my 4 assists, and I fucking hate turning the ball over. 

“Kayla McBride is a dog, she guarded me well tonight, forced me into some bad shots and got a few turnovers from me. But I gotta take all that and learn from it, it’s still too early in the season to stress out over things that are fixable.”

I'm the only one sitting at the podium tonight, Rickea and Dearica doing theirs together and Zia who had just gone before me. I knew what the gist of the questions would be, turnovers, defense, and the most gruesome: injuries.

“We saw you roll your ankle pretty bad tonight. Even though you finished the game, can you tell us a bit about the seriousness of it?” It’s a different reporter now, one that I recognize from our win the other night.

I shake my head. My ankle was fine up until he just mentioned it. Now, it stung bad. I had some extra tape around it, it was only sore, while I was sitting but walking and running full speed on the court made that shit hurt like no other. 

“It’s not serious.” I reply honestly. “We got two days off before the next game at home so I’m not worried. I’m gonna treat it like any other tweak and just follow what the trainers got for me, and hopefully we have a better night against Minnesota on Friday.”

It seems like that is a sufficient answer for the rest of the reporters in the room when I hear that wonderful “no more questions.” I stand up gingerly from my seat. They don’t miss my slight limp, but after a few steps the pain shakes off and it just feels uncomfortable. 

When I get back to the locker room it’s damn near empty except for Cameron and Rae. I give them both curt nods before heading over to my locker.

They don’t speak to me, which I’m silently grateful for because I might snap at them unintentionally. Losing is one thing, playing like dog shit is another, but my ankle really put the nail in the coffin.

I attempt to clean up my locker a bit, making life a little bit easier for the ladies who’re gonna come in and clean up when we leave. I throw my jersey and shorts in the growing pile of towels and warm ups and all other gear before reaching for my phone in the bag. 

just saw the injury on tv, pray it’s not too bad ❤️‍🩹

That’s the second most recent text in my phone, from about an hour ago from Maraye. It just briefly brings a smile to my face that I can’t even fight. It’s crazy to me that even when I’m at my grumpiest she finds a way to make me forget about it all.

I scroll through the rest of my notifications before tapping on her contact. I see that she texted me multiple times tonight throughout different parts of the game.

don’t fuck up my parlay tonight. jk good luck fav! 7:09pm

OKAY BLOCKKK GET UP THEN 7:20pm

omg the cross over??? don’t do her like that p 😮‍💨  8:03pm

I laugh fights through my lips, she told me in Atlanta she would start live texting me during games, I didn’t think she was serious. Nevertheless, I find it adorable. Maraye, throughout the busyness that is her schedule, turned on my game and watched the whole thing, keeping me posted on all her thoughts throughout the night.

I’m so beyond saving.

My thumb scrolls back down to the bottom of the thread. I can’t deny the way my heartbeat quickens in my chest at the choice of heart emoji. It’s not quite a red heart, but it’s enough to let me know she cares. I can’t believe that I’m sitting here like I’m in high school again, psycho analyzing her texts and gushing over them until my face is red.

“You headin’ out?” I look up and Cam is getting ready to leave. She’s going to be fully cleared to play this week, probably not playing with us until right before All-star. I’m excited for her, and I can tell that she is too because it’s practically beaming off of her.

I nod. “Yeah, inna minute. I’ll catch you in the morning.” Cameron takes that answer and walks out alongside Rae. I grab my back shortly after them, getting up and leaving the locker room. The arena is quiet, so is the parking garage as I make my way out there. The chirp of my car alerts me to it. I drop my bag in the trunk before sitting down in my seat.

The cushion practically eats me alive, I haven’t been this physically exhausted in months. 

Then I’m reminded that Maraye and I’d thread is still open on my phone. When I glance at the time I realize it’s not that late, I know that if I go home, I’ll just fall into the rabbit hole of watching film all night.

Instead I reach for the phone heavy in my sweatpants pocket. My thumbs begin typing away before sending Maraye a text back.

Nah it’s not all that bad 

You busy? Or can I slide?

I make sure my phone is connected to the speakers. When He’s Not There by Kehlani plays through the car while I get settled. Following that, I place my phone on its spot on the center console. It isn’t until Maraye’s name flashes on my carplay screen that I finally pull out of the parking garage.

yes please, come see meee

—

Paige sits comfortably to my left on my couch. Her leg propped on my coffee table with a bag of ice resting on her swollen ankle. 

It’s her first time at my apartment, but even then she navigates the place like she’s been here countless of times. It feels so similar to our friendship, just comfortable. 

Her arm is draped over my shoulder as I nestle into her side. When she first came over, I sat on the other side of the couch, so far away from her you would think we were fighting. And then she started talking, pulling me closer with her words until I sat right next to her. My body is leaning into her warmth.

An NBA finals game plays on the TV. Knicks versus the Thunder, it’s in the last few minutes of overtime, a high intensity game that Paige swore she couldn’t miss a second of.

“He’s so fine.” I chirp jokingly, Shai Gilgeous Alexander is on the screen, about to shoot game tying free throws.

Paige pulls her arm off of me, looking down at me incredulously before reaching for my remote. She lowers the volume on the TV, reducing Mike Breen’s commentating to a whisper.

“Who, Shai?”

“Yeah. You don’t think so?” I ask, looking up at her with a grin.

“I’m like a raging homosexual, but if you like it I love it?”

I laugh at that, pushing her hair away from my view. It cascades down her shoulders in soft bright strands that tickle my face. 

“You can never just laugh at my jokes.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.” Paige says. The face she makes reacts to her own statement like it’s obvious, when we both know I could make her laugh until she cried if I wanted to. “And Shai isn’t your type.”

I move from my spot next to her, jumping up and turning my attention to her face, while hers are stuck to the game. The way she is seated briefly makes me forget my train of thought. Her legs are spread comfortably and she leans back on the couch with her arms against the back of the couch. She looks like a fuckboy, and in any other scenario I would make fun of her for it, but the TV glow shines on her face just right and her cologne in my nose nearly makes me go blind.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s my type then, Paige?”

A commercial cuts on and Paige finally draws her eyes away from the screen. “What, Julian’s lightskin ass wasn’t the giveaway?” She laughs at her own joke, it’s stupid, but I love that laugh. So uniquely her. “Or y’want me to say you like six foot blonde girls.”

I roll my eyes, and when my vision clears up again, Paige is grinning at me.

“C’mon it was funny!”

“I don’t like women, idiot.”

“You like me.”

“I do not. I don’t even know why I let you hang out around me.” My body turns and my back hits the couch with a soft thud. Just to annoy her I sit further away from her body.

“Yeah okay, ma. You keep tellin’ yourself that.” Paige’s voice is low, a deep and raspy tone that I have never heard from her before. With Julian that had always been a given— he’s a man with a deep voice, that’s obvious. But when I hear it from Paige, I don’t know. It’s different.

My body just barely reacts to the pet name, but it’s there. The glob of saliva that pushes down my dry throat. And my legs just slightly press together. Paige reaches for the pocket of my striped shorts, tugging me back to my original spot in the curve of her body. 

“You’ve really never done anything with a girl before?”

“Paige—”

“No, not to be annoying. I’m just wondering.” She shrugs. Her hand reaches over to flick the bag of ice off her ankle and brings her leg down to my carpet. She looks down at me slowly, a lick of her lips and scan of my face lets me know she’s listening, waiting for my response.

I return her gaze. “Yes, I’ve really never done anything with a girl before.”

“Why? We’re much better. Better than whatever Julian is doing for you, I can tell you that much.” Paige’s voice is smug, teasing almost. I don’t know if she’s trying to rile me up between my legs or in my heart so I defend Julian. Either way it’s working, my heartbeat quickening in my chest.

“You seem sure about that.”

She nods. “I am. I think you forget how often you complain to me about that guy.” She says with a laugh.

The game in front of us is dying down, a three point lead for the Knicks with 40 seconds left in overtime, Oklahoma just now calling a timeout. I know she’s into the game, way more than me, but still she looks at me with an intensity that makes it feel like we’re the only two things in the world.

“Doesn’t mean a girl could do it better.”

Her eyes darted from my eyes to my lips, I’m expecting them to move. To look back at my eyes or even at the TV but she doesn’t. Just me.

“Y’believe that?” Paige asks me.

“Uh huh.” 

I’m going to lose. Whatever is going on with Paige and I, what has been going on for the last few weeks. The banter, the tension, the constant touching, it’s all a fight. Her and I are going back and forth like a fucking tennis match and she’s about to win. She’s about to make me lose whatever is left of my composure and grab the collar of her Hopkins High School t-shirt and kiss her until there’s no more breath in my lungs.

“Yeah? Ion know, can’t knock it till you try it.” She says, leaning into me for all of 5 milliseconds before sitting back in her seat and looking at the screen. The volume raises on my TV the cheers and commentary bouncing off the walls of my home.

Paige has left me frozen. Stuck there, in the exact position that she left me in. My eyes staring into the side of her perfect skin, burning holes there if I had the capability. I need her. My thighs are damn near glued together to keep me from dripping down my couch. 

I adjust my position some, sitting uncomfortably on my heels but with the way Paige is manspreading, it gives me just enough to be an inch taller than her. She looks at me, eyes trailing from my thighs past my covered stomach and chest, suddenly I’m hyper aware of how close my tits are from falling out of my Skims top.

“There some’ you wanna tell me, angel?” She asks. I hate the way that nickname makes me feel. She’s the only one that calls me that, the only one who makes me feel so small with just a single word. “Or you jus’ gonna keep lookin’ at me?”

The words just barely die in the air before I’m leaning into her, pressing my lips to hers. 

It starts off soft, so soft. Her body hesitates, like she knows better than to kiss me back but she does so anyway, tilting her head further and deepening the kiss. Paige hums against me, her arms still pressed against the back of the couch as if she has to avoid touching me. As if the second her hands touch my body then it’s game over. 

She bites my bottom lip, making me moan against her. I further into the kiss, cupping her cheek and then it really is game over. Paige reaches for my hips, lifting my body onto her lap and settling my thighs on the outside of hers.

Her tongue is entering my mouth, warm and tasting like candy. They’re clashing, messy and sticky and so damn hot. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of her I’m not sure I want to give it up. 

Paige roams my body with fervor. Trailing just a bit further to grab at my ass, kneading it in her large and veiny hands. I pull back from her breathlessly. Her hair is messy, lips so swollen and pink. It leaves me soaked as a response.

“This is doin’ so much damage. Y’know that?” She asks. Her hand travel back up my body to the back of my neck. I know it’s wrong, but still I let her pull me back into her. 

“Mmm, Ion wanna— stop.” I speak against her lips, letting her kiss me as she pleases. Grope me as she pleases. Talk to me as nasty as she wants to. I miss it, the feeling of being so vulgar with another person. Paige is on a different level and I want so much more. More of her, more than anyone has ever given me but for whatever reason I know that she can.

My phone starts ringing. I try to pull back to answer it but she pulls me right back, navigating my mouth with her tongue.

“Don’t.” She mumbles.

“I gotta.” I tell her pulling back with such force that I’m almost falling off the couch. I need to. Because if I don’t stop, I’m gonna let her see me in my most vulnerable state and even I know how wrong that would be. 

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, swiping to answer the call before I can even see who it is.

“Hello?” My voice is wheezy, and I’m huffing and puffing into the speaker.

“Hey, baby. You home?” 

It’s Julian. Of course it is. Of course God would let this man call me in the middle of making out with Paige just to make me feel guilty. Like the asshole I so obviously am right now.

“N— yeah. Yeah, but I’m busy. Sorry.” I stutter. “Paige is over right now.” I tell him honestly. But still, my breath hitches at my mention of her name. She rubs my thighs while I speak, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat. 

Her hand travels to her mouth, holding up one finger to her lips with a snide glare. I reach to slap her hand away, barely listening to what Julian says to me on the other line. 

Blah blah blah I miss you blah blah blah needa start hanging out with me blah blah less Paige. It’s gibberish. And I don't care.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight Ju.” I tell him, bothered by his continued talking and wanting to occupy myself with something else. Namely, the pink lips in front of me that look so fucking pretty and the gorgeous face just inches away from mine.

I toss my phone on the couch after Julian responds and hangs up.

“You fuckin’ like me.”

“And don’t.” Just when I’m about to hop off of her lap, the TV blares loudly.

“Bang! Bang! Shai Gilgeous-Alexander takes us into double overtime!” Mike Breen’s cheers echo into my ears. Paige looks past me, obviously upset that she missed the shot.

“Damn. He’s good and fine?”

“Dont get fucked up, Raye.”

[euphoricimagination]

Feels like home

A small something based on the new official illustration. A very loose Kenma x reader story

“So, have you heard about your third years?” Yachi asks you as you refill your team's water bottles outside of Nekoma’s gym, the four schools taking a break from practice.

With Nationals finishing last year came many things, not only a new winner and standards for the next Interhigh, but most importantly, the realization that a new school year was starting soon after so many tiring days. For Nekoma was not different, after losing to Karasuno and properly closing the Nationals chapter, you went back into your typical practices only to realize one thing: your third years weren't coming anymore.

Your boyfriend, Kenma, didn't seem to care much; not even for the last day of the third years in the club, when Kuroo announced that Yamamoto was going to be the new captain, he showed any different emotions, at most he only looked at his best friend annoyed when he tried to give him a hug. But you knew him better. Sure, while practicing he still was his lazy self, but the closer the days came to the final ceremony, the more you saw him getting anxious. A bit more clingier in public, much more when you were together in the safety of his home, barely even letting you go away from him so you can go to the bathroom.

On the night of their final ceremony he didn't even play games, holding you as if you were going to disappear as well. 

Soon after he started to become himself fully again, not only the extensive practices helped him, but unlike previous years, now he had you by his side to help him to get used to this new year.

And with a new year, comes more practice and more training camps.

“Yeah, Yaku-san went pro, Kai-san is studying to be an arborist and Kuro is studying some business thingy” you answer the now second year Yachi “You?”

“I mostly talk with Kiyoko-san, but I heard that…” you hear her explain what she knew about her old teammates, what they were doing now and how much they talked. It was weird considering that despite them not physically being here with you, your third years texted you just as much as ever.

After preparing everything you enter the gym again only to find Kenma alongside the previous first years from Karasuno. You went to sit beside him as he shows something to Kayegama on his phone

“....but i heard that Italy has the best teams overall, maybe you should aim for a team there” Kenma says to the younger boy as he takes your hand, leaning his head in your shoulder 

“I see, i see”

“You'll need to study English for that, Tobio-kun” you joke

“I've gotten better, Yn-san!”

“Have you, though? I heard from someone that you got a 32 in your last test”

“Hinata boke!” Kageyama goes to fight with Hinata as you chuckle alongside your boyfriend 

“Look at you too, looking up stats about volleyball to know which country is the best” you joke to Kenma

“I do like the sport, i just rather watch it” he scoffs, kissing your cheek quickly 

“Hello kiddos” you hear a familiar voice coming from the door, a spiky, messy, black hair and a smug smile on his lips “you two! Don't make out in front of the kids!”

“Please, shut up, they'll survive” you sigh as Kenma rolls his eyes

“Youngsters this days” Kuroo smirks as you two stand up to say hi to him, you going to hug him

“Aren't you supposed to be in university? What are you doing here?” Kenma asks 

“Yeah, I thought university students were supposed to be busy” Tsukishima joins Kenma “guess not everyone is busy, even in uni”

“You're hurting me, kids”

“Kuroo-san! How are you!” You heard Hinata starting to talk with Kuroo, distracting him with questions.

You feel a pair of arms in your waist as Kenma chuckles at Hinata, you put Kenma’s hair behind his ear as he smiles softly at you with tired eyes. You look at the boys in front of you, Hinata and Yamaguchi talking with Kuroo, Tsukishima and Kageyama talking with Kenma; the whole scene make you feel somehow cozy at how much their friendship has grown and how lucky you were to be part of it.

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: smut (f. fingering, dirty talk).

➴ word count: 3k

💌 from me to you: listen… if you already read any of my works you know that i don’t know how to write smut. i just wanted to write something for kinktober but turns out this is much harder for me than expected lmfao i hope u guys still like me and forgive me for all my sins.

𖧷

YOU TOOK a deep breath before knocking on Jack’s door.

It has now been a week since you asked Jack to be your “sex teacher”, and today would be your first “lesson”— if you could even call this a lesson.

Jack opened the door after a few minutes, smiling like he had just won the Stanley Cup, wearing a backwards hat, a plain, black t-shirt and pants.

Now that you’re really looking at him, Jack is fine. Like, really, really handsome. You get the Hughes brothers appeal now.

“Hey, pretty,” he greets you, nodding with his head and letting you in. “Right on time. Someone’s eager.”

You blush, dropping your things on his couch. “Well, what can I do?”

Jack closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“Are you excited?” He asks, looking genuinely interested in your answer.

“I don’t know if excited is the exact word,” you hum. “I’m really nervous. And anxious too. I barely slept tonight.”

He chuckles, walking towards you and stopping in front of you, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. Sex isn’t a seven headed monster. It just has one head, maybe two if it’s a really good day.”

You give him a slap on the chest seconds after you get what he meant, hearing his loud laugh.

“You’re being mean.” You mumble, already embarrassed. “What… What are you teaching me today?”

He stops laughing and clicks his tongue.

“Today, you’ll learn how to get yourself off.”

You almost lose all of your senses.

“What? Me?” You yell, confused. “I thought— I thought this was about learning how to make a guy… Well. You know!”

“Before learning how to please others, you’ll have to learn how to please yourself,” he answers, looking dead serious. “I’m not gonna teach you how to make a guy come if I know you won’t be enjoying it.”

“Y-you don’t know that,” you stutter. “Zack probably knows how to get a girl off.”

Jack smirks, but doesn’t say anything. His cockiness made you want to punch him sometimes.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” He asks the question staring deeply into your soul and you are one hundred percent sure that you won’t make it through this evening.

“Jack!” You shout again, looking everywhere but his face.

He sighs, and before you can even think about doing anything, he gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his sapphire eyes.

“Listen, pretty,” he starts, his voice soft and gentle. “Having sex is normal and so is touching yourself. If you’re not comfortable with me touching you, you just have to say it, but I really think that, for this to work, you’ll have to trust me.”

You stop looking at him, only to have his finger pressing your chin again. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, I really do. It’s just that— this is weird to me. I want to have s-sex but what if… what if I’m terrible at it and what if I’m, I don’t know, boring?”

“That won’t happen, baby. And even if it does, who cares?” He licks his lips. “I’m here to help you. So just relax, okay?”

You bite your bottom lip before nodding once. Jack’s face lightens up and he smiles brightly at you.

“Good girl.”

𖧷

“THE KEY to knowing how to make yourself feel good, is exploring. Trying to get to know what you like and what you don’t like.”

You were sitting on Jack’s bed, your legs crossed and your hands resting on your lap. Jack was standing in front of you, looking you in the eye.

“Some girls like it when things are rough, when the touch hurts,” he explains, running his fingers down your neck, moving into your shoulder and arms, his touch making you shiver slightly. “Some girls like it when it’s gentle and slow. It’s up to you to find out what you like, mhm?”

You nod with your head, because speaking would just be too much trouble. Maybe you were too touch starved, because just the pressure of Jack’s fingers against your skin made you feel things you have never felt before.

He moved on to your mouth, tracing the line of your lips before parting them slightly with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

“K-kiss me?” You choke on your own saliva. “Why do you want to kiss me? That makes no sense and—” he stares at you with funny eyes. Right. “Okay. Trust you. Okay, fine.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything else and honestly, you’re thankful for it. His silence makes it a whole less awkward and embarrassing. Kissing your friend of years it’s already strange as it is.

Or at least that’s what you thought kissing Jack would feel like, before you felt his lips on yours. His right hand held your chin up, tilting your head just the slightest bit to the side so he could angle his mouth with yours just fine.

His tongue caressed yours with determination, Jack kissed like he knew what he wanted, and you guess he probably does. It wasn’t like any of the other boys you managed to kiss, no. Jack kissed with a purpose, and that purpose was driving you crazy.

He gently pushed your body back, making you lay completely on his bed, your back touching his soft covers. The weight of his body on top of yours definitely did something to you, even if you couldn’t explain what.

He pulls back after your lips are swollen, and even so, you catch yourself pushing further for more, frowning when he shakes his head no.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” He asks, and you nod your head, eagerly, making him chuckle. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathe, feeling weird.

He blinks once before gluing his lips to yours again, this time not even asking for permission before touching your tongue with his, his hands moving immediately around your body. Touching your neck, shoulders and hips before moving back to your chest.

You were glad you had chosen not to wear a bra, since now Jack’s access to your boobs was easier. He put his hands inside of your tank top, squeezing your nipple between his index and thumb.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, and you think a million things at once, most of them synonyms for the word “good”. “Sarah?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, closing your eyes when he pulls your nipple and squeezes it, hard. “It does.”

“For you to feel good, you have to set the mood, y’know what I mean?” He sounds like a goddamn teacher and you want to kiss him again. “What’s the fun in getting off if you won’t play with the rest of your body?”

You feel your face burn, because that’s exactly what you thought getting off was: just laying in bed and touching yourself down there, and nothing else.

You jump slightly when you feel something wet around your left nipple, only after realizing it was his mouth. Is this a thing? Do guys do this all the time? And why does it feel so fucking good—

Your first moan comes off as a surprise to you and Jack; you can tell by the way he presses his fingers on your waist harder, the sound making you feel embarrassed for a second.

He moves onto the next, doing the same thing he just did to the other, and you remove his hat just to run your hands through his silky, now short hair.

His hand, the one that had been resting on your hips this entire time, goes to your right thigh, squeezing it hard. He lets go of you, and gets up, leaving you alone in his bed.

“Let’s get you naked, hm?”

Nodding, you get up to a sitting position, holding the hem of your shirt before his hand stops you. He holds your hand before moving you out of the bed, making you stand in front of him. His eyes are asking for permission again and once you give it to him, he starts by unbuttoning your jeans and helping you get out of them, leaving you with your lacy panties and your tank top.

And to your absolute horror, you only then realized that you were wet; your panties were glued to your pussy, and you could feel the sticky liquid coming out of you.

Jack doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moves on with his task of getting you naked, removing your white top and staring shamelessly at your tits.

“Stop looking at them,” you murmur, hiding your boobs with your hands.

He cocks his head to the side. “Why should I? They’re pretty, just like you.”

“It’s embarassing.” You reply, looking at your feet.

“No, it isn’t, baby,” he snickers, placing his hands on top of yours and removing them from your tits. Then, he pointed at the bed with his head, silently asking for you to lay there again, which you promptly did. You were anxious and excited for what was coming. Besides, it was getting hard to ignore the wetness between your legs.

You laid with your back on the mattress and your head on his pillow, watching as he did the same, laying sideways, with his hand supporting his head. Even if the only light illuminating the room is coming from his bedside lamps, you could tell that his blue eyes were dark, full of something that you couldn’t name, but that was starting to make sense to you.

Because you were sure that if you looked in the mirror, you’d see the same thing reflected in yours.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he whispers, and you can’t help but whimper as you feel his fingers tracing imaginary drawings on your body; your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your tummy, your—

You hold your breath as he toys with the bow in front of panties, squeezing your thighs together as soon as he moves a little bit down.

“Sarah,” he calls beside you, and the only thing you can do is look at him and wait for him to continue. “Open your legs for me, baby.”

“N-no.”

He frowns, confused. “No?”

“‘M wet,” you whisper, feeling the reddeness take over your cheeks.

Jack chuckles, resuming playing with your underwear.

“That’s the goal, baby. It means that we’re doing great work.”

You’re doing great work, you want to tell him, but you choose to stay quiet, the situation already embarrassing enough as it is.

Slowly, you reopen your legs, separating your thighs until your left one touches Jack’s stomach. He hums as he removes your underwear, the cold breeze hitting your pussy and making you shiver.

His fingers slowly find their way back to your core, and when Jack touches your clit, you can finally release the moan you didn’t even know you had been holding this entire time. His finger’s cold, and as he gently rubs your sensitive nub, you start to wonder why it has never felt this good for you before.

Of course, you’ve felt aroused before, especially when you were a teenager. But never enough to actually do something about it— the few times you tried to make yourself come, you’d always stop midway and feel guilty for the next three hours, even if getting off wasn’t anything shameful.

But this? Feeling Jack’s breaths near your neck, his left hand holding your legs open while his right one spreads the slick coming out of you on your folds and clit, the rub that was once gentle, now stong and precise.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you on the lips again. As he tongue fights for space inside your mouth, you can feel his index finger circling your clenching hole. “You can either put a finger inside or just rub here,” he explains, touching your clit again, making you remember why you were laying naked on his bed in the first place. Right, you tell yourself, we’re here for Zack, and for Zack only. “Just do what feels good for you.”

You can feel your walls tightening around his finger as he tries to put it inside you and you bite your lips, holding back a whimper.

“You need to relax, baby, otherwise this will hurt,” he says, soft voice reaching your ears like honey. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head fast. “No, please,”

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he mumbles a soft “okay”, as you try your hardest to relax. He dips his finger inside of you, while his thumb works fast on the aching button, the wet sound of his fingers on your pussy making you cringe momentarily.

It was different, having something inside you, but a good type of different. And knowing that Jack is the one making you feel this fucking good? Definitely helps a lot.

“I wanna hear you, baby, come on,” he asks, his lips touching your cheek with how close he is. “Make those pretty sounds for me again. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you let out a series of sounds, trying not to think so hard. If Jack wanted you to moan for him, you would. “Jack.”

“Does it feel good, pretty?” He smirks, moving his fingers faster, his grip on your tight strong enough to bruise your skin. “Does your little, tight pussy feel good around my fingers? Good enough to make you come for me?”

His dirty, crude words made the red on your face deepen, but at this point, with his finger shoved deep inside of you and his tireless rubbing on your swollen clit, you didn’t care much.

The only thing in your head was the need to release yourself in his hands.

“Answer me, or I’ll stop,” he orders and you roll your eyes, holding his neck with your arms, gluing your chest to his clothed body, his finger reaching deeper inside you with the new angle. “Sarah—”

“It d-does,” you stutter, breathing in his perfume. God, he smells so fucking good. “It feels so good, Jack, I don’t want you to stop, I—”

“Are you going to come, baby?”

“Dunno,” mumbling, you grab his hair, pulling it. “I want to.”

“Then come on, baby. I’ll talk you through it,” he whispers in your ear, biting your lobe right after.

“No,” you moan. “That’s… embarrassing.”

He chuckles, pressing his thumb against your clit, making you arch your back with how sensitive you were. “What’s so embarrassing about me talking you through? Telling you how good your pussy feels around my finger? How hot and wet you are, taking me so well and deep too.”

“Jack—”

“Have you wondered about how my dick’s going to feel inside you?” He licks your cheek before kissing it gently. “How deep I’ll be. How I’ll make you beg and cry for my cock, so I can wreck your pussy and have you moaning for me. And you’ll wet my sheets, just like you’re doing right now, won’t you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,”

“And it’ll feel so good, right, pretty? You’ll let me hear those pretty sounds of yours while I teach you how to take a cock, hm?”

Still with your nose buried in his chest, your body moving forward with each of his thrusts, you shake your head. “No— teach me how to take y-your cock, Jack.”

Why the hell did you just say that, somewhere, someone, inside your mind asks you, what about Zack?

What about him?

Jack’s chuckle brings you back for a moment. “‘Course, pretty. Teach you how to take my cock.”

Satisfied, you hold him closer, closing your legs together, the tension inside of you growing with each thrust. You weren’t sure of what was going to happen, but it felt so fucking good.

“Jack— I’m gonna.”

His fingers only manage to go faster, reach deeper.

“Come for me, baby,”

Even if this is— officially— your first time coming, you still don’t understand how your body just responded to Jack so well, and how you literally came on command— something inside you made you think that this doesn’t happen often.

But there was just something about him teaching you how to make yourself this wet, how he left your pussy sore and clenching around nothing, how his blue eyes never left yours and how his blondish, damp hair is sticking to his forehead, making he look ten times hotter than he already normally does.

How haven’t we ever noticed he’s this fine?

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling tiredly and laying on his chest.

He smiles back. “Hi, pretty.”

“This was… definitely something.”

“How do you rate your class from zero to ten?” He joked and you laugh quietly.

“A ten,” you mumble. “An eleven if you let me stay the night.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave anyway but if telling you yes will make my score go higher then yes, please, you can spend the night here,” he kisses your lips briefly, before pulling back, a somewhat worried expression decorating his beautiful, angelic face. “Does Z know where you are?”

“Told him I’d sleep at my friend’s house,” you say, not feeling even the slightest bit bad for lying to Trevor. I mean, you had just come on Jack Hughes’ fingers after he got you off and sucked your tits. Trevor can go to hell for all you care.

“Mhm,” Jack hums, getting up suddenly and taking you with him. “Let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll go to sleep.”

You wanted to protest but he was right, you both had to clean yourselves up. And showering with him didn’t sound so bad.

At all.

Phase two of getting Zack to like you: complete.

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (VI)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your marriage is slowly getting better and more intimate as you become the Dark Lady of Mordor and you have the Orcs' respect. While dealing with the aftermath of your conquest alongside your husband, you meet a very special prisoner – your lover who has finally returned.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The longest chapter so far but I didn't want to divide it in two separate ones because this fic is already getting longer than I wanted it to be (I suspected this moment of the show would happen in like chapter 3 lmao 🤡). As I have promised, there is finally a reunion between Sauron and the Reader. 💕

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship, every trigger from S02E01 (death of the people imprisoned by the Orcs etc.), it is mentioned that the Reader is lowkey scared (?) of Sauron's anger sometimes, which might imply some sort of domestic violence in their past + mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut)

WORD COUNT — 8,260

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (VI)

You were sitting by the long table full of wine and food that had been found in the cellars of the human villages nearby as the Orcs and the men who had chosen to follow you were partying and celebrating their new home. At least the Orcs looked truly excited about it because the humans were smiling much less and you just knew that most of them were only there to save their own lives. But that was not something you wanted to worry about now. You earned your rest, so you were just sitting next to your husband and picking on the grapes on the plate in front of you with your new sword resting on the chair. You kept glancing at it, proudly.

You focused on the song in Black Speech that the Orcs were singing and you furrowed your brows, understanding only a few words. The speech was not difficult to learn so you already could recognise a few phrases but still, it felt not enough.

“Will you teach me the Black Speech, too?” You asked your husband and Adar didn’t react at first but then he turned his head around to meet your gaze as if he was surprised to hear your question.

You cracked a smile at him. It was not only him who was perceiving you differently now but you were seeing him in a new light as well. He was making you feel powerful and in charge but his very presence was also ensuring your safety and taking some responsibility off of your shoulders. And the more he could teach you, the more useful you would be to Sauron later.

“If that is your wish, my Lady,” Adar nodded at you and reached his hand out for one of the grapes as well but you grasped it delicately, making him look surprised again.

“I have something for you,” you batted your eyelashes at him and smiled shyly as he furrowed his brows. You moved one of your hands lower and showed him the leaves from the holy trees that you had been hiding inside your sleeve. “I picked them earlier today in Ostirith,” you explained.

“What for?” Adar asked and perhaps his question was a little hurtful but the voice remained soft.

“We were wed under these trees. I thought it would mean something to you. Forgive me, my Lord…” You took your hands away and hid them underneath the table, squeezing the leaves and looking down.

Adar lifted your chin up with his thumb and made you look into his eyes. They were filled with adoration once again just like earlier on that day after realising you had truly finished his task and brought doom to your homeland.

“It does. I had no idea it meant anything to you,” he confessed and let go of your chin to open the palm of his hand in front of you. With a smile, you placed some of the leaves there and he clenched his fist to take them. “Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya. 

You nodded at him and dared to reach your free hand out to caress his cheek gently, brushing a strand of his black hair behind his ear. He was pretty startled but did not flinch.

“How long have you endured without anyone’s kind and gentle touch before me?” You asked, wondering out loud.

“A touch like this comes from a blurry memory of a long time ago, in a different life,” Adar whispered. “I had a different name then, too.”

“What was it?” You asked, curiously.

“It does not matter. Adar is my name and your husband. That man I once was is a stranger to you, my Lady. He should not concern you,” he explained and you smiled sadly.

“He had to be quite special to be chosen by Morgoth,” you whispered but Adar chuckled as he shook his head. “No?”

“No,” he answered. “Not special. Just a fool.”

You removed your hand from his cheek slowly and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I am exhausted,” you announced. The nap you had in the forest had not been enough after such a long and eventful day. “I shall retire now, my Lord,” you stood up and Adar nodded at you. “Can you tell me what happened to my dear friend Arondir? I forgot to ask you before.”

“I do not know but I do believe he is still alive,” Adar explained and you sighed with relief. Even though Arondir had angered you, now when you were calmer and back to your senses, you worried a little again.

“I hope he is away from here and builds a new life for himself,” you said out loud, squeezing Adar’s arm before taking your sword and walking out towards the village that you had overtaken earlier.

Adar’s house was the biggest one – right in the centre, near the market square. You had been offered your own next to his but you wanted to share a place with him. There was no need to get a separate house and you had to work on earning more and more of his trust. Especially now it seemed it would become an easier task.

But when you sat on the edge of the bed and began undressing yourself slowly, you sighed after realising that the more you were trying to make him like you, the more you were beginning to like him, too. And it could possibly lead to you feeling guilty later.

In nothing but your underdress, you felt extremely sleepy. You did not even consider waiting for your husband or trying to seduce him. Not on that night, surely.

So, you just laid down under the covers and despite the sounds of the party from afar, you fell asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow.

You woke up and turned around, surprised to see Adar still in the bed with you. He was laying on his back and asleep. You watched his chest rising up and down for a quiet moment before leaning in to touch him gently. In moments like these, he was the most vulnerable.

But so were you.

Oh, how you missed Sauron. You loved the mornings in his arms; all the sweet kisses and murmured promises, compliments and sweet nothings – all of that while tangling your bodies together to finish whatever had been started on the night before. How you longed to wake up next to him again and brush his hair gently, imagining a crown upon his head.

But on that unusually quiet morning you did not mind being in Adar’s bed either. You woke him up very softly with your touch and he cracked a smile at you when he realised it was his wife bringing him back to reality.

“Forgive me,” you whispered softly. “I am just so surprised to see you in my bed in the morning. Usually, you are always gone before I wake up.”

“Usually,” Adar nodded and cleared his throat. He hesitated before putting his arm around you but you allowed him to do so and you moved closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “It is still very early in the morning and my children were celebrating for a long time last night. The whole village is asleep and we have no more battles to fight for now,” he explained.

“And I like that very much,” you mumbled and laughed softly.

You felt Adar’s fingers caressing your back and you looked up to meet the gaze of his cold eyes. At that moment, they felt nearly kind.

Kind in a very genuine way. Something you had never felt around Sauron when his face had been trying to look kind. Sauron’s rage and hatred had been genuine. His devotion, his love – yes. But never his kindness.

“I saw you with those villagers. You were so cruel,” you breathed out. “And yet, with me, you are so soft. I am far less innocent than any of them.”

“You are my wife,” Adar explained. “My lady,” he added. “Why would I treat you like an enemy?”

If he only knew…

“I want you,” you confessed in the Quenya language and you truly did – you wanted him. It had been centuries since you were so close with a man, yet alone a man in power who treated you so special.

“I can feel it,” he whispered with a nod.

“What have you been waiting for then?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“For you to say it,” he smirked and rolled you over onto your back in one swift movement that made you yelp and chuckle right after.

What a different lover he was from Sauron, too. How surprisingly soft, slow and gentle. Taking his time, observing your reactions to make sure you were feeling alright. In fact, he was focusing more on you than on himself.

Sauron’s worship had been greedy and hungry to the point of pain very often. Not that you had ever minded that pain but you had absolutely no idea that you could be worshipped in a different way as well – attentive and delicate as if you were made of the most precious Elven glass.

In Adar’s eyes you had to be. Despite the seed of evil he could feel in you, he had to see you as something pure and innocent compared to his corrupted and rotten self. You could feel that when he was making love to you like he was trying not to hurt you too much or show you too much of his darkness.

Laying on his chest and catching your breath as his hand caressed the strands of your hair, you were listening to his heartbeat and slowly drifting off back to sleep. The hour was still early and there were no sounds coming from the village.

“Can I ask you something?” He started and you froze for a brief moment, already suspecting the question. He had every right to want to know the truth.

“I know what you are about to ask,” you sighed, looking up at him. 

“I am not angry,” he assured you. “You were forced to marry me, I could not have any expectations. And I am not exactly an image of perfection myself but–”

“There was only one before you,” you interrupted him and he closed his mouth, staring down at your face. “One too many for an unwed Elf everyone thought of as smart and innocent.”

“You do not have to tell me,” Adar only whispered.

“It is quite alright,” you shrugged your arms. “I was a very young Elven maiden sent by my parents to study in Mithlond. He was a young Elven boy and we fell in love. At least I thought we had…” You faked a sad smile and looked away with melancholy. “We spent many nights together and I know we should not have done that before the wedding but I was so sure that he would be the one I would be wed to… And, one day, after my classes, I ran into the courtyard where he was standing amongst his friends. And I overheard his announcement of being betrothed to another. I learnt my lesson then,” you shook your head and met your husband’s gaze again. He seemed to be sad for you.

“In the eyes of the Valars, you are wed to him,” he pointed out with a smirk and you knew he was teasing because you had wanted to solidify your union for so long before, meanwhile you had already belonged to another in a way.

“I have never worn his ring or sworn any oath,” you explained. “Like I have for you, my Lord.”

Adar nodded and caressed your cheeks gently before cupping them and leaning down to peck your lips.

“We shall drop the formalities when we are alone,” he suggested.

“I agree,” you nodded and smiled softly.

“Good,” he laid your head down onto his chest again and wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back and took a deep breath in.

“Let us go back to sleep for a short while. We still have time,” you yawned a little and he did not protest as both of you closed your eyes and drifted off once more.

Weeks passed and even though Mordor was your land now, there were many things to do. The land was nothing without its citizens and your realm needed a brand new structure. At first, the Orcs were searching through the forests and villages while looking for the humans who were still wandering around. Some of them would choose to serve Adar and you out of fear.

Your relationship with your husband was developing just like Mordor under your rule. You had some misunderstandings and you still were a bit distant because you had not known each other for very long but you also did not mind to spend time in the company of one another. And you certainly did not mind sharing the same bed although sometimes you simply had no time to get intimate.

Sometimes you had some free time, though. Like right now, your husband was teaching you how to wield your new sword and you groaned while trying to lift it up one more time.

“It is much heavier than any blade I have ever been taught to fight with,” you confessed and Adar chuckled.

“It was crafted by Morgoth,” he reminded you. “It is no ordinary blade,” he moved his own sword close to you but he did that very slowly, so you could defend yourself.

And so you did lock your blade with his but your sword was too heavy to keep it still without your hands slightly trembling.

“It is not only its weight you are carrying but also its history,” Adar pushed his sword further and made you take a step back. “Its darkness.”

“I am aware,” you drawled out through gritted teeth. You wanted to prove to him and yourself that you were worthy of carrying it. Therefore, you refused to give up.

“Let me,” Adar retreated all of a sudden and put his sword aside only to approach you and stand behind you as he tried to show you the right position. “While carrying a sword of this sort, you must change your approach a little. It is heavier and it was not crafted with a woman in mind,” he reminded you.

“Oh, so you think I cannot handle it for I am a delicate maiden?” You teased and Adar rolled his eyes slightly.

“I can see that you barely do,” he remarked.

“Lord Father!” One of the Orcs ran up to you and interrupted your little sparring session. “The new prisoners have arrived! Glûg says he has captured someone special!” The Orc added, excitedly. 

Adar nodded at him and squeezed your arms before walking away to gather his sword. You waited for him and you both walked to the centre of the village where the prisoners were usually being brought. Adar had some sort of a throne there, made of iron and burnt branches of the trees. It was big enough for you both to sit on it but you preferred to stand by his side either way – that was how your mother had taught you since she had always been standing behind your father.

Adar’s throne was too large for you to simply stand behind him but you just remained by his side with your back straightened and the most serious expression upon your face as that filthy human Waldreg was standing on your left and addressing the prisoners while trying to impress your husband and you with his loyalty.

“Welcome to Mordor,” he announced now and you gave Adar a meaningful look, cracking a smile. He smiled back at you before you two went back to your usual, serious expressions. “Work its land well and you’ll be fed well,” Waldreg continued. “Work it badly and you’ll feed the soil,” he finished his little introduction as he addressed one of the new prisoners – a poor looking villager. “You, lad, do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks and Dark Lady of Mordor?” He asked.

Dark Lady of Mordor – that was how they were calling you now. It was not a name you had given yourself or chosen but it was the name you had earned by being the one who had opened the dam. You had been the one to create Mordor and as much as this title was making you feel proud and strong, you also wondered what Sauron’s reaction to it would be.

Would he accept the fact that you ruled over something yourself, too? Or would he be angry that you dared to?

The poor villager hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. Therefore, you had to watch the Orcs attack and murder him by sticking the blade into his stomach as he groaned in pain.

At first, such images had been dreadful. But now you were growing used to it and it was a good thing – a good sign. By Sauron’s side you would have to endure much more.

“It is the Southlands no more! In Mordor, ya bow or ya bleed,” Waldreg reminded all the prisoners and then he looked at another one coming your way. “Right, you there. Do you swear allegiance to Adar and his lady?”

The man fell down to his knees and bowed his head. And when he did that, the Orcs took him by his elbows to mark him with a branding iron. An image nearly as dreadful as the other villager getting murdered but this one at least could live.

Although what a life it would be?

You did not care. You were standing on the other side – by Adar’s throne, wearing a blood red gown and a small headpiece made of iron that some of the Orcs had crafted for you from the swords they had found amongst the dead bodies. It had been their gift for giving them home.

You spotted Glûg leading another prisoner your way and this one had to be that special one that he had mentioned to his friends. He was also being kept still in chains and with an iron collar around his neck. Looking like an ordinary man – but quite handsome, you had to admit – yet, he seemed to keep his dignity amongst all this chaos.

You felt it. The twist in your gut, the change of the air around you. The disturbance of energy, the same pulling force that you had felt before while hiding inside a hut in the forest. Sauron was back. 

Sauron was here.

Trying to keep yourself composed, you looked up with your jaw clenched and back straightened and then your eyes locked with the man’s blue ones. And the gasp you tried to stop from escaping your lips had nearly made your rib cage explode.

It nearly felt wrong and surely it did feel surreal to meet with your lover again. To be in his presence and be looked at through his eyes. All those centuries of yearning and missing him, you had always imagined your next meeting differently.

First of all, you had never imagined him in a different form but the man in front of you was not the Sauron you had remembered. His hair was no longer ginger but it was brown now and he looked like a human. His face belonged to a different person but that did not change anything for it had never been his body or his flesh that you loved the most. It had been his mind and his power.

Second of all, you had always imagined him coming to you in all his glory, taking you away and sweeping you off of your feet. You had never suspected he would come to you in chains, dirty from the mud, looking like a beaten dog. And yet, here he stood.

And you had to fight every fibre of your being from running up to him. From releasing him and kissing every inch of his body, from devouring him and praising him, holding him as close as you could…

You adjusted yourself slightly and spotted that his eyes squinted. He was observing you and he looked quite intrigued with your new position.

“The King of the Southlands turned himself in, Lord Father,” Glûg announced and led Sauron by the chain attached to the collar around his neck to make him stand in front of you and your husband.

The King of the Southlands… You pursed your lips. Your husband had mentioned him to you before when he had been describing to you what happened during the attack of the Númenóreans. He had mentioned a human named Halbrand who had arrived from Númenor alongside Lady Galadriel and the cavalry. That he had claimed to be from the forgotten bloodlines of the kings.

You had been intrigued by that man from your husband’s stories already but now there was no mystery around it anymore. It was obvious to you that this persona was nothing but your lover’s scheme.

And that when you had felt his presence back then, inside the hut, he truly had been around. But you had been reaching out to him, you had been trying your best to contact him and yet… There had been no answer.

Or maybe there was. Perhaps Sauron coming back here as Halbrand was the answer to your calling.

“Says he wants to negotiate,” Glûg added and you did your best to appear as contemptuous and angry as you snorted at that.

“Human king,” you mocked his title, trying to avoid his eyes at first because even though you were putting on an act, you were still scared of your lover’s rage. “There is no such a thing,” you finally met his intense gaze and at first it startled you but you continued your little show. “The reign of a human king is always short and weak for his body rots quickly and his mind gets corrupted fast,” you explained with contempt.

Halbrand did not say anything to that. He kept staring intensely at you and Adar. In fact, he gave you a hateful stare that caused a shiver down your spine. You hoped it was nothing but a play-pretend.

“Let my people go,” he finally said in a very determined tone.

But those were not his people because he was no king. However, you had to pretend that you believed him. Waldreg and Glûg laughed at his words and you looked up at Adar.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realised that your husband was very suspicious. The way he was staring at Halbrand was making it clear that he simply knew that this man was more than he was claiming to be. And now you knew that no slip-ups from you were allowed in your little game.

“Or yours will die,” Halbrand added calmly and perhaps his threat meant nothing to the Orcs surrounded there but you knew that he was capable of hurting everyone here without using much, therefore you did not laugh.

Adar finally reacted, however, as he looked away with a slight eye-roll.

“My people defeated the men of these lands,” he reminded Halbrand. “We defeated the Elves who came to their aid,” he stood up from his throne. “We even defeated their allies, the men from beyond the sea,” he walked down and approached Halbrand as you held your breath as seeing your husband and your lover so close and face-to-face was making you feel physically sick. “There is no one left for us to fear,” Adar added.

“There is one,” Halbrand teased and you tilted your head, wondering what his game was. “Since Galadriel’s defeat, she sought out a new ally. An ancient sorcerer, to instruct the Elves in forging a new weapon,” he started and you grew more and more curious of his scheme, so you approached your husband.

You stood right behind him as you wrapped your hands around one of his arms like a dutiful and loyal wife that you were.

“One you first told her about. A power over flesh,” Halbrand continued and you just knew that all this talking so freely about… well, himself, just had to be a part of a scheme much greater and bigger than what you could have even imagined or suspected.

You felt Adar’s body tensing and you squeezed his arm tighter, trying to show him support and comfort.

“Do you remember those words?” Halbrand kept toying with him. “A power that will allow him to use your children as slaves in his army once more.”

“Ignore him,” you quickly spoke before Halbrand could continue. “He is playing with you, my Lord, can’t you see? He is using your fear against you but he is not worthy of our time. A human king?” You snorted. “Most likely a liar.”

“Set my people free and I will tell you where he can be found,” Halbrand cut you out immediately after, giving you no time to speak anymore. “So you can destroy him and rid us both of his evil,” his voice quivered, pretending to be scared.

“No, Your Majesty,” Adar shook his head after giving you a quick glance and moving away from you, forcing you to let go of his arm. He took a step further to be even closer to Halbrand but you made sure to overhear everything. “You will tell me everything you think you know of this sorcerer now… Or I will spill the words from your throat,” he threatened.

“If I die, all that I know dies with me,” Halbrand answered calmly. “You can’t kill me.”

“In time, you will beg me to,” Adar whispered to him and you reached out for his arm once more, sensing his nervousness.

You pulled him closer to you and that was when Waldreg punched Halbrand, which made you look away. Seeing your lover being treated this way was making you feel physical pain as well. You couldn’t bear to watch how that filthy human dared to treat him and how he dragged him away to one of the houses that would now serve as Halbrand’s prison.

“He has upset you,” you caressed Adar’s arm, trying to focus on him now.

“You know why,” your husband answered.

“What he said, Lord Father,” worried Glûg interrupted you two. “Sauron… could never return, could he?

“No. Sauron is dead,” Adar lied to him, shaking his head. “Your Lady was right. That man was trying to use our weakness against us,” he added and walked away but you furrowed your brows and followed him.

Grabbing Adar by his sleeve, you pulled him behind you and led him around the corner of the house nearby.

“You know it is not true,” you whispered into his face, your noses brushing each other as he kept staring at you with a puzzled expression. “When we were in Ostirith, you had received messages that were making you think Sauron was back. I thought those messages were from your children. What are you hiding from me?” You asked, perhaps a bit too aggressively.

“I hide nothing,” Adar answered, way softer than you. “The news my scouts had been sending to me… They had no idea about their meaning and I was not sharing my suspicions with anyone but you. I did not want to worry my children and I do not want to do that now either,” he explained. “That man, Halbrand… I have a feeling he might know something. If my suspicions are true and Sauron is back, I will have to tell the news to the Uruk. And we will have to march again for I shall not rest until he is defeated.”

You took a step back, giving him his personal space as you fixed your gown nonchalantly and cleared his throat.

“I am sorry. I do not like being kept in the darkness,” you tried to make up excuses for yourself. Of course your rapid reaction was the result of the fact that the matter was about your lover. But Adar could not know that.

“I am glad you asked me in private instead of calling me out in front of Glûg,” Adar nodded at you and held your wrists gently. “That was very thoughtful.”

You looked up, a little surprised. You had just accused and attacked him and he was thanking you?

“We are a husband and a wife. I might scold you or question you but this is our private matter for nobody else to see,” you cracked a nervous smile and he squeezed your fingers tighter.

“Let us go back, the rest of the prisoners are waiting.”

You nodded at him and took a deep breath in, trying to compose yourself. For some reason, out of the loud noise of all the people around, your ears picked only on the sounds leaving Halbrand’s throat as Waldreg was beating him up. And for the rest of the day you could not stand still, trying to fight the tears pricking your eyes.

Sauron’s pain was your pain.

It was the middle of the night as you gathered your skirts and walked through the mud to get to the house where Halbrand was kept in. Your heart was pounding in your chest as the Orcs guiding the door turned around to look at you.

“Leave us,” you ordered, a little harshly. They looked at each other but they would never dare to question you, so they just walked away.

And only when you could see them disappearing behind one of the buildings, knowing that you were completely alone with Halbrand, you took a deep breath in and pushed the door to walk inside.

You spotted him sitting on the ground, looking miserable and exhausted. For a short moment, you kept staring at each other in complete silence.

“My love…” You whispered in the Quenya language eventually as you dropped to your knees and crawled on the floor towards him. He kept looking at you without any expression on his face. “My love, you’re back… You’re back, I knew you would be… My love, my master, my Sauron,” you whispered the last word nearly inaudibly, cupping his cheeks with the most devoted and hurt expression since it was painful to see him humbled like this. 

“Shush, my gentle darling,” he finally spoke to you and you sobbed at his soft voice; filled with so much love and affection still. “You cannot let them hear you,” he added and you nodded, pressing your forehead to his as your tears washed some of the dirt off of his face.

“I have been waiting for you for the centuries. Yearning for you, craving you… With every inch of this body, this soul, this heart…” You were assuring him between deep gasps of air even though this very morning you had shared your body with your husband.

But it was all for the grand scheme of your lover. It did not matter, did it?

“I called for you… On that day when I made the mountain erupt. I called for you,” you moved away slightly to be able to look at his face better.

“I know,” Halbrand cracked a smile. “My love, you have to trust my plan. Although I can see you have taken the matters into your own hands.”

“I have been forced to but I saw an opportunity,” you nodded through the tears, brushing his hair with your fingertips. “An opportunity for you.”

“That is good. You are the most devoted and cunning lover just like I taught you,” he said.

“Tell me, my love, tell me what to do now. Give me orders and I shall follow them until we are united again as–” your voice quivered again as you hesitated.

Perhaps it was because of his current state, perhaps it was because of the centuries of separation and perhaps it was because he was in a new form that you had not grown used to yet but… He seemed to be more distant than you remembered. A bit colder despite his gentle words.

“Say it,” you pleaded. “Say it again and I shall do whatever you ask me of,” you promised.

Sauron looked you up and down and his lips curled up in a smile. He tried to reach out for you as if he had forgotten his hands were in shackles. You shushed him and caressed his wounded wrists wherever you could reach.

“I shall make you my Queen,” he whispered. “All Middle-earth will be brought to its knees to worship you by my side, my love,” he added and you sobbed some more. “The very thought of you has been the only thing that kept me alive for so many centuries. To know that I have to return to you gave me strength. I craved your touch for eternity but we shall wait a little longer to be together on our own terms,” he breathed out. “You have to make Adar believe that Sauron is in Eregion and lead his army to me there. I have my work to do in the meantime, but you will be on my mind constantly like you have been for the past few centuries,” he finished as you shut him up with a hungry and desperate kiss, tangling your hands messily into his hair while straddling his lap.

“I shall be your Queen,” you whimpered between the greedy kisses. Those, he seemed to give you back eagerly. “I shall reflect your greatness and your power, I shall bring you an army and whatever else you ask of me. I am yours, yours completely…”

Your dignity seemed to disappear whenever Sauron was near. You had nearly forgotten how overwhelming and soul crushing devotion it was whenever you actually found yourself around him.

“I know that you are, my darling,” he whispered after one of the kisses. “To be able to lay my eyes upon you again is the most satisfying reward.”

“No, it is not,” you shook your head. “The crown upon your head will be,” you pointed out as he raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my love, I know you very well,” you chuckled through the tears. “And I shall bring you the crown, too. I shall be the one to place it upon your head.”

“Are you not a little bit too greedy, little dove?” Halbrand chuckled.

“Greedy? For you? Always,” you teased and pulled his head back by his hair to place yet another hungry kiss upon his lips. He kissed you back, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as you moaned. But then he broke the kiss as you raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed.

“You taste like an Orc,” he said.

“Have you kissed many?” You tried to joke back even though his words had hurt you. All this sacrifice was for him… Could he not see that?

“I am only jesting,” he shook his head. “You look, taste and smell like heaven and I cannot wait to claim you as mine once again.”

At those words you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you looked down for a short moment.

“You should go now before it gets suspicious,” Halbrand leaned in to join your foreheads. “Go, you know what to do.”

“I do,” you agreed and cupped his cheeks before pecking his lips once more. “Everything for you.”

Glûg couldn’t stop thinking of Halbrand’s words. He had been approaching you for many days now and trying to make you assure him once more that the words the man had said were not true. At some point, you began to feel a little bit guilty for lying to him since you could spot so much fear in those eyes.

“You have to trust your Lord Father, Glûg,” you smiled at him that morning. “When he says there is no reason to worry, then there is not.”

“He says one thing but I see he is worrying, my Lady,” Glûg shook his head. “Can you not see it, too?” He was genuinely surprised.

You had realised a little while ago that most of the Orcs had no idea about the deal between your father and your husband. Perhaps the whole concept of political marriages and alliances was something unfamiliar to them but most of them truly believed that you shared a deeper connection with your husband. Love – however the Orcs understood this feeling.

But those past few days, ever since Halbrand’s arrest, the relationship between you and Adar was more distant again. He was worried indeed – way more than he had been before when there had only been signs of your lover’s return. You, on the other hand, did not complain about it because your own mind was focused on Sauron as well. Only for reasons much different than his.

“Glûg, no husband ever tells his wife everything,” you tried to cheer him up as he nodded.

You were walking around the village, trying to see if everything was working out smoothly. The closer you were getting to the house where Halbrand was being kept, though, the more sick you were feeling. You hadn’t visited him again after the first night but he was constantly on your mind either way. And the sounds of his screams of pain were giving you nightmares.

Adar joined you all of the sudden, making Glûg walk away from you a little bit. Your husband took his place by your side and you looked up at his face, noticing that he was worried again.

But before you could ask, a familiar scream reached your ears.

“Oh,” you winced and looked away. “I do realise he is a prisoner but what Waldreg is doing to that human king is starting to make me sick,” you complained. Perhaps it was risky to try to stand up for Halbrand but you thought you had done it in quite an innocent manner.

You knew Sauron would not want you to do that because it could possibly reveal your true self to Adar in case he knew who his prisoner truly was, but you loved Sauron too much to let go of this opportunity to make his suffering stop.

Adar did not say anything to your words but he squeezed your arm before walking away again to join the other Orcs that he had originally been on his way to before spotting you with Glûg.

You sighed, defeated.

However, it was no defeat. Or rather, you liked to think it had been your words that made Adar finally find some mercy for Halbrand. On the very next morning he announced it was the right time to finally settle down the matter with the human king and he even ordered to set his people free.

And so you found yourself inside the house where Halbrand was being kept. He was asleep when you walked inside, laying on the cold stone floor covered with a bit of dirty hay. You wondered if he was truly asleep since he did not truly need it.

The state of his face nearly made you weep – the bruises, the bloody lip, the dirt and sweat mixed. He should be treated like a God and yet he had to endure such a treatment. They were fools not to see that he was the one who would heal Middle-earth.

You kept standing next to Waldreg and Glûg but your husband stood above him and kept staring at Halbrand’s sleeping face. You had a feeling he knew – knew something, knew more than you’d like him to. But he surely did not know that the man in front of you was Sauron. Otherwise, he would bring the Iron Crown with him and push it deep into your lover’s heart once more.

“I was in your place once,” Adar scoffed and walked away after Halbrand finally woke up and your husband’s face was the first thing he saw. “In the eldest of the Elder Days,” he continued his story and crouched down to be closer to Halbrand, who kept staring at the ceiling without any expression on his face. “Thirteen of us were chosen to be blessed of Morgoth’s hand, with the promise of power. A new birth,” Adar explained and you moved uncomfortably.

He had never told you the full story. Would he do it now? Would he tell it to that human king as you listened? Maybe it was easier for him to let you know about his past like that? 

“I was led up to a dark and nameless peak. Chained and left,” Adar continued his story and at that moment, your heart mourned for him.

Despite his cruelty, he had always shown you lots of compassion. He was treating you like a delicate thing that had to be protected as much as empowered, so she could fight for herself, too. He had no idea it was a viper that he had in his bed. And this very viper moved closer to him to put her hand on his shoulder as she faked contempt while staring down at Halbrand. He found your eyes and then he looked at your hand on Adar’s shoulder, only to look back at you. He didn’t like how well you were playing your role – of that you were sure. Sauron had always been the most jealous lover.

But now his anger could not reach you so you toyed with him a little bit more, although teasing him was not your intention. You truly wanted to bring Adar some comfort.

“And after what seemed endless thirst and hunger…” Your husband lifted his hand to squeeze yours. “I saw it. His servant’s face. Sauron’s face,” he whispered and you squeezed his fingers tighter but in that very moment you felt that you were interrupting something intimate between them two. Something you were no part of.

There were tears in Halbrand’s eyes and in yours as well. Perhaps you were a part of it, after all. You were another thing that connected these two, another thread, another betrayal, another affection that they shared.

“And it was… beautiful,” Adar admitted. “He offered me wine, red as a blood moon. He offered me wine, and on that dark and nameless peak, I drank it. I drank it all,” he confessed and Halbrand moved his head slightly to take a better look at your husband. “Your people have been set free and my wife here cannot stand your screams of pain anymore,” he informed him and Halbrand moved his head up to rest it on the wall behind him, shooting you a glance. “Now, tell me what you know of Sauron.”

Halbrand kept staring at you two with a smirk on his face. He was looking you up and down with contempt and a hint of curiosity just like during your first meeting when you had been by Adar’s side, standing next to his throne.

“Sauron has returned in a new form,” Halbrand announced and you looked behind you, knowing very well that Glûg would not take the news well. And indeed, he was affected. “I am not yet certain what shape he has taken.”

“Then of what use are you to me?” Adar asked, angrily. He stood up slowly and you allowed your hand to drop down from his shoulder as you looked down at Halbrand again.

“I have something you don’t,” Halbrand answered. “The trust of the Elves. Release me and I’ll go to them and seek him out, so you can marshal your legions to destroy him.”

You looked at Adar again and he seemed to be overthinking Halbrand’s proposal as the pace of his breath quickened. You quickly put your hand on his chest as you stood by him.

“If he speaks the truth…” You started, changing your tactic. “What I’m saying is… Even if he lies, what can you possibly lose? He is no use for us anyway,” you pointed out.

“Weren’t you the one telling me he was a liar?” Adar whispered and even though Glûg and Waldreg could not hear it, you knew that Halbrand could.

“You had your signs of Sauron’s return and this man proves them. I called him a liar then to calm you down and to not worry your children; to avoid making any decisions in haste,” you explained and then you lowered your voice even further. “I can see how the possibility of Sauron’s return torments you,” you looked into his eyes intensely.

Adar kept staring back at you like that for a while and then he looked up to nod at Waldreg. The man approached Halbrand but not without his usual monologue.

“Do you vow allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks and Dark Lady of Mordor?” He asked Halbrand and you swallowed thickly. Despite standing proud, you glanced down at your lover, a little scared of how he would react to your new name but his face remained unchanged.

“Yes,” he whispered after a while of hesitation, during which he did not look up to meet your gaze even once. He was a much better actor than you were and perhaps you should stop concerning yourself so much with what he would think or react since it was all a game anyway.

“Then kneel,” Waldreg ordered and you watched Halbrand struggling to get into this position since he was still half-lying down and his hands were in shackles.

You kept standing by Adar’s side with your hand on his chest and once again you felt the tension in his body rising as his stare was the most intense. His intuition was not failing him and you only hoped it would not turn out to be even better than you suspected.

“Now, swear it,” Waldreg barked at Halbrand who had just finally made it into the kneeling position. Nothing but the sound of his chains filled the room and you felt really bad for your humiliated lover. You wished you could make it all stop for him.

“I vow–” Halbrand started.

“With your head at her feet,” Adar spoke suddenly in a very harsh tone and you looked at him briefly. Heavy silence occurred between you, him and Halbrand.

You did not understand why Adar wanted this to happen and it felt utterly wrong to be in this position. It was Sauron – your lover, your master, your King. You would never dare to even imagine him bowing down to you because you were the one serving him with your body, mind and soul.

Adar was not fully aware of the complexity of the situation he had just created. You nearly wanted to cry out that no, he did not have to. You wanted to spare your lover the further embarrassment.

But then, after a very long while of hesitation and swallowing his pride – a task incredibly difficult for Sauron, of which you were aware – he did what he had been told and he placed his head at your feet. And in that moment, a shiver went down your spine as you realised that it could be the only opportunity for your lover to be out of his dignity in front of you as much as you usually were in front of him. It was only fair, after all.

And it felt so oddly… good. Satisfying,

“I vow to serve the Lord and Lady of Mordor,” Halbrand whispered. “To the end of my days… and theirs,” he added as a malicious feeling creeped through your body.

Halbrand was given a horse and you watched him ride away slowly while standing next to Adar. Your husband was sitting on his throne with Waldreg by his right side and you by his left. You kept staring at Halbrand’s shoulders but he did not look back even once.

“See that he’s followed. Every step,” Adar told Glûg who had just approached you two. The Orc nodded, still visibly affected by the news of Sauron’s comeback.

Waldreg walked away to clean the house a bit and feed the warg, leaving you alone with your husband. He looked worried and sad as your heart clenched in your chest when you remembered the story he had told Halbrand earlier.

Softly and carefully, you sat on the throne next to him and held his hand gently with the both of yours.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked him.

“I had my suspicions but now… Now I am certain that Sauron is back and…” Adar laid his eyes on you. You were taken aback by the amount of pain you found there. “I cannot let him enslave my children.”

“We… We will not,” your voice broke a little as the guilt creeped in. “The story you have told him… Is that what happened to you, really?” You changed the subject and Adar nodded. “I am sorry,” you admitted, truthfully, while brushing his rough hand with your fingertips.

“Do not mourn me,” Adar asked of you and you cracked a smile.

“Why did you tell him to vow at my feet?” You asked one more question as your eyes met his and he forced a smirk despite his sadness.

“Have I not told you that I would make the whole Middle-earth see the Dark Lady that you are?” 

MASTERLIST

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 10

Warnings: Hospital talks, sexual health, general health

"blood type?" "I don't know." "Wolf size?" "I don't know." "Last time you had a heat?" "That I don't know either." "Could you be pregnant?" Y/N and Chan looked at eachother  before looking back at the medical questionnaire in absolute bewilderment. "I do know my date of birth. The rest I have no clue." Y/N said honestly. "You don't know where you live?" Chan said slowly as if she had just hit her head. "I don't know your address. I just live there." "Good point." Chan chuckled as he tried to fill in some of it for her.

Chan had decided to contact a werewolf specialist after her sub-drop to check for any underlying health concerns. He was worried that Ateez might have done more damage internally than what Felix could pick up. Chan also wanted to find out more about her heat cycle along with when her next heat might happen so he could prepare and make her comfortable for when it happened. He didn't want to ask Felix to do those checks in case she felt uncomfortable so he thought a female doctor might be better for the time being. The female doctor happened to be Changbin's older sister Jaehee. She was one of the most reputable doctors and gynecologists in the city that worked closely with werewolves. Jaehee could have come to the house but Chan decided against it and decided to meet at the hospital as he thought it might be nice for Y/N to go outside. Chan didn't want to trap her in his set of woods away from civilization but he was so worried about Hongjoong catching on or finding her out in public and he wasn't ready to risk it just yet. There were already rumours that Hongjoong had lost his omega and his pack had weakened because of her disappearance. It also doesn't look good to the outsiders that he lost an omega. It shows massive instability and cruelty, because why else would an omega leave, unless she was taken. That was probably how Hongjoong was probably playing it out, but Chan wasn't keeping up to date with his patterns at the moment since Minho and Hyunjin offered to take over while Chan sorts out his problems with his own family.

"Hi Chris, how are you?" An orotund voice called out. Y/N jumped slightly at the woman's voice, causing Chan to chuckle. "Hi Jaehee. I'm sorry to have demanded for you so soon." Chan apologised. "There's no need. My little brother explained." Jaehee explained with a smile. "Come on then omega." "I'll wait here. So you two can talk." Chan explained as he gently gave Y/N a squeeze on her shoulder. "How chivalrous of you Christopher." Jaehee mumbled, rolling her eyes at the alphas behaviour. Y/N followed the female into her office but not forgetting to give Chan a nervous look. Thankfully he sent her a wave of comfort as she went in. "Don't look so nervous. I promise whatever you say to me doesn't go anywhere, the room is werewolf proof so no one outside of this room can hear. And I also won't disclose anything to Chan or my brother unless you're sick. The rest is not my business." Jaehee promised as she patted the bed before grabbing her clipboard and running through a series of questions. They started off as generic questions. What is her diet like? How often does she phase? What is her heat cycle like? How often does her cycle last? Do you get pain during your heat cycle? All of which Y/N knew roughly. Y/N had an alright diet but it could be better. In terms of wolf health, she didn't phase a lot and mostly it was because she was told not too so her wolf was always caged in. In regards to her heat cycle she hadn't had one in over 2 moons.

While Jaehee asked a series of questions she checked Y/Ns height, weight, body temperature before going on to blood tests. Jaehee promised the blood tests where only to check for deficiencies and rule out any possible diseases. "Alright, this next part I need to some cervical examinations just to rule out anything." Jaehee said with an awkward smile as she brought over the ultrasound. "Does my brother treat you right?" Jaehee asked as she waited for Y/N to get comfortable before sticking the instrument in. "Yes. He does. Him and Jisung helped me prepare my nest." Y/N said awkwardly. "Changbin has a big heart. Feel free to abuse it within reason. And when I say that I mean in a healthy way like asking him to buy things for you, not playing the rejection game like my friend does with hers." Jaehee shook her as she remembered what her friend told her. "How is Hyunjin and Minho? They are the most difficult pair. "Um, Minho is rather awkward with me and Hyunjin I think hates me. He frightens me." Y/N said honestly. "I doubt Hyunjin hates you. He can hate but you would know it as you wouldn't necessarily be here. Hyunjin is complex but be patient with him. My advice let him come to you on his terms do not go to him or force him." Jaehee stated. "Um. Chan got him to mark me." Y/N answered nervously. "Oh dear. I can imagine Hyunjin is not feeling happy about that. Give him time. He's not pure evil he just has different morals." Jaehee answered.

The room went silent as Jaehee poked and prodded around Y/N's body, glaring and squinty at the screen, making Y/N nervous. "You are definitely not pregnant. Which I am sure is a relief for you, however, your pelvic bone is cracked which is slightly concerning, so I'm going to have to ban Straykids from any intimate activity from you for the next twelve weeks. It might be eight but those feral males will try and push too early so tell them twelve. In terms of missing heats I strongly believe it is due to high amounts of stress so hopefully in the next one or two moons it comes back. Any questions?" Jaehee asked, in which Y/N shook her head. "Good. I'll write a report to give to Chris. Make sure you eat more protein, the bloodier the better. Try to get more exercise by running in your wolf form. Cardio is better than weight training at the moment as your body has gone through a lot of stress so I wouldn't advise following my brother to the gym. Herbal remedies are great for stress, reproductive and sexual health. I know Felix and Minho are great at making them. Definitely no sex for twelve weeks. The longer the better. Oral sex after eight weeks unless they are really gentle but I have no clue who would be. Minho might be the more gentle one or no maybe not him. Never mind. Oral sex we'll say is fine unless they thrust too hard, it's also a great relaxation technique. Alright what else. Ah, for your pelvic bone try doing pelvic floor muscles. Hot baths, massages and lots of rest. I've also typed this for Chan. Feel free to wack him around the head with it or any of them until they understand. Got it." "Uh, huh." Y/N said as she tried to process a large amount of information. "Your blood test and scan results will be all together in two weeks, but they will be done with a fake name in case Ateez somehow gets a hold of information." Jaehee explained as she gave Y/N her report along with a prescription for birth control pills with a knowing look.

Y/N thanked Jaehee and walked out of her office to see Chan on the phone. Chan quickly hung up and greeted her with a small kiss on the forehead. "How did it go?" Chan asked as he took her paperwork before holding her hand. "Okay." Y/N said awkwardly. Chan hummed in response and wrapped his arm around her. "Let's talk in the car. We have to pick up some wolf protein shake as Changbin has run out." Chan stated like he wasn't even sure what Changbin was on about. As soon as they reached the car, Chan read through the paperwork, taking all of the information in before he started the car up. "Is there anything you want to talk about or get off your mind, not in relation to this of course?" Chan asked, giving her the room to speak freely. "No. I'm just learning to trust and accept things and to feel comfortable again." Y/N admitted. "That's understandable. Your body and mind has been under a lot of stress for however long, but I am grateful you are trying to trust us. As you need lots of rest I hope you will allow us to look after you properly and show you who we are. Obviously within reason for some of them." Chan expressed while also stating the obvious about a certain wolf. "I will state if Changbin offers to give you massages that's fine but not if he finds a muscle knot. He tends to make them worse. Hyunjin is actually the better one to get them out along with Seungmin as they are good with pressure points." "Does Hyunjin hate me?" Y/N blurted out causing Chan to look at her. "No. No he does not. He has a story that is his to tell, but what I will tell you is Hyunjin once lived with Hongjoong and you know what Hongjoong is like he did something. Hyunjin doesn't hate you he hates him and his pack. He doesn't trust anything related to him. But please do not take anything he states personally unless he does make it personal. If he does make you upset at any point tell me." Chan stated as he squeezed Y/N's hand. Still, Y/N couldn't help but worry but for now she had to trust him until something changes.

[goldeaglefire1]

so. played the Pristine Cut a few days ago (not the first time I've played Slay the Princess, for the record; I actually got into it like a month ago and have kinda just. lurked in the background, not making any posts about it. so uh. hi guys) and. GOD this game is good for so many reasons, with even more reasons being added by the Pristine Cut, and I know a lot of people have made posts about how good Happily Ever After is already, but, since I haven't seen anyone post about it from the angle I'm looking at it...y'all mind if I ramble about how good the Happily Ever After route is from a narrative perspective. trick question, I wasn't asking; I'm going to ramble about how good the Happily Ever After route is from a narrative perspective.

so! let's talk about the Damsel for a minute. this is all fairly obvious stuff but stick with me here; we need to lay the groundwork for the main discussion. the Damsel, from a purely Doylist perspective, is the archetypical "damsel in distress" trope - the girl at the end of the villain's lair who has no agency of her own and exists purely as a reward for the hero completing his journey and beating up the villain (before you get mad, I know the Damsel is not actually like this in-universe, and that fact is actually a surprise tool that will help us later, but, again, looking at this from a purely Doylist perspective: outside the world of Slay the Princess, not in it) - fundamentally, she's there to make you happy. the Shifting Mound changes based on perception, and by treating her as the archetypical damsel in distress in Chapter 1, she actually becomes one come Chapter 2, with all her hard, unconventional edges like, to pick a random example here, "the capacity to horrifically self-mutilate herself," being sanded away for a perfect storybook ending. that's what you wanted, after all.

and, if you take everything at face value, that's exactly what you get! if you follow the Voice of the Smitten's advice and completely ignore the Narrator's nonsense about how she'll "end the world" or something, you will get exactly what you asked for, because, well. that's all there is to it! there is no deeper story here, it's just "hero saves princess, the end," end scene, move on to the next princess. but that's the Damsel route, and we're here to talk about the Happily Ever After route. and in order to properly get the Happily Ever After route, you have to horribly fuck up the extremely simple narrative presented before you. so, how do you do that? two ways - either try to question the princess's character and see what underlying motives she has, or, the method I'm choosing to focus on (both because it's the one I got when I first got the Happily Ever After route and because it better illustrates my point) - when you get near the end of the Damsel's story, right as you're about to get your Happily Ever After...you listen to the Voice of the Hero. because while the Smitten may be ignoring literally everything the Narrator says, the Hero has not been doing that, and quite frankly has some concerns about the potential end of the world thing. if she really can end the world...well, she just wants to make us happy, right? so surely nothing will go wrong if you just decide to stay in the cabin forever! it's a perfect compromise!

spoiler alert: it is not a perfect compromise. it is in fact as far from a perfect compromise as you can possibly get. makes sense, really, as there are no real compromises in Slay the Princess - you can either choose to trust the Narrator in any given route, trust the Princess in any given route, or you can choose, to quote the Contrarian in the Apotheosis, the third option that nobody wants. and the only two times the third option is any good is, well, when you're very intentionally spiting both parties - hi Contrarian - and when there's an actual third party you can appeal to, as is the case at the end of the game. every other time? you will be massively punished by the narrative for trying to find another option. try the "let's keep the princess in the cabin" maneuver in chapter 1? you get the Nightmare. try to be a smartass and avoid the "slay the princess/save the princess" issue altogether? you get the Stranger.

hell, every chapter 3 is ultimately the result of you not playing the role you're supposed to in the narrative (aside from the Razor who forces you to go to a chapter 3 no matter what but she doesn't count). if you play the role you're given in chapter 2, you'll be fine! for example - did you get the Spectre? congratulations! you get the Voice of the Cold, a cold-blooded killer - except, hmm...the princess is already dead, so no one to kill there...but there is the Narrator, who you're fairly mad at for the frankly terrible reward for doing your damn job, so how do you kill him? easy - take the princess out into the world and let her world-destroying properties do the job for you. did you get the Beast? congratulations! you get the Voice of the Hunted, a meek prey animal trying to avoid a massive predator...except, well, bad news, boss - you're the only food around here, so you're going to have to get eaten. sorry man. did you get the Nightmare? congratulations! you get the Voice of the Paranoid, a nervous wreck who, frankly, does NOT want to be here, and, well. honestly, do you expect to be able to save the world? the fact that you're even managing to stand up next to this eldritch abomination is a miracle; you might as well just let her out, because, frankly, who would blame you? and so on and so forth.

the Damsel's narrative is extremely simple. you get the Voice of the Smitten, a classic, overly dramatic, simple hero to match the simple princess you're given. your job is to swoop in, sweep her off her feet, and leave. that's it. that is all there is to it. the Narrator's talk about her ending the world does not fit into this narrative, so you have to discard it. after all, why would the hero release a world-ending monster into the world? that's preposterous! he must be lying, obviously. but, by giving the Narrator the benefit of a doubt, or trying to dig deeper into the Damsel's narrative role and find depth when there is none, you expose the cracks in that narrative...and chief among those cracks is that the Damsel is not the simple character her narrative role wants her to be.

I'm not going to do a full character analysis on the Damsel because that's not the point of this post, but even on the most surface-level reading, the Damsel has two very clear desires - she wants to make you happy, and she wants to be free. and, yeah, that's fairly straightforward, but it's more than nothing, which, ah, doesn't exactly bode well. after all, the Damsel's narrative role is that of the damsel in distress, a role most known for, very notably, having no agency, and here you are, dangling her freedom right in front of her face and snatching it away, and quite frankly, that sucks! she wants to be free! she wants to be free a LOT more than she wants to make some stranger she barely knows happy, and while normally those two desires have no conflict with each other, now they do, and while the chapter 1 princess could have done something about this situation and gone Nightmare on your ass, being a blank slate as far as the narrative goes, that's not an option anymore - you've locked her into her narrative role, now, and as a damsel in distress, she can't do shit. the worst she can do is be mildly upset but otherwise have zero objections to your proposal

luckily (or, well, unluckily depending on your point of view), that's enough for you to get your proper comeuppance in the form of Smitten. poor, poor Smitten - unlike the Damsel, he really is as simple as he appears to be on the surface. even on other routes, he is always, always madly in love with the princess, no matter how she looks or acts, and all he wants is to make her happy. a simple character for a simple narrative, who, conveniently, is NEVER forced to question the Princess' role in that narrative...until now. until you forced the fact that she is NOT the simple damsel she's supposed to be directly in his face, and that she's unhappy with your decision, well. that can't be right. she can't be unhappy, we're supposed to make her happy no matter what! something's clearly wrong here - it can't be the princess, because blaming the princess for anything is inherently not an option for Smitten; it's not in his nature. it can't be us, or at least he can't figure out how it could be us, because he's a simple character for a simple narrative, and the thought of "dangling the princess's freedom in front of her and then taking it away is a massive dick move" doesn't even occur to him, because he doesn't realize that's what we were doing. so...it must be something else. maybe the Narrator, who's been describing her as this world-ending abomination when she's clearly a maiden in need of rescue, or this cabin, because, well, why would a princess be in a cabin? she need a proper castle, obviously! he can fix this, surely, there has to be some solution here, he can make this work again...and it all begins by bearing out his heart.

or, rather, YOUR heart. which, you know, kills us. everything goes dark, and we die, etc., onto the new chapter! or epilogue, if you want to go by the title card. welcome to Happily Ever After, the reward you deserve! you goddamn bastard. this route is effectively Smitten's attempt to fix the narrative you broke - and, in many ways, his efforts can be compared to the OTHER route you get by breaking the narrative of the Damsel, that being the Burning Grey. in that route, you kill the Damsel, and, well, that very obviously breaks the narrative, so when Smitten kills you in retaliation and a new world is formed, the Damsel, now the titular Burning Grey, tries to fix it. much like Smitten can't blame her, she can't blame you, because her narrative role doesn't allow it, and she doesn't blame herself, because she did literally nothing to deserve that (aside from like. the fact that she killed you that one time but frankly if you hold that against her that's a bit of a dick move), so she comes to the same conclusion that there must be an external force responsible for derailing the story. the difference between Smitten here and the Burning Grey is the solutions they come up with: the Burning Grey, fundamentally, is part the Shifting Mound, the embodiment of change, rebirth, and death. so, naturally, the solution she comes up with is to burn down the cabin with both herself and us inside, finally being together with her love forever. by melting together her and our flesh. which, you know, sucks, but at the very least the death is...relatively quick?

the Happily Ever After route does not give you or the Princess the luxury of death. after all, Smitten is not a part of the Shifting Mound, but a part of you - the Long Quiet, the embodiment of stasis and stagnation. killing you or the princess doesn't even occur to him as an option - at least, it doesn't now that he's outside of you. and while this allows him to get something much closer to what we would associate with a happy ending, it falls apart fast. the same feasts over and over again, growing more stale and bland with time, the same games over and over again, excitement dulling into boredom as you play repeatedly with no end in sight...it's not Happily Ever After, not even close, but it's the best he can manage. after all, isn't this what you wanted? you DID save the princess, and Smitten is a simple character for a simple narrative, so, this is the only option he can think of outside of riding off into the sunset with our beloved. so, this has to be what you wanted, right?

and as for the princess? well, if she was locked by the narrative before, it's even worse now with Smitten. after all, as far as she's concerned, Smitten is us, so all she knows is that, after we dangled her freedom in front of her and took it away, and she showed even the slightest bit of resistance in response, we proceeded to make her already bad situation into a living goddamn nightmare. so, yeah, she is terrified of what could possibly happen if she shows she isn't happy with this, so she's quick to smother any and all signs of dissatisfaction in the hopes that, as long as she seems happy with all this, you can't make this worse somehow. the MOST she does in terms of resistance is wear the Pristine Blade as a necklace, which is honestly more of a vague hope of "if you won't let me free from this cabin alive, then maybe at the very least you'll let me free from this cabin in death? please? on god?"

and, well, you could in fact do that. or, hell, if you REALLY feel like being an asshole, you could decide to NOT break the facade at all. but if you really want to make it up to the princess? if you realize how badly you've fucked up and want to actually make up for your mistakes? you have to let her actually express her discomfort. you have to give her back the agency she's been denied by the narrative - the agency you took away in the first place. and once she finally has that back...she cries. in relief, because she's finally free from the hell you put her in, in sorrow because, despite it all, the facade of a happy ending was nice while it lasted, in a mix of both with the tears she'd been unable to shed for so, so long...and, at the end of the day, despite having every right to hate you...she doesn't. because you DID set her free, in the end. you realized your mistakes, you learned and changed as a person, and you actually made things right, so even though you might have made her life a living nightmare...she's willing to give things a fresh start. and whether you decide to amicably part ways or start something new together, at long last, she'll finally have her chance to dance under the stars.

this is a love story.

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 07: off the table

preview: ". . . Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. . ."

content warning: smut! dirty talk, hair pulling, fingering, handjobs, pronebone!! (she's a filthy one), mention of abandonment issues.

word count: 5k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa@bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: the google doc file for this fanfic has officially reached 100 pages woohoooo 🥳🩷 im actually very excited because this is where the story picks up and starts to get a little saucyyyy 😋🙌🏻btw, ex boyfriend reveal!! had to include the fan favorite, the fandom's boyfriend: mitsuya takashi himself🙂‍↕️and sorry to disappoint yall, chifuyu is just our friend, he doesn't wanna get in our pants. anywayyy can't wait for the next chapter hehe🥰

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

“Chifuyu,” you sound out of breath. Hair disheveled and such choice of clothing confirms to the man that you hadn’t intended for anyone to visit you this time of the night. You stare back at the man, hair now dyed jet black and sporting a very fancy suit, and it dawns on you how long you haven’t seen him. 

An entire decade.

Chifuyu didn’t intend for the two of you to separate this way, but clearly he had no choice but to keep you away from Toman’s nasty business (something Hanma failed to do). When he first heard that you were going to move away for your studies, he was sad and the two of you cried as you hugged at the train station with your boyfriend by your side. He remembers the man you used to date and feels his heart sink. 

“Can we talk?” 

What’s up with men from your past showing up at your door? Not that you mind Chifuyu’s presence, a part of you was still mad that he had lied for all these years about his whereabouts. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to figure it out, the way he fiddles with his thumbs and avoids your eyes as you lead him inside says it all.

“So?”

“What are you doing?” Chifuyu jumps straight to the point, and you’re a bit taken aback by how alarmed he sounds. “With Hanma what are you– this isn’t right, you know that?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you come here to lecture me? It’s been 10 years, Chifuyu!” you cross your arms over your chest, heat rising to your face. “You lied about where you were and you lied about being with Toman–”

“For a good cause!” Chifuyu’s volume rises and you scoff. “You had to stay away from Toman’s business.”

“Why does everyone think it’s okay for them to decide how I get to live my life?” you question bitterly and Chifuyu’s lips are sealed shut. “I mean really–first Ran and Rindou, then Hanma comes back and he’s acting all mysterious and now you?”

“You can get hurt.”

“I don’t care.” You spit out venomously. “You have no idea how isolating it feels to watch everyone around you distance themselves from you thinking it will protect you. All it did was make me scared to try to make friends.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t just Chifuyu or your brothers or even Hanma that you were mad about. Not their absence, or their lies or their futile attempts to shelter you from a familiar life of crime and violence –you were bitter about where you had ended up, what you could’ve had with your previous lover that went so badly even you couldn’t recover from it. 

When you moved away for your studies, your relationship with your brothers had already been strained, broken even. They had betrayed your trust in irreconcilable ways, so you turned to the one person you loved so much. You loved and cherished him, you were ready to offer up your heart to him as he whispered promises of a happy family in the near future, with a big house and a pretty garden where you'd water the plants and harvest some vegetables. Then he’d come home and he would show you the latest piece of clothing he had designed for you. You’d wear it happily and show it off to him as he gave you a look mixed with adoration and lust. He promised that he would fill your tummy to the brim, that he would fuck a baby into you as many times as you wanted. It was a shared dream of yours.

Perhaps it was too good to be true. 

That man switched up on you overnight–because of a project that had been consuming him for a month straight, he wasn’t able to spend time with you anymore. Becoming a fashion designer was everything to Mitsuya Takashi. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to let anything hold him back even if it was a partner. 

You had been in a long, six year relationship when Mitsuya started to put more distance between the two of you, prioritizing his projects over date nights and coming home very late at night after events and gatherings. And every time you tried to talk to him about it–about your relationship–you were met with nothing but a look of exhaustion and disdain. The warmth he once had for you was gone and was soon replaced by a cold, distant look. His touch no longer lingered against your skin during the early hours of the morning, sex had become a chore to the same man who would spend hours making love to you under the moonlight. 

That’s when you realized that perhaps, it was time to part ways. 

It wasn’t easy at all–you cried in his arms and he apologized for not being able to keep his promise of the perfect family the two of you were once eager to have. And before the two of you could part ways, you watched as the man reached for his neck to unclasp the jewelry wrapped around it. Stepping behind you, he wrapped the necklace around your neck and the two of you shared one last warm look, filled with the love you will always have for one another.

“Keep this. Maybe we’ll meet again one day.” 

One day turned into six years of not seeing the lavender haired man. Six years of praying and hoping for something, anything. To no avail. You hadn’t even heard of him on the news, nor were you able to find any of his works anywhere and it broke your heart at the thought of him moving out of the country completely. To think that he needed to change his entourage in order to see some growth–you hope that you weren’t the type of girlfriend to try to grab his wings and pin him to the ground. 

Chifuyu had been watching you this whole time. He had been watching your every move, ensuring your safety without having to approach you or so much as get out of his car. He knew of your breakup with Mitsuya, and all he could think of was the last conversation you had with him before moving away for your studies.

“I can’t wait to marry him,” there was a slight blush to your cheeks. Mitsuya had really been the boyfriend to you and Chifuyu could feel the love pouring out of you. “He’ll be such a good dad.” 

To say that you were broken after the relationship had ended was an understatement. You didn’t go to work for a week. 

But Chifuyu couldn’t approach you still–and all he could do was watch and pray that you take care of yourself and find a way to lift yourself back up.

So it’s safe to say that when Chifuyu heard that Hanma found you, he was enraged. Toman was used to Chifuyu’s calm and collected demeanor–a false facade he had learned to put up in order to get on Kisaki’s good side which helped him a lot. As he approached the man’s office, he could hear a second man’s voice and quickly recognized it to be Hanma’s.

“So what is this about?” Chifuyu doesn’t care that he is interrupting something as he knocks. He waits for Kisaki to tell him to come in and pushes the door open. Hanma’s back is facing him as he sits on the chair and Chifuyu stands near the door with his hands behind his back.

“Kokonoi said that the report concerning his IT business is taking too long due to a bug in the system.” The dark haired man speaks in a monotone voice, his body unmoving. He’s clearly not happy to be here, but he has to do it for his job.

Chifuyu can’t see what’s happening from his position, but he notices that Hanma places a picture on Kisaki’s desk before leaning back in his chair. 

“You found her?” 

Her. It could be so many people–this girl Kisaki had been stalking, or maybe one of the strippers that had escaped Hanma’s club due to the poor treatment by nasty and rude customers. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the bomb that was about to drop.

“She’s back in Shinjuku.”

“(Name). What was her last name again?” Kisaki brings your picture closer to his face, inspecting and analyzing every feature on your face, down to the way you got dressed. 

“Used to be Haitani. Changed it after her brothers got involved in some weird, shady business.” 

Chifuyu’s body tenses up when the two men mention your name. He’s managed to keep you away from this mess for years now, yet his plan was coming crashing down from a single interaction with Hanma Shuji. The dark haired man was terrified that Hanma was after you just for fun, that his attempts at protecting you would fail now that the tall, tattooed man was back in your life. 

“And? What do you wanna do now?” Kisaki puts the picture away and starts to rummage through papers in his drawers, he doesn’t lift his gaze as he continues. “Do you want the men to take her away or?”

No no no–Chifuyu can’t let that happen. He can’t and won’t let anyone hurt you. His fists clench on his sides, body tensing up. Then he notices. Hanma had gone eerily silent instead of doing his usual, insane laugh. 

Kisaki seems to realize the same thing. Sensing the tall man’s silence, Tetta raises his eyes and notices the deadly look on Hanma’s face. Had it not been Kisaki, a man who’s known him for years and was desensitized to his glares, he would’ve most likely fallen from his chair. His eyes were devoid of any playfulness, and Tetta doesn’t miss the way his jaw clenches. 

“No. I don’t want any of them near her.”

Chifuyu still wasn’t able to trust him. It had never been easy to do so, a man as dangerous as Hanma was as unpredictable as a wild card in the deck. Had his intentions been clear, Matsuno wouldn’t feel the need to watch your every move even closer since that day. 

Now as he stands in your apartment, he realizes that no amount of protection was enough to keep you away from Hanma’s venomous grip. He was intoxicating and once he sinks his fangs into you, there is no way out. The rough love bites were an indication of that. 

Flustered and perhaps feeling as though he was being creepy, he looks away from your neck and watches as you cover yourself more with your robe. You noticed. 

“It was to protect you.” Chifuyu’s voice is soft like butter. He doesn’t have it in him to argue with you, he doesn’t want to argue with you he just– 

He misses you so much and it was driving him crazy that he held himself back for all these years, and all it took for Hanma was to see you once at a metro station and he was back in your life. It just wasn’t fair. 

Losing Baji had taken a toll on Chifuyu’s mental and physical well being. You were worried about the boy and you voiced it out many times to Mitsuya when the two of you went out to get him a couple of snacks as well as some food for his cat. 

It was that worry that made the two of you as close as ever even if your friendship was very short lived before you packed your things and moved away. Luckily enough, Takemichi was in the picture and you had nothing to worry about this time. 

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that everything Chifuyu has done was to protect you. Even if it meant hurting himself in the process. 

“It’s dangerous, Toman.” He speaks lowly as he takes a seat on your couch. “It’s not like how it used to be.”

“I know.” you admit, voice as small as ever. Chifuyu doesn’t want to know how you found out, but he quickly realizes it has something to do with Hanma and sighs deeply. 

“Did you ever think it would get this bad?” you ask, taking a seat next to the man who can only sigh and run a hand through his hair. 

“I…would like to say no, but things have changed a lot. Mikey is different, people are different–money made them…disgusting.” You remember your first encounter with Hanma. The fancy clothes, expensive shoes and watches didn’t draw a smile on his face. He looked bored out of his mind, like he wanted something to happen in his life and the expression on his face when he realized that he had finally found you after so many years of not seeing you, felt like the first time that man had used his face muscles to smile. 

So yeah, Toman was different. 

The two of you sit in silence. It’s a comfortable one this time, like a silence between songs–you get to sit and process what you had just listened to and your brain is trying to make sense of everything all at once. But it doesn’t pain you, nor does it leave a heavy feeling behind. You sit there next to your friend from your teenage years and you don’t feel the need to pretend to be anything else. You can be yourself around Chifuyu, even after so many years.

“So,” Chifuyu is the first to break the silence, turning his head as he rests it on the couch. He stares at you with those eyes that mirror a winter sky. “Hanma Shuji, huh?”

Despite his disappointment and perhaps even anger, the man doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease you. You flush at the tone of his voice and look away, completely flustered.

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”

“Is he really that good?” he continues to tease you, narrowing his eyes at you when your jaw drops and you can’t hide that your face was in flames.

“Can we not! Yes, he’s good and we’re two adults having fun.”

“Yeah,” his eyes shift to the love bites on your skin and the state of your disheveled hair. “You’re having a lot of fun.

“Please shut up.” you sigh deeply as you sink on the couch. “He’s actually a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure he’s a pain in your ass–”

“Seriously!” you cover your face. “...I don’t care. As long as I get some action, I guess.” 

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he’s been less annoying lately,” Chifuyu admits. “Don’t get me wrong, he gets on everyone’s nerves–.” typical Hanma. “--but he’s been different lately.”

“Different?”

You can’t deny that this has piqued your curiosity. What Hanma was to you wasn’t the same to everyone else–you’ve known the man as a teenager and meeting him again as an adult, you realize you may have missed the most formative years of his life—the years that shaped him through struggles and hardships, leaving him the monotone, robotic, and emotionless man he is today. 

Toman knew an entirely different version, so a small shift in his behavior is easily noticeable. 

Chifuyu recalls an incident that happened three nights ago that really solidified to him that there might be something going on with the tall man. Hanma had walked inside the Toman headquarters all wet and disheveled. Not the kind that would leave you wondering if the criminal had sex. It had been pouring outside for hours on no end, and Chifuyu narrows his eyes when he sees Shuji’s wet clothes–however, he doesn’t seem annoyed. He calmly walks towards the front desk where he asks the receptionist (and his personal assistant when he is having a good day) where his bag of spare clothes was. The assistant, clearly taken aback, leads him towards a giant closet and hands him his bag. 

“Thanks.” The tattooed man mutters to the assistant who stands there frozen and shocked. 

Did Hanma just… thank him? 

Even Chifuyu couldn’t believe his own eyes and ears. 

“Yeah. A good type of different.” The dark haired male’s hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, a habit he couldn’t get rid of (not that you minded) then pushes himself off the couch.

“Well…I’m glad it didn’t go that bad.” 

“It could’ve, had I not missed you so much.” You say in a small voice and Chifuyu’s heart breaks a little. 

“Sorry…” 

“Oh it’s fine, I’m used to people leaving.” You try to lighten up the mood, but Chifuyu can tell that this wasn’t a joke to you. The thought of people leaving you was terrifying, but you always managed to find a way to brush it off as nothing but an overreaction. 

“I won’t lea–”

“Don’t.” A hand rests on Chifuyu’s shoulder, and all he can do is stare at you. He feels the small tremble in your hand, and he can read your mind. He knows what you mean. 

You don’t want empty promises.

“Okay.” He whispers in return, resting his hand on top of yours. “I got it.” 

—

Just how busy can a criminal’s life be in a city like Tokyo? Well, it depends. If you were to ask Chifuyu, he would tell you that it was very busy–hopping from one meeting to another, helping manage businesses and attending opening nights and events. Kisaki would say the same, although with the help of his assistant, it feels less hectic and suffocating. And the same goes for every man in Toman. 

Everyone but a certain tall man. 

Hanma’s specialty was torture. His skill relies on methodically, agonizingly breaking a person’s mind and body until they were reduced to an empty shell. He took pride in the way he unraveled them, a twisted thrill evident in his blown-out pupils—enjoying the process far more than any normal person ever would. So missions were a fun part of Shuji’s job. 

Until they aren’t, and he has to request for Kisaki to push them back a day or two.

“What?” Kisaki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you can’t do it today?”

“Exactly what it means.” Hanma says in a breathy voice, and Kisaki sighs at the end of the line. 

“Do I even have to ask why?”

When the tall man laughs, Kisaki’s face twists with disgust. He recognizes that laugh, it was an indicator that Hanma had simply found something far more entertaining than his missions–which was rare to say the least. But he continues to laugh, before heaving out a long, content sigh. 

“Oh man,” a tattooed hand brushes the skin of your exposed back, a small meek noise escapes your swollen lips at the touch. “Not sure if I can answer that.” The same tattooed hand then fists your hair and he pulls harshly until your neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle. You try to shoot him a glare, but he pushes his cock deeper and you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip to suppress your noises. 

“Bye.” You hear Kisaki hanging up on the other line and look over your shoulder. 

“You’re insufferable!” Shuji is amused by the glare you send him, tugging at your hair so that your back is now pressed against his chest. 

“I get that often.” You hear the grin in his voice, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers hotly into it. After a beat of silence, Hanma’s hips slam against your ass and your jaw falls open. 

“F-Fuck!” you cry out. Shuji’s free hand then goes around your body to grope your boobs, slapping them as he continues to fuck into you hard. Desperately, you dig your nails into his forearm for support and gasp when the hand travels down to your clit. 

Your head now rests fully against his shoulder, body twitching and trembling as he continues to thrust into you while rubbing the sensitive bud. 

Hanma loved seeing you like this. Not your usual, bratty self who refused to even glance his way–turning you into putty on his cock was something he took pride in, and he couldn’t deny that the more the two of you fucked, the more addicted he became. 

A week into your agreement with him, and you had been bent over every surface of your apartment.

First was your couch. Hanma insisted that he wanted to replace the memory of him getting cockblocked by your cat with a nice one. You forgot that the man’s sheer strength was enough to send you reeling, and he wasn’t able to control himself as he snapped his hips against your ass cheeks until the couch had moved spots.

“S-Slow down–!” you tried to beg, powerless as he held your wrists behind your back and pushed your face into the cushion of the couch. Your pussy was squeezing him too tightly for him to think of anything but letting you milk him dry.

“Can’t do t-that doll.” hearing the small stutter in his voice has your stomach fluttering. His fingers dig into your skull as he pushes your face deeper into the couch, muffling any of your noises as he thrusts harder and deeper into you. 

Your kitchen counter was next.

The small, crowded space of your kitchen was Hanma’s least favorite spot in your apartment. You shoot him yet another one of your signature glares as he voices his displeasure, and watch as amusement paints his features.

“Small ass kitchen you got here.”

“Not your first time being here.” You try to focus on the food you’re stirring in the pot, and not Hanma’s body towering over yours from behind. 

“Anybody fucked ya here before?” His hands grip your waist, pinning you in place and the hand that’s not busy stirring the food grips his forearm. 

“Yes Hanma. I am not a virgin.” But given the redness of your face, you might as well be one.

“Oh really? Who was it?”

“You don’t have to know!” 

“I gotta know if he was good. Did he make you cum?” You gasp when his hand slides inside your pants, fingers grazing the tuft of pubic hair covered by your panties. 

“I-I’m cooking–”

“Did he use his fingers like this?” You feel pathetic as your hand drops the wooden spoon to grip the kitchen counter, body bending forward when the rough pads of his fingers find your clit and start to rub it in circles. He moves further down, collecting some of your arousal before smearing it all over your sensitive bud. 

“Stop talking.” You say through gritted teeth, but your hard exterior soon melts away when he pushes his middle and ring finger into your pussy. He doesn’t start slow, nor does he give you time to get used to the sheer size of him as he starts pistoning his fingers into you. Groaning at the feeling of your snug walls gripping his fingers, he buries his face in your neck and pushes you closer to him. You’re reeling at the pleasure, unable to muffle your noises and you would’ve melted to the ground had his arm not been wrapped so tightly around your middle. 

As payback, you give him a handjob on your couch. 

It’s not that often where you don’t stare at your sexual partners while pleasuring them, but eye contact with Hanma was intense. It felt too…nerve racking for the two of you. So you sit next to him, blanket draped over your laps as your spit covered hand grips his cock. You move it up and down, stroking in the same motion that has the man’s head thrown over the back of the couch and his jaw going slack. From the corner of your eye, you see his reddened cheeks and his furrowed eyebrows and squeeze your own thighs. You ignore the flutter in your stomach, thumbing at his tip and removing the blanket when he starts to buck up his hips, fucking into your hand. 

And since you don’t want to make a mess, you wrap your lips around his dick and let him cum down your throat. 

“Holy shit,” he says, out of breath. You still refuse to stare at him as you wipe your mouth and grab the remote control to press play again. 

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you are. 

So you don’t expect special treatment as he batters your cunt with his mean cock, nor do you wait for him to caress your body and whisper sweet nothings into your ear after slapping your boobs so painfully. You like that. You like how mean he is and it’s fucking with your head.

The louder you get, the easier it is for Hanma to fuck into you–arousal is dripping down your thighs, and the sound of skin slapping bounced off the walls of your bedroom. You can’t hide how horny you were, or just how good he was making you feel. All you can do in response to his hypnotizing thrusts is grip his skin and leave your own marks. A way to show that he was yours for the night, even if he were to leave after this and go fuck someone else. 

“I-I’m cumming,” you gasp, sounding desperate and clearly not in control of your own volume and voice. Your brain feels fuzzy from all the pleasure, Hanma lets go of your hair and pushes you down until you are on all fours. You’re bent over so perfectly for him that a quiet curse escapes his lips. “S-Shuji, I’m cumming–” not Hanma, not asshole. Shuji. 

You’re not sure what kind of noises you’re making, but it sounds so pathetic and whiny that it sends the tall man behind you over the edge. However, you make the mistake of looking over your shoulder and the sight that greets you makes your stomach flip. 

A sweaty, red faced Hanma is fucking you so eagerly, hypnotized by the recoil of your ass that he forgets to close his mouth. Fucked out is the best way to describe him. A man who is usually either so amused by others’ discomfort and pain, wearing such a pornographic expression makes you grip the bed sheets and moan loudly as you cum all over his cock. 

He lets you ride out your orgasm, gripping your ass cheek and kneading the skin before delivering a harsh smack to it as he picks up his pace until he is emptying himself inside your warm walls. Leaning over, he presses his lips against the skin of your shoulders before asking. 

“You...You aren’t fucking anyone else, right?” 

“You’re asking that now?” After fucking me and cumming inside me so much? 

Obviously you’re not fucking anyone else!

“Just answer.” He demands with a slap to your clit that has you squealing, trapped under the weight of his body.

“N-No!” 

“Good.” His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder, and he places both hands on either side of your bodies as he presses his body weight against yours. “Good fucking girl.”

Not sure what he would’ve done had you said yes. 

“What?” You’re in a haze, but you still manage to catch bits of what he says and Hanma chuckles to himself.

“Don’t worry.”

“No, you said someth–ah!” your jaw goes slack when he starts to fuck you into the mattress. This position allows him to trap you beneath him with so much ease, until you have no choice but to take his cock and blabber nonsense into the pillow.

“Focus baby girl,” his teeth nip at your earlobe as he sinks his cock again into your cunt “I’m not done with ya.” 

Guilt is a weak emotion. Fear, anger and even jealousy are much stronger and can affect someone greatly. If consumed by any of the aforementioned, you’ll find out that sleep doesn’t come to you easily. 

Insomnia has followed Hanma Shuji his entire life. There hasn’t been a day where he slept through the night without being woken up in cold sweat and a loud gasp, or without feeling the need to reach for the nearest weapon to him. But as he lays next to you at 3 O’clock in the morning, he starts to question what triggers his insomnia. He’s never felt guilty after a mission, anger only consumed him if someone betrayed him–that leaves out jealousy. 

His golden eyes land on your worn out, sleeping figure. He chuckles as he notices your furrowed eyebrows, and his hand starts to move towards your face before freezing. What is he doing? He pulls his hand away, eyes drifting towards your exposed chest before pulling up the covers. He sees the pendant of the necklace resting comfortably around your neck and suddenly feels the need to fix it. Before his hand can reach for the jewelry, your fingers grip it protectively and you pull the covers tightly around your body. 

Hah. What’s that about? 

“No,” his ears perk up when he hears your sleepy voice mumble into your pillow. “..not..go.”

Not go? 

You were obviously talking in your sleep. It wasn’t supposed to make sense. 

“Don’t..go.” Sleepiness is replaced with distress. “..kashi.” 

Hanma scoffs. Honestly, that’s all he can do in such a situation. After fucking you into a deep slumber, you still manage to mumble another man’s name in your sleep. Which was completely fucking fine of course, you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours. 

Friends with benefits. That’s what the two of you agreed on.

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[elainsgirl]

Why would Sarah put Gwyn in the extra chapter, I'm sorry but it seems strange to me and the truth is it does lend itself to confusion with the issue of shipping

Hey anon 🫶

Remember in acofas, during one of Cassian’s povs - Emerie was introduced? The woman whose store Cassian brought out because he knew she was having a hard time? That simple interaction caused doubt in Nessian. People theorised Nessian was too simple and Mass was going to make Cass x Emerie endgame, having Nesta paired off with someone else. Or they hated Nesta so much, wanted better for Cassian therefore shipped Cassian x Emerie. All this ofc happened on a much smaller scale then Gwynriel - but it still happened. But the interesting thing to note is - this discussion got people talking about ACOSF and all the possibilities & theories that can happen.

Sjm followed the same pattern here. She introduces another fmc in a males bonus to create some doubt, why? It gets people theorising and talking a lot more about the next book - the more people talk about the next book and the series = more popular it becomes = more it sells. Its a marketing tool. Sjm isn’t actually going to introduce an entire new Li for Azriel in a limited bonus. Or set up the next couple within a few pages of a bonus that 1) not everyone has read or access too 2) none of gwynriels bonus scenes were mentioned in ACOSF further proofing how irrelevant they are.

But why has Gwynriel become so huge? 1. People hate elain much more then Nesta was hated, they don’t want Azriel to be with a “plant” like Elain, so the second a more interesting fmc comes along - Azriel is shipped with her regardless if he or the fmc are interested in each other. 2. People don’t like or want to accept the clicheness of elriel & how their story will lay out due to dislike of the NC/IC

3. Simple. Gwynriels cannot differentiate between the musical imagery surrounding Gwyn - who is a singer & the musical imagery surrounding Sjms mates, they view it as the same when its not.

If Azriel genuinely had any romantic thoughts towards Gwyn - Then I’d agree w you and understand why people ship them. If the bonus had been used to show us readers, elriels’ incompatiblity by having them argue as an example - and THEN elriel seperated- only for Az to meet gwyn and their scenes had a romantic undertone - Once again I’d agree as to why it’s logical for G and A to be shipped. The bonus did none of that. Not even the necklace - a symbol of romance - was passed onto Gwyn therefore even going off that, elains and azriels’ love story isn’t over.

Another thing: If that bonus was to show us, “Hey! Look at Gwyn and Az! They’re the new couple” within ACOSF, we would have been shown a change in gwynriels dynamic to a potentially romantic one as well as Mass would have mentioned or included a variation of gwynriel in the bonus within acosf - for example, Gwyn wearing the necklace. Az/Gwyn mentioning their late night session, Azriel’s shadows interacting with Gwyn. We got absolutely nothing.

In the end anon, there’s two important things to remember: Elriel were left on a miscommunication trope, they are currently seperated due to an outside force, not themselves. Sjm does not end her couples this way. Therefore elriel hve not ended and considering the fact Mass confirmed its one couple the focus of one book - that eliminates gwynriel as Sjm would have to:

. Solve the miscommunication between elriel

. Flesh their relationship out, break them up

. Make gwynriel happen

Thats focusing on two couples.

The second thing to remember- isolate the shadows, magic and everything else - JUST looking at the way Gwyn and Az interact- is it romantic? Imo it isn’t. Ive had far more interesting conversations with random strangers then G and A had.

For me, it makes no sense why people ship Gwynriel as the bonus does not do them any favours. Azriel having explicit thoughts about elain, questioning his beliefs for her- mass paralleling Az wondering if the cauldron was wrong to Feyre doing it, leaving elriel on a miscommunication and an almost kiss like many of her couples is not undermined by ONE shadow dancing with gwyns BREATH.

The only line to me that makes me understand why people aren’t sure of elriel and can see gwynriel happening is the whole “something sparked in his chest at the image of gwyns smile” - but like this isn’t enough to make me believe in gwynriel personally.

[purity-town]

No update this week as I had some stuff going on. We're really close to the end of this chapter, though -- two pages left! I've started cleaning up the script for Chapter 9 and am looking forward to getting there. In the meantime, ask responses are below the cut!

First off -- I'll admit that heights aren't all that consistent in-comic. I've improved in my art in a lot of ways through this comic, and have gotten better dealing with perspective, but when it comes to characters being closer/farther away I tend to do whatever looks/feels nice and works with the framing of that panel. A good example is this one:

The only real height reference you could get from here is that the Dryad is taller than the Arms Dealer. Andrew, Chris, the Zoologist, and the Merchant are all just placed in whichever way fit well with the background, and don't "measure up" to their other appearances -- especially considering the Merchant is shown as being very short here, but taller than the Nurse two panels earlier. I was just struggling to fit him in in the gap between the Dryad and the Arms Dealer.

I do have a loose sense of "X character is this amount taller than Y character" but it's not a very definitive thing. (I've also changed character designs and heights over the course of the comic as I've settled into how I want characters to look, which exacerbates the problem a bit.)

To answer your first question: Chris is intended to be/drawn in more recent pages as very slightly taller than Andrew. The sort of height difference where on paper you're different heights but you don't really register it.

In the earliest pages, Andrew came up more to around Chris' eyebrows -- over time I decided I didn't want Chris to be "the tall one" anymore, especially standing next to characters who are actually supposed to be tall, so the height gap lessened. He's supposed to be around average or slightly above average height, with Andrew being average or slightly below average.

As for other NPCs -- yep, the Dryad is the tallest by far, haha. And although you can't tell when the Arms Dealer is standing next to her, he's pretty tall himself. He (and the Merchant) are both slightly taller than the Nurse. The Old Man is also around this range -- one of the taller characters but not extremely so.

The Zoologist is one of the shortest characters, but her ears make up the height difference! Most of the rest of the "shorter" characters haven't appeared yet or haven't been shown standing next to someone else, so I haven't had to decide on their exact heights yet.

I know that I had responded to this before, but since that was in the Tumblr replies field I was fighting with limited word count at the time. So, longer answer:

Out of universe, I needed something to tag my AU art with and didn't want it to be long/annoying to use. I had written out a lot of my initial ideas for the world/story several months before starting on the comic, so the town was named Purity Town long before I ever started posting art for it -- and when I needed a proper name for the comic, I just decided to grab that and roll with it. It felt descriptive enough, both in terms of "yep this is where the comic is placed" and in representing the struggle/fight for the world's balance and recovery in the story. Interestingly enough, I dug up my old notes on the fanfic ideas that would eventually become Purity Town, and the original working title for the story was "Barely Human" -- in hindsight, I much prefer Purity Town :>

As for the town having the name in-universe, I could see it having two levels of meaning. The obvious reason for the name is that it's just a practical/descriptive name originally intended as more of a placeholder in a newly-settled region, and it ended up just getting picked up and sticking around. The other reason being more hopeful -- a vow/plea that the town would remain free from the Corruption and whatever other monsters roam in those unsettled, wild areas that make up most of the region.

Within the lore of Terraria, there are references to "purity" and being "pure" scattered around here and there. Bunnies are pure beings, Dryads can analyze the purity of the world, Crimeras attack pure things, and the green clentaminator solution spreads the Purity. So that's where the actual "Purity" term comes from!

That's horrifying; thanks for sharing!

Jokes aside, I do quite love the idea of the Eye Of Cthulhu being able to see through every smaller eye it spawns, or at least receive information back through them as "messengers."

[izzyspussy]

sorry to everyone who tried to join the Q&A about the technical difficulties. i presume it's too late to try again now? interest check?

[ruvviks]

In the fourth and final season of All That's Left, Mac and Layla and their friends are left with one final job; travel back to fallen Opportunity, the city where it all began, to gather evidence of Matrix Corp creating the virus that led to the end of the world, sabotaging cure research, and being responsible for the destruction of the megalopolis. Hunted down on two fronts, having lost dear friends along the way, and faced with hordes of nearly unkillable mutated ghouls, the group is slowly but surely starting to run out of time. One last journey, to expose the truth about Matrix and shut them down once and for all— but who will live to tell the tale? [SEASON ONE HERE] // [SEASON TWO HERE] // [SEASON THREE HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian, @estevnys;

@elgaravel, @aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa

[ask-my-memoir]

???: "......"

The Zoroark continues walking. It seems that he is not in the mood to talk. Perhaps following him into the hedges will give you a better idea as to what he's up to.

@ask-team-misfit

Thank you for the ask!))

[callmehere-iwillappear]

6, 13, 18 for the WIP game, for whatever WIP you want

permafrost it is!

6. Does this chapter/fic have any twists that you’re proud of?

ohohohohoho yes. yes it does. i think u know abt it too i'm pretty sure i talked abt it in dms (for the fic overall not the next chapter i don't think there's any big twists in the next chapter lmaojfdslkfd)

13. What common trope(s) do you feel are used in this chapter/fic?

uhh i mean. time loops obviously ;ajflkdsjflkd i am not gonna be good at answering this question bc i don't. actually know a lot of tropes or how common they are LMAO like does time loops actually count as a common trope??

uhhh ig there's a couple i could name but 1. i don't remember the name of them just a vague description and 2. they're spoilers for said twist from the previous question </3

18. Share the scene you just wrote, written from another character’s POV.

i'm gonna keep it real with u i am not gonna be able to write an Entire Other Scene so i'm just gonna. summarize alfjdklsjfd also it's . the scene i most recently wrote is a very big spoiler for a future chapter so uhh. it will also be vague

raph doesn't know about the time loops obviously and watches leo do something incredibly fucking stupid and fucked up with the (reasonable) assumption that time is going to keep going after this and is like leo what the FUCK