#apologies if there are more errors than normal

[eisforeidolon]

Follow-up to your post about it not being Dean who got Sam back into hunting, but Azazel - which I wholeheartedly agree with. I think one could argue that - once Azazel had been dealt with - Dean played a part in keeping Sam involved in hunting after that. He made it clear numerous that he wanted and needed Sam with him, and it could be said that that created a sense of obligation for Sam. But even then, it’s not the whole picture. I would argue that Sam stayed hunting with Dean because he needed and wanted to be with his big brother as much as Dean wanted that. The issue with people placing Sam getting back into hunting (and staying in it) entirely at Dean’s feet, is that it ignores the fact that Sam is an autonomous human being who had choices. There were times when he had options to commit himself to a hunting-free life, and he didn’t. Sam *could* have chosen to stop hunting immediately after Dean went to hell. Or, he could have chosen to stop hunting after trying and failing to save Dean rather than going off with Ruby. Once Dean returned, he could have chosen to pursue a normal life at that point. He could have chosen to try to keep pursuing a normal life during their temporary separation in Season Five. He could have chosen to have a normal life when his soul was returned to his body in Season 6. He could have chosen to build a normal life with Amelia when Dean gave him the okay to. Every single time, Sam chose to stay hunting, with Dean. And I do think that Sam actually enjoyed the life (or at least parts of it) for the most part. But I do think it was mostly because he wanted, more than anything to be with his big brother, day in, day out, all the time. Time and time again, though, it was Sam’s choice.

Oh, yeah, the part I take issue with is very specifically putting Sam leaving Stanford on Dean. Jessica's death on that night to drive him into a revenge quest was already in the works - and the Winchesters know that.

After that things get ... complicated. I'd say there are a lot of factors involved in Sam continuing to hunt.

Just in terms of outside influences, even once Azazel was dead? It's not like Lilith, Ruby, Lucifer, or even Raphael would have let him just opt out of the apocalypse. By the time he was healed by Castiel and stable enough to potentially bail on the Leviathan mess, he was already on Dick Roman's and the Most Wanted's lists. Which doesn't even get into the whole clusterfuck that is InterferingWriter!Chuck. Even in terms of just random monsters knowing their faces and reputations, I think Dabb's ending of Sam being able to retire and stay out relies very heavily on Chuck, heaven, and hell being mostly off the table.

But while some of those perils are ones he'd have known about in advance? Some he wouldn't. There are a fair few interludes in there where he could have tried normal again without having any more reason to expect it to be doomed than he did at Stanford. Mostly, as you say, he didn't make that choice. Even when he did quit and stay with Amelia, he left her before Dean came back. Which he weirdly doesn't acknowledge when he's talking to Dean through that season about wanting to get back out after they finish the trials. (Speculating on what exactly he's got going on in his head that season could be its own entire post, really.)

Which brings us to Dean's influence in keeping him in the life. Leaving hunting would mean leaving Dean behind again. And in some cases, there IS a particular issue of Sam potentially feeling coerced by guilt at the idea of leaving Dean at the mercy of his own self-destructive impulses (the deal, the trials, the mark). But as you say, that's not at all the whole story. Sam does clearly love Dean and repeatedly chooses to stay with him, even without extreme circumstances or outside pressures applying. Sam makes that choice for himself. And it is understandable because nobody else is going to understand what he's been through and how it's changed him on the same level that Dean can and vice versa.

Ultimately, I think people sometimes make the mistake of taking Sam's stated yearning for normal entirely at face value when he's clearly far more complex and conflicted than that.

As to Sam enjoying the life? This starts to get into headcanon territory, but I genuinely wonder how much of him leaving for Stanford was about hunting itself and how much was about John's authoritarian parenting style conflicting with Sam's desire to have some control over his own life. Even just in terms of him saying he wanted a life that was safe, I suspect having a choice and full knowledge of the danger made a big difference. Like in the pilot, I think he's obviously pleased to be reconnecting with Dean for the sake of Dean? But watching him as they work the case, I think he's really enjoying solving the hunt, too. I think that's evident in plenty of other cases they solve, too.

Across the series, he does make the choice over and over to stay in, across a whole long host of differing circumstances. Including after defeating God, where it's as sure as it can be there will be no more apocalypses. I have argued before that both Sam and Dean's lives in the finale are tragic, because I think Sam finally got that normal life he was always yearning for - once he no longer really wanted it. I don't see a lot of other potential reasons for why literally the only thing in Sam's life montage in true focus is his son and his grief. No partner, no friends, no job, not even, like, hobbies. Even on his deathbed, he's only surrounded by said son and photos of the rest of his long-dead family.

I mean, I don't have issue with the idea it would have been much, much harder for Dean to live any kind of life if Sam died. I do get annoyed at the idea Dean was responsible for his originally being pulled back in. I have even more of a problem with some fans turning that into it being Dean's fault Sam ~*couldn't*~ leave, as if he was a spineless blob with no agency being held hostage against his will. Seriously, Sam Fucking Winchester.

[rinasauruss]

closer than quiet

summary: Rafe is so tall he has to lean down to hear you better. that's it.

warnings: none, me thinks. just a suggestive line at the end ;P

word count: 590

A/N: I couldn't help myself, so I wrote this blurb! this is my first time writing Rafe, let me know what you think! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. feedback is appreciated!

The soft hum of the waves was a steady background to the crackling of the bonfire, the flames dancing as the heat mixed with the cool bite of the night breeze. You stood near the fire, feeling the warmth spread through you, but the presence behind you was what made your skin tingle the most.

Rafe was close, an arm wrapped around your waist with a casual ease that made you feel both safe and exposed at the same time. His thumb traced slow, absent circles over your stomach, his other hand holding a beer with the same relaxed grip he used when he wasn’t thinking about much at all. Topper and Kelce were deep in conversation, their voices more distant than usual, as if the world around you had faded into something quieter. Rafe barely added to the chatter, content to stay in his own head—or maybe it was you who had his full attention. You weren’t sure, but it felt like you did.

You turned your head, looking up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You good?" You asked it quietly, as though you already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it anyway.

Rafe didn’t immediately respond, the sound of the ocean filling the silence. Instead, he leaned down, tilting his head as if to catch the softest whisper, even though you’d only spoken in your normal tone. His presence grew even more intense with the movement, his height hovering over you, his face drawing closer in that effortless, unspoken way that made you feel smaller and more drawn in with each inch.

"Hm?" His voice was low, just above a murmur, the sound of it vibrating through your chest.

You flushed at the gesture, a subtle warmth rising in your cheeks. His closeness, his height, the way he made the space around you feel like it shrank to just the two of you—it was disarming in the best way. His breath fanned over your skin, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine, and you could almost feel the heartbeat beneath his chest as he leaned in further.

You swallowed, your voice a little shakier this time. "You doing good?" You repeated, hoping your tone sounded steady, but there was no hiding the way he affected you.

Rafe’s grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he felt the slight hitch in your breath, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. It was as though he knew exactly how much he was making you feel.

"Yeah, m'good, baby," he hummed, his voice deepening in that way it did when he was in his element. "Just thinking."

"About?" you asked, a whisper now, almost afraid to ask but too curious to hold back.

He tilted his head again, moving in just a little further, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The closeness, the heat of his breath, was enough to send a shiver all the way down your spine, leaving you breathless.

The moment stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and everything that lay beneath the surface. The bonfire crackled, the night air was cool, but Rafe’s presence was all you could feel now, the pull of him drawing you in further than you’d ever planned to go.

His voice was soft, smooth, laced with that teasing edge that always made your heart skip a beat. "Just thinking about how much fun I’m gonna have taking this little dress off you later."

(support banner by @cafekitsune )

[pearlymel]

A baby ?!

Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.

Wc: 3.4k

Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.

Part one and two if you missed it my loves.

Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)

Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie

Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.

Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.

It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.

“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”

You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.

“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.

You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.

You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.

Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.

How romantic.

“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.

“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.

“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.

“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.

“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.

You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.

—

“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.

A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.

Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.

It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.

“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.

“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.

“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.

You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.

The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.

He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.

Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.

“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”

Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.

He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.

Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.

Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.

"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.

He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”

“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”

You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”

"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”

You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.

"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”

“maybe.”

"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”

“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.

"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”

He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.

You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”

"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”

Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.

“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.

"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”

Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.

He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"

“Not really, more bored than busy.”

“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”

You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”

Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.

You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.

“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”

“no, thank you. I can do it.”

—

You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.

Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.

You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.

You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.

“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.

"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.

“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”

You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”

It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.

"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”

You frown, “is it not?”

She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”

You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.

"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”

—

You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.

You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.

“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.

“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”

“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”

You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.

Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.

“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.

“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.

“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you… then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.

You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.

Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.

—

Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.

He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.

You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that—”

“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.

Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.

“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”

You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.

His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.

"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”

Love.

—

Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.

He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.

Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.

He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.

“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.

“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.

“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.

“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.

"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”

She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.

“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.

"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”

You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."

Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

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[zevrra]

same anon from before :3 but another thot

HEAR ME OUT. i saw a tictok the other day about how jayce just does what he’s told and oh em geeeeee commanding jayce to mess Vik up ie. kissing him up and down, jacking him off all while you watch. SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S

includes: [nsfw!!] [18+ only, mdni!!] jayce is an obedient little thing and does what he’s told! :3

ft. jayvik x gn!reader

extra(s): thank you so much for this request anon! this was a lil fun to write ;3 i hope you enjoy tho!! feel free to request for more! (i also barely skimmed over this so forgive any errors kshdjh <3)

“jayce, you’re such a good boy and you listen so well,” you muse, running your fingers through thick brown hair. his soft, hazel gaze stares up at you from his seated position before you, his head resting on your knee. “always so eager to please, hmm? but it’s not me who needs attention tonight.” you add as you rub your thumb across the high of his cheekbone.

jayce had been to another council party and had come back home to you and viktor rather…tipsy. honestly, he was actually really drunk and far more clingy than he normally was as his head rests in your lap. if it were any other night when you didn’t have reports to go over and present before 6 am tomorrow; you’d be all for jayce’s little advances to join in on his and viktor’s fun. but tonight he’d just have to enjoy viktor’s company alone.

“listen to me, pretty boy. i want you to make vik feel good, can you do that for me?”

jayce looks at you with slightly saddened eyes as you caress his face. his pretty, begging eyes were sure to work on you if viktor had not stepped in. “are you sure you cannot join us?” he asks, his own hand brushing along jayce’s bangs as he leans back against your desk.

“i’ll just have to watch tonight.” you respond with a smile.

and that was far easier said than done.

for jayce, he still wanted to have you involved in any way he could get you— and that came down to you ordering him around like a lost puppy. he wouldn’t move, kiss, or touch without your instructions. he wanted to obey every word you spoke while you watched from the sidelines. and vik was no help at all either; he wanted all of this. wanted your gaze to watch their every move while jayce followed your every order to make him feel good. wanted to know you were included just as much as jayce did. and after some pretty pouting and a mix of pleas, you finally agreed.

so between paragraphs breaks of whatever paper you had written up days before; you would take a glance at the men leaning against your desk. coming to said break, you look up from your notes as viktor is pressed against jayce’s chest while jayce trails kisses against his neck, his hands roaming over viktor’s thin waist. somewhere along the line you had managed to get them to strip their shirts off, without tearing any clothes thankfully, but jayce still refused to advance unless you told him so.

“kiss him baby.” you order jayce who happily obliges.

jayce turns viktor’s face towards him, kissing him eagerly as he caresses vik’s jaw with one of his big hands. their tongue’s clash together as they make out and jayce eats up every groan he draws from vik. you watch as jayce presses viktor back up against him, gripping his hips from behind, as the two kiss each other like they were both air they needed to breathe.

you glance briefly away to go over the next paragraph on your notes. you find yourself reading the printed words faster than before solely so your eyes can find the two of them just a little bit faster.

“blegh, i can taste the liquor you drank jayce.” viktor gripes as he breaks the kiss, sticking out his tongue a little. he could clearly taste the strong alcohol lingering on jayce’s tongue; and it almost made you want to taste jayce too, just to confirm.

“m’sorry v…” jayce apologizes with a little drunk pout before chasing after viktor’s lips once more. he returns to kissing viktor as you finally finish the paragraph as your gaze settles on the two once more, while their eyes fall closed as they kiss. you watch as jayce’s tongue runs over vik’s bottom lip before diving between his parted lips and you have to stifle your own whine watching them. you wish you could be jealous but you’re the one who declined in their activity so you’d just have to continue to watch, for now. thank god it was a tasty sight to behold.

“take his pants off, jay. he’s so hard.” you softly instruct, gesturing to the strain on viktor’s pants. even out of the corner of your eye you could see the bulge inside of his pants, begging to be freed. jayce is quick to have his hand travel down the front of vik’s thin torso, fumbling with the belt of his pants, as vik breaks their kiss once more to groan deeply at jayce’s large hand brushing up against his erection. and you can only watch for so long as jayce attempts and fails a few times to undo vik’s belt before you finally reach out with your free hand to unclasp the belt for jayce. who quickly does away with the it, muttering something incoherent about how horrible the design was, while smoothing a hand down the front of vik’s pants; giving him a firm squeeze. you smile at the noise vik makes.

“jerk him off for me pretty boy. make him feel really good.” you sigh, reluctantly turning your eyes to your notes once more.

you glance quickly over your notes while out of the corner of your eye you watch jayce practically manhandle vik. he’s unceremoniously yanking down the other’s underwear and by the sound vik makes you know jayce has wrapped his fingers around his cock. your eyes scan over the paper in your hand as your leg subconsciously bounces. and if listening to viktor softly whine wasn’t enough to distract you, the sound of jayce whispering sweet nothings while stroking viktor off was for sure making it a little harder to pay attention to the paper in your hands. and while you do manage to read the last few words of the paragraph (and you’ve probably had to re-read it a few times) you thank god; for there’s only one more paragraph left now. you debate going over it as quick as you can, finishing off the notes right then and there but before you can, viktor's voice draws your attention to the two once again.

“j-jayce!” viktor whines, throwing his head back. his fingers grip jayce’s forearms, while jayce continues to stroke him off, practically standing on the tip of his toes as he craves more and more from jayce. pleasure written all over his face as his amber eyes stare at jayce’s fingers rubbing over his tip. you knew how sensitive he was and so did jayce, clearly targeting his weak spot; even when drunk he was damn good with his hands. the sight and the noises slipping from both men made your thighs ache with need. you couldn’t deny your own growing want inside of you as you simply watch the two.

“your hand will not be enough jayce.” you mutter, eyes fluttering up at jayce’s drunk gaze. he glances at you just as he plants a heavy kiss against vik’s neck as his hand falters just a little at your words. realization breaks through the fog of his inebriated mind at what you’re telling him to do and he’s quick to act. he repositions viktor to take his spot on the desk and in one swift motion he drops down to his knees, adjusting viktor’s bad leg onto his shoulder to rest, while his hand wraps around the base of vik’s cock once again. without hesitating jayce is just as quick to wrap his mouth around the thick of vik’s head, swallowing him down until the very base.

at this point, you’d rather chew on glass than read these damn notes anymore but you manage to rip your eyes away from them one last time, skimming over the words as fast as you can, retaining absolutely nothing, just to finish off whatever paragraph you had left. finally done with these damn notes, you toss them onto the other side of the desk not being used, and hurriedly stand up. you strip off your shirt before joining viktor’s side. your fingers push through jayce’s dark hair while you capture vik’s lips and you eagerly get to swallow his moans this time. you can just barely taste the lingering liquor on his tongue from jayce but it’s still there; just enough as you press your tongue against vik’s.

viktor and jayce share a groan as you join their little entanglement. you press your other hand against vik’s thigh as jayce continues sloppily sucking him off. vik breaks your shared kiss with a whine. “thought you were just watching tonight?” viktor mutters with a sharp cry as jayce sucks, particularly rough, against his tip.

“yeah well, you two are gonna be the death of me.” you respond before diving back to his lips once more.

after the three of you finished fooling around for the night you’d definitely have to re-read over those damn notes again before tomorrow morning…you weren’t getting any damn sleep tonight.

[juletheghoul]

too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 

He nodded, leaving shortly after. 

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes would not leave his face. 

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 

“They are worth the effort.” 

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude Girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 

-

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 

-

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 

Things were different. He was different. 

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities. 

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 

He tasted like the ocean. 

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 

“Call me Marcus.”

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[bisexualiteaa]

could you do a rough and dirty writing with silco x f!reader? maybe hate fucking? if that’s too much to ask for 🙏

I’m busy

AN: hello dear! It’s never too much to ask for! I love taking requests, they give me a reason to write! 🥰♥️ My apologies that it took a few days, it’s been a hectic week but I wanted to ensure this was good before posting! So I hope you enjoy and that I’ve done your ask justice! 🥺🫶

Synopsis: it’s been a long and grueling past few weeks for the eye of Zaun, when a moment of privacy between you gets interrupted he finds a way to correct such action from happening again.

CW: established relationship, mentions of canon typical violence, brief mentions of smoking, cursing, power dynamic, slight vöyeuristic/ëxhibitionist themes, 0ral (male receiving), fïngering, reader has hair, hair pülling, no use of y/n, r0ugh seggs, d0ggy, unprotected seggs, cream 🥧, name calling, dëgredation, bïting, spänking, aftercare, possible spelling/grammar errors

Normally, people knew better than to barge in the door of Silco’s office when it was shut, typically being enough evidence that he wasn’t taking any visits. They knew especially not to do so without an extremely good reason for being there.

Well apparently, almost everyone did.

So it came as quite a shock to you both to hear his door open, without even so much as a knock, as you sat before him on the floor. Your knees were red and sore from leaning on them for so long, his hand grasping your hair in a messy ponytail to keep it from your face as you were sucking him off. Thank the gods his chair was turned away from the entrance and big enough to conceal you both, effectively shielding you from the sights of whoever was ignorant enough to walk in unwarranted and unwelcome to interrupt your rather intimate moment. They were already few and far between as of late. “I’m busy” Silco simply stated, the deep rasp in his voice a little more strained from trying to not only hide his pleasure, but from the frustration of his orgasm slowly inching away from him now upon the intrusion. “We are overdue for a meeting, Silco” spoke the familiar voice of Finn, making you both roll your eyes in unison as a frustrated sigh left Silco’s lips.

Of all people, it just had to be him.

You should have known it was, no one else would be foolish enough to act out in such a way. The man truly never knew when to leave shit alone, and when he wanted something done he wasn’t above acting like a spoiled brat to get it. He annoyed you particularly to no end, and you swore up and down if you heard him click his fucking lighter one more damn time, it would break into an all out brawl between you two. “We’re due for a meeting when I say we’re due, right now I’m busy. Get out” he asserted, the underlying threat in his tone making the throbbing ache between your legs only continue to worsen as you listened to him scold the younger man. It was an interesting predicament to be in for sure. Your lover’s cock throbbing in your hand as you gently rubbed it up and down, making up for the absence of your mouth, whilst he barks orders at someone. It was quite the sight. “And just what is it that you are too “busy” doing to discuss important business?” Finn asked impatiently as you, unbeknownst to him, brought your mouth to Silco’s length once more, listening as he was not only blatantly overstepping his boundaries where he had absolutely no business in doing so, but also annoying you both in the process with his whining and bitching. Was it too much to ask for a moment of privacy with the man anymore? You had needs too, damn it.

“That is none of your concern. What is it that you think is so important that it demands my immediate attention?” He asked, growing more and more impatient by the second as his dick throbbed angrily in your mouth, watching as you continued to work him, only at a slower, quieter pace to hide what was truly going on. You’d be a bold-faced liar if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind to continue despite someone else being in the room. “Trade with topside has plummeted-“ Finn started to say, but Silco was already having none of it. That’s what he came here to talk about? That was what was so important? What a fool. The man was already annoying enough to begin with, but for him to have the audacity to have barged in, disrespected his privacy and ruined the orgasm you were so close to giving him, was an entirely different crime of its own. “You wish to interrupt and invade my privacy to talk trade?” He asked rhetorically, a beat of tense silence hanging heavily in the air. “Leave. Now. Before I lose my patience” He followed up with, anger lingering in his tone as a warning.

All he wanted was a moment alone. A moment to feel something other than anger, other than stress. Hell, even a place to funnel it into for just a moment’s reprieve would be nice yet it seemed he couldn’t even have that. “What is it you’re so busy with, huh? Too scared to look at me, old man? Because you know I’m right?” Finn asked once more and that was the final straw, his last shred of self-restraint. You watched as Silco leaned back, now resting against the padded backing of his chair, as an eerie sense of calm washed over him that left the air even more tense than it was before. “You really wish to know what it is I’m busy with, Finn?” He asked, speaking the man’s name in near disgust before looking down at you, watching as you looked him in the eyes while licking a fat stripe up along the underside of his length, earning a pleased hiss in response. “Would love to know what’s so important you can’t even look at me when I speak to you” Finn responded, acting all big and bad, but you could tell by that look in Silco’s eyes that he had a plan to utterly decimate that attitude problem of his, to show him he had nowhere near the upper hand in this situation. After all, he was in someone else’s territory. Merely a guppy in the den of a shark; he had no power here, and he certainly had no power over the man whose pleasure sat before you in your hands. It excited you to no end. “Would you? How about you listen close then and you’ll find out” he said, looking down at you as you grinned mischievously, knowing exactly what you were to do.

You gave a devious little giggle that was just loud enough for Finn to overhear, leaving him to furrow his brows with confusion. He hadn’t realized that someone else was in here too. That you were in here with him. Your body coursed with fiery excitement before taking Silco’s cock back into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip before sucking sloppily to make it painstakingly clear what was going on. You moaned lasciviously as his fingers pulled your hair, controlling the pace in which you’d bob your head up and down on his length, listening as you would gag on occasion when he would thrust up into your mouth and go too far down your throat. You knew well that this should not be doing all the things that it was doing to you right now, but you couldn’t help it. Something about it was just so incredibly hot. Between the vexed assertiveness of his tone with Finn, paired with the contrast of the desperation of him using your mouth the way he was, all mixed together with the thought of knowing that Finn was hearing it all and able to put the pieces together on what was happening. It was thrilling and it drove you mad with lust. It’s been weeks since the last time you had a chance alone with the man, let alone the chance to be intimate in some capacity and you were both aching. You watched him lean his head back with pleasure, a deep, raspy moan morphed into a chuckle escaping him that had you absolutely soaked. “What the…you sick fuck” was all Finn could reply with in disgust as you continued, the both of you acting as if he wasn’t even in the room with you anymore, your unspoken plan to make him uncomfortable working absolute wonders. “Then perhaps think twice the next time you decide to barge in. Leave, now. I will not tell you again” he barked, leaving Finn to scoff in disgust and annoyance as he turned heel and left, shutting the door behind him with a loud slam. Finally, some peace.

“Filthy girl” Silco spoke condescendingly, making you moan around his dick as he talked down to you, pulling your hair again as he yanked you off of it to get you to look up at him as he spoke. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He asked, a lopsided grin resting on his lips as he looked you over. He couldn’t help but to think you looked marvelous like this. Streaks of mascara running down your face, your soft plush lips all swollen, red and covered in saliva from sucking him off. Perhaps he should have you like this more often, whether it be at home or in his office.

The growing flush across your cheeks was a rising suspicion that he was correct in assuming, watching as you shook your head yes in response. He gave a hum with intrigue at your answer, unsure whether he was surprised that you would enjoy such a thing, or delighted. Maybe a healthy bit of both. “So desperate for me that you would go as far as to pleasure me in front of my associates? Quite bold of you” he replied, making you only flush darker as your gaze broke, watching your eyes cascade down to look at his length again with such lust and desperation in your eyes. Gods how you craved him.

You felt his fingers tilt your chin up, forcing your flustered gaze to meet his again. You felt ever so small before him like this, so powerless. So submissive. Yet it never failed to stoke the fire burning in your core, because you knew if you were good for him, he’d be good to you in return. “What if he saw you like this, hmm? Would you have still continued?” he asked curiously, making you bite your lip as you rubbed your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache. “If you’d have let me, yes. I would” you answered honestly, making him groan at the thought. Nothing says power quite like establishing your territory, and being so unphased by someone else’s presence as to continue pleasuring the person before you. That was the ultimate power play. Perhaps that would have worked much better, chased him away much sooner. He’d keep it in mind for the future should such a foolish stunt be attempted again. “My, aren’t you just full of surprises darling” he replied, his tone full of intrigue and delight. He’d never known you to be into such acts of depravity, to be so brazen and bold outside of the sanctity of your shared bedroom. He liked when you were bold. Perhaps liked wasn’t the word.

He adored when you were bold.

“He’s insufferable, the fool” you spoke plainly, your words not only honest but truthful. Truth be told, you hated Finn, he’s been the biggest thorn in Silco’s side for too long now and there had been too many a times you dreamt of him getting put in his place. “He wished to barge in, disrespect your boundaries, and question your authority. He was a fool to not have expected it to have consequences. About time he’s been put in his place if you ask me” you replied, making him hum once more at your answer. “And besides, it’s been far too long since the last time we had some time together. Surely you can’t blame a girl for going after what she wants, can you?” you asked, flashing those big doe eyes up at him as his hand let up in your hair just enough to allow you to lean back down, tongue circling his tip, making him chuckle and groan. You were right, a man such as himself couldn’t hold it against you for having the nerve to go after what you wanted. In fact, he encouraged it.

“You did well to scare him away” he stated, making you hum around him. “He should be killed for ruining my hard work” you responded so seriously, releasing his tip from between your lips with an audible pop before laving your tongue up along the underside of him once more. Your anger fueled words only made him chuckle, oh if only you knew how many times he’d thought about it, especially when he had the audacity to look upon you lustfully in the past. To admire you as if he hadn’t known you were Silco’s girl. Everyone knew, it was laughable to think he could consider himself big enough to be a danger to your relationship, or a threat to Silco of all people. “His luck will run out eventually” he replied, almost reassuringly, merely thankful the man’s voice was no longer poisoning his ears and stealing his oxygen. Now he could return his focus on you, and that’s truly all he wanted. “But now that we’re alone again…shall we continue?” You asked with a look of anticipation and a grin stretching to your lips. “Yes, I think we will” he replied, leaving your heart thrumming with excitement. “Up, over the desk” he ordered, leaving you to do exactly as he said. He watched you lean over it, arching your back perfectly to give him a stellar view of your ass. His hand smoothed across it before coming down harshly against one cheek, leaving you to yelp in surprise from the sensation. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt him press two fingers against the wet spot that accumulated in your panties. “All of this for me? Pleasuring me gets you that excited, does it?” He asked, making you shake your head yes in response, but that wasn’t good enough. Slap! came another hand across your ass. “Speak. You know better” he scolded. “Yes! Yes, all for you. Love making you feel good” you babbled out, feeling him smooth his hand across the angry skin. “Was it just from pleasuring me? Or was it from pleasuring me while someone else was present?” He asked, making you whine with embarrassment as you sought to cover your heated face by letting your head drop to his desk.

He wasn’t a fan of this however, because it wasn’t long before you felt his fingers work their way into your hair once more, pulling on it to pull you up. “Answer me. You know I like being rough with you love, but don’t make me be mean” he warned, if only it did anything other than excite you. “Or is that what you want?” He asked, pressing his hips against your ass, feeling his cock throb against your panty clad cunt. “Yes!” You answered eagerly, making him chuckle deeply as he leaned forward. “Careful what you wish for” he threatened by your ear, making your pussy clench around nothing, desperately soaked and aching for attention.

You felt his fingers loop into the waistband of your panties, finally pulling them down and exposing your heated core to the cool air. You could feel the slick that spread all the way down to your thighs, watching as your underwear hit the floor, still looped around your ankles. “Won’t be needing those” he said before bringing his fingers to slide along your slit, collecting as much of your slick on his fingers as he could before rubbing your clit, finally paying it the attention it’s been craving. You melted beneath him in an instant as he did, ass pressing against him even more as you twitched and writhed against his skilled fingers. “Desperate little thing. It’s pathetic how soaked you are for me. Get one taste of my cock and it already has you mindless” he spoke with a click of his tongue and such condescension in his tone, but fuck if it didn’t make you even more wet for him.

He was right, all it took was one touch, one taste and you could be reduced to mush in his hold. Like putty in his hands, he could do anything with you that he pleased and you’d take it. You trusted him, and he’s gone out of his way to show you he would never hurt you.

You moaned without a care for who could hear, finding yourself unable to stay quiet. How could you when it just felt so damn good? You felt as his fingers traveled down to your entrance, feeling one of his nimble fingers slip past your tight ring and inside before working another in with ease. He loved the sight of your cunt stretched around his fingers almost as much as the sight of it wrapped around his cock. You writhed and moaned as he curled his fingers within you, finding all of those spots that made your every nerve ending feel as if it were about to explode. Your body hot, a slight sheen of sweat collecting against your forehead as you panted and moaned desperately, rolling your hips against his fingers. Then like that, you were empty again, leaving you to whine and mourn the loss of his touch as he brought his fingers up to his mouth. You watched in lustful awe from over your shoulder as he licked your essence from his fingers sinfully, wishing for it to be you, finding yourself in such terrible need of him. “Please…need you” you begged, making him chuckle as he lined himself up to your entrance. “Listen to yourself, begging for me like the good little slut you are” he replied as he slowly inched his way in, groaning at the feel of your warm, velvety walls inviting him in, stretching to accommodate even after all this time.

“Perhaps we should show everyone what I’m busy with, hmm? That way there’s no more interruptions” he finished as he sat there pulsing from deep within you, cock fully sheathed inside of your snug cunt as one hand sat around your throat. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as a warm tingle spread through you, leaving him to hum with intrigue after feeling you clench around him. Clearly you liked that thought, liked the idea of others knowing what was going on. His tip was already nudging the apex to your cervix and the tight grip he had on your hip, paired with the hand wrapped around your neck, warned you that he wasn’t going to be forgiving tonight. That his intent was to fuck you. Mercilessly. It had been too long, with too much stress accumulating over these past few weeks, too much anger. It had been nearing a month and he needed a release, luckily you were just the thing for him. What better way than to pound your aching hole into oblivion? You needed him, he needed you, it was the perfect exchange. He tested a thrust into you, deep and harsh that had you keening up from the desk with a loud pornographic moan. “Gods, yes!” You let out as he began to set a harsh pace, pounding into you hard and deep. The drag of his heavy cock hitting all those sweet spots from within you drove you absolutely crazy, your muscles weak, bones left feeling like jelly as you lay beneath him. “Fuck it’s been too long…” he let out, hips slamming against your ass with an audible clap, his desk creaking and even inching forward slightly with his harsher thrusts. “Such a filthy girl, letting me use you like a whore for everyone to hear” he chastised, but your pleasure-idled mind had already begun to melt into mush. It felt too good to care if others were listening, or to care what they thought of you for this. To you, it was thrilling.

Your chest heaved with every breath, back nearly aching from the harsh arch you were holding yourself up in. You cried out as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, a pleasurable pain sending your nerves alight as your eyes rolled beneath heavy lids. “A slut for pain, are you?” He asked, hand tangling in your hair once more, pulling your head back to allow him more access to your neck and shoulder as he laved his tongue over the angry bite mark. “Mhmm!” You managed to get out, feeling him pepper kisses up along your neck as he fucked your brains out. You hadn’t known you needed it like this, unsure of whether you could handle an angrier, rougher side of him but you loved it. Knowing you would leave here with bruises that claimed you as his, that you would come home and see marks from his hands, lips and teeth that blossomed from passion. Knowing you would wake up tomorrow and they would likely still be there as a reminder of what transpired. It excited you. Your only regret was having not tried it all so much sooner. “Fuck, yes! Oh gods, don’t stop!” You begged, feeling that familiar sensation of tightness in your core beginning to make its presence known. His name left your lips like a mantra to a fallen god, your fingers gripping the edges of the desk tightly to the point your knuckles were turning white. You watched papers fly everywhere, scattering the floor in various places with the way he fucked you so recklessly into the wooden desk. At this rate it wouldn’t have shocked either of you if all of Zaun heard your cries of his name, your moans of pleasure or the obscene sounds of your bodies rhythmically joining together. The smell of sex hung heavily in the air, mixing with the scent of tobacco and smoke from his cigar that had been put out a while ago, mingling together and morphing into something truly unique.

It was as his hand descended between your legs, fingers circling your clit that you were sent over the edge into bliss. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum! Silco!” You let out in warning before it washed over you like a tidal wave and consumed you whole. Your body gave way as you twitched and writhed with each shocking pulse that fell over you, mouth opened wide as you nearly screamed upon your release. You could tell from the way his movements no longer held rhythm that he wasn’t too far behind. Your walls clenched around him, making him lean forward as he bit your shoulder once more, a feral growl leaving him as he emptied himself inside of you. You bit your lip and moaned at the feel of his cock throbbing within you, painting your walls with his seed, filling you to the brim. You both remained like that for a moment, fighting to catch your breath as the after glow set in. You could hear the sound of a lighter from behind you, watching from over your shoulder as he tilted his head back and exhaled a puff of smoke from the cigar he had earlier that now sat between his nimble fingers. You couldn’t help but to give a giggle in response as you felt his free hand trace your spine and travel along the marks left against your skin. “You are quite the treasure trove of surprises, darling” he said, making you grin and hum. “Are you alright?” He asked, seeking you in such a weak state, and seeing all of the marks he’d left on you had him a little worried that perhaps he’d been too rough with you. “I’m great” you answered, making him chuckle as he took another drag of his cigar before carefully pulling himself out with a hiss from the sensitivity. “Good. You did well for me” he replied, helping you get cleaned up and dressed before redressing himself. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw you sat there on his desk, a hand grazing your cheek before kissing you softly. “Thank you, I wasn’t aware of just how much I’d been needing that. Or rather how much I’d been missing out on” he admitted softly, making you smile as you gently pressed your forehead against his. “No need to thank me love, I’m glad I could be of some help. Happy to remind you of how lucky you are” you said with a cheeky grin, earning a laugh from the both of you. “I am rather lucky, aren’t I?” He asked, making you hum as you pulled away to look at him, a far more joyful look on his face and a softness in his eyes compared to the harsh scowl that sat there before. “Quite. Though I’m lucky too” you responded sweetly, with a smile to match as you leaned your head against his chest, making his heart feel so full. What would he ever do without you?

[starsofang]

simon riley x blind!reader requested by @wareagleofthemountain <3 tw: none!

Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. He didn’t attach himself to people, and interactions with strangers with the intent of becoming more than that was a far-fetched idea for somebody like him. Being on his own was something he greatly preferred, and his task force were the only people he ever needed.

That was what he thought, anyway, up until you.

Even when you had accidentally bumped into him in the middle of a rundown convenience store late at night, you didn’t cower away from him. The sight of his mask didn’t cause you to turn away and mumble out a half-assed apology in order to leave his vicinity as quickly as possible, and at first, he didn’t understand.

That was until he noticed the furball standing next to you, staring up at him as if scolding him for getting in the way. The harness was glaringly obvious now that he looked at it, and he felt a bit stupid for not noticing it in the first place. You had a guide dog, with words boldly lettered indicating that you were blind.

“I’m so sorry!” you said, and he caught himself staring at you as you began rambling out genuine, sweet apologies, explaining that you didn’t mean to bump into him, that you hoped you didn’t hurt him by accident.

Simon didn’t get attached to people, no. But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice cute people who had hearts of gold that made his look rotten in comparison.

“S’alright,” he assured you, fighting so hard to push back the smile that threatened to curl up under his mask. Smiling meant he felt amused, and amusement meant he saw something in you that intrigued him. “What’s his name?”

When he asked about your guide dog, you practically lit up like a damn Christmas tree and oh, he was fucked. That smile wasn’t fair.

“Peanut,” you introduced affectionately, and when he glanced down at your dog, Peanut, the little thing looked almost prideful at that.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, and before he could detach himself from the conversation, before he could bid you farewell and leave you behind for good, he found himself speaking once more. “And yours?”

Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. But you did, and he found himself so engrossed in you, he couldn’t ever imagine life without you.

He thinks fondly of the day you two met, where he was in a mindset of pushing everybody around him away. He’d never given himself an opportunity to live a normal life, then you came around and had him seeking out the future.

The future was never a possibility until you, nor was it a possibility without you in it.

Simon never made you feel incapable just because you were blind. You had worked your way around the world just fine before him, and you’d continue to do it during him.

That didn’t mean he never tried his best, though. In fact, Simon took pride in helping you out with things as his way of showing his undying love for you. He may not have been the most affectionate person physically, but doing things for you was his favorite form of care.

Cooking was one of many. Simon was naturally a lover of cooking, so teaching you how to do it was something he took to almost immediately.

When it came to chopping vegetables, he’d gently guide your hands with his own, closed around the kitchen knife and showing you how to chop away without nicking yourself. If it was an excuse to hold your hand and watch your joyful smile light up your face, he’d never admit it.

He’d explain every step of a recipe to you, wanting to give you your independence of cooking on your own while also involving himself enough to be useful. He’d explain in soft ways how to properly cook meat, how to make sure it’s not undercooked or overcooked, guiding you through every part of the meal and watching with pride when you’d figure it out after a few trial errors.

Simon had never thought a meal could taste so good until it was cooked by the one you adore.

Reading was something you could do on your own. Your entire collection were books geared towards your blindness to help make it more accessible to you, but Simon quickly found out that he specifically liked reading for you.

It became routine in your apartment, the one that he was staying in so much that it might as well had been his as well, for the two of you to snuggle up close on the couch with a book you mentioned hearing about in those silly videos you listen to on your phone. His arm would tuck you into his side while the other held the book he’d gone out for, venturing to find (even if it took going to multiple stores), while Peanut laid content at your feet.

The books might not have been his personal favorite, but he’d spend every night reading them to you, his voice soft and quiet as they executed every page. You’d listen with a smile on your face, head resting in the pit of his shoulder, allowing the warmness of his voice send you into a peaceful serenity that almost always had you falling asleep twenty pages in.

Simon never minded that you’d fall asleep, and with a sweet kiss on your head, he’d string you along to bed, bookmarking the book for the next night when he’d read to you once again.

Being blind had never bothered you, and it was something you were never embarrassed or ashamed of.

Simon aided you in whatever you needed, but never made you feel an inkling of being broken or unable. He was passionate in the way he cared for you, while remaining stern in letting you be your own person.

The one thing that did bother you was that you’d never be able to see Simon’s face for all the true glory it was. The man you’d come to love over the time spent together was so close to you, yet felt so far when your brain would remind you that you didn’t know what he looked like.

The more time went on, the more you failed to grasp on to those strings, enough for Simon to take notice. When you finally had the gall to express this concern of yours, he understood completely why you’d upset yourself over it.

Thankfully for you, Simon had an easy fix for that.

“No need to worry yourself over that, sweetheart. Here.”

You may not have been able to see him, but you could feel him. Simon took your soft hands into his own, gently guiding them to cup his face. He bore himself naked to you, adorning no mask, all scars and rugged skin on display.

Your fingers traced along every feature of his, taking it in and mapping them out. You felt the thickness of his brows, trailing down to the flutter of his eyelashes, gently swiping your thumbs across them. You felt every bump of old, healed scars that indented his skin, every prickly stubble of his unshaven face.

You may not have been able to see him, but you knew he was beautiful.

Simon didn’t rush you. He remained patient and willing, face relaxed as you felt every crevice and divot. Your fingers were so careful in the way you handled him, like dealing with fragile glass, that he could’ve easily fallen in love with you a second time.

“You’re pretty,” you breathed out, hands halting their movements to lay flat on his cheeks. You were holding the world in your hands, and after getting a feel of what lay beyond it, you never wanted to let go.

Your words had dazed him, and he felt his mouth go dry as he stared at you, sinking in your own lovely features just as you did his own.

Simon had no words to speak back to you, but you knew what he was thinking without him having to say it – he loved you, more than any word could express.

Simon might not have been the type of person to get attached. You were the last thing he’d been looking for in life, but you came rushing into him like a flood, engulfing him in a forever calmness.

His body was permanently sinking in a sea of passion, and you were the life vest keeping him afloat.

i promise i didn't forget about u lovie! work was a bit crazy and my brain was a bit fried but it's here and i sincerely hope u enjoy it! thank u for the request, i love soft simon sm

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[ambivalence-is-me]

Your Power (1)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Meeting Azriel and the inner circle was not in your plans by any means. But it happened and it was not your brightest moment.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: mentions of death

A/N: Had this idea for a while and wanted to get it out! I haven’t read Silver Flames soo anything that might seem out of place is totally on purpose. I apologize for any (all) grammatical error :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘��YOU!’’

Azriel saw you the second you started walking their way. Your wide-eyed friend behind you trying to keep up with your drunk self. As always, he was on high alert even when his family told him to relax and enjoy the night. So, when he saw where you were headed, he quickly analyzed the situation and realized you weren’t a threat, even more as your friend tried to get you to stop.

He looked at Rhys, who in return raised an eyebrow at you and gave you his charming smile, and then back at you and decided to entertain the scene before him.

‘’You’ve forgotten about us, you know that right?! How can you continue to act all high and mighty while the rest of us are breaking down more and more each day!’’

You had one finger pointing at Rhys, your other hand bunched up in a fist on your side. They (Azriel, Rhys, Cassian, Feyre and Mor. The rest of the inner circle didn’t bother to go out that night and join them at Rita’s) all knew you were drunk but you were looking at them so fiercely, your voice never quivered, you definitely had all of their attention.

‘’Yes, you saved us but for what? To cast us aside when you’re done?’’ You looked to Feyre then. ‘’And you! I had such high hopes for you! A high lady yes, go females! But you’ve done the same!’’

Azriel saw how Rhys stopped smiling the second you turned to his mate, still recognizing that you were all bark and no bite but knowing how Feyre was going to save every single word you were saying in her brain and was going to overthink it later. Clearly, the amount of drinks you’ve had didn’t make you forget you were currently yelling at the High Lord and High Lady.

‘’Velaris needs you, the people need you! So do something about it!’’ With this, you finally dropped your hand, looked at them one last time before storming away. Your friend, once again, running after you not wanting to look at them after what you had done. She knew you were going to regret this outburst the next day.

And you did.

The second you woke up the next day, everything came rushing back and you wished you had a hangover so you wouldn’t have to think about it. A hangover sounded a thousand times better than thinking about how foolish and stupid you looked the night before.

Like, really? To go to the inner circle’s table, drunk, and yell at the high lord and lady? Surely, they were either going to forget about it or kill you. Or maybe they’d kill you and THEN forget about the incident. Sure, that’s what was going to happen.

But you quickly dismissed the idea when two days passed and nothing happened. Your life went back to normal and that was it. As if, the encounter you had with Velaris’ (and probably all of Prythian’s) most powerful fae was nothing. It probably was, you were just another common fae.

So, two days passed and you put it on the back of your mind focusing on your duties. Today, first thing you must do is drop off your nephew at school.

On Tuesday mornings, your sister-in-law wakes up before the sunrise to get ingredients for the shop meaning she couldn’t take your nephew to school. Therefore, you volunteered to do it. You loved your nephew and would do anything for him and his mother. Anything to make their lives easier. Sometimes your mom would join you but most times, it was just you and you were more than okay with that, savoring all the time you can with your nephew.

‘’Excellent! You’re gonna ace that test, kid’’. You sent him a big smile, squeezing the hand you were holding as you made your way to the school.

‘’I hope so. Mom said she’d let join her to the meadows if I did.’’ Of course he was interested in joining his mother. Like her, he loved nature and everything it provided them. He said he wanted to follow her footsteps and he was unknowingly also following his father's.

Your brother.

‘’Then you better get your boots ready, kid. I’m positive you’re gonna do great.’’

He gave you a big smile. He had your brother’s smile and you loved that about him. It made you feel like he was always there with you. It made missing him hurt less, even if years had already passed.

Both of you continue the walk to school. Talking about anything and everything. Like you, he was a yapper. But not everyone got to see that side of you. Many said you were quiet but that’s only because you don’t trust easily. Once you trust someone then they couldn’t get you to shut up. It was one of the many things that made you, you.

As you were nearing the school, your nephew stopped. ‘’What was that?’’

You looked at him confused ‘’What was what?’’

He looked around as if trying to locate whatever thing he saw. ‘’ I don’t know. It looked like a shadow’’. You looked at him even more confused. A shadow?

‘’Maybe it was a dragon’’ He looked at you unamused. ‘’Dragons don’t exist, Aunt Y/N’’.

‘’Maybe they should’’ you murmured under your breath. You shook your head and forgot about it as you looked at the school. You sighed. ‘’All right, kid. Go in there and do everything I wouldn’t do.’’

He gave you a look. ‘’You’re not supposed to encourage that’’. He was so mature for being so young.

You giggled and gave him a push towards school. ‘’Give ‘em hell! I’ll see you later!’’ You waved and sent him a kiss goodbye.

Once he was inside, you made your way to work.

Before you were even born, your family owned an apothecary shop. Your mother made sure you and your brother knew all about the family business as you were growing up. Your father passed away when you were a babe, having no recollection of him. Therefore, your mother ran the business until you or your brother were old enough to take care of it.

Growing up, you knew quickly that you wanted to do nothing with it. Nature was not your thing, you had great respect for it but it didn’t come naturally to you the way it did for your brother. He loved it and he loved spending time in the shop with your mother learning about it.

They had decided then that he was to stay with the shop once he was of age and finished his studies. You, on the other hand, gravitated to another side: music and arts. You loved anything that had to do with music: listening, playing, creating it; you name it. If there was music, you’d be there. A trait you’d inherited from your father, that’s what mother always said.

You had a job at a music shop and you loved it. It was everything you ever wanted and you were SO SURE that the man that owned it was going to promote you and one day maybe even give it to you. You wanted to take care of it, of the instruments, of the stories behind them. The shop had nights where the people would come and play together creating beautiful music. You wanted to play in all of them. Music was one of the things that made you extremely happy.

But then the war happened and your brother died.

And all of your plans to stay at the music shop died with him. You couldn’t stay there and let your family business die with him too. Your mother, nephew and sister-in-law were heart broken (as were you, of course. Heart broken doesn’t even come close) and you knew they were in no shape to run the shop.

So, there you went and stepped up to the plate. It was very hard at first to get the hang of it. You weren’t your brother, you didn’t have the same patience or love for it but eventually, you made it through. A year later, your sister-in-law decided to work there as well, saying that it made her feel closer to her husband.

You understand her completely, because sometimes you feel like he was there. It made you somewhat happy that you didn’t give up on the shop, on his dream even if you had to give up yours. Also, you have so much respect for her, not imagining how it must feel to love someone (romantically) so deeply, someone you swore was going to be with you for eternity and then having them gone so unexpectedly. Never to see them again.

You had your flings sure, but in all your centuries of being alive, you had never fallen in love the way your brother and sister-in-law were. Their love story was one of the most beautiful stories you’ve ever experienced and you hope to have one yourself one day. But until then, your day must go on.

‘’Good morning!’’ You said to Sabrina, one of the faes that also worked in the shop. She looked at you and smiled back.

‘’Morning, boss!’’ She was younger than you by a few centuries and you enjoyed having her in the shop. Somehow, she was always up to date with the town’s gossip so it was great to yap with her.

‘’How was your night, huh? That male still thinks you’re his mate?’’

She gave you a mischievous smile and a wink. ‘’Oh yeah, you should’ve see him. I got him to fix my bathroom sink. For free of course’’. Oh yeah, she scared you as well. She was a beautiful fae (and she knew it). With eyes and body that resembled siren’s, she could have any male she wanted and somehow tricked them into believing they were mates. Like a siren would indeed.

You thought it was both hilarious and dumb. You’ve heard tales of mating bonds, of how precious, powerful and extremely rare they were. And yet, somehow the males believed Sabrina when she would tell them that she was their mate.

‘’Males are dumb and will believe anything you say to them so long you give them attention’’ She would always say. She was right in one thing for sure, males are dumb.

‘’You’re evil’’. You said with a laugh and went inside the office of the shop.

Ugh, this work was so boring and tedious, you thought. How did your brother enjoy this? Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you sighed and started working.

Until about 20 minutes later, Sabrina stormed inside the office. You looked up at her confused, she wasn’t one to barge in like that.

‘’Yes? What’s wrong?’’ She was wide eyed, mouth opening as if she’d seen a ghost. So, you told her just that. ‘’You look like you’ve seen a ghost’’.

‘’Shadows actually’’ She whispered. You looked at her even more confused. Shadows? Like the ones your nephew saw this morning?

‘’Shadows?’’

‘’Shadowsinger’’

‘’Shadowsinger? Sabrina, you’re not making any sense’’. Truly, she was scaring you. Shadowsinger, what the heck did she mean?

‘’He’s here!’’ She whispered yelled. ‘’The high lord’s Shadowsinger. He’s here and he’s looking for you’’. Her frightened eyes never steering from yours.

The high lord’s-what? But then, it all clicked in. Your eyes and mouth opened wide.

‘’Shit shit shit’’ you whispered yelled as well. Standing up from the chair and pacing in front of Sabrina.

‘’What did you do?!’’ the whisper-yells continued.

But you weren’t listening to her, you were replaying that Mother’s awful night in your mind. ‘’I’m gonna die, he’s gonna kill me’’. You whispered and Sabrina let out a squeak, hands quickly going to her mouth.

‘’No! You can’t! I can’t lose this job, Y/N! I’m still so young. Oh my Mother. Who’s gonna tell your mother? I can’t tell her! She scares me.’’ Sabrina continued her rambling, you listening to bits and pieces and further feeling fear run through your body.

‘’My sister-in-law is ready to take over okay? Just, make sure you hide my body and everything will be okay. You’ll make sure of that right?’’ In another scenario, this would be downright funny to you but right now, you actually believed that the male behind the door (who was probably listening to all of this) was actually going to murder you.

Sabrina shook her head repeatedly, motioning with her hands as well. ‘’Absolutely not. That is a lot of responsibility here. I’m technically a witness here! What if he kills me too?’’ After saying that, she froze, and you saw how pale her face was getting at the thought of dying at the hands of the Shadowsinger.

So once again, you had to step up and be the strong one. With that thought, you stilled.

Okay so you were drunk and decided to go to the most powerful high lord (and high lady) and told them off. Not your brightest decision, clearly, but everything you said that night was true. It was what all of the citizens of Velaris were thinking but no one had dared to say out loud, specially directly to the rulers of the city.

After the first attack the city suffered, Velaris was a slowly sinking ship and it seemed like the inner circle wasn’t paying attention to it or its citizens. But you were. Because you were also one of them, another citizen. But you were very observant and most importantly, you listened. You listened to their troubles, fears and never ending grief. You and your family were all testament to that. So when it seemed like time kept passing and no one was stepping up, you said something.

Drunk, mind you, but it was said. So, if one of the most powerful faes of all time was there to kill you, then you’d find a sense of pride amidst all of the fear inside you, and then die knowing you tried to help the people of Velaris.

Even if they would never know.

‘’Let him in’’ You stated after clearing your throat.

Sabrina’s eyes stayed wide open. ‘’Are you sure?’’

‘’He’s not going to want to kill me in front of you okay? I- just’’ You sighed, none of this was making sense. ‘’Just let him in, please’’.

But both of you knew that there was no other choice but to let him in. So with that, Sabrina nodded, looked at you as if it was the last time she ever would, and walked out to get the male.

You struggled to stay still, hands fidgeting, looking straight at the door and swallowing down fear. Any moment now, he was going to walk in and death-

Holy Cauldron, he was the most gorgeous male you’ve ever seen.

You quickly replayed that night in your mind, trying to remember if he looked as good as he looks now but truthfully, your vision was hazy and focused only on Rhysand and Feyre. You were honestly glad of that, that you were so focused on your goal and not exactly looking at him because if you did, you’d cower and retreat at the sight of his beauty.

He was one beautiful intimidating male, that’s for sure. And one who was here on a mission.

‘’Hello’’ You squeaked out. Quickly clearing your throat and recovering (trying to at least). ‘’Is there anything I can help you with?’’

The fact that this female, the same one who had the balls to go up to his high lord and tell him off without a second thought, is the very same female who is now standing before him and looking at him like she wanted to run away, had him fighting a smile.

He’s a male who takes his job very seriously, known for being closed off and stoic. So when Rhys sent him to find the female who had left an impression on all of them and whose words stroke a nerve, he did it without a second thought. It wasn’t that hard to find you, he was really good at his job and also, your family business was well known in Velaris. People knew who you were and even though not all of them knew the real you, they knew you were a kind, caring and hard-working fae.

After finding everything he could about you, he reported back to Rhysand and Feyre. You were born and raised in Velaris, good grades, even better behavior, worked at a music shop, were now the owner of the apothecary, mother stayed at home, no father, has a sister-in-law who works at the shop, has a nephew, brother dead, no husband (that he could find at least). You were just another common fae. A really pretty one, one of his shadows had whispered to him.

He agreed.

He could see you getting antsier the longer it took him to reply. So with an raised eyebrow, he extended his hand toward you that held a parchment you had failed to see when you were too busy ogling at him and wondering if the death was going to be a painful one.

You saw it now. You also saw his hands. The rumors were true then. They were filled with scars, you wondered for a second how they must feel to touch.

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you cleared your throat and stepped closer to take the parchment. ‘’Um-okay, thank you’’.

Really? Your thanking him for what exactly? You grabbed it and looked at it for a second before staring back at him. Not wanting to lose the opportunity to stare at his eyes up close.

Those rumors were also true. His hazel eyes were absolutely beautiful. For Mother’s sake, did he have an ugly bone in his body?!, you thought.

‘’Open it’’ How can someone so beautiful and intimidating make you feel things with just their voice? Is this what his prisoners feel before they die?

You could listen to him talk all day, but his reputation tells you that he’s not one to talk much, not like you. Which is exactly what you’re going to start doing if you continue to stand in his presence.

You weren’t sure if he was going to stand for your yapping. ‘’Oh! Sure-okay.’’ Clearing your throat once again, you looked away from his eyes and finally focused on the piece of parchment.

Opening and reading it, you gasped and your eyes widened.

‘’Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

We are inviting you to a formal meeting that will be held in two days, morning time at The Library. Please confirm with Azriel of your attendance.

We eagerly await your presence.

Rhysand and Feyre

High Lord and High Lady of the Night’s Court. ‘’

A meeting? With you? For what? Do they all want to have a part in your death?

You really need to stop thinking that they’re going to kill you, they would have done it by now…right?

Your ongoing thoughts were definitely not helping with the nerves. Why the heck did they want to meet with you?

Reading it a third time, you saw the name Azriel and assumed this was the Shadowsinger standing right before you and patiently waiting for your response.

Right, response. You’re supposed to confirm your attendance. But, were you going to go? Were you really going to say no to your high lord and lady? You might’ve been brave when you were under the influence but any other day you weren’t exactly courageous or anything. But what was at stake here? Maybe this was your chance to apologize for that night. You weren’t going to apologize for saying the truth but perhaps how it was delivered. Okay sure, you can do that..right?

‘’Right-umm’’. You looked at the male before you, noticing the brightness of his hazel eyes and was that amusement? Was he..amused by all of this?

‘’I’ll be there’’. You decided. Fuck, you weren’t sure about this. But it was out there, Azriel heard it and was sure going to report it back.

Azriel nodded and took a step back from you.

You were glad of the extra breathing space. It was still early, how the heck were you supposed to focus during the rest of the day?

‘’I wouldn’t leave your body here, I’d hide it. Can’t leave evidence behind’’

Did he just make a joke? Of your death? He obviously heard you and Sabrina then. And the male had the audacity to find it funny!

So, the cold and ruthless Shadowsinger had humor then…a dark one it seems. Interesting.

Too shock to reply to that, you saw a hint of a smile on his face before he quickly hid it and left. Leaving you with a memory of his eyes and smile engraved in your brain.

What the fuck did you agree to?

[thenationofzaun]

Arcane Season 2: Episode 7 rant

"Arcane Season 2 may have been rushed but episode 7 was the best of the series!" "Arcane 2x7 was so beautiful and the closest to Season 1's vibes!" "Episode 7 was the only good part of Season 2!"

Anyway, Episode 7 was terrible and here's why:

- Multiverses are a sign of creative bankruptcy. Leave shit like that for fanfiction. Or at the very least, non-canon supplementary material. Highjacking an entire episode of the FINAL act for an AU "what if?" in an already rushed and overstuffed season was an idiotic choice. They essentially left only 2 episodes for Act 3 to resolve a multitude of different plotlines, character arcs, and relationships. All for "alternate timeline" drivel that caters to the lowest common denominator.

- The Piltover/Zaun conflict resolution shown in this episode is incredibly insulting. The way a show writer explains it (1:49:00), Vi's death and martyrdom makes people from both cities reevaluate their lives and come together to build a better future. This is implied by Marcus's devastated face when he finds Powder crying over Vi's dead body. This tragedy apparently made Piltover see the error of their ways and decide to turn over a new leaf. In this timeline, Silco also found the apology letter Vander wrote him and forgave Vander. Let's break down why this is insulting. The very first scene of the series shows enforcers brutally killing Zaunites on the bridge without any remorse, and in front of their children. When the kids blow up Jayce's lab, the enforcers chase them down and attempt to arrest them, despite them being kids. Later, Marcus and his enforcers ruthlessly abuse and threaten Zaunites while looking for the children, whom he refers to as "four sump rats". Piltover's Council have no problem with this, as every single one of them bar Heimerdinger urges the enforcers to "turn the Undercity upside down". Marcus later throws Vi into a horrible dark shithole of a prison where she is tortured for years while he lives a cushy life as Sheriff in Piltover. Yeah. So the idea that the death of one "sump rat" would make this 200-year old corrupt, classist, authoritarian and evil government who, up till now, have never given a single fuck about the children of Zaun, turn a new leaf is laughable. Remember when Aang suggested showing Firelord Ozai baby photos to make him good again and everyone rightfully laughed at him? How is a show for 7 year olds more mature than this so-called adult show? This isn't even touching how offensive it is that the lesbian kid's death makes the world a paradise. It was not intentionally homophobic as this plotline was the lesbian writer, Amanda Overton's idea (she said so in the video I linked). But lesbian writer or not, intentional or not, this shit is so sloppy and insulting. Embarrassing that she didn't realize how this would come across in the show.

- People like this episode for Ekko/Jinx shipping fanservice, but their relationship isn't even explored in the main story. This girl Ekko is making out with isn't Jinx. She has been stripped of everything unique about Jinx that actually make her who she is. This is Powder, who's somehow perfectly sane and normal, who has fuckall to do with the Jinx we actually know. Ekko's relationship with our Jinx has zero organic or believable development. He never reacts to her becoming a symbol for Zaun. He never reacts to his Firelight lieutenant's change of heart towards Jinx. He and all the Firelights just suddenly have no problem teaming up with Jinx despite her spending years murdering them and their friends. Jinx never even spared a single thought for Ekko throughout the entire show. She blows him up in 1x07, then never mentions nor thinks about him again until 2x09. If she thinks he's dead, she sure shows zero guilt about it. She doesn't seem to give a fuck about that boy lol. The writers did not have the talent to explore the complexities of this relationship within the main universe, so they crafted a convenient alternate universe where nothing went wrong and absolutely nothing too dark or complicated stands in the way of an Ekko/Jinx romance. Because who needs writing that actually grapples with the complexity of a broken friendship and two people who have hurt each other irreparably, when you can just make them kiss in an uncomplicated, unchallenging, unserious lighthearted AU? This is supposed to be the tragic romance everyone's raving about? "Ekko/Jinx would work so well if Jinx wasn't Jinx and was a completely different character😍" Lol.

- "Didn't he try to kill you?!" Who are you talking to Ekko? If you are talking to Silco, then this is a massive plot hole. Ekko shouldn't know that Vander tried to kill Silco. According to Season 1, that shit took place in the far past and Vander never told anyone about it, owing to the fact that the kids had no idea who Silco was. Season 2 retcons that and says that Vander tried to kill Silco after the bridge incident and the kids all knew Silco, which is a blatant plot hole that contradicts Season 1. If Ekko's talking to Vander and Silco just assumed he was talking to him, that makes a bit more sense. But it doesn't explain why none of the characters question why this kid who's known them for years is asking bizarre offensive questions that he should already know the answers to. Instead of "the greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive" corny ass bullshit line, Silco should have said "Excuse me? We've been together for years and you've never had an issue before. Why bring up such a thing now? Is there something wrong, Ekko?" Same goes for Powder forgiving Ekko so quick after the horribly offensive shit he said to her for no reason, that he didn't give any explanation for ("Vi's dead? Was it you??!!!").

- Powder being revealed to still have the Hex crystals at the end of the episode. Let me get this straight: Powder accidentally drops a Hex crystal that explodes the building. This gets Vi killed. Enforcers arrive at the scene and find all the kids. Presumably, they know that the kids were there robbing the place. They never search the kids and confiscate the other crystals from Powder? What do they even think caused the explosion? Do they never investigate? Why are the remnants of the exploded crystal STILL embedded into the wall for Ekko to find? If the enforcers found it, they would surely have removed it right? You mean to tell me they either knowingly left that extremely dangerous shit there, or they never even found them in the first place? 100/10 logic.

- Powder being a perfectly healthy and sane girl despite growing up in Zaun, witnessing the death of her parents, and inadvertently causing the death of her beloved sister (remember, it was Powder who accidentally dropped the crystal which then exploded). This is a Powder who was already very insecure, already being belittled by Mylo, and already desperately attached to her sister. Powder who was already having hallucinations on the bridge as a toddler, and then in episode 3 when she's left alone in the Last Drop, before accidentally killing Mylo and Claggor. You're telling me this Powder accidentally kills HER SISTER VI, and she grows up fine with no guilt? Her guilt over killing Mylo and Claggor was crippling. You could argue that Mylo learned the error of his ways and comforted Powder, no one disparagingly called her a "jinx" ever again, and everyone raised her with love. Except...... Silco did all of those things in Season 1, and she still struggled with guilt and psychosis. Damn, I guess it really was The Big Bad Man at the root of all her mental health problems. Fuck complex gray writing I guess. Season 1 shows us that she already had hallucinations as a small child and in episode 3 before the deaths of Mylo and Claggor. But here in this AU she has none? I guess there really were anti-psychotic drugs and therapy in Piltover all along, which they generously shared with the sump rat who exploded a building instead of throwing her in jail like their pre-character assassination Season 1 selves would have done. And Vander, Silco, Mylo, and Claggor all somehow gained amazing skills at raising a traumatized mentally ill child riddled with guilt from accidentally killing her sister, and their combined efforts with the help of Piltovian Mental Health Awareness campaigns cured all of Powder's mental problems. Hurrah.

- Heimerdinger's pointless death that nobody ever mentions or cares about ever again. Jayce and Viktor never find out about it. He was their mentor for years. The character assassination of Heimerdinger in general was insane. In Season 1, he was staunchly against the Hexcore and wanted to destroy it, citing the devastating Rune Wars that he is a traumatized survivor of. Just seeing the Hexcore was enough to give him flashbacks. He pointed out the danger of the Hextech gemstone. He was booted off the Council by Jayce, which was a huge dramatic betrayal, and prompted him to travel to the Undercity and face the product of his failings as a ruler. And in Season 2? He never reacts to the Council's death who were bombed WITH THE HEXTECH GEMSTONE. Three of his colleagues fucking died and he's cracking shitty jokes. (Who even found it funny when Heimerdinger snuck into the lab then kept dropping shit and saying "ball sockets!" Who is this humour for? Three year olds?) He doesn't have any opinions on Jayce using the Hexcore, the thing he was so terrified of, to save Viktor's life. His reaction to Viktor now being fused with the Hexcore is non-existent. He and Jayce never discuss the betrayal nor the Council nor the current political situation between Piltover and Zaun. Viktor ascends to godhood and looks very reminiscent of the destructive mages in Heimer's flashbacks, but Heimer never reacts to this either. What a fucking waste. His death in episode 7 was contrived and meaningless.

- Mage Viktor letting Jayce suffer and go insane for weeks surviving off scraps, then walk for miles and climb up to the top of the Hexgate on a broken leg, all to meet Mage Viktor anyway. Why didn't this mf just immediately reveal himself to Jayce, tell him everything, help him up to the top of the Hexgate and show him all the petrified bodies, and give him the Mercury Hammer? He needed Jayce to do all that shit by himself because? I swear Mage Viktor's convoluted time-travelling plan makes less sense the more you think about it.

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[yolli-es]

Please, I'm really sorry

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, sadness, rude treatment, mentions of death

I doubt this is in character, so treat it as a silly sketch. Writing text is harder than headcanons..

MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND THERE MAY BE MEANING ERRORS

You adore Jinx; you love and tolerate her. Your acquaintance was unexpected, and your subsequent friendship was spontaneous. You were choking with tears after losing your mother when she found you. This girl saved you so easily, as if it were so easy. Jinx never told you about the past, but when the voices in her head became too loud, you didn't need an explanation. You saw how bad she becomes and what consequences it can bring. Afterwards, you promise yourself to always be there so that you can prevent the irreparable. This was not always successful.

After Silco died, things got really bad. Jinx tried to continue his work, to be strong and collected. But this is Jinx. Your Jinx. And she never was and never will be like this. Maybe that's why she's been so rude to you, taking it out on you because she's under so much stress. Sooner or later it will all end, and she will be able to look at you again without irritation.

You forgive Jinx for everything: the harsh words, the insults, the hits. Because she always apologizes after. And you don't care that it's not sincere at all. You love her; she is the only thing you have.

The day started out quite normally. You and Jinx were sitting in Silko's office, which is still called that way to this day, on the initiative of Jinx herself. It was all quite nice: she decided to share with you many thoughts about the future, which happened quite rarely. But then Sevika came in. And with her came terrible news. Shimmer production had been disrupted again. The enforcers blew up the plant, dealing with the guards there without any particular problems. And she just walked out after saying that. Just one look from Jinx made it clear how bad she was feeling right now,

"It's not your fault, and..." — you're interrupted by a rude "shut up." Jinx, who had been sitting on the table quite relaxed, now clutched her head, her eyes closed, and her breathing quickened. Just a few moments ago she was vulnerable, and now she's rude to you again. "You don't understand me at all," Jinx said in a breaking voice, hiding her face in her knees. It was painful to hear. We have been through a lot together. But she's worse off, and you step over yourself again: "I love you, Jinx. What do you want me to do?". You tell her this so often, so sincerely and naively. Her reaction to your words is always different; you can never guess, and now she again hits you: "I want you to stop being so useless and just help me." Jinx whispered, still struggling with her emotions. She hadn't let herself get angry, panicked, or sad that easily since Silco died. No tears. She kept herself under control. And is that what she thought all along? It's your fault; you're just doing a shitty job. Obviously, sitting here with her is not what she wanted. It looks so painful for you. The girl you love is suffering so much; why don't you just make it easier? That day you stayed, having endured many insults and a couple of blows.

Usually you stayed by Jinx's side, always supporting her and helping her with many tasks. For example, maintaining her authority in the city, keeping an eye out for possible rats nearby, and always saving your love from nervous breakdowns. But now you're by Sevika's side, at a shimmer production plant. You didn't tell Jinx anything; you didn't even think she would ask and worry. You need to act more decisively, as she wanted it. The task was simple: wait until the enforcers come here and destroy them. You were never a good fighter, just a decent shot. Your skills were enough to protect yourself on the streets of Zaun, but they were nothing against well-trained law enforcement officers. That's why you stayed on the sidelines, watching from above and covering Sevika.

You realized how much you screwed up with this shit when you found yourself in the middle of a shootout. Things didn't go according to plan when Sevika was shot, and now you had to save her. Letting the woman lean on you, you ran upstairs. The sounds of gunshots, explosions, and screams confirmed your fears: this plant is finished. Neither the shimmer nor the people were saved. Adrenaline was pumping through you, and you didn't notice anything except the cherished goal.

You reached a safe place and fell. The rest was like a dream. Sevika sat next to you, trying to close the open wound. She tied it with a rag, shouting something about the presence of shimmer nearby. The wound seems to be on your legs, chest, and head. It was painful and cold. Severe weakness. How the hell did enforcers get you? You couldn't think, let alone remember. This woman was shaking you, trying to make you think, but you had already given up. You had lost, and you had screwed up so badly, Jinx would never forgive you. Sevika shouted something, and you didn't really listen; you just couldn't. And then your gaze focused on a blue spot... Jinx? You wanted to look at her one last time. She may be disappointed in you, angry, or simply empty towards you, but all this will not matter as long as she is here. Your eyes closed for just a moment.

" ...orr..."—You can't see, only distantly hear. Such a nice sound; you've heard it before. The noise makes you open your eyes again. A flash of light disorientated you. Straining your eyes, you managed to make out a silhouette in front of you. It was Jinx, and... she was crying. She was in complete disarray, desperately holding your face. She bit her lips every time she wanted to swallow the lump in her throat and continue talking. She was talking to you. What was she saying? Your damn body is so weak. "Hold on, just breathe. Please, I'm really sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you...",-She repeated it over and over while you felt the shimmer being injected into your body. You wanted to calm her down, to say "I love you" back. And all you did was watch silently. Your eyelids were so heavy, and your body suddenly seemed too weightless. You were being yelled at, shaken, and pricked with a shimmer stabbed over and over. And you were too weak to respond to it, closing your eyes one last time.

Jinx sincerely apologizes this time. It's a pity that your mind was too weak to realize this.

it was short, unclear and stupid 🥴 Wrote this in a hurry while I'm taking a break from studying and writing other things.

[notanactressyayy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . in which she finally feels heard, seen.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . angst, emotional breakdown (panic attack), swearing, mentions of scars (sh), mentions of suicidal ideologies. Nat being honest and open about her feelings for once. hurt/comfort.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. rainy days, match sad stories. venting.

divider credits: @saradika-graphics ༉‧₊˚.

the heaviness of the afternoon air settled over Natasha — weighting down what was already heavy. her mind, her body.. everything felt like a weight, a weight she carried since she was born, or even before her soul was incarnated in her body. she felt— no, she knew that she was born in bad news, cursed, and there was no way of getting out of this. it's funny, those were the exact same thoughts she had ever since she was a child— 10, 11, maybe? and in that age, crossed her mind that probably when she grew up, those ideas would vanish and she would be free to have a normal life.

but that certainly didn't happen. and now, she found herself trapped. trapped in web that the more she struggled, more stuck she got, and that was a routine that repeated over and over and over — optimistic, optimistic delusional thoughts that came to battle with the bad ones, telling her that things would someday be okay, and the real, coherent ones, that crushed all the hope, the little sparkle of hope she had within her, making her mind a complete and total mess. chaos behind chaos. sleepless nights, restless days.

god, how good would it be if at least, her body wasn't enchanted. how perfect would it be, to throw herself down a building and don't feel anymore, instead of having just a few scratches here and there. the blade helped, even with the acknowledge that a normal person would feel 10 times more than she did. because the pain was still little, when comparing to everything this woman already endured. the red lines on her arms and thighs were just a reminder of the red on her ledge, and that it was now impossible to wipe away.

in moments like those ones, her brain desperately searched for any solution, any thought to refute her current state — it was the human instinct to survive. (yeah, she's human). her eyes squeeze tight, feet stumbling forward and hands gripping tightly the trailer's window rail, knuckles turning white.

inhale, exhale. inhale— no, let's stick to panting.

her mind would drift back to the little girls who she shared her life with in the red room, remembering each of their personalities, what each one of them would do in a situation like this. ironically, for Natasha, they deserved to be listened and helped. but herself? nah. but in the deep end, she didn't know if they were still breathing, still in this world. what was the point..?

"come on..." she mutters, hissing loudly as her legs start trembling, knees ready to give up. "stop, stop, stop, stop..."

her heart never felt so filled with anguish and pain like right now — yes it did, but it was always like that: whenever that happened, the past experiences felt like they never existed — and the now felt like too much to handle. her ears buzzed, the sounds of the wind blowing across the tree leaves around her went down to volume zero — the hair on her legs and arms went up in a deep shiver, and eyes went wide — realization.

the same fucking realization as always. nobody listens, nobody cares. no one will ever know her true story. no one will ever fix her. she won't be remembered. her life's a waste— why was she even born, when everything that happened was disgrace after disgrace. that's when the thread snaps, and her body reacts before her mind can follow.

her throat closes, as if suffocating — body falling backwards, hitting the floor with full force. her fingers run through her hair and tug on the strands, pulling them strongly, even breaking a few of the auburn locks. tears of desperation threatens to fall down her cheeks, but she doesn't really realize that yet. she's just so out of air, that's impossible to control any other action.

"why won't that fucking—" Natasha manages between gasps. she groans, grabbing on the skin of her thighs and squeezing them harshly, creating moon-shaped little marks, enough to draw blood. "won't it— stop!"

then, she sobs. wait, but.. why did it felt like.. relief? perhaps because now, she was in your arms.

a foreign, strange sensation of warmth, warmth of another human being, enveloped her. she didn't recognize who it was, nor did she care. with pure instinct, her arms wrapped around the person's midsection, clinging for dear life. and now, with the sense of security, she was able to cry freely. she cried silently, something you didn't like. her chest heaved with emotion, but you wished she was louder. she was taught that widows didn't feel pain, wether it was physical or emotional. that's why her small cries sounded as painful and miserable as loud ones. you, sitting on the floor with her, scooped her weeping frame into your arms and held her — her side against your chest, head tucked in the crook of your neck.

sadly, it wasn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last. you were always in the trailer with her when she had breakdowns like this one. and that was what broke you the most — her brain subconsciously would tell her she was alone, and she didn't know how to deal with intense feelings like those: thus, she didn't know how to ask for help, how to come to you so you both could prevent those mental draining episodes.

when you first met Natasha, the first thing she asked you was to forget that she was a deadly spy, an avenger, or whatever the hell else people knew her as. at least for a day, so you could see where things would go. this fact only, meant that since the beginning, she had a feeling about you.. one she couldn't quite put a finger on, but which made her want to be herself, with no masks or titles around you.

it was common sense everything she went through. but only you knew about her true point of view. when her own self felt like an outside observer regarding to her own life, you were always there to remind her of who she was.

"you're safe... you're safe, i am safe.. we're both safe.." you whisper, running your hand up and down her shivery arm, putting the cold away. "okay, Nat? you are safe. i am right here, ready to fight whatever evil that befalls you.''

"i don't know.. i-i just.. i'm exhausted... i'm s-so tired.." she manages between small cries, eyes pleadingly looking up into yours. her hand reaches out and intertwine her fingers with your own, grasping on every sense she had of your presence — because she knew it could fade again, that she could fall in the loop again. and it was torturous. "i never.. no one ever listened to me... i never.. told anyone.. about.. a-about..."

"i know." you nod, arms tightening around her. you crawl a little backwards, just so you could reach the blanket that laid upon the couch and grab it. you wrap it around her with one hand, not letting go of her own. she subconsciously brings the fluffy fabric closer to herself and snuggles up against your body. "but you can tell me. isn't it clear, malyshka? that you're stuck with me?"

malyshka. the endearment term in russian she had taught you. she loved it, so goddamn much. a little weak smile tugs on her lips, the kindness you were showing her easing the tension — as if you were offering to carry the weight with her. compassion, empathy. so foreign.

"i just.." she shakes her head, sniffling and taking a deep, shaky breath. she stays silent for a few minutes, and you wait. voice so quiet, small.. and scared. "before you.. no one ever.. held me. i never had anyone holding me. i never had a touch that didn't mean harm. never had anyone to listen."

"i know, Nat. and that pains me more than you think." you confirm, running your fingers through her hair, and nuzzling the side of your face against her cheek, resting on your shoulder. "but trust me, i will listen for hours, days, years and centuries. if you wanna share every single second of your life with me, i'm here to listen."

"that doesn't make any freaking sense to me." she chuckles humorlessly, a soft groan escaping her throat. she was feeling a little tired. "but.. the truth is.. few people understand what i went through. the little people who lived in the same circumstances as me are probably all dead.. and... i truly don't want you to understand. i don't want you to try and live the same horrors as i did. all i wish for..."

you take a moment to stare at her when she pauses. hurt arms, tear filled face. oh, what you wouldn't do to protect this heart. to keep it safe. never let anything harm it again.

"all i wish for, is for you to be here. to hold me like you're doing, to share your own experiences with me, to live with me. to whisper sweet nothings in my ear by the night. handle my body gently. just be here. be here and i know i'll be forever safe."

that was it. everything you ever wished for. you exhale deeply and shift her carefully, so she was on your lap. she looks down at you, and at your hand.. that slowly comes up to land on her cheek. she leans against it and breathes heavily. you smile, waiting for her next expected words.

"can i..." she clears her throat, hands shyly gripping your shoulders, eyes looking at you from below her eyelashes. "can i cry more?"

"of course." you cradle her again and settle her thighs around your hips. her arms wrap around your neck, and she gently leans her head on your shoulder... allowing herself to cry.. out of relief.

your right hand tenderly caresses her leg, tracing over the self indulged scars she had. the left one, makes slow, soothing circles on her spine, moving up, and down her back. she was letting all her emotions out, all the pain inside her heavy heart, was flowing out of her being. thanks to your patience, your gentleness, and your love.

turns out, love wasn't only for children. goodness gracious, how good it was to be loved...

"god," she sobs, squeezing you tighter, nose brushing against your hair as she allows herself to.. let go. "god, i need you."

"i'm here." you confirm quietly, looking up and kissing her temple. "i'm here, i'm not going anywhere."

[tinum]

Longing from the Office - Harumasa x Reader

Summary: Section 6 play wingman for a struggling harumasa Warnings: So much sighing and sitting in chairs, probable abuse of as, maybe ooc, errors Word Count: 2.1k Notes: I'm trying to improve my writing guys so sorry if its bad but also not sorry. Drop a request or don't.. its fine...

Harumasa's longing for you manifested in many ways. Some of which were more embarrassing than he liked to admit. You hardly seemed to notice though, even if he was practically attached to your hip like a puppy.

"I'm going on my lunch now, Tsukishiro." You call out, pushing your chair out and putting on the coat hanging off the back. Despite not even scratching the surface of your work, your eyes are already stained, and you feel the throb of a headache coming on. A break is definitely in order.

"Alright—" She was swiftly cut off by a voice chiming in.

"Yeah, we'll be going on break now, Tsukishiro!" Her eyebrows raise at the man, who was, just moments ago, sleeping.

"Oh? I hope you realize your nap has been cutting into your break time." Her face was serious, but on the inside, she almost wanted to laugh at how obvious he was being. It's something she noticed for a while now, how he glances at you from time to time when you are doing paperwork, completely unaware. The way he perks up when he hears your name in conversation.

"I was just resting my eyes." 

"So you admit you were taking a break?" 

He scratches the back of his neck. "Aha… no?"

She sighs, pinching the space between her brows, "If you're going to take a break now, all of your paperwork better be turned in by the end of the day."

"Whoa, really? Thanks, Tsukishiro! You won't regret this!"

She totally would, but she would regret it more if she didn't allow him to go. Watching him make a fool of himself while you were blind was torture. She'd rather lose a few hours of sleep completing his paperwork than watch another moment.

"Ah, Asaba, we're going on break at the same time? What a funny coincidence."

She physically facepalms, causing both your heads to snap her way. "Ahem… my apologies, there was a… bug. Don't mind me."

"Yeah, pretty crazy. I mean, what are the chances, right?" 

"It's almost like it was fate…" His heart practically skips a beat when you look at him and let out a giggle. "Well, just a silly thought! I'll be going now. Have fun on your break!"

He could only get out the start of his sentence before you promptly turned away, rushing towards the exit. Once you are gone, he lets out the loudest whine of his life. His upbeat posture deflates as he stares at the exit, jaw open. He only closes it when he hears the click of heels walking towards him.

"That was rather painful to watch." Yanagi places an awkward hand on his shoulder as some sort of means to comfort him.

"If you cringed by just watching it, imagine how I feel. I mean, seriously! How much more obvious do I have to get?"

Normally, Yanagi would not concern herself with her colleagues' personal lives, but the sight of his obvious pining and your obliviousness was giving her early wrinkles. "I find myself wondering the same thing." 

Harumasa groans, running his hand down his face in frustration. He turns to Yanagi, places both of his hands on her shoulders, and shakes her lightly. "You see it too? C'mon, you gotta help me!"

She squints her eyes, looking at him, and Harumasa shakes her more, letting out a crybaby 'Pleaseee.' She had already planned on helping him. Otherwise, she would not have walked up to him, but she can't lie; it was sort of fun seeing him fumble so much. Perhaps you were rubbing off on her.

"First of all, stop shaking me." He drops his hand faster than she's ever seen him move when overtime is on the line. "I'll help you—"

"Thank you, Tsukishiro! Seriously, you're the-"

"I wasn't finished," she clears her throat. "I'll help you, but you have to promise me a full week of your undivided attention. In other words, no slacking and no naps."

He deflates, letting out another loud groan. "I should have known it wouldn't be that easy…" His chair rolls backward as he slumps down, throwing his arm over his eyes. "It's hopeless… I'm going to die all alone."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, you're lucky I'm feeling generous I'll cut it to three workdays."

He immediately brightens up, his posture straight, and he bats his eyelashes at Yanagi. "Really? You'd do that for little old me?"

"No. I'm doing it for Soukaku. She also wonders when you would finally confess."

"Oh… well, what's the plan?"

She immediately zeroes in. Harumasa follows suit, with a serious look on their face. Yanagi slams a piece of paper on his desk.

"Here's what I was thinking."

-----

When you return from lunch, you are greeted with an unusually focused Harumasa and no Yanagi in sight. You sigh as you walk towards your desk; the piles of papers seem never-ending. Unfortunately, the only way out is through.

A few minutes into the first page, you hear Harumasa let out a loud sigh. "This is sooo hard." He whines. You look up at him to see him already staring at you. "You gotta help me with this! I just can't seem to remember!"

"What do you need help with?"

"I cannot, for the life of me, remember what… time! Our last hollow investigation began.."

"It began at-"

"No! I mean, can you write it for me?" he coughs out. "I suddenly feel really sick." 

"I suppose if you are not feeling well… bring it here."

He scoots out of his chair, walking slowly with an exaggerated stagger. "Ah, I feel really dizzy. Can I rest on your shoulder?" He doesn't wait for an answer, rolling the chair from the empty desk next to you.

Your eyes widen. "Dizzy? Should I call in the doctor?" He places his hand on top of yours, stopping you from picking up your phone.

"No, no, I'll be fine." His head hesitantly creeps down, teetering on whether he should commit or not. Ultimately, he does. "I just need a moment."

"Oh…" A quick blush rose to your face as you grabbed the paper, which was… blank.

"Asaba, you—" 

You turn to look at him, expecting to be met with the view of his hair. Instead, you are greeted by his face, which is inches apart from yours.

"Yes?"

"You must be super sick! You gave me the wrong paper!" You fuss, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'll inform Tsukishiro!"

"No, there's no need," he sighed. "I'm feeling better now." He gets up, walking back to his desk, head hanging low.

"Asaba…" you call out, tone a bit more serious. He turns around to face you, a hopeful look in his eyes. "You forgot your paper." 

"Right."

-----

"That didn't work?" Yanagi asked, her eyes wide.

"No! They just wanted to call you!"

"Hm… Well, they seemed worried; that's a start."

"I guess.." He slumps.

"Perhaps you should take a more direct approach. How about asking them on a date?"

"I practically did yesterday! Sharing a break with someone is a sacred thing, y'know!"

Suddenly, a cheerful voice chimes in, a bit muffled from a full mouth. "Why don't you give them candy!"

He looked at the Soukaku and then at Yanagi, who was deep in thought, muttering under her breath.  "Yes, that could work." Yanagi finally says, pushing up her glasses. "Why don't you give them a gift?"

"That's perfect! You guys are so smart; what would I do without you?" 

-----

The following day, you are greeted with a bundle of violets on your desk. It was certainly a strange gift. There was no note, just the flowers wrapped in heart-shaped plastic. You look around the room, noticing it was empty.

Maybe a fan left these? It wouldn't be surprising, considering they sometimes stand outside the building waiting to catch a glimpse of Section 6, but if it was from a fan, how could you know if it was for you? They definitely would not know which desk belongs to whom unless they were in the building. 

You shiver, throwing the flowers in a nearby bin. Then you grab your phone and call Yanagi. Not today, stalker.

What you didn't know is that Harumasa was watching in the nearby printer room. A card in his hands.

-----

"And then they threw them away! Right in front of me!"

"Hm, that is troubling…"

"I'm beginning to think they just don't like me."

"Cheer up, Harumasa!" Soukaku smiles, hugging him. Yanagi stood in front of the desk, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't know what to do anymore." He exhales, standing up.

"Have you tried telling them directly?" Everyone snaps their heads to the source of the voice and is met with a pair of dark ears.

Harumasa's head drops back down, defeated. Walking to the door in an exaggerated slowness.. "Nah, I think this is it. I can take a hint."

-----

"Asaba likes you." You sputter on the water you had been drinking, causing your shirt to get wet.

"Miyabi!" You nervously laugh, drying your shirt with napkins from a nearby table. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Asaba likes you."

"Oh! Well, I like him too." Walking back towards your desk, you smile. . "Speaking of which, where is he? I haven't seen him or the others at all today." 

"No. Asaba likes you as more than a friend." She stops right in front of your chair, and you have to look up at her for the first time.

"Me too! He's pretty much my best friend!" Turning away from her, you gather a few papers left on your desk. "Miyabi, I have to go run these to another department. If the others come back, let them know that's why."

Miyabi watches as you walk by, letting out a sigh of her own. She know knows why Yanagi and Harumasa had been sighing at you these past three days. This was more difficult than she expected. Usually, a simple approach does the trick; less is more, after all.

"Well, that's it. I'm officially done." The other three members walk out from around the corner, a crushing look on their faces. He falls back on his chair and Miyabi is surprised it hasn't collapsed by how many times he has done that. "I'm sorry, Tsukishiro, but I'm gonna have to break our deal to sleep my sorrows away."

Soukaku speaks in a tearful tone. "Harumasa…" 

"It's okay, Soukaku.. Sometimes things just don't work out how we want them to."

She grips his hand and jumps up with determination. "No! You can't—" She pauses, tears welling in her eyes.

"Miyabi, have you seen the other pa-" You stopped in your tracks. Everyone was surrounding Harumasa's desk, sullen looks on their faces. 

"You can't give up your crush on—" She manages to get your name out before a hand on her mouth silences her.

All four of the members stare at you with shocked expressions. No one dares to speak up or move, too worried they might scare you off.

You stumble over your own tongue, a deep blush rising to your face. "Asaba has a crush on me?" and before Harumasa has the chance to ruin things for himself, the three other members speak up.

"Yes!" Their tone was almost annoyed. After all these attempts this is what it took? They aren't one to smoke but they'd be lying if they said they didn't need a cigarette right about now.

"Harumasa, is this true?"

He lets out a deep breath, "It is." Alright, here it comes; he's going to be rejected and—

"I like you too!" 

"WHAT?" You had to be kidding him. This whole time, he was trying to get your attention with gifts and outrageous gestures, and all it took was for you to overhear a conversation? He's pretty sure you just triggered a heart attack. Maybe he should retire, yeah.. that's what he'll do

"I like you too, Harumasa. I have for a while now."

"No way! You turned down all my advances!"

"You didn't make any advances?"

"Yes, I did!"

"No?"

"Yes? Remember that time I asked to go on break after you did?"

"I thought that was just a coincidence."

"What about the flowers?"

"You didn't leave me any flowers."

"I left violets on your desk, and you just threw them away!"

"I thought they were from one of those creepy fans."

"Miyabi literally told you how I felt!"

"How was I supposed to know she meant it romantically?"

Harumasa resisted the urge to tackle you. You were seriously spiking his blood pressure with your absurd reasoning. How could someone be so incredibly smart and dumb at the same time? He's not sure the gods could even answer that.

"You're so lucky you're you. I'd be running for the hills if it was anyone else."

"Does that mean you guys are dating now?" Soukaku asks, not a single thought behind her eyes.

You look at Harumasa, and for the first time, he knows what he must do. "Let's try this again. I have liked you forever, and now I know you do, so… can we date? Pretty please?" He asks that question with such enthusiasm that you're sure if he had a tail it would be wagging

"Of course, silly! All you had to do was ask!" Something clicks in Harumasa once he hears you say that.

Oh. You sly dog. You knew this whole time, didn't you?

[wings-of-ink]

Chapter 5 is finally here!

Tumblr crew, please let me know right away if you see any issues with running the game. I *think* I fixed the issue with fonts not changing but I did the upload a different way so I'm paranoid. It works for me though.

This was a big one – do not anticipate your saves working. Such is the nature of a work-in-progress. Some of the code for early chapters had to change. I do apologize, I know it's a lot of content to click through.

I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you find any serious problems/errors – especially ones that break the game. I have tested it myself a few times, but I can only do so much on my own. I will be watching Tumblr closely for a bit, so if there are any urgent issues you can pop them into my ask-inbox.

This chapter was written using a different method. Mostly, it worked out for me and helped me find more typos and grammar issues, but I found more programming errors than normal. My hope is that all the major ones have been resolved. A game-breaking issue was found just this morning and took a few hours to resolve (it was a mess so I redid the entire section - peeps, if you see issues in the moment with Zahn let me know because they were my troublemaker, go figure).

A couple of new trigger warnings were added as well, so be sure to peruse the list if you may have areas of sensitivity. In the future, a couple of areas of this chapter may receive options to bypass segments with certain difficult content, so be advised that these do not have a skip function enabled currently.

Coming in the future…

Lunan is taking a break through the end of the year! I will still be monitoring Tumblr, answering questions, and resolving any technical issues of course. But I will not be writing chapter content. Some short extras may be posted in the meantime to Tumblr.

Each chapter will get a passage-by-passage check for typos and grammar issues before the release of Chapter 6.

A chapter skip function will be arranged so you can bypass content you've already read. This will likely be implemented before or with Chapter 6.

The release time for Chapter 6 is currently unknown but estimated for late Spring of 2025 (March-May *ish).

The Patreon will likely start up in January 2025 and will focus on early releases of new content and extras/POVs (including the spicy kind).

Thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have fun with it!

~Lunan ^_^

PS: Also let me know if you find weird stuff in there that might be from testing, lol. I think I deleted all that stuff, but I am more than a little bit frazzled today and there is a real possibility that I left some garbage behind...

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