#based mother strikes again

[eyestrain-addict]

Yes, because my mom thought his voice was fuckin annoying

[pigeon-butch]

I certainly have my own concerns about the treatment of moo deng but um. well i think some of you may just be racist

[afloweroutofstone]

By all accounts, the Americans virtually ensured their own defeat [in the Waygal Valley of Afghanistan]: They repeatedly bombed their closest supporters here, showing just how little the United States understood about the war it was fighting… The Americans killed and maimed the very people who supported them most, swelling the Taliban’s ranks by turning allies into enemies. Convinced that Nuristan would become a transport hub and hide-out for Al Qaeda and its allies, the Americans built bases and aggressively patrolled an area that, for the better part of a century, had been granted autonomy from its own government… Only the Americans dared to encroach into the region, and in doing so created the very insurgent stronghold they feared most. The United States dropped more than 1,000 bombs in a place it never needed to be. Instead of winning hearts and minds, the Americans unwittingly sowed the seeds of their own demise here in the Waygal Valley — just as it did in much of Afghanistan — then stayed for years to reap the harvest. “You have to know when you are the problem,” said retired Col. William Ostlund, the commanding officer of the men who fought the battle in Want (sometimes referred to as Wanat)... In October 2003, the C.I.A. launched an attack against a suspected terrorist in a mountaintop village, sending a trail of fire and smoke into the ink black sky. Gunships strafed the forests where residents had run for safety. A cluster of wood-frame homes and a mosque were decimated; seven people were killed, some while fleeing. The Americans declared the strike a success, a refrain that would become so common it would lose meaning. In reality, the attacks had failed. Not only was their target not there, but the homes and mosque they struck belonged to a staunch American ally, a former governor of Nuristan named Mawlawi Ghulam Rabbani. Mr. Rabbani’s political party, Jamiat-e-Islami, detested the Taliban — so much so that it had partnered with the Americans to overthrow them. In fact, that very night, Mr. Rabbani was in Kabul as part of a delegation of pro-American forces. The only people sheltering in the mountainside home were his family and friends. Of the seven killed, most were women and children, and they included Mr. Rabbani’s son and daughter… Though the attack barely resonated in Kabul, much less in Washington, it changed the dynamic in the Waygal Valley. If people were not yet ready to give up on the Americans, they no longer saw them as infallible liberators. A creeping sense of resentment, and injustice, opened a crack for the Taliban’s message to grow… Perhaps the only person who stuck by the Americans was [Afghan villager] Rafiullah [Arif]. But his loyalty was growing untenable, and even the money his family was getting increasingly wasn’t worth it. Rafiullah and his family couldn’t even go to their local market without worrying that [Taliban fighter] Mullah Osman’s men would kill them. Now, with the Americans preparing to leave his village, he and his family would be completely unprotected. The Americans were coming under mortar fire for the second day in a row. Rafiullah and his family decided to leave for good. They packed up their belongings and fled in a pair of trucks with other civilians, including several doctors who worked at the local clinic. The fleeing vehicles caught the eye of the Americans, who mistakenly believed the Taliban were marshaling forces for another attack. U.S. officers called in an airstrike, sending a hail of gunfire from two Apache helicopters at the convoy, destroying them and nearly everyone inside. Rafiullah lost his father, mother, brother and nephew, along with his arm, an eye and any semblance of support for the U.S. war in Afghanistan. The Americans, once again, declared the strike a success… “They say they came here to help us, but they wound up killing us,” [Rafiullah] said, squinting into the sun with his good eye. “We supported their mission, and they betrayed us.”

[bwat5-blog]

"Clearly, Caitlyn Kiramman Should’ve Known Better at 23: A Masterclass in Ignoring Trauma and Believing War Criminals"

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

Recently I made the mistake of delving into the comments of an otherwise excellent post regarding Caitlyn Kiramman and the aftermath of her time as "dictator", specifically in terms of were there enough consequences? did she do enough to make it right? should more have been done to her? that sort of thing. In the festering cesspool of those comments, I saw a variation of the following statement:

"if we were doing things based on what was fair and just, Caitlyn should have been executed on behalf of the two cities for peace"

It was more crude but you get the point. This person alleged that Caitlyn deserved death for what happened during those few months. Before we move forward lets review what we know about all of this. I have quite recently covered a lot of Caitlyn's arc so I'm not doing a deep dive here. Just enough to address this particular bit of idiocy.

How It Starts:

Like I said we aren't doing a deep dive here, so just for a quick reminder as to where twenty-three year old Caitlyn is mentally at this point(regardless of fault or nuance, just the facts):

Has been almost killed by Jinx three times

Almost killed by Sheriff of Piltover

Abducted naked from her childhood home, forced to dress in Enforcer uniform, bound, gagged, and forced to attend Jinx's tea party where Jinx tries to get Vi to murder Caitlyn

Violently knocked out

Shows Jinx mercy at Vi's request

Jinx kills her mother

Trying to become head of house Kiramman

Undercity attacks the memorial

Survives strike team operations

Brutal fight with Sevika

Vi stops her from shooting again

Very emotional split from Vi after hitting her and leaving her alone

So, with all of that under consideration, a Noxian warlord in her fifties who has commanded troops on various continents across Runeterra, calls her up and says trust me, i have your back, we will get justice for your mother. And Caitlyn folds... Le Gasp?!

Guys I know this is a little more snarky than my usual approach, but this really is just not that complicated. This is not even subtle. We literally see the flash back of Ambessa orchestrating the memorial attack to get us to this point. Caitlyn is an open wound mentally and emotionally, she never stood a chance. Lets take a moment to review some important points here by the way:

Ambessa came to Piltover for Hex-Tech. She doesn't hide this from Mel and is quite clear in her goals.

"If there is a chance hextech can be weaponized, we must have it". Mel responds "Piltover isn't your testing ground... I can't believe you'd start a war just to cover your ass" And Ambessa responds "i would set the world ablaze to protect our family". And the conversation ends with Ambessa ordering her daughter to "let the war unfold".

2. She executes her plan to make Caitlyn her scape-goat in front of:

Councilor Salo

Councilor Shoola

Large group of enforcers

Group of twenty plus people who make up as Ambessa states "every house and family with a modicum of influence"

Not a single, solitary person says a word when Ambessa brings a twenty-three year old grieving young woman with, if we're being generous two months of combat experience though probably less, and says She is in charge now! They let Caitlyn be walked right into the jaws of the wolf herself.

The Great And Terrible Rule Of Caitlyn The Creepy! WHAHAHAHA!:

What she gives her okay on:

Occupation of Zaun

Lawful (under martial law not normal law) arrests of those who cause problems

Yep... there it is folks. There is the great list of terrible crimes against humanity committed by the she-devil of Piltover herself. Checkpoints and arrests. Which by the way I am not justifying. People being arrested subjects them to Ambessa's brutality once they are inside. And as we clearly see Rictus uses the right to arrest to brutalize a Jinxer, and to break up the rally. And Caitlyn absolutely shares some portion of the blame for that. But um.. the way people reacted I was really expecting more public hangings and and labor camps.

**Not really a good place to put this but just fyi, despotic mad-women don't usually have to get up early to please a craftsman guild over supply complaints... just saying..."

"But OP! Sexy Zangief was beating people up and breaking up peaceful rallies!"

Well fortunately we talk about that!

"Was it for my encouragement that your man Rictus was instigating violence?"

How does Ambessa respond? Not with anger, or rage. First with guilt "You don't trust me", then with approval when Caitlyn responds the blade cuts both ways "fearless child, you never shy",

Ambessa is a master manipulator. Caitlyn is and was grieving her mother, and her whirlwind extremely intense romantic relationship with Vi. She had a gargantuan hole in her heart and a woman with decades leading and commanding soldiers and learning strategy slid right in. Recall that in bed with Maddie Caitlyn almost is defending Ambessa, talking about learning so much from her and the lives Ambessa saved with her assistance getting control of Zaun, so they could hunt for Jinx. Caitlyn has legitimately come to care for Ambessa at least on some level. I even believe that on some level Ambessa has come to care for Caitlyn.

2. "Arrests require cause"

When Ambessa is suggesting someone in Zaun knows where Jinx is, this is how Caitlyn responds. Not with orders to start dragging people out into the street. Not executing children in the street or burning down buildings. And when Ambessa tries to justify it "What greater cause is there than returning peace to the city?" Caitlyn responds:

3. "Why is peace always the justification for violence".. (Note Ambessa laying comforting hand on Caitlyn's shoulder during conversation)

Ambessa gives her this speech: "we've lost so many.. the anger, the sorrow.. it's tiring. Gods, I know it's tiring.. But you will never rest knowing that she's out there. Or maybe I underestimated you. Maybe you have the strength I do not.. to forgive.. and trust in tomorrow.. the decision is yours commander.."

"I know you are so tired, I know you are exhausted. I know you want this to be over. But you can't feel safe with her out there. I know you can't. Unless of course you can do what even I can't. Forgive your mothers FUCKING MURDERER. But ya know, up to you"-

If you truly cannot see the insidiousness of how Caitlyn is being twisted and manipulated, I envy you the charmed life you have lead. But be weary my friend, "you're off the edge of the map, here there be monsters." (POC 1)

"But OP! Ambessa was experimenting with Hex-Tech and committing brutal interrogations!"

I will admit the show does not explicitly state that Caitlyn did not know about this. Explicitly. However, given our context clues I feel quite confidant suggesting she did not:

See literally everything she said above

Every time we see them doing this she is not present

It seems like they are in some deep and away part of the prison when they are doing this

In private after the failed hex-tech experiment, Ambessa laments that they didn't secure the scientists before seizing control of Piltover. She is openly discussing that they are the actual ruling power. I seriously doubt she would be doing that anywhere Caitlyn may come knocking.

She Could Have Stopped At Any Time! Maddie Even Say So:

You mean that Maddie? The Noxian spy who keeps an eye on Caitlyn from her fucking bed, taking advantage of Caitlyn's grief and guilt over how things ended with Vi? Caitlyn is reminded she has a choice twice. The first time by the spy in her bed, and the second time by Ambessa herself. Her loyalty is being tested. Not her conscious. Ambessa literally put eyes and ears in her bed, and some of yall wanna argue Caitlyn wasn't being controlled. Ambessa assumed the role of Caitlyn's mother, and had her spy take on the role of Vi. And I will say this. Sure. Caitlyn could have gone to Ambessa and called it all off. No more war, no more martial law, the council is in charge again so no more imprisonment and hex-tech experiments. And maybe.. just maybe Ambessa would have row-row-row your boated her homicidal ass home. I rather doubt it. I suspect that conversation would have ended with Caitlyn getting this treatment:

We have been over this already but for a reminder:

Ambessa came here for hex-tech to fight the blackrose. She instigated the memorial attack for her cause.

"I would set the world ablaze to protect our family"

As we will come to see later, her last living child begs her to stop the bloodshed, even offering to go back with her, and all Ambessa can see is weakness.

Other indicators of how she is doing with everything:

"I never expected this to go on so long.. I thought.. I don't know what I thought.."

"Up again?" Maddie tells us Caitlyn hasn't been sleeping

Forbids the use of the cells Vi was kept in

REWIND BACK TO HELLFIRE:

I recently just did an in-depth doc on the strike team, the use of the grey, and what all of this means in story. So I will keep this brief here. but I do want to discuss it as "SHE WAS GASSING KIDS!" is still being vomited up by every double-digit iq booger eater with a keyboard.

Ambessa orchestrated the memorial attack to force Piltover retaliation

The strike team is an alternative to a full-scale invasion by Piltover.

They are hunting dangerous drug lords, destroying shimmer, and hunting Jinx. All three seem fairly reasonable. The issue is not if they are doing something wrong, it's the reason Caitlyn has them doing it. All you have to do is refer to the handy dandy song lyrics they use as Arcane always does to understand this:

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and Living by a couple deadly sins Just to make sure I finish what you began And I ain't afraid to lose a life or ten If it means that I get to win in the end (woo) So I'ma do this on my own, step into the danger zone Pull the pin and watch it blow" (Hellfire Fever 333)

4. Using a crowd dispersal agent that incapacitates bad guys with no documented fatal effects (see multiple characters exposed who are all alive and seemingly well, those images of the people with health issues were from the unfiltered, unaltered smog the Undercity used to live with)to hunt a target who likes to blow shit up seems fair. Also the fact that it knocks people out means they don't have to kill them.

Caitlyn's Remorse And Attempts To Make Things Right:

Literally starts a war with Ambessa to save Vander

Saves a hurt Vi with Jinx's back exposed to her when she is armed

Takes care of injured Vi in her own bed and postpones any judgement of Jinx until Vi wakes

"I Know!"

"We can't erase our mistakes.. none of us"- Equates herself with Jinx

"No amount of good deed can undo our crimes"- Equates herself with Jinx

"Hating you.. I've hated myself.. I just don't have the energy for it any longer.."

Tender moment showing IMMENSE regret during she and Vi's big scene.

The Cost:

One statement I saw opined that there is a difference between remorse and punishment, and that Caitlyn should have been punished. That giving up her seat and losing an eye hardly qualified. Well! Boy oh boy do I have good news for you. Let's take a gander at the physical "not punishment" she acquires willingly leading from the front lines against Ambessa:

Cracked in the head with rifle stock, twice: Skull fractures anyone? how about a lovely concussion?

Stabbed in the stomach: Internal bleeding, bile leaks, intestinal obstruction due to scar tissue adhesions, bowel perforation, the list goes on.

Kicked in the midsection while still stabbed: potential to drive knife deeper lacerating organs and such, just massive pain, potential catastrophic bleeding if a blood vessel was hit, potential rupturing of stomach, kidneys or liver releasing harmful fluids into abdominal cavity, potential for long term chronic pain or permanent organ damage

Leg sweep by Ambessa driving Caitlyn's head into the ground: potential tbi, brain hemorrhage, or further skull fracture, potential vertebral fractures, potential long term cognitive impairment or loss of motor control if spine is damaged

Kicked again: We covered this. Knife is still there.

Ankle pinned/Leg kick/backhand: All sorts of fun things happening to ligaments and tendons. Potential permanent disability. Potential concussion and bruising as well as a whole host of lacerations.

Headbutt with War mask on: Concussion, skull fracture, brain bleed

KICKED OFF OF HER FEET

Pulls knife out of her own body: Potential fatal bleeding, massive pain, possible peritonitis and respiratory distress depending on what all was damaged during the fight with the knife still in her body.

Sacrifices her own eye

Now lets take a quick look at some reasonable assertions for the mental "not punishment" she will likely suffer from after all of this:

Massive potential for PTSD just from the wounds alone

Losing an eye impacts her shooting which is a huge part of who she is and a link to her mother

A woman she shared a bed with levelled a rifle at her neck and pulled the trigger. Caitlyn thought she was going to die.. that doesn't just go away..

look at her face...

She is twenty four people....

4. Guilt over death toll of war

5. Guilt over Vi's possible death from downward spiral

6. Guilt over Vi's possible death from explosion in commune all born from Noxian;s arriving there

7. Guilt over everything done to the Undercity

8. Guilt over perversion of her families ventilation system

9. The fact that from season 1 Act 2 til now, she only ages a year and probably not even a whole one. Refer to my list in the beginning. She has not a single fucking second to breathe or heal from any of that shit

RESTITUTION:

So aside from willingly leading the battle that most of the undercity walked away from until Jinx shows up and almost dying for it, how does Caitlyn start to make things right you may ask? (because it is a start, for those who don't get that. This is the beginning of a story not an end). For the first time in what we understand to be the history of the twin cities, Zaun has a seat at the table. People are REALLLLYYYYY underselling this. I guess because they wanted a whole political treaty signed and to watch Caitlyn get shame-nunned through the street or something. IDK. But what I do know, is that Caitlyn gave away the ancestral seat of house Kiramman, and all the power and authority that came with it, and it now belongs to someone from the undercity. An equal voice. And it's just the beginning. It's not perfect. It's not all wrapped up in a big shiny bow, it feels real. Change isn't instant. It never has been and it never will be, and if you need that to feel fulfilled I understand, but this show was never going to be that for you.

Caitlyn Should Be Executed?:

So back to the original statement. Caitlyn should be executed in the name of peace between the cities. Well, I'll say this. if you see a 24 year old woman who inside of a year had her entire reality imploded, fell prey to the manipulations of a violent war monger close to 30 years her senior if not more, yet found her way back to herself and shed her own blood as a war hero TO SAVE HUMANITY, and your answer is she should be executed. Sure! So long as you admit you have the humanity of a toaster oven you fucking idiot.

To those of you who have continued to read, and share your thoughts, and been open to kind debate and discourse in good faith. You all mean the world to me. As I have said many times, opening myself up to this community has really happed my "real" life in a lot of ways and I love getting on here to appreciate and celebrate this story with all of you. That being said, this particular issue is so god damn irritating to me I am done being nice about it. Have a wonderful day!

[avelera]

I don't think Jayce was ever the one who was against Hextech weapons. I think that was always Viktor's side of the partnership, and I think this for a few reasons:

1 ) Jayce comes from a family of tool makers. Weapons are tools. Jayce's earliest drawings of himself as a mage is him holding a magical hammer. I don't think Jayce set out to make magical weapons but I think he was always open to the idea as that drawing shows us.

2 ) Viktor comes from the undercity, which no matter how you look at when he would have left it for Piltover, was often damaged and harassed by armed Enforcers. Just based on his upbringing, Viktor would be very aware of the fact that any weapons made for Piltover will almost certainly be put in the hands of Enforcers and those will be used against people in the undercity. Jayce does not have this social awareness. I don't think Jayce was at all malicious, just naive,. According to Caitlyn, he had zero political interest before becoming a Councilor and really everything he knew or thought about the undercity came from his partnership and love for Viktor.

3 ) Jayce is genuinely torn on the need for Hextech weapons because again, this isn't a deeply held belief for him in S1, this is him being supportive of Viktor's vision for their shared dream.

Jayce let Viktor be the moral guide for something he didn't really have a strong feeling about one way or the other. This is why he's so torn in S1 when it seems like they might actually need Hextech weapons in Piltover to survive against a Shimmer-armed undercity (in a classic theme of arms race escalation and all it entails that permeates the show). The narrative demonstrates though that this is Jayce's naiveté at play to think the weapons could be used only against their intended targets. Weapons once made will always be used, including against children. Viktor already has this awareness that weapons will be used against the undercity, Jayce gains it through the attack on the Shimmer factory and the death of a child bystander who looks like Viktor. To Mel's credit, she also urges caution and backpedals on her own desire for Hextech weapons in a bid to deescalate the conflict.

4 ) In S2 Act 1, Jayce is all-in on Viktor's vision for Hextech, because he's mourning Viktor who is non-responsive in the Hex cocoon and close to death. Mel, who in 1.09 realized that Jayce and Piltover matter more to her than her mother's approval, also stands up against Hextech weapons.

5 ) But, and this is critical, Jayce has always fundamentally seen Hextech as a tool that can be used for many purposes. That's why when the situation escalates, he pushes back on Hextech weapons on a broader scale, but he is willing to bend enough to make weapons for Caitlyn and her strike team, because he loves Caitlyn and he sees this as a defensive tool to keep her safe, in my opinion, and as an alternative to a war that would be worse.

This is critical to note because Jayce doesn't have an iron spine when it comes to resisting Hextech weapons because it's not his deeply held philosophical belief the way it is for Viktor. It is a received belief that he holds to honor Viktor, out of love for him, and that can be swayed if the specter of protecting another loved one arises. Jayce is wildly conflicted about this, I believe, based on his expression in the forge after he makes Caitlyn's gun, but this is a man who cannot bear the thought of losing another loved one after everything he has gone through.

Hextech was always about love for Jayce, not philosophy, because he is not ideologically driven and never has been, it was always Viktor's ideals he was supporting and he would never fight as hard on that point as Viktor would as a result.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk ;P

[marvelstan0905]

Helloooo can you please write one where Ken is just stressed his practices and barely has time with reader and their baby girl so reader surprises him by taking their bby to watch hin practice and the entire time their baby is just giggling and cheering him on?

"Sunshine in the dark"

Husband!Kenji Sato X Wife!Reader [Oneshot]

TW : petnames/fluff/mentions of overwhelm, sadness and guilt/Emi mention/Kenji's mom mention/not proofread yet/mixed POV

Note : Here you go! Hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the love and support!❤️

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

Swing. Strike. Swing. Strike again. At this point Kenji had been out more times than he could count. His head was everywhere and he felt like he was pulled in numerous directions. The guilt and overwhelming feelings that drowned him where far too immense for Kenji. He couldn't even think of a time when he spent a full day, a whole 24 hours with his wife and beautiful baby girl, d/n. Kenji's little princess was so small, just months old and his mind was eating him for not being there for every single moment of her growth. That was only the cherry on the cake. His mother was still not found. All this Ultraman stuff was dragging him further down. Kaiju alerts left and right. Even if Emi was in a far better place and with her birth mom, Kenji couldn't help but worry from time. That was his baby as well. Then his passion, a reason for a smile on his face was going downhill as well. Baseball, God. Kenji felt like he was sleeping on the field. He was losing plays left and right. He couldn't get much sleep because of his own worrying and the Kaiju alerts which were increasing day by day. Along with that, he was doing his best to be a good husband and father. Trying to change and feed the baby at night, help his wife so she can rest as well but it felt like he was more of a problem than solution to his family.

"Goddammit! You're Ken Sato! The Ken Sato! Hit the ball! Hit the ball!" Kenji roared in frustration as he slammed the bat into the ground before picking it up. As the simulation of an old ball park surrounded Kenji, another ball was picthed and he missed once again. In complete frustration he slammed his knee into the bat. Instantly regretting it, he groaned from the pain and grumbled. "Of course. You're being so stupid, Kenji"

"Go Kenji!"

"You can do it, sweetheart! Just breathe!"

"Dada!"

Kenji immediately whipped his heads towards the stands to his beautiful wife, his daughter and his mother. All three of his favorite girls. Even if one was a simulation. It made Kenji's heart skip a beat and flutter in happiness. His baby daughter, sat on his wife's lap clapping and giggling. The infant finding joy in just seeing her father. Those little joys even made Kenji's frustration dissipate. Even for a moment. With a grin, you leaned to kiss your daughter's head.

"C'mon, princess. Say 'Go daddy'" I gently coaxed my daughter whiles she cooed and babbled. D/n just clapped and giggled calling out for her father with endless joy. Kenji's eyes brimmed with tears. This small moment, this joy meant the world to him. It was just what he needed. His sunshine in the dark.

Even so the simulation of his mother sitting right next his daughter and wife was all he needed. With a quick wipe to his cheeks, Kenji readied himself.

Batter up. Ichi. Ni. San. Ball!

With all his might, Kenji swung and finally hit the ball. The ball disappeared into the landscape of the simulation as Kenji dropped the bat and felt so refreshed. This small win. This trivial achievement. It was..everything to Kenji. At this very moment, he just needed this.

"YAY! GO KENJI!" I cheered for my husband. The simulation of his mother followed in suite urging him to run. Kenji went towards the stands and picked up his daughter. With a spin around, he peppered her face in kisses before running three bases with her safely tucked in his arms. At the very last stretch, just three quarters in from the third to home base, Kenji put his tiny princess down and held her hands tight. "That's it! You're almost there!"

"Come on, little one. You can make the home run for daddy!" Kenji encouraged his daughter who giggled. D/n held onto her daddy's index fingers and with his support she waddled towards home base. With some falls and babbles on frustration, she finally got there. Kenji couldn't help but think of Emi when his baby daughter finally made the home run.

"Home run! Let's go D/n!" I shouted from the stands. My daughter giggled and smiled brightly not even knowing what she was being praised for. Blissfully unaware of the impact her bright smile had on Kenji. "Well done, baby! You did Kenji!"

"There's my girl! Well done, princess" Kenji praised his tiny girl and picked her up holding her tight and kissing her tiny face. D/n clung to her father and nestled into his affection.

"Thank you." Kenji murmured as his cheek pressed against hus daughter's soft hair. Thank you to his wife, his daughter and..of course his mother. He really needed this.

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: i had a "no bald men" rule before he licked a knife... so y'all know my priorities are in order. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (as per usual), Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atreides (it's just such a good prompt i couldn't help myself),

Summary: A month-long engagement to the na-Baron Harkonnen makes you question, whether a marriage can bloom on the grounds of hate. Loosely based on "Special Death" by Mirah.

Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.4 (finale)

The message comes from the Emperor himself. An indisputable order that renders your Father speechless. You've never seen him quite as distraught, as when he has visited you in your chambers to deliver the news. Hands fidgeting, eyes refusing to meet yours, heavy shadows falling across his face. He seems to expect your reaction, not giving you as much as a flinch, when you scream your protests at him. And he should've expected as much, you were always the more impulsive of Duke Leto's children. 

- But the Harkonnens are beasts - you argue, voice breaking - You've said it yourself, many times.

- Actually, I think that was Gurney...

- You've never denied it!

And he doesn't deny it now, head hung low. Never, not once in your life, have you seen your Father give up. Until today. 

Your Mother enters just a few seconds after him, her dress flowing around her ankles as if she had floated in on a cloud. She stands to the side of your bed, hands folded, and an impassive expression embedded onto her features. And the more she speaks of the centuries of breeding, the importance of an union and the powers beyond your understanding, the less you see of your mother. What stands before you, instead, is a Bene Gesserit sister, veiled in schemes and dark plans, which were in the making before you were even born. You curse yourself for not noticing this stranger sooner, and storm off, out of your room, your shawl blowing out behind you like bat wings.

Paul doesn't visit you, but you can hear him, even through the effort of swallowing down your tears. He fights for you against your Father. He would fight for you against the whole Empire if he had to, and your heart swells, as he throws a particularly nasty curse into the air of your Father's study. It doesn't change anything. According to the decree of the Emperror, the oldest daughter of the Duke Leto Atreides will marry Feyd Rautha, an heir to the Baron Harkonnen. A centuries long dispute is about to be put to an end, and all thanks to the small sacrifice, which is your life. All would be well in the galaxy. Really, you should be honored, to be tasked with such a monumental peace treaty.

Everyone in the court seems to know about your situation. Mournful looks follow you, as you walk into the training barracks, ridding yourself of layers upon layers of flowing fabrics, leaving you in a rather tight costume, light enough to beat your frustrations out on someone.

Duncan Idaho meets your searching eyes, and you know he is aware as well. All it takes is one inclination of your chin, and he's up on his feet, sword in hand. Loyal as ever, he stands in front of you, watches with mixed feelings as you enable your shield, no questions asked. None needed. 

He barely has time to put his defenses up, when you charge at him, fury and despair pushing your movements into stances which are clumsy and ill though out. Still, there's power within your strikes, a strength of someone who needs to move, unless they break. So he lets you, for a couple of minutes. He dodges your attacks, pairing some of them, never moving quite into the offense.

The rest of the soldiers scurry off somewhere, for which you will be thankful in the future. They might hear your cries of anger, but they will not see you break. They will not see the way your blade smashes into Duncan's shield over and over again, with no regard for the slow attacks, which would penetrate it. Likewise, they don't see your sparring partner fall to his knees and swipe you off your feet in a split-second movement, making you hit the floor with a frustrated snarl. And they don't see you finally give up, and cry, hugging your blade to your chest, the severity of your circumstance falling onto you, crushing you down.

- Never fight in anger, Princess - Duncan reminds you, voice cautious, and you growl at him like a wild animal - It dulls your instincts, makes you distracted.

- Did you know? - you demand, your sharp voice cutting through his half-assed lecture.

For a moment he looks truly remorseful. His eyes float around the room, and your heart sinks when he sighs deeply.

- I found out not long ago - he confesses - Your Father told me. 

Your blade slides against the floor as you throw it, a raw scream tearing through your throat. Duncan takes a step towards you, hand extended towards your shaking form. But, before he can attempt to touch you, you're up, rolling your shoulders forcefully. Tears stain your cheeks, and you wipe them roughly with the back of your hand, skin becoming irritated almost instantly. There are swords laid out on a small table, just beside you,  your fingers grip the cold handle so hard, your knuckles seem to creak under the pressure. Duncan readies himself as well, dusting off his trousers. 

He's not good at comforting, but he's the best at fighting, and if that's what you need in this cold morning, he'll oblige. 

- You'll make it through, you know - he says, his voice genuine, and you laugh without any mirth.

Your blades clash, faces coming closer as you absentmindedly notice small scars adorning his cheeks.

- You can adapt to anything - you strike against his shoulder, the shield pushes your blade away - We could send you to Arrakis right now, and a week later you'd be riding a damned Sandworm into battle.

To that, you laugh, this time your smile reaching your eyes. The idea is preposterous, but it renders your footsteps lighter, and you twist to dodge a nasty blow to the right arm. Duncan huffs a laugh as well, as you slip through his fingers. He points his blade in your direction, a smirk playing across his lips, and you bare your teeth in a playful display of wildness.

- Careful, Princess, you might scare your betrothed away - Duncan teases, as you roll your dagger in your hand.

- Scare a damned Harkonnen? Do you find me that intimidating? - the idea thrills you just a little bit, you're woman enough to admit it.

- I think you're fucking terrifying.

- Duncan Idaho, you better not be swearing at my Daughter.

Your face falls immediately, as your Father approaches the two of you, shooting Duncan a stern gaze which holds no real threat. Still, your sparring partner raises his hands, his blade tucked away safely into his belt. There's sweat clinging to your skin from all the training, mingling with drying tears on your cheeks, and Duke Leto tries very hard not to comment on your choice of processing recent events. Still, he nods at you, and like a good daughter, you put your blade away, walking from the barracks after him. 

***

The Emperor has called for a traditional, Atreides engagement. A mercy, which you're eternally grateful for. You're not too aware of Harkonnen customs regarding marriage, but given the House's reputation, it couldn't have been pleasant. House Atreides however, took to such matters much more ceremonially, old-fashioned to some. 

Soon, a ship is arriving, with your betrothed onboard, and a month-long courting period willcommence. After that, official engagement and soon after, a wedding. Then, you will be transported back on Geidis Prime, where a life of misery awaits. That's all the time you have. A month.  

The dress, which was picked out for you, is uncomfortable and shows both too much and too little skin at the same time. While your legs are bare and exposed to an almost scandalous degree, a high, stiff collar nearly chokes the life out of you. This whole getup was the idea of your mother, as an attempt to highlight your best features and hide all that might be considered less desirable. 

You have no idea what's wrong with your neck. Perhaps, by cutting off your airflow, your mother aimed to keep you docile. 

She frowns deeply as you tug on the fabric, nerves climbing up your spine, growing more desperate every second. She swats at your hand, and you throw her a look. Out of the corner of your eye Paul smiles at your antics, your only consolation in this hopeless place. 

- Stop fidgeting, you'll tear the dress - Lady Jessica scolds you, and you can sense actual worry underlining her stern voice.

The Harkonnen ship slowly glides into the atmosphere of your home planet, a black, awful thing. Like all things on Geidis Prime, dark and miserable. Soon, you'll join them, adorned in equally black and lifeless clothing, never to see your family again. Never to see the Ocean. Your nails bite into the collar of the dress, you can hear a stitch tear.

- Stop that.

Your hands fall uselessly against your body, as your mother uses the Voice on you. Wouldn't be the first time, you were quite the unruly daughter and Lady Jessica was determined to make a Lady out of you no matter the means. Still, this time, the unnatural tone feels more like a panicked plea,  than a light-hearted scolding. 

- Relax Mother - your voice is sharp, despite the slight tremble - In a months time I'll be gone from here forever, stuck in some blackened cell, wistfully sighing "ooh" "aah".

You place your hand on your forehead in a dramatic display of doubtful acting abilities. When you were younger, your mother would laugh at you, as you enacted scenes from romance books. You would throw yourself at a nearby piece of furniture, pretending to be some wronged lover, or an unhappy bride waiting for someone to liberate her. And your mother would clap her hands, thoroughly entertained.

Today however, she doesn't even crack a smile.

- I don't expect you to be happy about all this - she whispers - But I do expect you to wear your grief with some grace.

A slap would've been kinder, you think, and stare ahead, as the Harkonnen ship opens, and a group of people dressed in black spill out of it like ants from a drowning anthill. Your heart is thrumming hard in your chest, and your hand reaches out, despite all your apprehension, towards your mother. A force of habit, to search consolation within her disregarding the fact, that it was her meddling that put you here. 

Her fingers lace with yours, thumb stroking your palm in an attempt to soothe you. 

Immediately, you know which one of the bald headed Harkonnen is your betrothed. 

He's much taller than you, an imposing figure even despite his rather lean built. His skin is almost completely white, as expected, his teeth are blackened out, as expected as well, and his eyes are bearing into you with an intensity so oppressing, you almost look away. Almost. 

- I present to you, Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen. 

The pale man steps forward, releasing you from his gaze for only just a moment, to trade pleasantries with your Father, who looks beyond miserable as he fixes your soon-to-be husband with a tired look. Then, Feyd Rautha is brought before you.

There's grace to his movements you did not expect, as he pushes his black cloak aside, and kneels in front of you. Harkonnen were known for their bulky ruthlessness, but this one... This one reminded you of a panther, the way his eyes travelled the length of your body, full lips pulling upward into a barely noticable smirk. 

Customs, you remind yourself, as your mother's hand squeezes your fingers. You don't want to let her go, but you do, slowly, with so many mixed thoughts rattling around your brain, it makes your head swim. 

Feyd Rautha grabs your extended hand in such a gentle manner, you're almost convinced the Harkonnens have shaved some poor bastard and dropped him off instead of the real na-Baron. Then, he lifts your palm up, until his lips press against your fingertips, a gesture so tender, your heart does a flip in your chest. And then, it stops all together, when his grip on your palm tightens, and he pulls your hand closer, to kiss it properly. As if he can't help himself, he looks up at you, and you realize. 

You almost got yourself caught, but reading people's intentions have been taught to you as fervently as reading texts, and you can see right through this facade of chivalry. There's darkness in this man, a swirling void, which brings a wave of cold fear upon you. This cunning, depraved creature will soon enough become your husband, and you'll be stuck with him forever. How long will he keep up this impeccable appearence? Was this performence for you, your Father, his own twisted fun, or all the things combined?

With a furrowed brow, you tear your hand out of his grasp, a full body shiver running up your spine at the sight of his self-satisfied smirk. He drinks up your reactions like a man parched, and you fight hard to put on a mask of indifference, as he rises from his knees to stand before you in all his imposing glory.

***

You can feel his eyes follow you, as the welcome committee retreats into the Palace. He doesn't let you out of his sight throughout the feast, which takes place immediately after his arrival, and even now, as he gets ready to "entertain" the court by indulging in some barbaric ceremony of his, his eyes are trained only on you. 

It's uncomfortable, to say the least, having him stare at you, while you sit surrounded by your family, who, for the most part, say nothing. Except Paul. Your dear baby brother, your protector in all this madness. As Feyd Rautha throws his coat to the side, showing off his (admittedly impressive) muscles, Paul leans towards you.

- He looks like a hard boiled egg, don't you think sister? - he whispers and subsequently ends your vow of silence. 

The giggle you let out is caught quickly by everyone around, your betrothed included, before you press an open palm against your lips. 

- Behave - your mother warns, and you try, you really do.

But in the serene light of the fading sun, your soon-to-be husband's head does look frighteningly egg-ish. God, you'll get yourself killed, before the wedding ceremony is even resolved if you keep this up.

You're seated high in an outdoor theater. One of your grandfather's favorite places, where he used to dance with bulls for sport. Where he met his demise.

Feyd Rautha presents his knives to you and your family, their blades glint ominously in the setting sun. Again, you are struck with the sheer grace this man exudes. His movements, despite being forceful and wild, have a beauty to them, as if he was rehearsing ancient dance moves, rather than killing blows.

And, despite your brother's earlier comment, there is something enticing in the way his pale skin catches the rays of bleeding sunshine, slowly creeping towards the horizon. He's almost beautiful, almost handsome enough to consider. 

The thought leaves your head almost immediately, as the Harkonnen servants bring in his apparent opponent. Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight of a beaten, dark skinned warrior. Immediately you recognize a Fremen, you've read so much about them in your free time. You know how they filter water, what they eat, how they move through the sands, and despite your knowledge you can't fathom, why this poor man has been brought here. 

At your side, Paul shifts in his seat, all jokes leaving him in a hurry. The both of you watch, as the man you're promised to toys with a clearly drugged victim. Slashes bloom on the prisoners skin, blood sprays in the air. You refuse to look away, to show such weakness, even as Feyd Rautha grabs the poor man by his hair and with a forceful push impales his throat on the blade. Blood pours down onto the sand, paints the Harkonnen's face and chest a deep shade of red.

It's a brutal display of power, of cruelty and wildness the Harkonnens are known for. Suddenly, everything Gurney has warned you about, while training your fighting skills, rings like a thousand of bells in your ears. This is who you will marry, who you will spend your entire life with. 

You swallow down an urge to throw up, and stand up from your seat. 

The show must go on, you think, throwing your Mother one, venomous look, trying to force her to understand your pain. Then, you lock eyes with your betrothed, who watches you from below with a cruel smile, blackened teeth on full display. You meant to congratulate him, to play the part as instructed, but you can do nothing of the sort. Instead, you stare back at him, disgust flowing from your features like a broken faucet. 

Lady Jessica opens her mouth, but before she can, without a doubt, scold you again, you're out of the seating area, your footsteps echoing in the halls. 

Once you're sufficiently tucked away from prying eyes, your back hits the wall, and you allow yourself feel the luxury of unbridled panic. Your breathing comes out in fast, shallow pants, as cold sweat forms on your forehead. Thoughts racing, your fingers tangle into your hair, tugging at the roots. This is your future, the only future waiting for you, and it's filled wth pain and blood.

- Have you enjoyed the fight, my Lady? - you immediately know it's him, despite not hearing him speak before.

A gasp of surprise leaves you before you can catch it, and your back straightens almost painfully fast. 

There he stands, tall and lean, and terrifying. Blood still decorates his torso creating a contrast that is both terrifying and hypnotizing. He watches you, curiosity and humor swirling behind his eyes. You can't decide whether they are completely blackened out, or if they hold a blue, almost serene hue. 

- No - you answer, finding your voice entirely too shaky for your liking - I did not enjoy it.

He laughs, a guttural, low sound that makes the hair stand at the back of your neck. You know he wouldn't dare try anything here, right under your Father's nose while the engagement is still in the making. Yet, as you stand frozen, just you, him and the marble walls around you, dread finds home in the pit of your stomach.

- Was that man Fremen? - you ask, partially to fill the silence, partially because you're genuinely curious.

The man shrugs, you can see muscles moving under his white skin. He takes a step towards you and you will yourself not to run.

- Sometimes we bring a couple of captured desert rats home - he explains with a nonchalant tone - Mostly for entertainment.

The almost bored intonation he uses to describe this barbaric ritual makes something boil deep inside you. 

- That's cruel - you counter, emotions flowing freely onto your face, much to the man's delight - To deny those men the honor of dying on their home planet. To drag them into a completely foreign place, just to kill them for sport, like some animals... It's...

- Some of them live - he cuts you off, taking another couple of steps towards you, but in your growing outrage, you barely notice - Our brothels are filled with Fremen whores.

Your face twist into an expression of utter repulsion, and Feyd Rautha raises his eyebrows in a pathetic mask of confusion, almost childlike giddiness lighting up his eyes as he looks down at you.

- Oh, don't give me that look, my Lady. - he cooes, and you've never felt a stronger urge to slap the daylights out of someone - I know for a fact there are brothels on your planet filled with hungry soldiers.

- Yes - you bark back at him - but the people there are working prostitutes, not slaves!

He shrugs, looking somewhere to the side of your face.

- A waste of money, if you'd ask me.

- Good thing no one has - there's venom in your voice, and your betrothed sucks a breath through his teeth.

You curse yourself for leaving your dagger, for not concealing it somewhere in this ridiculous dress, because the way the Harkonnen's expression shifts freezes blood right in your veins. 

He looks at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, while something much darker lurks in his eyes. His bloodied hand comes up, finger making contact with the exposed skin of your shoulder. You can feel the thick liquid stick to your flesh, as he drags his hand down, painting you, marking you.

- You're quite the little viper, my Lady.

Watching him silently, you don't respond. Don't know how to, when he closes the distance between your bodies enough to make you feel the heat radiating off of his chest, while the smell of blood and sweat completely assaults your senses. It's sickening, the way he looks at you, like you're a new toy, just waiting to be unpacked and destroyed by too eager hands. 

- My Uncle, the Baron, has instructed me, to be the utmost gentleman to you. To woo you completely - his voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he grins down at you - But I just can't lie to my future wife like that, can I?

He leans closer and finally, you take a step back, sliding out of his space, assessing a cautious stance. His hand almost follows you, the skin of your shoulder feels conflictingly cold without him.

- Once we're wed, I will possess you completely - this time you stand your ground, as he approaches, circling you like a lion stalking it's prey - And then...

He leans down beside you, shoulder to your shoulder, close enough for you to feel his hot breath graze your ear.

- Like the bull that took your grandfather's life, I shall pierce you.

The violent innuendo doesn't slip past you, and with hatred brewing behind your eyes, you look straight at him, forcing your fear to lay dormant. 

- You're disgusting.

- And you're blushing like a lovely, virgin bride should - he concludes, sending an awful wink your way, before withdrawing from you completely. 

Your veins burn hot, as you watch him leave, a selfish confidence painting his steps, and you beg every God in existence to grant you a sword in your hand. Or a dagger. A kitchen knife would do as well. Anything, that would help you cut this unbeatable, patronizing, infuriatingly handsome smirk from Feyd Rauthas face.

Alas, you're left with nothing, only a small glimmer of hope dangling in front of you, after your damned betrothed's words fully register in your brain.

A bride you might be, but certainly not a virgin one. Duncan Idaho made sure of that many years ago. The thought makes you smile, despite nerves wreaking havoc in your body. At least that's the one thing Feyd Rautha won't be able to take from you.

[luvelve]

˚ · . lucky strike - c. seungcheol

summary: your first time giving head to anybody and lucky for you, that anybody happens to be your boyfriend seungcheol. you’re kinda nervous because unlike you, this isn’t his first time.

pairing: bf!seungcheol x afab!reader

genre: smut (18+ minors dni!)

wc: 2.9k+ (got carried away again :<)

warnings/tags: making out, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, lots of praise, softdom-ish!cheol, shy & inexperienced reader, bigdick!seungcheol, mentions of food & alcohol, seungcheol & reader are a bit tipsy, use of petnames (baby, angel, pretty), throatfucking, gagging, crying, finger sucking, cum eating

a/n: this is tiktok’s fault for always showing me “he’s the type to talk u through it” type of men. and to me, that sounded like none other than choi seungcheol !! so here we are. forgive me for any warnings i may have missed :< as always, likes/reblogs/feedback are highly highly appreciated ok bye <3

it’s been bugging you for weeks now. it first crossed your mind when you and seungcheol were driving home from a night out with close friends and it just dawned on you how you and seungcheol haven’t done anything yet. well, aside from making out.

seungcheol had told you from the beginning of your relationship that he wanted to take it slow with you. he didn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. he also told you that things would fall into place eventually and that there was no need to rush. you loved that about him.

but, being the massive over-thinker that you are, you also can’t help but compare yourself to your other girlfriends who have been in longer relationships and what they have possibly already done with their boyfriends.

you feel like you’re ready to do more with seungcheol and that you’re not just pressured by the people around you. you so badly want to bring this up to him but every time you try, you end up steering away from the topic.

the wall clock reads twenty minutes past nine; it’s a friday night and you and seungcheol are in his apartment already in your pyjamas when you should be dressed for a fancy dinner, stuffing yourself with pasta and wine somewhere in hongdae.

it’s been snowing nonstop these past few days and even on the one day that you and your boyfriend reserve every week to go on a dinner date, whether it be at the fanciest restaurant seungcheol can get a reservation at or the mcdonald’s just a few blocks down from his apartment, mother nature just won’t let up.

the two of you were left with no choice but to cook the ramyeon in seungcheol’s pantry. you also thought it’d be a good idea to bust out the remaining bottles of peach and grape flavored soju that had been left over from your camping trip over a month ago.

that was all over an hour ago, soup bowls and chopsticks long forgotten on the table, soju bottles empty, with some random sitcom playing on netflix in the background. you now find yourself on the couch straddling seungcheol’s lap, with your lips heavy on his. both of his hands resting on your waist, just above the band of your his boxer shorts.

breathy moans erupt from the base of his throat and it makes you dizzy. his plump cherry lips find your ear, your jaw, and your favorite spot: your neck.

"baby..." he whispers in between kisses, his hot breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine. all you can do is look at him with heavy-lidded eyes and continue kissing him, but this time sloppier and more desperate. seungcheol notices this and matches his pace with your own, your tongues fighting for dominance.

you don't know if its just you or the alcohol that's in your system, but you know that you want to do more than just kiss seungcheol tonight. plus the fact that you can practically feel his bulge growing under you isn’t helping either.

"nng.." you groan, breaking away from his lips momentarily and resting your forehead on his. your jaw falls slightly open, trying to find the right words to say and immediately, there's worry and confusion painted on seungcheol's face.

"baby, what's wrong?" he says in a hushed manner, his right comes up to your cheek.

“angel, did i do something? hey, you can tell me. hmm?” he adds, not breaking eye contact with you. he carefully fixes his position on the couch, not wanting to bother you.

“i… i-uhh…” you cut yourself off, you’re not nervous but you do want to be careful of how you say it. seungcheol looks at you with his big wet baby cow eyes, silently telling you that you can tell him anything.

“okay… so i couldn’t be more grateful for you wanting to take things slow with the both of us. i mean, really. a-and while i love love being with you like this.. like this close to you…” you trail off, hoping he understands or at least has a bit of an idea of where this is going. you kinda hate how he’s not breaking eye contact, you can practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin.

“mhmm…” he hums in agreement, biting down on his lower lip as he tries to suppress a smile. he does know where this conversation is going but he wants to hear it from you. his hand falls to the small of your back and he caresses gently, you can feel the callouses of his hands through the thin fabric of your sleeping shirt.

“i feel like i’m ready to… you know… do more with you.” you add, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up. you slouch so you can hide in the crook of seungcheol’s neck but he stops you from doing so. “hey hey, i wanna see your face.”

“so is that what my pretty girl really wants, hmm?" he exhales, the sweet look on his face now wiped away. he sits a bit upright, looking at you with dark eyes. you've never seen him this enamored by you, almost like he's hypnotized, and you haven't even done anything yet.

you only give him a slight nod, your breathing getting heavier, feeling like your heart's about to jump out your chest. again, you don't know what's gotten into you but downing soju in such little time definitely fuels what you're about to do next.

you move your hands from seungcheol's chest and onto his shoulders for stability as you rock your hips back and forth. you start slow and then pick up the pace when you see him lean back onto the couch and close his eyes for a few seconds with his jaw slightly open. you can feel his length get harder each passing second and it sends a pool down your panties.

you lean in to kiss him on the spot near his ears and on his neck and this sends shockwaves through his entire body. he feels like his dick is about to explode and all he wants to do right now is pick you up and lay you onto your stomach so he can have his way with you. but, for now he wants to savor this moment with you.

“mmh, just like that, angel.” he says softly, draping one arm over the couch and the other still holding on to your hips to help keep you stable. his words make you feel good, reassuring you that you’re doing something right despite never having done this before.

your right hand then leaves his shoulder and reaches down to massage the growing bulge under his sweatpants. you look down at him with hooded eyes, hand palming over his cock that’s dying to be sprung free.

“baby, can i put it in my mouth?” you ask. seungcheol’s turned on but also completely thrown off because if anything, he wanted to taste you first. aside from wanting to throw you around and bully his length into you, he’s always dreamt of being in between your thighs and tasting your sweet juices all while you tug at his hair as his name rolls of your tongue.

"i-uhh, baby are you sure you wanna do this? he replies, pushing his own fantasies aside first because he only wants to do more with you only if you're sure you want to. "yeah, i know i wanna do this. i've thought about it for quite some time now." you clarify. and that’s enough for seungcheol.

“okay, angel. i just wanted to hear it from you again." he claims, eyes fixated on yours. he quickly catches your lips for a deep kiss, you can feel the want that radiates off of him. he then interrupts, "although i was hoping that i'd be the first to... go down on you."

while his offer does sound nice and tempting, the thought of you being naked for the first time in front of seungcheol does intimidate you a little bit. not to mention that he's your first boyfriend. you think that it'll help ease your nerves and make you more comfortable if he goes first. a win-win situation, you tell yourself.

"well, i really like how that sounds... but i'm just super a little shy to.. y'know. be naked and all." you admit, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. seungcheol doesn't know whether to be mad, disappointed, or annoyed at himself because you feel this way. he thinks that he may have failed at being your boyfriend because you don't feel entirely comfortable around him. you immediately notice the shift in his face and quickly say something, "and it has nothing to do with you, i promise! it's just... i-i've never done this before." you run your thumb over the pout that's slowly forming on his lips.

you further explain the win-win situation that you came up with and seungcheol quickly processes your words and doesn't feel too bad about it anymore.

"so... will you let me?" you add, referring to your question earlier. he doesn't even have to think about it, and immediately agrees. "baby, i'd be stupid to not say yes."

"i'm gonna need a little bit of help though..." you whisper, looking at him with dark eyes and once again reaching down to continue palming his clothed cock as if nothing happened. "don't worry angel, i got you. we can go slow, yeah?" his voice breathy, and at this point he's already putty in your hands.

you're quick to get off seungcheol's lap and get on your knees in front of him. you're feeling nervous but also excited at the same time and so you reach for the band of his sweatpants to pull them down. he sees this and helps you, his hands hovering over yours as you do so.

despite this being your first time, there's still desperation in your actions. the way your dainty little fingers grab hold of his sweatpants and the way you look at seungcheol. as you pull his sweatpants down, you fail to muffle a gasp. fuck, he's bigger and thicker than you imagined. you already know that it's going to be a struggle holding him and putting him in your mouth. you feel your panties getting soaked at the sight of his throbbing cock in front of you.

seungcheol sits and watches you eagerly, his thick thighs spread out for you and his length already coated with precum. you sit on your heels, still admiring how heavy his cock is. "something wrong, baby?" he furrows his eyebrows, his eyes locked on yours. you don't know how else to put it so you tell him straight, "nothing, you're just... big."

he grins and even laughs a little, "i know you can take it." and so you do, you take the base of his cock into your hand and attach your lips onto his tip. you lower your head to get more of him into your mouth but you struggle to do so. you’re not entirely sure that what you’re doing is correct but you continue your actions. you come back up to swirl your tongue around his tip and seungcheol closes his eyes, "mmh, fuck. just like that, angel. slowly." he's so turned on by the sight in front of him that he can't even bring himself to close his eyes for too long.

he leans forward to gather your hair to one side and to press a quick kiss to your lips, practically tasting himself. you don't stop pumping his cock and so he moans into the kiss, feeling the vibrations erupt from his throat. he leans back onto the couch, and your mouth is wrapped around him again. your hand is settled at the base of his cock, stimulating him as much as you can while you cover his tip in spit. "use both hands, baby." he suggests, and so you do.

seungcheol watches as your hands and mouth move up and down in harmony and it's taking everything in him not to cum right now with your mouth so pretty around his throbbing cock. you take more of him into your mouth and your eyes are welling up trying to do so. his tip hits the base of your throat and he feels it when you gag. he expects you to stop but instead you keep him there for a few seconds until you have to gasp for air and you feel his body shudder at your actions. "angel, you're sure this is your first time?" he asks, gathering just enough breath.

"mhmm.." you swallow, looking up at him with sweet and not so innocent eyes, shooting him a shy smile. you're hit with a wave of confidence by seungcheol's words. he quickly lifts his left hand to push his thumb into your mouth, wanting to feel your tongue. he feels selfish, as if you sucking him off isn't already enough, but he just has to. you follow him by sucking on his finger without hesitation, doing the same things that you were doing to his cock a few moments ago. "fuuck, you're so pretty like this." he thanks his lucky stars because he has absolutely no idea what he's done to deserve you and what you’re doing to him right now.

your mouth returns to his cock, where your hands are still stroking him up and down. you make it your mission to make him cum tonight, wanting to see him all breathy and speechless. your hands and mouth increase their speed, and so does seungcheol's breaths. you can tell he’s close because his chest is rising and falling faster and you’re pretty sure the neighbors can hear the lewd noises spilling from his mouth. you wrap your mouth around him again and again, your head bobbing up and down while you look at him through your long lashes, slowing down your pace for a few seconds to tease him just a bit. where the hell did she learn to do that? he thinks to himself.

all seungcheol wants to do now is pick you up and throw you onto the couch so he can return the favor, but he wants to give this to you. he wants you to finish what you started, because he knows it’ll make you feel good. “taking me so well, baby. doing so good f’me.” the praises rolling off his tongue as he runs one hand through his hair.

seungcheol can feel himself getting closer and closer to his high and so your hands work double time twisting his cock. you spit on his tip and sink your head down, his cock bottoming in your throat again. as you come back up for air, he quickly bucks his hips up to chase the feeling as he’s on the brink of his orgasm. you can’t help but let out a small choke with tears falling from your eyes. “-m sorry, angel. couldn’t help it.” he quicky apologizes. “s’okay…” you reply with a sweet smile.

“hmm fuck, i’m gonna cum. you ready for me, angel?” he trails off, taking control as he strokes himself and his length just inches from your face. you watch him as his big hand goes up and down his cock at an erratic pace. you lift your hands up to rest them on his knees but seungcheol has other plans in mind. “uh-uh, hands on your sides.” he says firmly, and you comply. he wishes he could take a picture of you right now, obeying him and being his good girl.

“open your mouth.” seungcheol adds, his demeanor now completely different but you love that he has two different sides to him when it’s just the two of you behind closed doors. your jaw quickly falls into an ‘o’ and soon after, seungcheol reaches his high. he feels his orgasm throughout his entire body, fireworks shooting down all the way to his ankles. his vision goes white and his body writhes in pleasure. white ribbons of his cum shoot out from his tip and onto your face and in your mouth. you feel the warm liquid on your tongue and you don’t know whether to spit or swallow.

you close your mouth just enough that your lips don’t touch, the salty liquid resting on your tongue. you wait for seungcheol to come down from his high, his breathing getting slower as his hand moves from his cock and onto his thigh. your chest swells with pride because you couldn’t believe what you just did to him. your eyes are focused on him as he leans forward, “you can spit or swallow baby, it’s up to you.” he says, and you feel his breath fan over your face as he brings his hand up and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe off the cum that’s on your cheek and just below your lip.

you finally close your mouth and swallow his salty release, completely tasting him. he watches as your adam’s apple bobs up and down as you do so. “good girl.” he comments, ultimately sending butterflies to your stomach. seungcheol then wastes no time to connect his lips with yours, tasting a little bit of himself. this time around, you’re the one moaning into the kiss and biting his lower lip. he deepens the kiss, holding your cheek to get better access. it’s not rushed though, it’s one that says ‘thank you’ for giving me the best head of my life.

he pulls away and you feel his arms at your sides, pulling you up. he slots you between his thighs, your knees sinking down onto the couch and he looks up at you. “your turn?”

© luvelve — please avoid copying, reposting, revising and/or translating my work on any platform.

[lustfulslxt]

1949 ⭑ Matt Sturniolo

Chapter One

summary : you move back home with your brother and click with his friends, though the tension is high with matt and it turns into something more

warnings : brothers best friend trope, slow burn, tension, sneaky relationship, swearing, eventual smut, slight traumatic past relationship with reader’s mother, and probably some other stuff

a/n : each chapter will have a different collage solely based on what takes place in it. kind of a new idea but i’m gonna run w it. if you don’t like it, use your imagination and pretend it’s not there xx

3.4k words

prologue

—

Surprisingly, after the long and heartfelt hug, things were quiet as the three of you make your way back to the car. Your dad insisted on carrying your belongings for you, leaving you arm in arm with Nate, who refuses to leave your side.

The lights on the car flash as your dad unlocks it, heading towards the opening trunk to place your luggage in it. Nate opens the back door for you, holding his hand out, motioning you to get in. You easily slide through, the fresh aroma of black ice filling your senses. A wave of familiarity washes over you, striking you with old memories you’re so fond of.

“Are you okay?” Nate asks from beside you.

You glance at him with a smile before furrowing your eyebrows, “Yeah. How come you’re not up front?”

“Oh come on. I’ve spent thirteen years without you, I don’t ever wanna leave your side again.” He admits with a bittersweet laugh, then pauses, “Wait, unless you’re more comfortable—“

You stop him from getting back out by grabbing his arm, instantly shaking your head. “No, please stay.”

He gives you a smile, taking place right beside you again. Your father opens the door on the opposite side, and starts to scoot in before stopping as he looks at the two of you in the back.

“Wait.. I have to drive?” He questions, feigning absurdity.

“Dad!” Nate chuckles, leaving you all giggling as your dad gets behind the wheel to get you all home.

Home.

It’s weird to think that. You’re going home. It’s you, Nate, and your dad in a city you used to love, but now seems so foreign to you. You can only hope things start to fit together again.

The car ride is silent, the three of you just taking in the abrupt new change. You’re over the moon to be back with them, but you can’t help but notice the difference. And of course, things are going to be different as it’s been thirteen years. You just didn’t really know what to expect.

As you watch out the windows, the scenery becomes slightly familiar and it takes you a moment to realize where you’re at. You recognize the side streets, every turn, every tree, every house. And then you’re there.

Your eyes widen as you take in the house in front of you. Slowly exiting the car, you view the house from top to bottom. It’s exactly the same.

“You never left.” You find yourself stating.

Nate comes to your side as your dad retrieves your bags, “We wanted to stay here in case you ever found your way back home.”

Tears prick in your eyes and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming mix of emotions. Without a word, you lurch into Nate’s arms, engulfing him in a massive hug. His embrace is warm and welcoming, making you realize just how much you missed him.

Pulling away, he gives you a sad smile, rubbing your arm in a comforting manner. Your dad places a hand on your shoulder, causing your attention to shift to him. You immediately wrap your arms around him, yanking him into a much needed hug.

“Enough with being all sappy and shit. Let’s get inside, it’s cold as hell out here.” Nate chuckles.

You smile and follow them in, your heart rate increasing with every step you take. You’re in awe once you walk through the door. It’s been years, but everything’s still the same, aside from a few upgrades. It still gives that welcoming feeling you’ve desperately longed for.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Nate asks.

You look towards the staircase where your dad is headed, before looking back at your brother. He has a sort of hopeful look on his face, though you can still see he’s a bit unsure. You swallow the lump in your throat and give him a small upturn of your lips, nodding in agreement.

He starts up the same steps you used countless of times years and years ago, beckoning you to follow him. Your shaky hand grasps the railing as you do, the wooden steps slightly creaking beneath your weight. As you round the corner, you notice your dad standing outside the door to your old bedroom.

“Uh—we didn’t change anything, we kind of just left it as it was.” He starts, his tone of voice a bit nervous, “We did get a new bed when your grandma said you were coming back, figured you’d like more room as opposed to a twin. Oh, and your clothes were just pulled out to make room for what you have now. They’re packed away in the garage. I know your taste has probably changed, so we can do whatever you want with it. ”

You’re left speechless as you hesitantly cross the threshold. Your mind is flooded with old memories that you seemed to have forgotten.

“Well, we’ll leave you to get settled in.” Your dad says, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“But—“ Nate is cut off by a tug from your father, pulling him out of the room.

As soon as the door closes, you turn back around to take it all in. Your eyes are wide as you observe your surroundings. Today is full of surprises, you almost don’t even know how to deal with it all.

Your walls are covered in that same pink pastel wallpaper, spare flowers scattered all across them. Your floor still has that white fluffy carpet that you were obsessed with when you were five. The chalkboard is covered from top to bottom with old writing from when you and Nate were little, but you notice something in the corner that looks a bit different.

I miss you so much sis

The tears flooding your eyes slip, streaming down your cheeks as your fingertips brush over the words. You wonder what it’s been like for them. Was it as hard for them as it was for you? Was it even worse?

You take a deep breath and continue around the room. Your small desk is filled with coloring books and writing utensils just like you left them the night before you were torn away from your family. Your toy box is overflowing with all sorts of things — dolls, stuffed animals, legos. You have a giant kitchen set on the side of the chest, one that you vividly remember you and Nate playing with. There’s a small bulletin board by your window, covered in pictures from your younger years.

Being with your family in your old house, your old room, brings so many feelings to the surface. You’re super glad to be home, but you feel so sad. Sad that you’ve gone so long without them, and you’ll never get that time back.

Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of your bed, before letting yourself fall flat against it. It’s soft and plush, just how you like it, and the fact that they remembered makes you smile.

You don’t know how long it’s been as you lay there in silence, but your eyes feel droopy and you’re practically fighting sleep. However, it takes merely minutes for it to consume you, and you drift off into a much needed slumber.

-

The sweet and smokey smell of syrup and bacon fill your nose, causing you to scrunch it up as you slowly become conscious. Your eyes are heavy and it takes a minute to adjust to the bright light shining through the window. After a moment, your body begins to wake up and you find yourself rolling over in search of your phone. Running your hands through your sheets, you sit up in a slight panic, only to feel the hardness beneath you in the back pocket of your jeans. You pull it out to check the time, shock flooding your veins as you read 12:47 PM.

“Holy shit.” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief that you slept so long.

You swing your legs off the bed, planting them on the ground as you reach your arms up to stretch. Your back subtly cracks, pulling a satisfied groan from you as your legs slightly twitch. Rolling your head from side to side, you stand up and follow the pleasant interruption that awoke you from your peaceful tranquility.

As you make your way downstairs, you hear shuffling in the kitchen. The sound of grease popping is heard, followed by a loud yelp. Quickening your stride, you round the corner and see Nate watching the stove from quite a few feet away.

“Um, are you okay?” You question, your voice still a little groggy with sleep.

Nate jumps at the sound of your voice, whipping around with wide eyes. “You’re awake!”

You give him a crooked smile, your eyebrows knitting together, “Yeah…”

He recomposes himself and points at the stove, “Sorry, dad had to work and I, uh- I was tryna make you breakfast.”

You bite back a grin and walk forward to the stove, turning the burner down. The extra grease popping ceases, it now only softly bubbling around the bacon.

“You just had the temperature too high.”

Nate chuckles, “I didn’t know you were a little chef.”

“Oh no, I just had to learn to fend for myself.” You match his laugh, pausing at your own words. “Um, sorry I slept so late. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep last night.”

“You’re good.” Nate shakes his head, “I know you were probably tired from the flight, different time zones and whatever.” You nod in agreement before he continues, “If you want, you can go shower and do what you need to do while I finish this. Just make yourself at home, it’s yours too.”

A warm smile graces your lips as you nod once again, “Yeah, okay.”

You turn on your heels, heading back to the stairs. You look back once more, watching Nate bounce all over the kitchen, and laugh to yourself at how he’s still the same as he was. Quickly you head upstairs, in desperate need of a shower to help wake you up and relax you.

Entering your bedroom, you go straight for your bags. You pull out everything you need in order to get ready for the day — a towel, washcloth, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a simple outfit to wear. After gathering all of your little supplies, you head to the bathroom.

Flicking the light on and shutting yourself in, you move to lay everything out on the counter. You place your washes in the shower, turning the hot water on. As you wait for it to heat up, you hang your towels on the shower rack, and begin to brush your teeth.

Once you finish, you strip from your clothes, and step into the scalding hot water. A content sigh falls from your lips as the water pellets continuously rain down on you. You run your hands through your hair, letting it soak up the water.

You find yourself staring off into space, your thoughts consumed by this new life you have to readjust to. You've wanted it back for so long, and now that you have it, you don't know what to do with it. You feel unsure of what's to come, the looming anxiety paired with an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. You just hope your family can help you navigate these new adventures ahead of you.

Snapping out of your thoughtful trance with bright red, and tender skin, you proceed to wash yourself up like you intended to. Having spent quite some time just staring off, you rush to finish cleansing yourself.

After you're done, you shut the water off and begin to dry off. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap the towel around your hair and move to the sink. You begin brushing your teeth while you air dry before getting dressed. Shaking your hair out, you hang your towel to dry, then make your way back downstairs.

"About time." Nate calls, "I was beginning to think you got on another flight without saying goodbye."

Your face droops, guilt taking over your expression as you stare at him.

His smile falls, "Too soon? I'm sorry."

You muster up a half smile and shake your head, "You're good, just wasn't expecting that."

You sit across from him at the table, both of you having a plate of breakfast in front of you. You notice a cup beside your food and look in it, eyeing its contents.

"It's tea. You still like tea, don't you?"

You grin, "Love it."

His face mirrors yours, and the two of you dig in. Your chewing falters for a moment, and you suddenly realize you should've waited until you finished eating to brush your teeth. Taking his thoughtfulness into consideration, you push past the bitter taste and continue chowing.

"Can I ask you something?" Nate breaks the silence.

You nod.

"What was it like?"

You figured he would hit you with that question sooner or later, but for some reason you're unprepared to answer it. You set your fork down and place your hands on the table as your stare at him.

"Uh," You pause, "It sucked. Mom was — I don't know. It just sucked."

He hesitantly nods. You can see that he has more questions, but he lets them go. There used to be a safe space between the two of you. You never had to worry about overstepping boundaries and swallowing your curiosity. You want that back.

"If you have something to say or ask, go ahead." You offer.

His eyes light up and he takes a moment to think. "Um, I-I just want to say that we know it wasn't your fault. Despite not seeing you for over a decade, I know how you are. It was hard for us, so I can only imagine how it was for you. We don't blame you for it. And if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm always here."

You feel a weight lift off your shoulders as you swallow the lump in your throat. You needed that. You needed to hear him say that he knows it wasn't your fault, because even though it wasn't, you were worried they would blame you.

"Best little brother in the world." You smile.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "What do you want to do today?"

"I have no idea." You admit with a laugh as you shrug, "Definitely wanna unpack, and maybe go shopping for new things. I only brought my essentials with me."

He nods, "We can do that."

The two of you finish your breakfast over small talk. Nate says he'll clean up while you start on your room, so you head up there.

You immediately pull your small speaker out, connecting your phone to it to play music. Getting started; you move all of your clothes into your dresser. You have a few perfumes and lotions that you place on top. A few pairs of shoes, you place in your closet. After emptying all of your bags, you're left with your journals.

Shortly after the move, you started going to therapy to help cope with things. Your therapist recommended that you write every day, even about the littlest of things. So, you did. Every single day, even when you didn't feel up to it, you made sure to jot down at least something — your feelings, what you did during the day, things you wish to do, etc.

Setting them in the drawer of your nightstand, you move onto your old belongings from when you were just a little girl. You gather the majority of everything, placing it all into several piles. You find yourself smiling at the memories resurfacing from going through it all. Oh, how badly you wish you could just go back.

"Hey." Nate's voice sounds from the doorway. "I brought this."

He holds up what looks to be a photo album. You meet him at your bed, both of you taking a seat as he sets it in between both of you.

"I figured maybe you would want to see some of this."

You eagerly nod, letting him open the album for the two of you to go through it. You find yourself smiling fondly at the old pictures of you guys as a family. There are pictures of you and your dad, you and Nate, Nate and your dad. You can't help but notice that your mother is nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures.

Nate seems to notice your confusion, and elaborates, "So, dad took them all out. It was hard for him; he was really mad at her. We still have them, I'm pretty sure they're just packed away in the garage with the rest of her stuff."

You nod, understanding that things had to have been difficult. You continue to go through the pictures, laughing together and commenting on every memory. However, soon enough, you're also nowhere to be found.

Your smile soon fades as you go through the pictures of your dad and Nate. From Halloween to baseball games, to dad teaching him how to golf. You even see a picture of Nate at graduation, and it brings a grave feeling to your gut. You've missed out on so much, and there's no getting it back.

Swallowing the pain, you point to a group photo of people you don't recognize. "Who are they?"

"They are my best friends." Nate smiles brightly. "They're triplets. That's Nick, Matt, and Chris. I met them in middle school, we played hockey together."

"Triplets, huh?" You say, "That's a new one."

"Yeah, they're amazing. Never a dull moment with them, that's for sure. They're pretty wild to be honest."

You give him a smile, "That's good. I'm glad you have good friends; you guys seem like you have a good relationship."

"It's awesome." He nods in agreement, "Actually, they want to meet you."

"Me?" You question, incredulously. "They know about me?"

"Really?" Nate gapes, "Of course they know about you. You're my sister, and they're my best friends. I talk about you nonstop."

Unable to help yourself, you're leaning over to pull him into a hug. He's always been the sweetest. He knows exactly what to say almost all the time.

"So, are you down?" He asks as you both part from the hug.

Your eyes widen, "Right now?"

He shrugs with a grin, "Yeah, why not?"

"O-okay." You agree, mirroring his shrug.

He pulls out his phone to presumably text them and have them come over. The two of you go downstairs before he leads you to the backdoor.

"They usually just come straight to the back, so we can just hangout out here if that's cool with you."

You hum in approval, already making your way around the backyard. Nate props his phone up against a flowerpot, running out into the yard with you.

"My sister's back!" He cheers, jumping on your back.

You stumble a bit, caught off guard, laughter pouring out of you as you quickly catch him. You turn towards his phone, a giant smile on your face. You're filled with a happiness you haven't felt in so long.

"I'm back." You copy, giving the camera a thumbs up.

He slides off of your back, picking you up and twirling you around. You let out a small yelp, joyous sounds floating in the air from the both of you. The two of you throw your arms up, cheering like maniacs, just like old times.

Your movement halts as you hear a car pull over the gravel in the driveway. Several car doors open and shut, before quick footsteps make their way to the back gate.

You're suddenly extremely nervous, bringing your hands together in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat when you see a hand reach over to pull the latch. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of your next move. Your heart races in your chest, and it's confusing to you. You're just meeting your brother's friends; it should never be this serious. But for some reason, as you listen to the creaky hinges swing the door open, you're met with a wave of undeniable tension.

—

a/n : sort of a lil cliffhangerrr lol. gotta keep yall on your toes :-)

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @chrissfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @strnlsblog @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita @junnniiieee07 @pepsienthusiasts @gamermattsgf @cupidsword @iloveneilperry @matt444nixi @sturniololol @evieolo @dlyansworld @luv2matt @nmegamett20 @angelic-sturniolos111 @stasiesturn @zivall @similartokayyz @fratbrochrisgf @ifilwtmfc

[surielstea]

Friends Don’t Kiss

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Azriel and reader refuse to accept their feelings so Mor and Cassian interfere.

Warnings: Fluff | Slight Angst | Suggestive

5.3k words

The storm outside my large window rattles me awake. I jolt upward at the next clap of thunder, rain sputtering down onto the glass wall so harsh it was as if it might shatter.

My heartbeat picks up as the wind howls intensely on the outside of my walls. I slip from my sheets and walk over to the window, pulling the curtains closed. I jump again when another thunder strike booms, the sound reminding me of an unfortunate event that happened as a child, I could still remember the fear on my mother's face as she anxiously peered out her window whenever a storm rolled in. I didn't know why she was so scared then, but now that I've reached adulthood I realized— the uncertainty of it, the wildness that could kill anyone I love based on a whim, and I'd be able to do nothing about it.

I tremble, deciding sleep would be impossible with how fast my mind was racing. I walk over to my bedroom door, deciding to fetch a glass of water to calm my nerves. But when I open the door I'm met with a figure on the other side, preparing to knock. "Azriel," I begin looking up at him with creased brows. "Hey, you alright?" He asks. He was one of the only people who knew about my fear of storms like these, likely because he was the one I went to when feeling particularly scared.

"I'm fine I just—" My breath hitched as another strike of thunder snapped and a shudder racks through me, my body passive as I wrapped my arms around Azriel's torso and held him close, praying to the mother he'd hold me back. Of course, he does. One of his hands comes to my back while the other weaves into my hair.

"You're okay. Everything's okay." He reassures, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of my head. Another boom and I squeeze him tighter, as if he might disappear from my grasp. "Why don't you come to my room tonight?" He offers and I nod into his chest. He slowly detaches from the hug and I do the same, his fingers finding mine and intertwining them as he pulls me out from the doorway of my bedroom and across the hall.

His room was much larger, as well as his bed— made to fit Illyrian wings. I invite myself onto his mattress, sinking into the plush blankets. I slip beneath them as Azriel slides onto his side of the bed, his arm curling around me before tugging me right into him. I flip around to face him, our legs intertwined and our chests flushed against each other.

"Thank you, Az," I mumble, his hand brushing up my waist to cup my cheek. "You don't have to thank me." He shakes his head. Another crack outside the window but I don't jump, not while in his arms. "Go to sleep, I'll be here if you wake up alright?" He reassured, his tone light. I nod and he kisses the top of my forehead before wrapping both of his arms around me and tucking me into his chest.

I release a soft sigh as I allow myself to melt into his warmth, his chin propped atop my head as I cuddle into him. My heart rate was still rapid but now for an entirely different reason. I hoped he couldn't hear it, or that he'd blame it on the thunder. The last thing I needed at the moment was for him to find out I loved him just as much as I hated storms.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I shift as a certain weight lifts from my torso, and then a familiar warmth disappears and I shiver from the newfound cold. I flip over with an incoherent mumble, reaching to the side of me but not finding Azriel's bare torso, instead my hand comes in contact with a soft pillow. "Good morning, love." A familiar voice hums and I squint my eyes open, spotting Azriel beside the bed staring down at me with a gentle smile on his lips.

"Hi," I mumble tiredly, rubbing at my eyes. I looked to the window where only a sliver of sun was rising over the horizon. "Too early," I grumble, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders. "Come back to bed." I lift the blankets for him, inviting him back into the warm embrace of his mattress but he only chuckles. "I've got a mission." He hums, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair behind my pointed ear. I grab his gloved hand and intertwine our fingers. "Where?" I glance up at him and then down to the mesmerizing siphon on the back of his palm. "Spring court, another meeting with Eris." He sighed and I nodded, tracing my finger around the cobalt gem. "Be safe." I slip my hand from his. "I'll still be in bed when you return." I hum with a cheeky smile and he frowns.

"No goodbye kiss then?" He tilts his head I scoff and gaze up at him, only to realize he's staring straight at me without so much as a hint of amusement on his face. "Oh, you're serious?" I arch a brow. "What if a beast attacks me on my way back?" He gasps theatrically and I roll my eyes before reaching up and grabbing him by the collar, tugging him down. "Shut up you drama queen." I giggle before placing a kiss on the corner of his lips— much closer than I aimed for but my delirium due to exhaustion seemed to take control. "I'll see you when you get home," I murmur as I back away and lie my head back down. "Right, home." He nods, slightly stunned before backing away towards the door.

I flip around to avoid watching him leave and wait until I hear the door click shut. Only then do I allow myself to let out a long sigh, then scream into the pillows, cheeks heating as I curse myself for kissing so damned close to his lips. Azriel and I have been giving each other kisses on the cheek since we were little but this— this was different.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"It was my first time going out with a female and yes, it was just Rita's— but I don't know, I got nervous." Mor ranted as she told me about her date with Emerie. "Mor, there's no need to stress. Emerie is one of the sweetest people I know, I doubt you scared her off." I reassure. "Really?" She looked to me hopelessly and I gave her a soft smile. "I guarantee she hasn't shut up about it all training. I could ask Nesta for the details if you'd like?" I arch a brow. "No!" Mor's palms come down onto the counter with urgency and I startle. She quickly retracts her hands and crosses her arms. "Sorry, just tense about all this." She muttered. I wave her off. "But enough about my love life; I heard you woke up in Azriel's bed this morning?" A knowing grin etched across her dazzling features and I flush. "It wasn't like that." I shake my head, looking down at the sketch in my notepad, we were making a list of where Mor could take Emerie on their next date but I got distracted and started doodling while she told me about her first date.

"If it's not like that, then why are you drawing him over and over again?" Mor leans over to peer down at the paper. My eyes snap down and I notice how all of the portraits were in fact of Azriel. Every single one. Gods, I was embarrassing.

I tore the paper from the notepad and crumpled it up before tossing it in the trash. "Hey! Those were good." Mor pouts. "Those looked nothing like him." I cross my arms.

I've tried to draw Azriel a multitude of times, but something was always off. How do you draw someone so perfect? It seemed utterly impossible. I couldn't even get his eyes right. His perfect hazel eyes—"Hey," Mor snaps her fingers in front of my face and I jump, looking up at her. "You're daydreaming again." She hums and I roll my eyes, closing my sketchbook and placing my pencil down. "Tell me about him." She props her elbows onto the counter and leans into her hands. "I know you want to." She gives me a smirk and she wasn't wrong.

"There's nothing to tell," I say evasively, if I talk about him I face my desires and I wasn't interested in taking my feelings for Azriel anywhere past a crush.

"Oh please, you guys have been ogling at each other since before our hundreds," She looks at me pointedly and I shrug. "I can't understand why you don't just confess," She slides into the barstool next to me. "He doesn't see me like that," I mutter and she deadpans, wondering if I was serious or not. "Don't be ridiculous, it's obvious from the way he looks at you." She hums and I perk up. "How does he look at me?" My eyebrows twitch together.

"Like you're everything." She smiles, leaning back into her chair. "No. We're just friends." I wave her off. "I'm not ruining a friendship because of the way he looks at me." I mock and she groans, flopping onto the counter dramatically. "Just confess already, what's the worst that'll happen?" She sighs.

"He’s so repulsed by even the idea that he never speaks to me again, instead he goes to Rhys and manages to get me kicked out of Velaris where I'll never be able to see any of you ever again." I rant in an all too quick tone. Mor just marvels at me. "You've thought a lot about this," She whistled lowly and I nodded. "I would've confessed a long time ago if I thought it a good idea," I murmur and her eyes widen with a new plan. "What if you don't have to confess." She sits up. "I already don't." I stare at her blankly. "But what if we can get him to confess." She raises her brows tauntingly.

"That won't work." I scoff. She gives me a dedicated smile. "Azriel is the most protective male I know, even more so than Rhys, if you tell him you take an interest in someone he'll have to confess." She reasons. "No, he'll say he's happy for me while he's drowning in his own self-pity," I argue and she clamps her mouth shut because she knows I'm right. "What if it's someone he doesn't like?" She arches a brow and I sit up, intrigued. "When Nesta danced with Eris, Cassian was ready to rip his head off." Mor hums. "You want me to make him jealous by talking about Eris?" I look at her with creased brows. "That's exactly what I want." Mor hums. I look to Feyre who's sat at the couch, staring at me like this is the best entertainment she's gotten in weeks.

"Fine," I hum and Mor squeals while Feyre claps her hands excitedly. "What's the worst that could happen?"

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"C'mon Az, of course she likes you back." Cassian grumbles during the journey back to the House of Mist. Azriel could've winnowed them but thought it'd be nice to fly with his brother. He wouldn't have taken Cassian up on the offer if he knew he'd start interrogating him.

"I already told you, I'm not talking about this with you." Azriel reminded and Cassian dramatically groaned. "Well, I'm talking to you." Cassian defended. "I think you should confess—" Cassian begins before getting gusted with a particularly strong wind from the flap of a wing, Azriel leaving him in the dust as he shot forward.

"Gods, you're childish," Cassian grumbled before quickly catching up with his brother.

"Avoiding your problems won't help you!" Cassian called and the shadow singer didn't so much as glance at him. "I'm just saying you ought to confess before she gets swooped up by someone else," Cassian explains and Azriel's wings stutter at the idea.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The shadow singer's head whipped towards his brother, who only shrugged. "She'll get bored if you keep dragging her on like this." Cassian hummed like he knew all the answers to the universe. "No one is going to swoop her up." Azriel scoffed but held some determination in his tone, like this is now his mission. "Sure they won't." Cassian droned before dipping down towards the House.

"Do you think someone will?" Azriel chased him, quick to follow the male. "If I say yes will you be that someone?" Cassian presumes and Azriel pales, sealing his lips. Their conversation is cut short as Cassian dives down and lands on the platform of House of Mist. Azriel quickly follows to do the same.

I was in the dining room with Nesta, the both of us reading our separate books as we sat in front of our untouched plates. The two Illyrians came into the room with a volume I hadn't expected. Nesta rolled her eyes and continued flipping through her book while I marked my page and shut the novel, my eyes going over to the blue-siphoned male.

"Hey," I smile at both of them but only Cassian replies with his greeting. "I made dinner, it's on the counter," I say and Cassian swiveled on his heel and beelined for the kitchen. "You're a savior," The lord of bloodshed voiced as he passed by you, then Nesta, and kissed her on the crown of her head.

Azriel approached me, bending down and placing a kiss on my cheek. I smile and look up at him as he analyzes the book in my lap.

"Another romance?" He arches a brow, I shrug innocently. "It's more than just a romance," I argue and he shakes his head lightly. "You're right, it's also pure smut." Azriel hummed as he flipped through the pages and I slammed down the cover onto the table, Nesta made a hum of amusement but didn't say anything. "You could learn a lot from these books," I say matter-of-factly and he looked at me curiously, standing to his full height over me. I blink up at him as he leans his hip on the high table and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Like how to get a girlfriend." I intone and he rolls his eyes with a scoff. "Or how to correctly pleasure a female," I add and he arches a brow at me, Illyrian pride coursing through him. "You think I don't know how to pleasure a female?" Azriel said coolly, Nesta nearly spat out her water. "I think you're cocky for a fumbling bat." I quip and a vicious smile curves his lips before he leans down and kisses my jaw. "I better get to reading then." He purrs deathly close to my ear before leaving the room.

Nesta looked at me wide-eyed like I'd gone insane. "Have you two fucked?" She whispers as soon as he leaves the room and I shake my head no, a pink tinge staining my cheeks.

"Not yet." Nesta chuckled as she fanned herself with her book dramatically. I giggled and dug into my meal. "How's training been going?" I ask and she sets her book down, deciding to pick up her fork as well. "It'd be better if Emerie would shut up about Mor for five seconds," Nesta grumbled as she stabbed a piece of meat particularly hard. "Why did we think it'd be a good idea to set them up?" She sighed and I smiled, happy that the two girls were equally obsessed with each other.

"I miss you guys," I frown. "I should start coming to training again." I mutter and she gives me a small smile. "I'd like that."

Azriel didn't come to dinner, perhaps made himself a plate then did find a Sellyn Drake novel to read. Knowing the bastard, I knew he would. Cassian however did come trudging in with a giant plate filled with the food I made, some of his favorites. Every bite had him groaning, Nesta kicking him beneath the table at the excessive noise so I took that as my queue to leave.

I collected my dishes and dumped them into the sink before padding down the hall and breezing by Azriel's room, peaking my head in but he wasn't to be found.

"Snooping?" A voice makes me jump and I whirl around to face the quiet spymaster. "Stop doing that." I place a hand on my rapid heartbeat and he smiles at me proudly. "It scares you, every time." He brushes past me into his room and I follow. "And it stopped being funny the first time," I grumble, closing the door of his bedroom behind me.

He took a seat at his desk, most likely to finish up some paperwork so I slid into his bed, looking out at the window as I picked at my nails, watching the flow of the sidra from so many feet above. Lying on my stomach and swaying my feet back and forth with a soft hum, shadows swirling around me to the tune.

I spot the pleasure hall along the river bank, its dark lights beaming its sign. "I want to go to Rita's" I mutter and he turns in his stool to look at me. "Whys that?" He asks and I flip onto my back, sitting up to face him. "I want to have fun." I shrug. Was I seriously going to try and get him to confess now? "Fun," He verbalizes like he's never heard the word before. "I haven't been with a male in a while, Az." I sigh. A long while.

"Well, none of those guys are worth your time." Azriel hummed, turning back around and returning to his work. "Then who is?" I prod, hoping he'd say him, praying he'd just admit how he felt. "I don't know, someone of higher propriety." He shrugs, I get up from the bed and walk over to his deskside.

What I was about to say next would end our friendship, for the worse or the better. "Someone like Eris?" I ask, hoping he couldn't hear how fast my heart rate was picking up. His writing halts and he freezes.

"What?" He looks up at me with pure confusion.

"Eris has a higher propriety, and he's more than interested." I hum. "Are you?" His brows crease. "Interested?" He adds and I smirk. "Would that bother you?" I tilt my head. "No, I just— I think you could find better people to kiss." He evaded and I suppressed a sigh. Why couldn't he confess, just say what he truly wants? He couldn't seem to read my hypocritical thoughts.

"I'm sorry Az I'll make sure to come to you before dropping my panties" I joke but he seems to take it all too personally. "that's not what I meant. I just—" He cuts himself off from saying something he'd regret. "You just what?" I narrow my eyes at him. He looks at me with tight lips like he knows what I'm trying to do. "Spit it out." I prompt with a taunting smile.

"I just don't want you crawling back to me when he's done using you." He finally admitted and my smile faltered.

"Crawling back to you? What am I some kind of burden?" I scoffed at him, I wasn't acting anymore. "No, love I didn't mean it like that—" He reaches for my wrist but I jolt back. "How else could you have meant it?" I mutter, my brows tense as my eyes begin to burn with tears. "I just don't want you to get hurt by someone you think loves you." He tries to explain.

"Too late," I murmur before exiting his room and going right into my room, he chases after me but I slam my door closed, shutting him out.

I lean back against my door, a shaky sigh racking through me as I wait for his footsteps to recede to his room. He doesn't take long, cursing himself before leaving the hall and slamming his own door shut. I release a soft breath and drag my feet to my bed, plopping down onto the mattress in defeat.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, silent tears slipped down my cheeks and I didn't bother wiping them away, just let them drip down onto my pillow. I don't want you crawling back to me. A shudder runs through me at the voice in my head and I tuck tighter into a ball, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders. And even if I was mad at him, I couldn't help but wish I was in his warm bed instead of my cold one.

__________

The next few days were quiet. I hadn't realized how much Azriel was weaved into my daily routine until I started going out of my way to avoid him. Luckily he left for a mission halfway through the afternoon, which relieved me. Still, it felt wrong not to wish him good luck with a kiss on the cheek, not to even spare him a glance as he left.

I haven't stopped thinking about what he said, a different emotion consuming me each time I thought about it again. Usually, it was anger, but sometimes remorse for even pushing his buttons in the first place. I don't even want Eris yet I knew it'd make him mad, I wanted to see him jealous, anything to show that he wanted me and that this wasn't one-sided. I suppose I got what I wanted in the end.

It was sunset now and all I've done today was read through an entire novel to distract myself from my real issues. So I sat on my bed and watched through my windows, the wind howled as clouds rolled over the stars. I suppressed a sigh as I realized a storm would be coming tonight. Azriel isn't home yet, and as much as I wanted to avoid him, I also found myself hoping he got back before it started to rain.

I shifted up to my pillows, perhaps I could find sleep before the thunder began, hoping I would dream through it, I pulled the blankets up to my neck and allowed my bones to sink into the mattress. No tears came tonight but I wasn't hurt by Azriel's words any longer, just mourning the loss of his conversation, his touch, or even his presence at all.

I managed to slip into a light slumber, exhausted from all too much thinking.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Thunder boomed and I jerked upright, my fingers clenching the sheets as my breath began to quicken. Another ear-shrieking crack. I shudder, holding back a gasp and clasping my shaky hand over my mouth. I close my eyes and pray for the storm to go away. Another flash of light outside my window and I'm quick to press my palms to my ears, it does little to shut out the noise but at least I knew it was coming.

I wasn't going to be able to sleep now that I'd already gotten a few hours. I hoped Azriel got home safely, that he didn't get stranded halfway through the storm and had to seek shelter in an unknown court. I wished he was at my door, that he'd be there ready to comfort me if I needed him. But I knew better than to have false hope.

The whole point of all this was to avoid ruining our friendship, but now I'm sitting here with my hands to my ears and a broken friendship.

I perk up, the realization hits that there was no point in avoiding my feelings and that our friendship was already ruined. If we're going to never speak to each other again I'd rather know than stay in the dark.

Before I can talk myself out of it I slip from my sheets, jumping slightly as another loud crash sounds outside my window. I get to the door but as soon as my hand rests on the handle a knock sounds, a specific knock I recognize as only one person. I freeze. Dread fills me. I understood I was just on the way to see him but now he was outside my door and suddenly I was thinking again, talking myself out of opening this door.

I contemplate my options, fingers pressed to my lips as I remain utterly quiet. A loud crack has a small gasp leaving my lips and there's no way he didn't hear it. So I'm forced to open the door. I don't dwell on my choices and quickly swing the door open, looking up at him and clenching the hem of my nightgown in my fist, fiddling with it in anxiety.

His brows are drawn and his lips seem to be in a permanent frown, bags under his eyes as evidence of his lack of sleep. "I'm sorry." He says through a breath he seemed to be holding. "What I said was inexcusable, I just was so upset at the thought of you being with someone else." He admits, then suddenly clamps his mouth shut like even he didn't expect himself to say that."No, I'm sorry." I shake my head. His brows knit together in confusion.

"What could you be sorry for?" He frowns. "I don't want Eris I just, I was trying to make you jealous," I confess. His eyes soften, and then he releases a light, solemn chuckle. "I'm sorry for something else too," I fiddle with the doorknob and he tilts his head inquisitively. "What's that?" He asks. I rise onto my toes and cup his jaw before pressing my lips to his. I backed away as quickly as I came. He blinks at me, utterly shocked.

"Sorry for not doing that sooner." I profess and then his gaze turns into something much softer. He steps forward, past the threshold of my room, his large hands coming to my neck and waist as he pulls me towards him, his lips catching mine and I melt into him.

The kiss is everything I dreamed of like electric shocks running from the tips of my fingers to my toes. He leaned down, kissing me deeper, he needed more. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer. He smiles against my lips at the action and I can't help but mirror the expression.

"Fuck, I missed you." He hummed and I giggled, pecking his lips between words, just because I could.

"I missed you too." I grin wildly, then jolt when a bolt of thunder strikes down. His arms wrap around me tighter and I press my chest to his, the warmth more comforting than anything else. "Want to sleep in my room tonight?" He arches a brow and I smile up at him, then nod with a bright expression. He mirrors my features, his dimples creasing his cheeks and I marvel at the sight. He picks me up from under my thighs and my legs wrap around his torso.

I peck a line of kisses up his jaw as he carries me through the hallway and into his room, leaning back against it to shut it. I hum mindlessly before kissing his lips again, drunk on the taste of them. Wanting to do it all the time now that I had the option. I backed away, looking at him as he stared at me in an utter daze, a soft smile on his face as he observed my every move. "You're so pretty." I admire, brushing a finger across his cheekbone. "I was just thinking the same thing about you." He looks into my eyes and I flush, then his eyes flick back down to my lips and I take the hint, coming closer and resting my mouth against his once more, slotting to him like two ends of a puzzle, savoring the feel as he filled every empty pit and crevice of desperation inside of me.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I awoke with bleary vision, squinting my eyes open and resting them upon the sunrise outside. Dawn creeps over the mountains in pink and purple hues. A weight rests along my waist, tugging me closer unconsciously until I'm pressed up against a familiar chest. I smile wildly as I remember the events of last night and flip around to look up at a half-awake Azriel.

"Morning, love." He hums, I've heard the deep tone of his morning voice hundreds of times before but none of those compared to this moment. "G'morning." I look up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning forward, and pressing a gentle kiss to his sensuous lips. "I could get used to this." He mumbled and I backed away with a chuckle, snuggling into his chest and releasing a soft sigh.

He rolls over onto his back, his wings adjusting beneath me as he pulls me up on top of his chest. "Do you have any missions today?" I ask him, propping my head up on his sternum as he looks down at me through his lashes. "My schedule is clear." He informs, fingers tracing up and down from my waist to my hips, spanning the distance with his large scarred hands.

"Just for me?" I teased with a head tilt and he nodded. "Just for you." He confirms before I settle my lips back onto his, gods I couldn't get enough of how perfect it felt like we were two sides of a magnet meant to be pressed together, couldn’t be torn apart without the utmost force.

The door to the bedroom opens and shadows swirl around us. "Hey Az do you—" Cassian begins as he invites himself into the room. "How many times do I have to tell you to knock Cassian!" Azriel shouted at his brother, throwing a pillow at him. The general caught it with ease, his eyes practically glowing with excitement.

"I'm not sorry." Cassian proudly shakes his head. "We could've been fucking." Azriel mutters sourly, his wings coming to wrap around me. I was only in my nightgown, nothing Cass hadn't seen before but now that Azriel had the right to be overprotective he was going to use it.

"You say that like we didn't use to fuck different girls in the same room when we were in Windhaven." Cassian reminds him pointedly, another pillow is thrown at him and I giggle because this time it actually hits him.

"What do you want?" Azriel demands, eager to return to kissing. "Do you have any bandaids? I have a paper cut." He held up his pinky which had a small nick in it. I tilt my head at him, confused as to how some of the greatest warriors couldn't lay a finger on him yet here he stood defeated by a paper cut.

"In the bathroom cabinet under the sink." Azriel waves him off, shadows guiding the male to the door as he flips the both of us over, his hips coming to rest between my thighs, his head stuffed into my chest. "Have fun you two!" Cassian calls and I snicker as shadows slam the door closed on him.

"Bastard," Azriel grumbles into my breasts and I look down at him with an amused look. My hands go into his hair, pulling his head back to look at me. His hands trace incoherent shapes on my thighs, his gaze catching mine. "What are we?" He asks and I grin down at him. "Friends." I taunt.

"Friends don't kiss." He shakes his head, leaning down and pressing his lips onto mine.

"I'm only kidding." My hands come up to his cheeks, thumbs rubbing his sharp cheekbones as he stills a mere centimeter away. "I've been reading those romance books," He admits. "Oh really?" I arch a brow and he nods. "I think I learned how to get a girlfriend." He admits and I smile at the recall. "Did you learn how to properly pleasure a female too?" I taunt, coiling my fingers in his hair as he watches me attentively before replying, "Would you like to find out?"

Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glam-targaryen @going-through-shit @fauxdette @impossibelle @amara-moonlight @webecheesy-blog @sarawritestories

@lees-chaotic-brain @mell-bell

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[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 1

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope

A/N: Hello, beautiful people! I know most of you are waiting for another part of my Soldier Boy SMAU, but truth to be told, I have NO idea how to continue that story yet. I’m still waiting for the fanfic muse to kiss my face and tell me what to do. In the meantime, please, enjoy this little something that will end up being a mini series.

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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You didn't know how to breathe. It felt just like if your lungs were under a press, making it more and more impossible to get oxygen minute by minute. Never in your thirtysomething of years ever thought you’d have to experience one of the greatest tragedies of life; your daughter, your whole world, just disappeared.

The detective in front of you was muttering some words your brain couldn't really register until now.

“Miss Y/L/N, you hear me?” he asked with a hint of concern. “I need you to tell me how you found out your daughter’s missing. Any detail could be crucial.”

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You stood outside the police station, staring blankly at the pale glow of the streetlights. Inside, the officers had told you  to "stay patient", to wait for updates. They’re doing everything they can, they said.

But it wasn’t enough.

Emma was only four, too young to be out of sight for this long.

She had disappeared right from your front yard, where you had only left her alone for a few moments to grab your phone. It had been late afternoon, and the neighborhood was quiet. No strange cars. No unusual noises. 

When you came back outside (just mere seconds later) Emma was gone. 

The police had checked the neighbors’ cameras, combed through the nearby area, and interviewed everyone around. But there were no leads. No ransom demands. No nothing. They were starting to treat it like a case that could stretch on for weeks or months.

But you couldn’t wait that long.

It was already taking too much time, and your mind went to places it never ever should have. Is she still okay? Is she scared— What a stupid question, of course, she’s scared. Up until now, her world was simple; just her mother and her. 

“Miss Y/L/N” a quiet voice came from behind your shoulder. You turned and see a policeman–Lt. Candero, according to his nametag. “I know I’m speaking against ourselves, but you have to understand. We have regulations to follow. Our hands are tied. But–” he started reaching for his back pocket “I might have someone to help you” he said and handed you a card. A name and a phone number.

Colter Shaw.

“He isn’t tied down like us. His methods may be a bit… unorthodox, but he helped to find my wife’s brother a few years back when our station couldn’t. He might be able to help you.” he said quietly, then looked around to see if nobody saw this exchange. 

You understood. Recommending a–what was this man again? A tracker? Recommending a tracker, it was probably against everything his profession stood for. You quickly looked down at the card and then back up to say your thank you, but he was already gone.

Colter Shaw. At first, the name didn’t strike you as unusual. Colter Shaw. Shaw. You hadn’t thought about this name for a while. Could this be a coincidence?  

Anyway, it wasn't the time to contemplate. You needed to find Emma.

And right now, this Colter Shaw was your best chance.

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The night had settled in by the time he arrived. You watched from the window as he pulled up quietly in front of your house. You opened the door before he could even knock. 

"Miss Y/L/N?”

"Y/N” you corrected. “Thank you for coming" you said, stepping aside to let him in.

Colter gave a small nod as he entered, his eyes quickly glancing through the living room, taking in the space as though every detail might offer a clue. 

"Tell me again" he said as he sat down on the couch. It was clear he was drawing out details the police may have missed. "Everything you remember from the moment she disappeared."

You sat down on the couch next to him, clasping your hands together in an attempt to keep them from shaking. "It was late afternoon. Emma was playing with her dolls on the porch while I ran inside for just a minute to grab my phone. When I came back out, she was gone. I called for her, searched the yard, but she wasn’t there. The gate was closed. She couldn’t have left on her own." Your voice cracked as you remembered back at the ominous moment. "I searched the whole neighborhood. Cried and screamed even. No one saw her."

Colter listened intently, not interrupting you. There was something in his eyes that made you feel as if he wasn’t just absorbing the details, but he was already a few steps ahead. He was thinking of possibilities you or the police couldn’t see yet.

"There was no one around?" he asked.

You shook your head. "No strangers, no cars I didn’t recognize."

Colter nodded, as though that detail confirmed something in his mind. "This wasn’t random" he finally said. "Whoever took her had been watching. They knew your routine, her routine."

Your heart skipped a beat. Why would anyone stalk you? Or worse, why would anyone stalk Emma?  "But why? Why would anyone—"

"People take children for a lot of reasons" Colter interrupted with a careful tone. "But this feels targeted. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. And that means they’ll make mistakes. I’ll find them."

You nodded feeling a flicker of hope at his confident words. "What— what do we do now?"

"We start with the yard" Colter said, standing up. "I need to retrace what happened. Look for signs the police might’ve missed. After that, I’ll want to speak to the neighbors, anyone in the area who might’ve seen something they didn’t realize was important."

You stood, watching as he moved toward the front door. Your mind was racing. How could this be targeted? Who would target you? And why? You were no one special — a single mother living with her four-year-old in the suburbs of Idaho Falls. Had no enemies — except for the occasional work rivalries between you and some of your colleagues, but other than that, your life was plain and simple.

"You really think this wasn’t random?" you asked Colter, following him outside.

He paused by the door, glancing back at you. "I’ve seen this before. This kind of precision. Someone planned this, and that means there’s a reason. We just have to find out what it is."

As you stepped outside, you couldn’t shake the creeping fear that this was bigger than you had imagined. It felt deliberate, like someone had been watching, waiting for the right moment. But why Emma? What did they want?

Colter crouched near the edge of the yard, running his fingers along the ground. You stood nearby, watching as he scanned the area. The yard looked so ordinary, so unchanged. But to Colter, it seemed to hold details you hadn’t noticed, things the police had overlooked.

"So she played here, right?” he asked and then you nodded. “Footprints here" he muttered, pointing to a small section of dirt near the gate. "Different size from the ones around it. Someone stood here recently."

"The police didn’t mention any footprints."

"They wouldn’t" Colter said, standing up. "They’re looking for obvious signs, not subtle ones."

As he moved toward the gate, you felt a heavy weight pressing down on your shoulders. You couldn’t breathe, again. Whoever had taken Emma had planned this. They had been watching her, your daughter, knowing exactly when to strike. But who? And why? 

You kept repeating these two questions.

As if reading your thoughts, Colter turned to you. "This isn’t over, Y/N. Whoever did this left a trail. I just have to find them."

You nodded, but deep down, something still gnawed at you. Your guts were telling you that there was more to this.

And for the first time, you wondered if your daughter had been taken not because of who she was, but because of something — or someone — she didn’t know.

“Tell me about her father” Colter said, still scanning the area.

You froze for a moment. You had expected him to ask about Emma’s father. But not yet, at least. You stared at him, trying to figure out how much to say. How much did he know? Or was he just following a hunch?

"Sometimes, the past has a way of catching up to people, even when they’ve left it behind" he added.

"He left" you said. "Before I even knew I was pregnant. I haven’t heard from him since."

It wasn’t a complete lie. Russell had been gone for years, disappearing from your life before you even knew you were pregnant.

Well, maybe he didn’t disappear, maybe you pushed him away. But you had your reasons… reasons you weren’t ready to share with Colter.

He was never part of Emma’s life, never even knew she existed. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that Colter might be right. Maybe this was connected to Russell.

Colter’s expression didn’t change at your revelations, but you could sense his mind was working, putting pieces together. He wasn’t asking for the emotional history; he was looking for facts, details that might explain why someone would take Emma.

"What was he like?" Colter asked, leaning forward slightly. "Did he have enemies? Anything that stands out in your memory?"

“He...” you started. “He never talked about his past. He was… secretive. Once I–” you took a deep breath, contemplating how much to share. “I realized he lied to me. About his job. And… and I told him to get out of my house, my life” you said. It was an insanely outlined version of your story, but you hoped it was enough.

"And…no contact since then?" Colter asked.

You shook your head. "Nothing. Not a single word.”

For a moment, you both fell silent. You could see Colter’s mind turning, sifting through the information, trying to make sense of it. Then, his voice broke the screaming silence.

"Y/N, I need you to think carefully. Is there any chance —any at all — that this could be connected to him?"

You felt a cold shiver run down your spine at the question. You had tried so hard to convince yourself that Russell was just a chapter in your past, that he had nothing to do with the life you had built with Emma. But now, with your daughter missing, the nagging doubt inside you was just impossible to ignore.

"I don’t know" you admitted finally.

Once again, you couldn’t help but think of the name that had been haunting you since this shitstorm began. Shaw. Colter’s last name was the same as Russell’s, and though you hadn’t asked, the possibility plagued your mind. Could Colter be connected to Russell? Could he know more about your past than he was letting on?

You didn’t dare ask. Not yet. Not until you had more answers. But the question stayed in the back of your mind.

And now, the only person who could help you find Emma might be the one with answers you were afraid to uncover.

After taking a deep breath, you said. “He was dealing with… some dangerous people.”

"Who?" Colter asked, his voice low but firm, pushing gently. "What kind of people?"

“It’s– uh, it was some organization, I think. I don't know what they do specifically…” you stammered. “Russell said it was Horizon or something.”

Colter's face tightened. Horizon? The Horizon Group? And Russell?

Something flashed in his eyes. Recognition, most likely. For a brief moment, his usually composed expression fell, and he looked away, as if piecing together a connection.

"Russell..." Colter said, his voice quieter now, almost as if testing the name. He took a step back, his mind clearly working through the sudden flood of new information. "What did you say his last name was?"

This was it. The moment you had been dreading, the one you had skirted around ever since you first heard his name. "Shaw" you said, barely above a whisper. "His last name was Shaw."

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Phew. We’re in for a ride.

As always, I appreciate any kind of feedback.🤍

xx Pam

Read Chapter 2 here

[throneofsapphics]

against the contract, chapter two

poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

summary: If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare

warnings: d/s dynamics, non sexual submission

word count: 2330

a/n: if anyone wants on the taglist please let me know! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter & happy kinktober y'all!

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You twirled in front of the mirror for what you promised yourself was the last time. It wasn’t giving the vibe you needed it to. Groaning, you ripped your dress over your head, tossing it into the corner of your room. Too puffy. Too frilly. They were expecting the you they saw that night at Francine’s club, not some prissy and polished version. 

If it wouldn’t get you arrested, you might’ve just shown up naked. It’s a shame you had to drive there, and you’d surely get pulled over with your luck. Cops, you wanted to avoid at all costs. 

Rummaging through your closet, something hiding in the back caught your eye. The fabric, a midnight black according to the tag you just ripped off, still smelt new. You shook out the couple of wrinkles that had settled in, and slipped it on. 

Barely managing to zipper in by yourself, you spun slowly, not twirling, you told yourself, in front of your mirror. Glancing at the clock, you decided it would have to be enough. As it stood, you were already running late. Grabbing a small handbag, you shoved your essentials and the contract inside of it and walked very quickly out the door. 

They were about a forty-five minute drive out of the city, into an area you knew was teeming and crawling with “fuck you” wealth. You’d done private parties out there before, always making great tips. At least to you, the wealthy had been generous. Maybe luck would strike again. Rapping your fingers against the wheel, you hummed the catchy tune showing up on your shuffled playlist but couldn’t remember the artist or song name for the life of you.  

Just approaching the property, you could see how well taken care of it was based on the beautiful, giant holly trees. They both cast shade over the path, and blocked off any view of the neighbors to the left. If there were neighbors close by. You caught glimpses of gardens and beautiful native greenery through the trees on your right. The driveway was paved the entire way through, two lanes, and at least a mile long. The price they were offering started to make sense. It was probably nothing to them. 

Finally pulling up to the house in your rather economical car, a splurge to you a few years ago, you felt decidedly like an underdog. Not that this was some sort of superhero story, but your vehicle certainly was out of place amongst the several high-end black SUV's visible. All identical, all with blacked out windows. You frowned, blacked out windows were for criminals and politicians. Who exactly had Francine sent you to meet? You reminded yourself of the freedoms the payout of this job could afford you, and of your promise to yourself that if looking at them made you want to throw up, you'd leave.

The driveway finished in a circle, an elegant manor greeting you. Vines grew directly in the white stone, snaking up the columns supporting the second story balconies. With a squint, you could see a chandelier through one of the bay windows on the front of the house. The french doors, obviously the front entrance, were filled with panes of beautiful stained glass, looking as if they’d been stolen from a church. It looked like one of the ones you and your mother used to drive by for fun, to gaze at and wonder about their lives. A pang of nostalgia and grief hit you, quickly overshadowed as you remembered you had a job to do. 

Stepping out onto the smooth stones, you brushed your dress down and gently closed your car door behind you, clicking the key to lock it. The front doors opened before you began to ascend the stairs, a dark skinned woman greeting you with a small, albeit a bit distant, smile. It took conscious effort to keep your jaw slammed shut as she guided you inside the massive manor house. Still, you knew the whites of your eyes were showing. 

”Maybe you should be on your knees,” she murmured quietly as shoes clicked against the tile flooring in the distance. 

“Excuse me?” You matched her tone. 

She gave you a look that simultaneously said, ‘you heard me’ and ‘your funeral,’ and left you standing there. Alone. You understood you were to stay put, but gods you wanted to follow. Steeling yourself with a few breaths, you clasped your hands in front of you and waited. 

-

“I informed her, I imagine she’ll be standing,” Nuala murmured in his ear as they crossed paths. 

Rhys nodded. You hadn’t been informed of any rules of the like, so he hadn’t expected you to do it, but he wanted to throw something out there. For fun. Feyre was glaring at him, but he was sure she’d like the results. 

“Ready?” He asked Feyre and Azriel quietly. The former hummed angrily, the latter giving a short nod. Az was always the most nervous about adding anyone new to the household, regardless of how thorough his background checks were. It took ages for him to truly trust anyone and Rhys respected him for it. Feyre, on the other hand, tended to give away her trust too quickly, and paid for it later on. 

They rounded the corner and you stood there, hands clasped in front of you, a fire in your eyes as if you’d come to some decision during the span of the last minute you’d been left alone. 

”I wasn't informed there would be a test run.” There was a bite in your tone that thrilled and worried him at the same time. As fun as they were, they weren’t looking for a brat right now. 

”Is now inconvenient?” Stars danced in his eyes as he posed the challenge. 

”No.”

”Then on your knees.”

Like a puppet with its strings cut, you dropped, elegantly slowing yourself so the impact wouldn't be too harsh. Your hands found their way behind you, fingers interlaced, head bowed, the same portrait of submission he'd seen that night. His worries eased. Feyre let out a slow breath next to him, Azriel was stoic as always - almost always. 

Rhys took a step closer, Azriel followed and circled behind you, Feyre standing off to his right. Surrounded. He liked the idea of the three of them overwhelming you, some day. 

-

”Perfect,” you could've sworn you heard him say, but … that didn't seem likely. The three of them were like Gods and a Goddess. You were no comparison.

It went against all training but you peeked up through your lashes to look at him, to find him staring right back as if he was waiting for this. Fuck. You quickly averted your gaze and he chuckled.

Time passed, they retreated but you knew they were still in the room, watching.

Thoughts began to empty from your head, not quite throwing you into subspace but somewhere … floatier.

Somewhere free of your current worries and obligations, a reminder, despite the results of this 'test,' of why you loved this, of why you were a submissive.

”You pass,” the words came, then a hand. You didn't hesitate before taking it. 

Another hand, warm and firm, gripped your shoulder and held you upright while you got your legs back beneath you. You grimaced as pins and needles ran up and down your shins. 

”Let's get you some water,” a voice, low and cool like shadows, said, the speaker's mouth just inches away from your ear. His hand tucked itself appropriately into the crook of your elbow, guiding you back towards where they’d arrived from. You noticed a few golden rings on his fingers, blue gems set deep into them. They were gorgeous, and probably worth more than you were. Scars peppered his skin, but you knew better than to ask about another person's wounds. No matter how healed they were, a wrong question could open it right back up. 

“Okay,” you breathed, still trying to get your entire mind back in this world. Their presence, the sheer power they radiated, was intoxicating. You were almost ashamed you’d ever thought they might be ugly, and reminded yourself to thank Francine. The bat might faint when you do. You’d been blessed with the sight of the three most gorgeous people you’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. Maybe you were still a bit addled but they felt like a gift to your fucking eyes, and you were very glad mind reading was impossible - existing only in some of the fairy porn books you read - otherwise you would have three gorgeous people laughing at you, and that wouldn’t do. 

The man, who introduced himself as Azriel, led you silently into a rather formal dining room. He guided you into a seat at a black walnut table, pushing your chair in after you. There was an assortment of pastries and small fancy sandwiches waiting for you. 

Small talk was easy with them, comfortable even. As if they were pros at lulling people into states of security, false or real. 

“So,” Rhys leans back, tilting his chair on its back two legs. “How much of the contract did you show that nosy boss of yours?” 

“None,” you said and made sure to look him directly in the eyes, unsure if you felt offended by the implication you would share the information, or offended on Francine’s behalf. In all honesty it was probably the first. “It’s my business,” you added as clarification, uncertain if you really needed it but it felt right. 

He hummed and nodded, tapping the fingers of his left hand against the table, a silver ring glinting, catching the light from the chandelier. Your eyes tracked to the chair next to him, aware of Azriel on your left watching your every move, and you found Feyre watching you as well. 

She was elegant in a way you’d never seen before, exuding grace with each movement but ... you could see the callouses on her palms, the subtle but telling way her shoulders hunched forward slightly over her plate, like she was uncertain if someone might take her next meal from her. You knew because you’d trained the habit out of yourself. 

Sending a soft smile her way, you waited for their next question, not so patiently on the inside but you were well aware you appeared perfectly content on the outside. 

“I’m assuming you have questions about the contract,” Rhys finally said. 

“I do,” you tapped a finger against the table, frowning. “I have them written down, but it’s in my bag.” 

Azriel was out of his chair before you’d completely finished the sentence, and on his way to the door. You pivoted in your seat, watching him ... very inappropriately for a moment before you caught yourself. Somehow, barely, you managed to keep the flush from your cheeks at the others knowing smirks. 

Azriel was back within a minute with your bag, and you slipped the contract out of it, wondering if someone rifled through the contents while you were separated from it - not that they’d find anything interesting. 

“Right,” you flipped towards the section you’d highlighted a few days ago. 

The Submissive will conduct themself in a respectful manner at all times, unless otherwise requested

“What does ‘unless otherwise requested’ mean?” You asked and turned the paper around, sliding it across the table to Rhys, knowing Azriel had been looking over your shoulder. Plus, it was quite obvious who was in charge. He’d ordered you to your knees, after all. 

“There may be times we ask you to ... play a part,” he clarified, mouth curving up at one corner. Feyre’s lips pursed together, as if she was holding herself back from speaking. Maybe that section was her idea. 

“Does that work for you?” Azriel asked. 

You nodded, before catching yourself, turning to face him and replying, “yes.” 

An approving nod was your response. Even that tiny hint of approval from one of them sent a warm feeling through your chest. Gods, you could feel yourself becoming conditioned to them already, and you hadn’t even put ink on the paper. 

“Any other questions?” Feyre asked. 

You nodded, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and flipping through the papers again. 

“I like it,” you heard Rhys, but focused on finding your section 

L.1 The Submissive will live with the Dominants for the duration of the contract.

“I would live here?” 

-

“We’d expect this to be a full time commitment, meaning you wouldn’t take on other obligations for the months you’d be with us,” his wife explained after he prodded her. Feyre was acting shyer than usual and it was endearing, as well as a tad worrying. He wanted her to feel comfortable around you, and safe, and if she couldn’t ... well he’d pay out the contract and let you go. As pretty as you were, Rhys would put his wife first. 

“That makes sense,” you said slowly, nodding as you thought it over. 

“Any other questions?” You asked a few more. It pleased him that you were taking this seriously, rather than just a money grab. Majority of the people they found saw the sum and were quick to say yes to everything else. He needed to be able to trust someone to actually speak up. 

“That’s everything I have,” you finally said. 

“Then let's sign,” Rhys pulled a pen from his pocket, and Azriel produced two fresh copies of the contract. You had no idea the danger you were throwing yourself into. He wouldn’t ruin you, but you certainly wouldn’t be the same after this. Rhys had a feeling none of them would be.

Later that night, Rhys lounged in an elegant high backed chair, not unlike a throne, with Feyre perched on one leg while Azriel knelt at his feet, and let the whiskey wet his lips and tongue before dripping down his throat. He imagined someone else kneeling next to Azriel. You. 

-

series taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy @yeonalie @daycourtofficial @emidpsandia @thelov3lybookworm @justasillylittlegoofyguy @aactuaaltraash @hannzoaks @angelbunny222 @littlest-w01f @pandabiiissh @rosecobollway @glittervame @tele86 @randomgurl2326 @bookwormysblog @sidthedollface2 @scarsandallaz @therealmoonstone @hannzoaks @grapeflavoredwater @fhgsvbnh

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acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @i-am-a-lost-girl16

[chiara-hotel]

How you met Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Heizou, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Lisa, Ningguang, Hu Tao, Yanfei, Shenhe, Raiden, Yae, Kazuha, Tighnari + Collei & Lyney + Lynette

- Two (very) different options

1. You met him as the darknight hero-who saved you from an attack

2. At the bar while you had a glass of wine and he seemed to like you

- If he did meet you as the darknigiht hero, he'd hope you'd come around to his bar sometime

- And from there you start talking about anything, really

- Kaeya is another person you'd meet at a bar

- He wouldn't be drunk-just lightly drinking

- You both hit it off and start chatting away

- In the end he covers your tab for the night and however much you drank previously because he liked you that much

- And he might see you home if you live nearby

- You would meet him in Angels Share, annoying Diluc for more wine

- He'd strike up the conversation with you, and Diluc would warn him for disturbing others at his shop

- In the end he'd add an extra hundred mora to his tab (which Diluc still wants him to pay)

Albedo would find you in the depths of Dragonspine, shivering from the cold. He only passed by because he was looking for ingredients for certain alchemy crafts-for Sucrose of course. Being the gentlemen he is, he would carry you to his campsite where you could heat up by the fireplace while he made you food to eat and have a chat over.

It wouldn't be until you're fully healed/warmer until you left his campsite, although Albedo told you to come back anytime to ensure you don't freeze to death again. While you stay in dragonspine, you'll see him a few more times as you stay there again.

If you were a human, Xiao met you out on the battlefield. You didn't even call his name-it was simply his duty to fight these creatures and you happened to be facing one at the moment. All he did was kill the monster and then leave you alone, he only started talking to you after you kept getting in danger to which he told you to call him incase you ever encounter anything.

If you were a god or a friend of Zhongli than he'd meet you at an important dinner. Zhongli would introduce you both to each other and than you'd talk from there.

Tartaglia was your boss from the Fatui. You worked under him, the 12th harbinger in combat. He doesn't pay too much attention to the rookies or people under him-you stood out by being the strongest one who works under him. Only then would he challenge you himself (to which you most likely end up defeated).

Two very different routes based on what time you met him as...

As Kunikuzushi he would meet you along with the other swordsmen, crafting the best swords out of everyone. Kunikuzushi would be a little more shy towards you, he doesn't know what love feels like afterall-his mother did abandon him.

As Scaramouche, similar to Tartaglia, you could train under him. Catching his eye as one of the strongest combat fighters who work under him.

As Wanderer, you would meet in the Akademia. While you both combined for a group research project where you had to travel to the desert. At the beginning he wasn't very thrilled with the idea of it but by the end you became friends.

As a detective, naturally he'd find you while doing a case. This specific case was actually a rescue mission and the target to save was you. Luckily with his skills though he saved you as soon as they got the case. After that, you both would talk more.

You met Lisa as you traveled to Mondstadt for the first time. Specifically when you decided to visit the Library to checkout a book while you stay there. Lisa-being the delighted librarian gladly recommended you some books to read and you ended up going home with at least 12 of them.

You worked at the Jade Chamber. Ganyu had hired you as another assistant for the Lady of the Jade Chamber. So on your first day of work Ganyu introduced you both and since then you worked alongside her ever since.

Hu tao being Hu Tao would have a funny meeting with you. Running up to you with a large grin on her face as she proudly presented you with a buy 1 coffin get the 2nd half off coupon! She proudly explained her parlor and how if anyone was dying soon to buy a funeral casket over by her place.

You met Yanfei because you happened to deal with a few legal troubles and decided to hire a lawyer to close the case. Luckily your lawyer was the best of the best and memorized all the laws of liyue.

With Yelan being mysterious you'd have to cause a lot of trouble to meet her a second time. The first time would most likely be her saving you from the shadows-but you wouldn't see her. It would only be if she saw you a lot then she would reveal herself to be Yelan.

Due to your status you knew all of the Adepti that lives by Liyue. Shenhe being Cloud Retainers apprentice would be no exception. So, you knew her from when she was very young-even when you yourself was a child.

If you meet the Shogun, it would be the moment she decides to take your vision. You were a strong fighter and no one could defeat you until she showed up. Raiden wouldn't just not take it even if you looked pretty. After the Vision Hunt Decree occurred she decided to visit you once again as you were walking down the road.

While running away from the shogun you met other resistance fighters-who eventually led you to meet with her during a meeting. This meeting would be one-on one with your group.

While visiting the Narukami shrine you decide to test your fortune of the day! You spoke with the lady there, took your fortune and decided to take a seat over on a rock nearby. You looked around and opened the slip. There it was, the words "Good Luck" on the fortune. Yae Miko suddenly appeared behind you, wishing you well and how lucky you were to obtain the good luck fortune today.

After the Vision Hunt Decree started, Kazuha travelled with Beidou. You, who was from Liyue and knew Beidou eventually met him while helping Beidou out unloading some supplies. Beidou would introduce you both and help you get to know eachother.

After you passed out in the Sumeru Forest, the forest watchers found you and brought you back to their camp for your saftey. Collei specifically would watch over you while you rest, Tighnari would have to do his duties. When you finally wake up, you first speak with Collei! To which then she introduces you to Tighnari when he gets back from his mission.

You met the siblings after a show of theirs, either a VIP meet and greet or you approached them to show how great the show was. Lyney would talk to you more while Lynette puts more effort in the greeting, her social battery is just lower than his.

[charliemwrites]

Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:

(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)

I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.

Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.

Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.

Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.

Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.

Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.

Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.

Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.

They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.

(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)

He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.

At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.

And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.

It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.

(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)

Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.

(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)

And when he’s home…

The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.

And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.

It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.

She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)

[hwnglx]

this combo of sag and scorpio energy in him is crazy 😵‍💫

sunghoon's ideal type

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled song: stand still by sabrina claudio

physical traits

watery and striking eyes. (when their eyes just stand out, he thinks lighter colored or blue eyes are beautiful) classic and traditional beauty. conventionally attractive. powerful presence, turns everyone's heads. feminine and elegant. gorgeous and blinding smile. longer and flowy hair. taller height. water or fire risings! i keep seeing margot robbie or anne hathaway.

personality traits

the immediate vibe i got for sunghoon, is that he wants someone invested. and when i say invested, i mean fully. i've said this a lot at this point, but sunghoon has such a dynamic chart, which shows this clear difference in character according to who he's with. he can either be the most easygoing and laidback, or the most intense and passionate person in the room. just put his lover (or someone he deeply cherishes) next to him, and you'll literally see the gaze in his eyes change.

sunghoon wants someone who can handle his intense nature in love. someone who resembles it to a degree, because otherwise they might get overwhelmed or not understand it. he really needs his and his partners love language, and their values in relationships to correlate. he wants to feel like he shares the same passion as his lover, and not get the impression that he's the only one holding on so tightly, when his partner is just kinda meh about it all. he wants a deep and intimate connection, that goes beyond what anyone else could understand. he wants a person he can have a relationship with, that is separate from all the rest, and special and extraordinary in his life. he draws a clear line between the people he holds extra close to his heart, and his standard “friends”. there's this version of sunghoon only his lovers could tell you about.

he likes it when someone won't get intimidated by his intensity. who can hold their ground firmly, not falter under his gaze. he also likes someone who's just very affectionate and romantic. a person who won't be afraid or too shy to be direct in their display of love for him. he wants someone who knows how to love someone in a proper way, who's good at making him feel loved. i also keep hearing “mother of my children” this man is all about longterm commitment. he wants a family-oriented woman who'd be a good mother. responsible and reliable, but also soft and nurturing.

sunghoon loves the idea of a lengthy relationship. he likes sharing history and memories with his lover. i can see him liking the thought of growing old and maturing with his partner, going through various stages together. he wants his lover to be like an “인생 친구” which means lifelong friend. again, it'd give them this special ability to know each other in and out, have things or inside jokes only the two of them understand.

sunghoon also needs his lover to understand that, although he'll be incredibly zoned in on their relationship, he still has goals and achievements of his own, which he won't neglect for their connection. his job requires a lot of work and time, and the possibility of him not always being there 24/7 shouldn't be a problem for his partner. especially because, he truly wants them to trust him. he is not the type to cheat or look elsewhere if he's in a committed relationship. he wants his lover to understand that, and tolerate his personal ambitions. i can also see him liking the thought of his partner having their own ambitions. he enjoys the thought of both of them being goal-driven and hardworking, but once they come together, they can't see anything but each other. in comparison to some other people, sunghoon definitely likes his lovers to resemble him, rather than be entirely different. i can just see him and a gemini venus being extremely difficult. (funny because sunoo is one and yeah.. their relationship is rather complicated)

him as a boyfriend

+ he's a boyfriend who doesn't rush into anything. very slow burning energy. in the beginning stages, sunghoon will be very curious about you as a person. he prefers getting to know his lovers thoroughly first, really getting a grip on their character, understanding their desires and values before taking the next step. he wants to make sure you're on the same wavelength with him, and get this feeling you're the right one, before investing so much of himself into the relationship. he thinks deep and intimate connections between two people who effortlessly understand each other, require a lot of patience. you just have to know each other's every aspect, he'll definitely want to be the only one to know some secrets, you do not tell anyone else about.

he's an amazing listener. he'll enjoy sitting there listening to you talk about yourself for hours and not get tired of it. literally stare in to your soul while you keep rambling. only interrupt you to ask questions and deepen the conversation.

he's definitely a sucker for intimacy, especially in places where he, and no one would expect it. like whispering things in his ear in public could probably make this man melt. i also keep seeing him hold hands with his partner in public and literally squeeze the hell out of their hand, in this possessive manner. like he's telling you “you're mine and with me.” in a wordless manner. there'll be a lot of silent communication between you, you'll just get each other right away.

there's also a very considerate and calm energy to him, where he'll display this source of peace for you. this is something i've observed about scorpio placements, especially venus', they're very.. understanding towards overemotional people. they can handle people's emotional outbursts, and mostly don't get consumed by it. on the contrary, a lot of the times, they quietly allow you to get your emotions and frustrations out, validate your feelings and not make you feel overdramatic, and try to talk things out calmly with you. let's say sunghoon gets into a fight with his partner; if you start getting angry and throwing things and losing your mind, he's the type to just sigh and sit there and control his own emotions silently while listening to you. he'll probably give you a little time to calm down, and once he feels you're ready to be talked to again, he'll try and talk the matter out in a more rational manner. very emotionally mature and compassionate energy in him. (interesting since i remember in my collective enha ideal type reading, he seemed to struggle with this. he seems to have grown a lot)

- sunghoon can be very hot or cold. it's like once he's with you, everything's great and a fairytale and you feel amazing, but once he's away, it's easy to feel like he forgot about you. he's very busy, so it can be a common occurrence for him to forget replying to you, not talk to you for days, make you feel left alone, because his love can be quite addicting. it's easy to feel dependent on scorpio venus', because they literally make you feel like life without them would be awful. even if you confronted him about this, he could get discontent with you giving him such a hard time about something he can't help. sunghoon draws a clear line between his personal and professional life, which he wants his partners to respect.

i do not see him cheating or doing anything wild, he's extremely loyal. he will not look at any other woman if he's a taken man. however, sunghoon still wants freedom, he doesn't enjoy feeling like you suffocate him while he's working (like spamming him with calls and texts because he isn't answering while busy, that'd frustrate him) yet at the same time he got you to the point of naturally clinging to him. “you made me be like this!” is what i can imagine his partner accusing him of. it can just get draining to deal with someone, who has such contrasting values when it comes to love, and his own ego and career.

[d0youc0py]

Even when he wasn’t working his mask seem to haunt him. He wanted to be here with you- but every time he looked in the mirror he was pulled away. Red bumps littered his jaw and some even around his hairline. He had always struggled with acne, having the acne scars to prove it, but it seemed to be getting worse. He’d been in a hotter climate this last mission, the sweat and not being able to air out his face was taking its toll.

He felt so unattractive. He quickly figured out when you feel ugly- you act ugly.

“Sweetheart, open up.” Simon sighed, his hand knocking at the door to emphasize. You two had just gone out on your first date since he’s been back and he snipped at you the whole time.

“Fuck off!”

Ouch.

“Sweetheart.” He started again. The bedroom door finally swung open. His body tensed at your teary face.

“I don’t know what happened to you while you were out there, and god knows you won’t tell me, but you have no right to take it out on me. I’ve been waiting for you to come home for the past three weeks and what am I greeted with? Hostility. It’s like I can’t do anything right.” You sputtered, glaring up at him. His hand instinctively went up to wipe the tears away from your face. He had never been the best at comforting people, but he would do anything to get your tears to stop.

“You’re right.” He admitted. The glare left your face. He was usually much more stubborn- unless he knew he in the was wrong. You softened. “It has nothin to do with work, at least not in the way you think.” His hand went up to rub his jaw but he quickly stopped himself. “I just haven’t been feeling”- He paused. He brought his hand up and motioned to his jaw, turning his head to the side.

“Si.” You murmured. You had noticed a little flare in his skin, but you didn’t really process it. He was always so handsome in your eyes. Your fingers reached up and traced along his cheekbone. “I understand.”

“Shouldn’t take it out on you though, yeah?” He affirmed.

“No you shouldn’t, but I understand now.” You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his chin. “You’re so handsome, you know.” You mumbled down his neck. He flushed, clearing his throat. “Do you want some help with it?” You offered.

His metabolism wasn’t what it use to be. Luckily the physical activity of his job kept away any unwanted pounds. That was until he was forced to go on medical leave and spend three months ‘taking it easy.’

He would be completely lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it though. Being home with you had been heaven- but a bit of hell on his waistline. He noticed it a bit, but he honestly didn’t think anyone else would. He was rudely awoken when he arrived back at base only to have Soap and Gaz poke fun at him. He knew it was all in good fun, but his first thoughts were about you. Had you noticed? If you did, how did you feel about it? He hushed his own thoughts figuring he would loose the weight out on the field. That was his second rude awakening. He had shed a few pounds, but a few stubborn ones remained poking out over his belt.

“How does Y/N feel about their new pillow?” Soap hummed, plopping down next to him. It had been like this for the past month.

“Sleeps like a rock.” Price grumbled.

“Didn’t know you knew what that was Cap.”

“Soap fuck off.” Ghost growled from across the aisle. “Fucking hell.”

The plane was quiet for a while after that.

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one to be insecure, but this was striking a cord. He remembers being younger and overhearing his mother gossiping in the kitchen about the neighbors.

“Alice has gained so much weight. She’s just gotten married too! Couldn’t imagine already letting myself go like that.”

Letting himself go.

That’s what it was. He didn’t want you- or anyone to think that he had ‘let himself go.’ That it was no longer important to him if you had found him attractive. That the two of you had been married for a little over a year so he could just give up. He shook himself out of his thoughts again.

•••••••••

He couldn’t even get through the door by the time you were on him.

“Welcome Home.” You smiled, pressing kisses to anywhere you could reach. He chuckled, leaning into you. He placed one arm under your bottom lifting you up to him. He dropped his duffle bag at the door kicking the door closed behind him.

“I missed you.” He murmured kissing you back just as desperate. He plopped down on the couch, settling you tightly in his lap. All was right in the world till your hands started to wander.

“You get hurt again?” You questioned after he flinched. Your hands went to pull up his shirt to inspect the damage. He stopped you. “John?” You questioned softly. He tangled his hands with yours.

“You know I have a tendency to be a bit old fashioned.” He started. You pressed your brows together.

“John I’ve seen you naked before.”

“No, love.” He chuckled. “I’ve gained a bit of weight and back in my day that was more scandalous than adultery”-

“You know I don’t care about that.” You interjected.

“I know, that’s what makes this whole thing ridiculous. It’s just something I’ve found out about myself, something that I need to work through.” He sighed, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Does this mean I can’t touch you?” You mumbled, fiddling with his shirt collar. He quickly shook his head.

“Course not.” He whispered.

“Johnny, you’re being too loud.”

That sentence had been replaying in his head like a broken record. You didn’t mean anything by it. You were just keeping him in check. Yet he could feel your embarrassment. The heat rising to your cheeks. The panic in your voice. The way you gave total strangers an apologetic smile when they turned your way. He had always been a naturally loud talker. Growing up with five siblings in a small two bedroom apartment was to thank for that. The fact that he had been around explosives for the past eight years didn’t help either.

“Johnny?” You tapped his arm. His eyes fled from the small paper bowl of ice cream to you. “You okay? You’ve been so quiet since we’ve left the restaurant.”

He couldn’t stop a dry chuckle. He grabbed the small bowl, shoving a spoonful in his mouth.

“ ‘m fine.” He mumbled. You sighed leaning across the table gripping his hand with yours.

“Jo.” You pressed again, flashing him your undeniable puppy eyes. He gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Sorry for the way I was at the restaurant.” He grumbled.

“What?” You asked, leaning forward again.

“I said, I’m sorry for the way I was at the restaurant.” He repeated. Your brows furrowed. Suddenly it hit you. Your hand left his and clamped over your mouth.

“No, no, no, Johnny.” You said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Well I did- but”- You cut yourself off. You rubbed your forehead. Your hands reached out again tangling yours and his together. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad. That wasn’t my intention. I just know you sometimes forget your own volume.”

He gave you a small smile, pressing a kiss to your knuckle.

“I know Bonnie. I just don’t like embarrassing you.”

“We’re just so different in that way Jo. My parents were so strict about how loud I was- especially in public. It’s just a stupid habit I have, but I should never expect you to follow it.” You smiled softly. He smiled back at you, the sparkle returning to his blue eyes.

“I should still work on it though. Don’t want to blow your eardrums out, then we’ll both be shouty.” He chuckled.

“You hate it when I do this don’t you?” You hummed.

“I’m still not use to it.” He sighed, using his thumb to run small circles against your hip. He shivered as your fingers traced over another long stretch mark on his back. He mumbled something and pulled you closer, your body almost completely buried underneath his.

It was no secret Konig was tall. Along with that height came stretch marks. Mostly on his lower back and calves, some even under his arms. Some had faded, a small ridge in his skin to show they were still there. Others were a deeper pink- more noticeable.

“Everybody has them Konnie.” You mumbled, pressing a kiss under his jaw.

“I know.” He purred out as you massaged a small kink out of his back. Truth be told he didn’t really care about them either- until the locker room. That’s when he noticed how excessive his seemed. He had carried that feeling for a while, it wasn’t until he met you did he become more comfortable with it. You had showed him your stretch marks and he saw how pretty they looked on you. He slowly began to figure out that if he thought they looked nice on you, then you probably felt the same way about his. He still tenses when you touch them, his eyes darting to yours for any sign of insincerity. He’s always met with love and want. Just the thought of it causes a flutter in his stomach.