#but the idea that if someone has everything to lose and nowhere to run they will fight harder and fiercer stuck with me

[loregoddess]

So, I started thinking a bit too hard about this post here, wrote something up, let it sit in the drafts for a day bc I wrote most of it half-awake before work early in the morning while suffering IBS pain, and wanted to check it later, and decided I did in fact need to get this out of my system bc I've spent an unfathomable amount of time thinking about 3H and enjoy writing in-depth analyses for fun, and then I wrote the rest of it half-asleep late at night, still suffering from IBS pain, rip. (I did at least take time to edit at a later time though).

Anyhow the initial post that got me writing was talking about how insane the eastern/northern houses in the AM route were, since Houses Fraldarius and Gautier (and a few other minor houses of the eastern/northern Faerghus territories) were able to stave off the Empire's attempts to conquer them for a whole 5+ years resulting in a deadlock. Like, with all the resources Edelgard has at her disposal (both from the Empire, and from the Agarthans), she cannot squash the last resistance in Faerghus. And then I was like, "I get the joke here, but actually this reminds me of something from The Art of War, and might actually be good writing."

(full analysis continued below bc it's basically a short essay)

I actually think the writing for this specific part of the story is kind of ingenious since it takes historic military strategy into consideration for how the last of the Faerghus lords should have acted to best optimize their chances of survival. Sun Tzu explains how soldiers tend to act in dire situations in The Art of War, Chapter XI:

23. Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. Officers and men alike will put forth their uttermost strength. 24. Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard. [...] 58. Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety. 59. For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm's way that is capable of striking a blow for victory.

(quotes cited from here)

By this logic, we can assume it is because the last of the Faergus lords have everything to lose if they're defeated (their lands, their lives, their peoples' safety, their way of life and culture) and everything to gain if they manage to win, that they fight as if they're already dead, because in a sense they are.

Sylvain actually displays a different, but similar mindset in his monastery dialogue during Chapter 22 of Verdant Wind:

[image transcript: "Sylvain: I mean, I'll still fight like I want to die because that's worked so far, and why change at this late date, right?"]

(for context this is said in reaction to the prospect of fighting against the risen Nemesis's army, you can read the full conversation here)

So we know that the idea of the "my choices are to fight like hell or die, so I might as well fight" mindset is present at least in the Gautier house, and considering the military history of Faerghus it would make sense that all the major houses teach and utilize military strategies. The Art of War also has an entire chapter dedicated to the importance of spies, and it's implied or outright stated several times in both Houses and Hopes that House Gautier has one of the most expansive information networks in all of Fodlan, on par with House Vestra's, Judith's, and Yuri's spy networks.

Therefore it makes a lot of sense actually that even if it's just Houses Fraldarius and Gautier, and a few other minor lords, that they'd be able to hold out, since they were the military powerhouses in Faerghus and also the "best" equipped (decent home resources as compared to Galatea's territory, best spy network of Faerghus, long military history, more military experience, a strong reason to fight to the death, etc.) of the remaining Faerghus noble houses to put up a last-ditch resistance and actually manage to hold out.

Actually I want to expand on my "more military experience" note there. Insofar as I can tell, the Empire actually has the least amount of recent military experience, while Faerghus probably has the most. I say this because it's made very clear that Faerghus, specifically House Gautier, has been fighting off invasions from Sreng for decades, if not several generations of Gautiers (according to the account of Laetitia Gautier fighting off the first invasion from Sreng, from Hopes). Furthermore, the attacks from Sreng are frequent and recurring, enough so that Lambert led a campaign against Sreng. So all the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus have had constant military praxis for decades.

The only other major family to have similar and recent military experiences would be House Goneril, which often repels attacks from Almyra. It was an invasion from Almyra which prompted the formation of the Officers Academy, and yet no such response was ever made to Sreng. In fact, Sreng and Faerghus's struggles with them seem to be entirely unknown to the rest of Fodlan, or at least ignored. Which means that while Holst Goneril gains fame for his might on the battlefield, no one in Fodlan really knows about the strength of the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus.

The only major military conflict the Empire had to deal with in recent events leading up to the start of the game's story was the Dagda and Brigid war, which was resolved within a year's time and resulted in the complete destruction of House Nuvelle, which is far from a clean victory. The only notable person associated with that war is Count Bergliez, making him the foremost expert on military strategy in Edelgard's army. Edelgard herself started a multi-front war in her late teens with literally no actual military experience. (Not to say the training at the Officers Academy was useless, but military education and a handful of field battles are not the same as prolonged warfare).

Sure, Edelgard has the Agarthans, but even if we assume that the same major Agarthans have been cybernetically transferring their souls from one host body into new host bodies when needed, they don't technically have "war" experience since their MO is to act in the shadows, sowing chaos and discord. They don't know how to manage an army (and even if some of the Agarthans, like Thalas, had survived from the initial war with Sothis, and would technically have knowledge of warfare, that war ended with the near-annihilation of the world, so it seems foolish to assume they have any practical knowledge of military strategy).

So, Edelgard starts this multi-front war, and has to divide her resources between the Faerghus front and the Leicester front, and since everyone in Fodlan knows of Holst's battlefield prowess, she decides to have Count Bergliez hold down the Leicester front, leaving Faerghus to be dealt with by the Agarthans through Cornelia. And sure, Cornelia succeeds in winning the western lords to her side and toppling the capital, executing Rufus and attempting to kill Dimitri, but neither she nor the western houses have the same sort of experience with war the way the eastern/northern houses do because of Sreng. And everyone consistently underestimates the strength of the eastern/northern houses, possibly especially Cornelia bc she's an Agarthan and thinks herself above humans to begin with.

So between the fact that Cornelia (and technically Edelgard) didn't start off by taking the eastern/northern houses seriously, and the fact that Houses Fraldarius and Gautier and the surrounding territories were backed into a corner with everything to lose and everything to fight to the death for, it really does make sense that a deadlock would result on that specific battlefront, and not just solely because of the military culture of Faerghus.

(To be entirely fair, Edelgard is more or less doomed to lose the war she started in every timeline except CF, where the key variables are significantly different, because of her lack of military experience, mismanagement of resources and assets, and a general lack of understanding and knowledge of the rest of Fodlan, paired with the fact that her and the Agarthans are at odds from the start, so there's a ton of internal rifts and clashing objectives within her forces. Like, she really wasn't going to win from a strategic perspective. Why the Agarthans never use their orbital missiles to deal with Fraldarius and Gautier is beyond me, and why Edelgard didn't sieze Garreg Mach and use it as a strategic stronghold is also beyond me--on a Watsonian level at least. The writing for the Agarthans is consistently lackluster, so with the writing for eastern/northern Faerghus's military might being logically solid, I'll take my wins where I can).

[secretlysamcro]

Female reader x Jax Teller SMUT, violence, explicit language & possible spoilers. If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show, or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: “The reader loses her job and needs money to pay her mothers medical bills, she goes to see Lyla who is her friend at diosa, Lyla feels awful about the situation speaks to Opie about offering you a job at diosa to pay for the bills and he speaks to the sons about it, They let her work there and Lyla shows her the ropes of the place, after a week the sons come for a for a visit after a long day to relax and let’s just say that the reader catches jaxs eye and requests to spend the night with her. (he and Tara aren’t together)”

Backstory: Desperate to cover your mother’s medical bills, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to make ends meet. Even if that means stepping into the world of escorting. Resulting in one of the Sons, taking a particular liking to you.

“Shit” you curse as you notice another letter has been slipped through the mail slot, your mother not bothering to pick it up, which can only mean one thing. More medical bills. It’s been over two weeks since you lost your job, and no matter how hard you’ve been trying, nowhere is hiring and it’s starting to feel impossible. Soon enough you’ll be unable to help cover your mother’s bills, and when that happens…everything falls apart.

Adding the letter to the growing stack of unopened envelopes, you make your way up to your room. With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself onto the bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling as your mind races, scrambling for your next move having no idea what to apply for or where to even start. That’s when your friend Lyla pops into your head.

Y:N: Hey Lyla is it ok if I drop in and see you at Diosa tomorrow? I might need some help.

You and Lyla had known each other for a while now, but ever since she took over at Diosa, your friendship had faded slightly. Not because either of you didn’t care, but because life got in the way. You had your mom to worry about, and she had Diosa to run. You let out a faint laugh as you wonder why you never thought sooner to see if Lyla had a job for you, but then again working somewhere like Diosa would be completely new territory.

Lyla: Hi y/n. Sure thing I have 2 help Ope in the morning but will b in after 12. Hope everything is ok?

You stand up, getting undressed for your shower, catching your reflection in the mirror. Your hands trailing over your body as a flood of thoughts race through your mind. Can I even do this? Can I really be an escort? You tilt your head, studying yourself, doubt lingering over you but so does determination.

You step up to the doors, hesitating ever so slightly. You’ve driven past this place hundreds of times but stepping inside, is something you never even considered. You take a deep breath as you push the door open and take your first step inside.

Stepping into Diosa Norte for the first time, you stop to take in your surroundings. Women moving effortlessly through the room, leading men upstairs, their different conversations causing a low hum. The environment is some what warm and inviting, definitely different to what you had expected.

“Hey, can I help you?” A dark haired man approaches you, a phone pressed to his ear, but his conversation on pause to acknowledge you. His arms have intricate tattoos placed on them.

“Hi, I’m uh… looking for Lyla?” You say, glancing around the room before landing your eyes back onto him.

“Lyla? Yeah, she had some things to take care of, you know, but she should be back in a minute. Go ahead, take a seat” he looks at his watch before gesturing you towards a very comfy looking sofa.

“Thanks” you reply, offering a polite smile.

The man returns to his call. “Jax, you know what your Moms like if she said…” his voice fading as he walks deeper into Diosa.

As your eyes scan the ‘XXX’ menu in front of you, your attention is diverted when you hear someone calling your name.“y/n? hey!” Lyla greets you with a warm smile as she steps inside. Approaching you for a hug. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long” her tone light as she rubs your shoulder in a sympathetic way. “Let’s go upstairs” she says, leading you to the staircase.

You follow her, as you get to the top of the stairs you cant help but hear the sound of muffled moans accompanied by laughter and the slight creak of bed springs from behind the closed doors. You inhale a large breath as the smallest bit of uncertainty creeps in. Is this really where you belong? Lyla looks over her shoulder, catching the slight uncomfortableness written over your face. “Yeah, I never said it was any quieter up here” she laughs, as she opens the office door in front of you both.

She shuts the door behind you, the sound of pleasure fading away into silence. The rooms feels quieter as the weight of your situation hangs in the air. Lyla leans back against the desk, her stare sharp as she looks towards you.

“Come on then, what’s up?” She asks casually, a hint of concern underneath. She could tell from your text that something is wrong. She knows a brief history about your mother and her medical issues. She knows things have been rough these past few years so she’s already assumed it’s something to do with that.

“Where do I even begin?” You say with a shaky laugh, your throat tightening as you try to hold back the tears.

Lyla watches you closely, sensing the weight of your situation and the vulnerability you’re trying to keep hidden. You take a deep breath, the tears settling for just a moment as you begin to explain.

You tell her everything, a few tears spilled in between. You tell her all about your mother’s mounting medical bills, the ones you can’t keep up with no matter how hard you try. Losing your job, making it even harder. You tell her how it feels like the world is on your shoulders and there’s no way out.

“I just… I don’t know who else to turn to…” you say quitley. ”…are you hiring here?” You look towards your feet, knowing Lyla knows this isn’t your usual scene.

Her face immediately softens, stepping closer, the concern in her face evident. “I’m so sorry” her words are gentle yet reassuring. She knows what it’s like to be stuck, backed in a corner with no way out.

“I’d need to talk to Jax and Nero, I can’t just hire on the spot, it’s a process, but I’ll do everything I can to help” Her words aren’t the solution you’re looking for, but you can only try…right?

“Look, keep looking around just incase but I’ll talk to Ope tonight, I’m sure I can get him to talk to Jax… okay?” She holds your hand now. Her touch sincere.

“Thanks Lyla” you squeeze her hand, truly thanking her, this really could be your last life line.

“You okay babe?” Opies voice is soft but filled with concern as he sits at the edge of the bed, watching as Lyla enters the room. She exhales slowly, her mind still caught up in y/n’s situation. She gets comfy as she straddles onto Opie, her voice steady but tinged with worry as she starts to explain.

“It’s y/n, she’s struggling. Her mom’s bills are piling up, she's lost her job it’s just a lot for her right now you know…” her expression filled with empathy for her friend.

After a long pause, hesitantly she speaks up. “Do you think Jax could help? Maybe hire her?” She doesn’t want to sound too desperate, she knows Opie and the club already have a lot on their plate.

Opie closes his eyes softly, considering the question. “I’ll talk to Jax, but it’s not up to me” he responds “you think she could handle that?”. Lyla nods slowly, knowing you’ll do whatever it takes. She appreciates his honestly, hoping there’s a slight chance Jax and Nero will agree.

Jax is taking in the fresh air, enjoying a rare moment of quiet before Opie walks up, flipping open his lighter and sparking a cigarette. He takes a long drag before speaking.

“Lyla’s got this friend, names y/n” his tone starting casual. “She’s been dealin’ with a lot, moneys tight and her mom’s not doing too good. She's trying but it ain’t easy, brother”.

Jax takes the cigarette from Opie's hand, before inhaling himself he mutters “you tellin' me this for a reason?” Knowing Opie isn’t one to bring up something unless it mattered.

Opie takes a deep breath. “Lyla's been on my ass about helping her out. Figured I’d ask before she chews my ear off”

Jax smirks “and what can I do about it?” He passes the cigarette back to Opie.

“You got any jobs open at Diosa?” His eyes lay on the ground as he takes another drag.

Jax tilts his head, considering the idea “Lyla think she’d be a good fit?”

“Lyla thinks she just needs a break” he lets out a dry chuckle. “Nice set of tits though” He adds, continuing to laugh.

Jax rubs his jaw, thinking it over. “I’ll talk to Nero, see what we can do” he finally says. “Looking at another woman’s tits” he shakes his head, clicking his tongue in a mocked disapproving tone.

“Appreciate it” Opie nods, flicking his cigarette away.

“No promises” Jax insists, as they head back into the clubhouse.

Jax pulls up to his mom’s house, turning off the engine before stepping inside. Gemma and Nero are standing in the kitchen, coffee in hand. He leans down behind his Mom, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Hey ma” he says softly.

“Hey baby” Gemma says raising her hand to soothe his face.

Moving over to Nero, he pats him on the shoulder as he passes by, taking a seat at the table. “Wassup homes?” He smirks.

“You tell me mano” he says, watching Jax over the rim of his cup. “You look like you about to drop some shit in my lap”.

Jax exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “need a favor” he smirks just a little. “Lylas got a friend. Girls in a tight spot, needs money to help her mom or some shit. Looking for a bit of work. Lyla thinks she might be a good fit at Diosa” he waits for Neros response.

Nero takes a seat, leaning back in the chair. “She got experience?”.

Jax rolls his shoulders, “not sure” he admits. “I don’t have time to meet her myself, clubs got me running shit all over. Think you can handle it?”.

Nero studies Jax, making his own mind up. “And you trust Lyla’s judgment on this?”

“Lyla knows what she’s doing when it comes to the talent, and if she’s not cut out for it, no hard feelings send her packing” Jax smiles “I trust your judgement too” he fiddles with the toothpick in his mouth.

Nero nods, a small breath leaving his nose, like he’s already regretting his decision. He nods anyway “Have her come by tomorrow, I’ll check her out”

“Thank you brother” Jax responds as Nero shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah” he waves his hand “just don’t make a habit out of it, Diosa ain’t a damn charity”

Jax’s pushes his chair backwards, preparing to stand up. “Tell that to the girls paying your bills”.

Nero just laughs, shaking his head as Jax approaches his Mom. They exchange a few quick words before he leaves her with another kiss, signalling a small nod to Nero and then leaving, back into his own world of chaos.

As you walk into Diosa, your heart is racing, even more than the first time. Knowing you’re actually here to get the ball rolling. The scent of perfume and something sweet fills the air as you try to push your nerves down, the anxiety building in your chest.

Lyla spots you almost immediately, as she leans casually against the bar. “Hey girl, you ready to meet Nero?” Her eyes sparkling with reassurance.

“Hey” you say in response, swallowing your nerves and nodding as you followed her over to where Nero was stood. He was leaning against a wall near the back of the reception room, arms crossed scanning the place with calm authority. That’s when you realise he’s the same guy from the other day who you spoke to when you had first walked in.

As you got closer, Nero’s eyes flickered to you, a small hint of recognition lighting them up. “You… were here the other day right? Waiting for Lyla” you took a steady breath before speaking.

“Yeah that was me…I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m willing to learn, anything and I’m down” you practically plead.

Nero doesn’t respond straight away, he looks you up and down his expression unreadable. Finally he speaks. “Experience matters here mama…” his eyes soften ”…but having Lyla vouch for you? That means a lot… I’ll give you a shot. You got a week to prove to me how bad you want this… think of it as a you know, a sort of trial run” his eyes smile but his mouth doesn’t move.

“Lyla will show you the ropes and shit” he goes to walk off but turns round suddenly “it ain’t all about sex though mama, you remember that. Some of these men, want connection” he flickers his fingers in the air mimicking fireworks.

You smile at Nero, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ he gives the smallest nod before turning back to his business, already moving on from the conversation. Lyla rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “you got this, okay?” she says as she squeezes you slightly.

Lyla walks you through the dimly lit halls, gesturing to the different rooms as she explains what (or who) goes down in each. “I’ll show you how things work, what the guys expect, what to look out for and all that stuff” and that’s exactly what she does, no sugar coating it either.

“Before we go any further, let’s talk safety” she says, her tone switching to professional. “First rule. You don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, ever! I don’t care how much money they offer or how sweet they talk, if you ain’t feeling it, you say no, got it?” You nod, her tone coming down a notch.

“Second… protection, always. No exceptions. If they try to argue, tell them to take that shit somewhere else, every room has one of these alarms, use it if you need to. Someone will be up straight away” she then hands you a small bag full of condoms. “We keep these stocked, you’ll never run out. Every top drawer will be full of them, make sure they’re wrapped before anything happens” she pauses tilting her head, “you on birth control?”

You laugh, hesitating for a second, all of this feeling a bit surreal before you answer “yeah”, looking through the condom bag, different brands, sizes, styles and color.

“Good. If you ever need anything, pills, a doctor, whatever just come to me okay, no shame, no judgement” she straightens up, “you’ve got a week, I have faith in you sweetie” she says, giving you a sense of hope.

She gives you another small smile, seeing the nerves flow through you. “You won’t be getting down to the good stuff tonight, there’s a room just down there, clothes shoes and everything you’ll need, all different sizes. Find something that suits you, okay?” She says, you’re starting to feel at ease now. “Tonight’s about getting comfortable. We’ll have you mingle a bit, meet some of the girls, chat with the guys keep them happy with conversation while the others handle the rest… how does that sound?” She asks, leaning against the door frame, noting that you don’t look as tense as before.

“I think I’m good” you laugh, taking another deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for tonight.

“Go on then, go find something to wear” she says with a laugh, pointing you to the room a few doors down.

Despite the nerves that held you back in the beginning, as the days go by you were starting to feel much more comfortable in your skin. It hadn’t been easy, but you were beginning to see just how well you were adapting to this new routine. Everyday felt a little smoother, and even though you had your moments of doubt, they weren’t as regular as before.

At first, everything had been a blur of awkwardness, especially your first client. The nerves were overwhelming and the experience was uncomfortable at best. But after that, something shifted. The second client was easier, all tension gone as soon as you found your hidden confidence. By the third, you realised Nero was right, it wasn’t all about sex, this guy just wanted to be listened too, be held as he cried about the dramas he was having with his wife. It was pretty sad actually.

Tonight, as the last day of your week, it was your chance to prove to Nero and the others that you were ready and that you wanted to stick around. There would be no turning back after today.

Jax stepped into Diosa with the rest of the club. It had been a long day, the kind of day that made you want to shut everything else out a lose yourself for a while. Diosa being the perfect place to do that. No questions asked, no drama, just the freedom to let off some pent up steam.

Jax slid onto one of the bar stools, catching the eye of Lyla behind the bar. He gave her a nod, and she waved back. His attention is shifting around the room as the rest of the guys settled in. His eyes finding you immediately.

You’re leant against the furthest side of the bar talking with a few of the other girls you had made friends with this past week. His gaze lingered, drawn to you without even realising why. He leant back on his stool trying to shake the feeling off, it’s a rare thing for him to feel something so quick for a woman he barely knew.

Nero, moving into the stool beside him. “I see you eyeing up the new girl” he laughs, waving one of the other girls attention for a drink.

Jax doesn’t take his eyes off you, watching as you laugh and engage in conversation. He couldn’t explain it but he felt drawn to you. “She new?” He questions.

Nero chuckles “you serious?” His eyebrow twitches “that’s y/n, the one you wanted to help out….” He says shaking his head.

Jax let out a dry laugh, rubbing his face “shit… that’s her?” He remembers the conversation he had with Opie, about Lylas friend needing help, but with him being too wrapped up in club shit he never had the time to actually sit down and meet her himself, passing the task onto Nero, that is until tonight.

Nero's grin grows wider “No shit mano, that’s your employee though can’t keep staring at her like you’re about to eat her alive”

Jax laughs, a yearning look in his eyes. “let’s call it quality control”.

Nero, shaking his head “sure, sure, but you might wanna think twice about sleeping with your workers” he raises his eyebrows.

Jax’s smirk faded just a little as he looks over to you once more, a whole new set of thoughts running through his mind. “Wish me luck” he says, standing from the seat and patting Nero on the back.

“That boy ain’t ever gonna learn” Nero muttered as he watched Jax make his way towards you.

Both you and Lyla are unaware of his approach. He took a moment, sweeping over you, trying to read you. You looked comfortable enough, but he could sense something slight in your posture, the way you carried yourself like you were still deciding if you belonged here.

Lyla clocks him first, smirking as she makes eye contact just over your shoulder. “Look who finally decides to show up, huh” she teases lightly. “y/n, meet Jax Teller. The other half of Diosa” she smiles.

For the first time, your eyes meet, and for a brief moment, the noise of Diosa fades into the background. There was something there. A pull neither of you could explain.

You held his stare, refusing to shrink under the weight of it. Instead, you offer a tender smile. “I just wanted to say... thank you...you know for the opportunity” your words stammering slightly as you try to hold his gaze.

A slow smirk grew from the corners of Jax’s mouth, something unreadable you noticed in his eyes. “No problem...good to finally put a face to the name” He gives you a small nod.

Opie walks up, wrapping his arms around Lyla from behind, whispering something into her ear. Whatever it was made her blush and smile. Opie nodded at you with a friendly smile “Hey y/n”.

He then slaps Jax on the shoulder. “Catch you later brother” Jax smirks in response, knowing exactly what their about to do. With that, Opie and Lyla excuse themselves from the conversation, leaving you and Jax alone, the sudden quiet between you, forcing a conversation.

Jax leans against the bar, getting closer to you now. “So...” he began, his tone smooth and casual “How’s your first few days been?” an edge of curiosity behind his tone.

You turn your whole body to face him now, he takes in what you’re wearing. A lacy black two piece hugging your body, with a long robe, feathers hanging off at the arm sleeves and its base veil, its soft fabric catching the light as you settle in your seat.

“It was... a lot to take in, but I...” you stop mid sentence as you realised what you’d just said, the unintentional innuendo slipping out from your mouth. Jax’s smile beaming, clearly catching on.

“Not... like that” you say quickly, laughing through your embarrassment. "not that it wasnt...but...I'm just gonna stop talking now…" you try to save yourself

Jax’s laugh grows louder, his shoulders dancing up and down with amusement. "It's okay, you ain’t gotta explain yourself” he teased, sensing how flustered you just got.

“So you busy tonight or...” he questions wondering how long he has left to talk to you.

Running your finger over the rim of your glass before drinking it, you begin to respond “Depends…if someone asks for me, then yes, if not then no, I'll just be down here floating around” You let your eyes trace over Jax’s form, a deliberate smile creeping onto your face.

“What about you?…” you ask, treading lightly, your tone low but teasing. “…you got a favorite girl here or...”

Jax’s eyes light up ever so slightly as a grin spreads across his face at your question. He chuckles whilst shaking his head. “I don’t mix business with pleasure” he says softly, as if he’s not entirely letting his guard down, not wanting to give away his mission of the night.

You let out a laugh, clearly not buying his answer. Before you go to question how he eases his tension, a client walks in. You glance at Jax with a mischievous glimmer in your eye. “See ya around…boss” you say, your tone playful, before making your way over to the man.

His gaze sharpens, the faintest hint of jealousy creeping in as he watches you sway towards the new comer. He continues watching intently as your figure moves, the sheer fabric of the robe barely concealing you as the feathers caressing the edge of the lower veil trail behind you. A restless twitch stirs just below his belt, his eyes sharpening as he takes you in. His eyes don’t leave the interaction as he watches you welcome the new client into Diosa.

Jax grits his teeth, his grip tightening around his beer as he watches you intently. His eyes narrow when the man moves in too close. Jax can see now that the man is completely intoxicated, swaying and mumbling things that don’t make sense.

You look left and right, clearly getting uncomfortable now, his breath is heavy and he’s pushing too close, not taking the hint.

Jax groans, pushing off from the bar and striding towards the both of you, every muscle in his body tense with readiness.

“We got a problem?” Jax’s voice is deep, causing the air around them to thicken. Nero, who is currently talking to an employee begins to steal looks almost as if he realises something is off. Chibs doing the same as he’s sitting with a Diosa girl.

You turn to him, thankful of his presence. “He’s too drunk to be in here” you say, looking back at the drunken figure. “I’ve told him hes gotta got but he’s insisting”.

The drunk looks around in your direction “just... s-suck my dick like I asked... you wh...” he hiccups in between words “...you whore”. He sneers, leaning closer again.

Before you can react, Jax is on him. His fist connects with the man’s jaw with a sickening force. He stumbles back, but not for too long. He retaliates, throwing a wild punch that catches Jax in the side of his face. Nero and Chibs appear from nowhere, rushing to break them both apart as the fight escalates.

The others upstairs, completely oblivious, lost in their own worlds of pleasure, as you experience your first down side of working at Diosa.

It doesn’t take long for the dust to settle. Nero throwing the man out, but not before adding a few punches of his own. Jax touches the cut now bleeding from above his eyebrow. His jaw tightens with lingering anger as he notices the blood. Without a word, he turns and walks off into one of the rooms, slamming the door behind him.

Nero gives you a once over, his look full of concern. “You good, Mija?” He rubs your shoulder gently. He’s impressed with how you handled that. No panic, no drama, just calm and collected. Jax though, will be hearing Neros thoughts later.

“Yeah, i’m okay, he was just too much…sorry” you admit, Nero nods in total agreement.

“We’re all about safety mama, don’t apologise. You did the right thing” he lets you know, before walking back over to Chibs.

You hesitate for a moment, the adrenaline still rushing through your veins. As the others continue talking, dissecting what had just gone on, you decide to quietly slip away and check on Jax, easing open the door he just slammed shut.

Jax was sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His once perfected hair now messy giving him more of a rough edge. His knuckles were raw, and a small trickle of blood ran from a cut just above his eyebrow. He exhaled deeply, lost in thought, but second he noticed you, he straightened. His blue eyes locking onto yours.

“You good?” He asks, his voice steady. Scanning you for any sign of distress.

You scoff just a little, “I should be asking you that” you say, walking further into the room, closing the door behind you.

“You could, but I asked first” he smiled, seeing you approach. You roll your eyes in response, feeling the way your chest tightens as his gaze lingered on you. He looked at you as if you were more than a woman he barely knew.

You don’t respond with words, you were too busy grabbing a paper towel from the nightstand and wetting it with some of the bottled water, the sound of soft rustling coming from the towel seems to fill the room as he tracks you with each step you take.

You kneel down in front of him, parting his legs slightly with your own. You were close to him now, a little too close, but neither of you seemed to mind. Your focus mainly on the cut above his eyebrow, his strong scent hovering around you, sweat, leather and smoke tinged with his personal smell. His hands are resting on the bed beside him, as if he was trying to maintain his composure. You could tell he was hurting but he wasn’t one to make a scene of it.

“Hold still” you mumble, as you dab the towel gently against the cut. His body shifting slightly in response to the pain. His eyes never leaving yours, except for the occasional quick glance down at your chest, so close he could almost feel the heat radiating off you.

“You always this caring for the guys you barely know?” He asks, his voice playful and almost teasing.

“You always checking out the tits of the person patching you up?” You shoot back with a smirk as you continues to clean the blood away from his face.

He falters for a second, a bit of colour rising up his face but he shakes it off just as fast. “Lyla told Ope about your mom, the bills and everything” he studies your reaction “That’s the only reason you’re here? Wanting the job?”

You finish cleaning the cut, then press your hands into his thighs as you push yourself up, the warmth of his skin seeping through his jeans. His eyes linger downwards, watching the way your hands move against him. “I’m not exactly here for the exercise” you laugh, but there’s a hint of something guarded in your voice.

He catches the way your shoulders tense slightly, he doesn’t want to push you any further, he tilts his head, taking you in. But he just can’t help himself. “Can I just ask you one more thing?” His voice is softer now, somewhat sympathetic. He doesn’t wait for you to answer “if you get the job and make enough money, will you quit?”

You pause slightly, giving him a small shrug “that’s the plan, but I’m not sure how long it’ll take for me to make what I need”

“How much we talkin’?” His expression unreadable.

You shake your head inhaling another deep breath “too much to count” you decide to open up a little “I need five grand by the end of the month” you sigh saying the words out loud making it feel even more impossible to achieve it.

He doesn’t say anything, just runs a hand over his jaw, taking in everything you’ve said. The silence making your chest tighten again, so you decide to end the conversation before it gets even deeper.

“You’re all cleaned up” you say, brushing your hands off against each other as you turn towards the door.

His voice stopping you before you reach the handle “where you going?”

You look over your shoulder, “back out there, someone’s gotta be there to welcome them, pour drinks and all that” you laugh, confused as to where exactly he thought you would be going.

“What if I don’t want you to leave yet?” His voice dips lower, a look in his eyes as if his mission is about to succeed.

You turn towards him fully, raising your eyebrow just a little. “Then you’d have to do like the rest…and pay for my company” you smile cockily, your words teasing but clear.

He chuckles, clearly impressed by how easily you slip into the role of the confident woman who knows her worth. With a half smile he goes into his pocket, still not breaking the eye contact. He pulls out a thick roll of cash, tossing it onto the bed next to him with casual confidence. There’s no arrogance in the way that he does it, it’s more of a silent agreement, a sign that he’s more than willing to pay if it means spending more time with you. Your pulse quickens, then as if making a decision that could complicate things, you reach and turn the lock.

You take slow steps back towards him, letting your robe slip off your shoulders and pooling behind you, the motion looking effortless. Jax watches on, his tongue flicking over his lips as the anticipation darkens his gaze. Then, you kneel down once again. Undoing the laces of his airforces, slipping them off one by one.

Your fingers press into the arches of his feet, kneading out the tension that resides there. He exhales deeply, the sound rough and full of relief. “Damn” he mutters under his breath, leaning back onto his elbows as he watches you with his hungry eyes.

You smile in response, your eyes matching his. Working your thumbs over a tight spot before your hands start trailing upwards, slowly and deliberately. His breath hitches, as you reach for his belt buckle, undoing it with ease. You pull back for a moment, standing up straight and extending your hand to Jax with confidence, almost as if you were daring him to join you. He takes your hand in his. His fingers curling around yours as he stands. You kick off your heels, your height declining a little, as he looks down at you with his dominant presence.

You step closer, reaching for his kutte as you slide it off of his broad shoulders, placing it carefully on the back of the chair behind you. He watches you, not a word leaving his lips as you begin to take control of the situation.

A look of appreciation and desire in his eyes. Up until now, you have never allowed yourself to feel anything for any of the clients you’d been with, whether it was sexual or not. You’d kept them locked away. But with Jax, it's something you can’t ignore.

You slowly pull his crisp white tee over his head, revealing his muscular frame, slick with sweat from the events of today. Your fingers trace the ‘Abel’ tattoo on his chest, and he can feel the curiosity in the way you look at it. “my son” he says quietly, his voice carrying a tenderness you haven't heard from him yet. Your hands move lower, brushing over the rough scars left behind from the stabbings just below his ribs, the same thoughtful expression on your face. Without having to say a single word, he answers you. “prison” he mumbles, his voice almost sounding detached, as if its everyday you meet someone with the same scars.

You know nothing about Jax on a personal level, but of course you knew of SAMCRO with Lyla being your only real connection to the club, and that’s enough to keep you aware, but from a safe distance.

Over the past few nights, you’ve learned not to ask questions, not to pry into the lives of your clients but to just go with the flow. And right now, that’s exactly what you intend to do.

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth as you look at him, your hands picking up where they left off. Gripping the waistband of his jeans, you give them a firm tug. He kicks them off without any hesitation. With a slow and deliberate push, you guide him back until he’s bracing himself against the bed. Climbing on top of him, you move upwards, your hands trailing his thighs. You start by pressing messy, open mouthed kisses along his neck, feeling how his body reacts beneath you.

His breath fastens, his hands coming up to touch you in the middle of your back as your lips trail lower. Turning your attention to his boxers, you kiss him over the fabric, letting the tension build as his eyes lock onto you with raw desire. His hips shift beneath you, betraying his need for more. You slide his boxers down, revealing him full as he springs free from the cloth. Your approving eyes meet his, and the way you look at him has him swallowing hard.

Your eyes examine him with admiration, taking in every detail like his dick has been sculpted just for you. He stands thick and ready, his precum catching the light, shimmering under the soft glow from above. Every pulse and twitch letting you know just how ready he is. The moment your lips wrap around him, he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath you. His hands move, not knowing where to place them fighting the urge to grab hold of you, to guide you deeper. You move your head with a slow and steady rhythm, taking your time before your lips finally meet the sensitive skin at his base. The feeling of his shaven pubes brushing against your upper lip. You take all of him whole and he cant hold back any longer. His fingers grip the back of your head, pulling you in closer, leaving you breathless as you struggle for air.

You grunt, as he releases the pressure, finally allowing you to breathe again. A trail of saliva drips from your mouth, falling back onto him. “Fuuuuck” he mutters, his body instinctively arching towards you. You let out a teasing laugh, a proud smile curling on your lips, pleased with yourself for taking him all in at once.

“Come here” he instructs, his voice low and seductive. Sitting up, he gently guides you closer. His fingers curling around your chin as he pulls you into him. His lips crash against yours, both urgent and demanding. He can taste himself lingering on your tongue. Each movement driving you wild, the sensation making your pussy salivate as it begins to drip for him.

Jax looks at you, his voice deep. “You got anything?” You point to the top drawer next to the bed in response. He moves quickly, opening it, his hands focused as he searches.

You watch him closely, your breath catching in your throat at he rolls it down with care, his every movement precise, the tension thickening with every passing second.

As soon as he finishes, he’s on you, grabbing you with a force that takes you by surprise. He lays you down on your back, his body pressing against yours. He can feel the wetness on his thigh as he uses it to guide your legs apart.

“you look so fuckable right now” he says, leaning back on his knees as he prepares to enter. He teases you gently, stroking his cock as he taps it against your wanting clit. Your jaw clenches with eagerness, “Fuck me then”. Jax did not need to be told twice.

He slowly enters you, as you let out an involuntary gasp at the sensation of fullness he’s causing. There's a lot of him to take in. “you good?” he laughs, checking in with you before he continues. When you nod, he increases his pace, his movements becoming more powerful.

You try to form words, to let Jax know he’s doing a good job, but you’re unable to form any, only short breathy pants and moans. Jax has a smug look on his face, enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

“You usually fuck your boss?” he asks, his voice authoritative as he continues to drive into you, his blonde hair grazing against your ear as he nestles his head into your neck.

You grab the back of his head, pulling it so that you make eye contact “Only if they seem worth it” you huff in response.

Jax cant help but laugh, even more turned on by your response. He quickly pulls out, only to turn you around guiding you onto your stomach, facedown. The audacity in your words fuelling his assertiveness. He grabs you by the waist, taking hold of you possessively, firmly forcing you to arch your back into a submissive position. “It’s like that is it? darlin’” his sudden aggression making you even wetter than you once were.

Your face is pressed into the pillow, but you manage to look slightly to the left, sneaking glances at him over your shoulder. His messy hair falls across his face as you watch his eyes roam your body, his expression dark.

He enters you again quickly, watching intensely as your ass crashes against his pelvic bone, sending waves through your skin. His hand reaches over pushing you down further into the pillow, the sound of your bodies meeting sounding like a round of applause.

Together, you move in perfect sync, your bodies working together to bring one another closer towards the edge. The room echoes with a mix of moans and gasps, each sound a testament to the intense pleasure you’re both currently experiencing.

Your hands reach back, spreading your cheeks giving Jax a newer sensation as he pounds in and out of you, he almost cant believe his eyes, how vulnerable you’re being for him. “Good girl” he groans, the slight difference in position making your walls tighten around him.

Jax, the man of many positions, now lies beneath you, the roles reversed. He can’t take his eyes off you. You’re the one in control once again. There’s a way about how he’s looking at you, taking in every moment unable to take his eyes off you. He’s lost in you, the way you look, the way you move, fucking beautiful - inside and out.

You hover above him, just out of reach, teasing him and keeping him wanting more. His hands grip at your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, but you manage to stay in control. Loving the way his breath becomes rough with anticipation. Without warning, you take him in again, slamming down hard and deep.

Another moan leaving his mouth, his whole body tense again as the pleasure takes over. Your fingers glide over his body, as you ride the aftershocks surging through him.

Your hands are at his neck now, your body shielding his. He moves his hands, grabbing you by the ass with one and the other cradling your head in place, keeping you where he needs you, by his actions you can tell he’s used to being in control and taking what he wants.

He lifts his knees up gaining his own balance, his feet digging into the bed before moving his hips furiously underneath you, curving through your walls, each thrust forcing a gasp from your mouth.

“Ja- Jax…fuck…I’m gonna” you confess, unable to actually get the words out.

He smiles at your confession, his grip firm as he continues to hold you in place. Pressing desperate kisses onto your open mouth. “That’s…what I like… to hear” he mumbles, his words getting lost as you whimper into him.

His thrusts are getting slower, more sporadic. He’s close, and he can tell by the way your body trembles above him that you are too. His grip shifts once more. The hand placed on your ass, is now pushing firmly against your lower back, forcing him deeper. The pressuare sends you spiralling, you cry out as your body convulses around him, causing his cock to pump out cum.

He’s panting heavily along with you, his head buried onto your shoulder, his eyes wincing in pleasure. “y/n…fuc-” he pleads into your ear.

You don’t hear him of course you’re too busy wrapped up in your own climax. Your fists balling at the sheets beneath you, your head finding solace in the crevice of Jax’s shoulder. He releases the tension in his body as he throws his head back against the pillow, breathing hard with a satisfied smile on his face. He waits for you to come down and join him.

As the last waves of pleasure fade, you lift your head, meeting Jax’s eyes with a breathless laugh. Your bodies still tangled together, the heat dancing off the both of you.

With a slow movement, you slide off him, removing the condom carefully in the process. You tie it off and toss it into the nearby bin before crashing back down beside him.

Both your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you tessellating with satisfaction. Jax turns his head, a full smirk playing at his lips as he watches you, “Think I changed my mind” he admits, lazily resting his hands behind his head.

You raise your brow slightly, your breaths finally in regular rhythm again. “About what?”.

“Think you’re my first favorite” his smirk deepens, as he grabs his cigarettes off the side and lighting one up, the flame flickers, causing a slight glow against his face. You playfully smack his chest before retrieving your scattered clothing and getting them back on.

“Where you goin now?” He questions, a neediness in his voice, but you can tell he’s joking with it.

“What? Did you expect me to stay and cuddle” you respond tying the feathered robe back around your waist.

“Would have been nice” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair before standing up. The cigarette clinging to his lips as he exhales a stream of smoke, taking his time getting dressed as if he had nowhere else to be.

You watch him pull on his clothes, a small curve to your lips. Once he’s finished, you grab his kutte, stepping up behind him and sliding it over his shoulders, putting his pride back where it belonged.

“Thank you” he uttered, adjusting himself. He then spots the rolled up cash on the floor, the same stack he had tossed earlier.

With a lazy bend, he picks it up, handing it to you. Then, without a word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls another roll out, pressing it into your hand. His own hand lingering a little longer than it needed too.

The weight of the cash feels heavier, much more than it should as your fingers tighten around the stacks. A quick mental count tells you it’s close to four thousand, way more than you had expected. You look up at him, your eyes flickering with disbelief.

“Jax?… this is… a lot” you say, shocked but thankful.

Jax shrugs, feeling generous. “It’s a start..,handle what you need to” he says, like it’s nothing.

You stare at the money he had placed in your hand. Between this and what you’d already made this week, you now have enough to cover this months debt, something that less than an hour ago felt impossible.

Jax observes how you accept his help, with a slight tilt of his head he says “See you Monday night” throwing you a wink before you could even say thank you out loud, strolling out like he didn’t just change everything.

Nero glances up as Jax walks over, a knowing look in his eyes. “So… how’d your test run go?”

Jax can’t help but grin in response, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray upon the bar. “She’s got the job” he tells Nero confidently, no doubt about it.

Nero chuckles, a low sound of understanding as he pats Jax on the back “didn’t take you long to make up your mind, eh ese?”

Jax laughs, a low but genuine sound. “What can I say?” he says, throwing his hands up in a dramatic gesture, his shoulders lifting with the movement. “I’m a simple man” the familiar smirk spread across his face.

Photos & gifs are not mine - apart from the one with Jax's booty, had to go find the episode to make that one hehe.

Loved writing this, I know I say this every time lol. Also, sorry it took so long, I initially planned for this to be SO much shorter cause I feel like I may be writing too much? I just get carried away I cant help it lol.

To everyone who's sent a request, I'm not ignoring, I'm just working at them one by one, thank you for ALL! of them I'm excited to do them all, plus you all got some good ideas man I love it!

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[starkenobi]

Demonic Domination | MASTERLIST

masterlist

Sumary: Y/N doesn't classify herself as a vigilante or, as people on the internet say, an antihero. No, she's just an occult detective with a fucking amnesia trying to create a new life beyond her secret mutant status. At first, she really tried to keep a normal civilian life, but it's difficult when you're rescued from a dark place by a man dressed as a mummy ninja calling himself Moon Knight. So, anyway, working as an occult detective makes her travel around the world, and it's cool because it gives her a lot of stories... Until her feet touch New York's ground. It's all downhill from there.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader; Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: +18 romance; angst; fluff; smut; violence; torture; gore; cursing; pseudo harem; not following 100% mcu events; feelings. English isn't my first language, so please be kind. chapters have their own warnings, too, for safety.

MAIN STORY CHAPTERS

Prologue [off the record]

One | Lo Hecho Está Hecho | on a rainy night, y/n is rescued by moon knight, and for a while, london becomes her home. but no one can really escape fate, not when your former lover is death herself.

2] Nuns on Cocaine | maybe traveling around the world solving cases and dealing with cryptids isn't that bad, unfortunately someone decided that was a great idea to play around with the occult and scientific shit, now y/n needs to clean some superheroes' mess.

3] Boss Bitch | y/n isn't one to be intimidated. yes, her memory is shit and she can't really explain her knowledge, but she knows how things go. she can deal with vigilantes, their work similar to hers, there's no glamour or riches. but fuck superheroes and their super shit, y'know? even if they're hot and gorgeous as fuck.

4] Voulez-Vous? | there's an expectation in the air, a tension that's not only about want or need. of course, there's a fricking bomb and a targed on her back. if only she could remember why. at least she has the devil on her side.

5] Seal It With a Kiss | a crush, a casual fling, a passionate night, a you're made for me, a can't lose you now, a maybe im already falling in love. but y/n will deny it till the end. she's not going soft. she'll lie through her teeth, but a promise is a promise, even if you don't say the words out loud.

6] Murder On The Dance Floor | she should have seen it coming. of course, nothing is that simple. she's not jealous of their past, but she can't ignore the feeling of trying to keep up with them. she's stuck in the middle. now isn't fun anymore.

7] People Disappear Here | she knows every one of them has a terrible past (and ghosts), but this chaotic dirty nightmare is hers, so fuck it. she's going swinging it like the devil. maybe it's time to finally be the boring grown-up.

8] No Good Deed Goes Unpunished | her past officially came like a wrecking ball, nowhere to run or hide. with her memories back, she wishes everything was different. and then there's the most important question: how much does a life cost? she doesn't know, she can't fucking die.

EXTRAS:

moodboards: y/n | natasha romanoff | bucky barnes | matt murdock

characters list: moon knight boys; tony stark; clint barton; steve rogers; frank castle; wade wilson; bruce banner; logan; kate bishop; yelena belova; maria hill; fury; thor; scott lang; wanda maximoff; pepper potts; peter parker; stephen strange.

follow the tag #demonicdomination to keep up with all updates and posts!

[saintrvckwell]

There'll be no rest for the wicked (joel miller x platonic!reader)

joel miller x platonic!teen!reader AU

summary: more than enough of your mother's vices waltzed into your life unannounced, leaving without a trace. but then, then there was joel.

warnings: heavily implied father-daughter dynamic, joel grows protective for the reader, father-daughter bond, platonic stuff and thangs, angst as well (what else i would write, lol), but man the fluff, joel works as a cop (lol howdy), trigger warning mentioned into story (there is a warning before the scene! -- nothing happens, but the nature of it implies the boy's intentions, so i rather chose to give a warning)

wordcount: 4.6k

a/n: hi! lately i found myself enjoying the joel x platonic reader stories again and figured, i could contribute myself, again. treat the daddy issues strugglers like me, ha. enjoy!

splitting this into more parts, please, be patient with me.

Your mother was never the nurturing type. For her, this word did not exist in her vocabulary. She loved you, you supposed, because there was never a clear sign. You were left to wonder. Whether she really cared and if so, where was she?

Throughout your childhood, your mother seemed like a visitor. Someone who, once in a while, passes through. There was never a holiday, spontaneous trip or even a lunch. She had lunch, just not with you. Her friends, her social life -- it was everything for her.

And it seemed, as though, you were not part of that list.

From time to time, as you were growing up, the idea of your father popped in your mind couple of times. Your mother never told you his name, went as far as to not include him in your birth certificate. There was no clue. So, for a child, who's yearning for a presence of loving parent, your imagination stepped in.

Whenever your mom would be on a business trip or simply out with your friends, you would sit on the windowsill, counting the threes below your apartment window. Until you fell asleep. Until the dreams, the wishful thinking, the cycling imagination, gave you what you had been looking for.

A father.

It was natural, you thought. You wished to be saved from your mother's claws. Unmaternal claws that suffocated you. The desire in your eyes, she saw it. But never bothered to do something about it. Your mother never cared, she never listened. She never came to your recitals, school races or when you gave a valedictorian speech.

You put your sweat and tears into it -- trying to figure out that your message will be received. It was a significant moment in your life, or so the teachers kept saying. The praises were coming from every direction, except for the one you wished for the most.

This was the moment you were hoping for -- that she would finally acknowledge your achievements and efforts. And she would come, sit in the first row and cheer you on.

But the reserved seat stayed empty.

And you found yourself standing in the middle of the parking lot, diploma in your hands; your mother nowhere to be found. You waited, for almost an hour, before pulling out the keys from your backpack and setting off, walking the streets in your graduation robe, wiping away the tears you promised yourself not to waste.

Not on her.

When instead of trying, she stayed at home.

With a man.

The anger was running through your veins and the patience was standing on the edge of a cliff.

You could go ballistic.

Who would have blamed you anyways. Your mother's attitude gave you enough reasons to scream it out of your lungs and lose control. But, perhaps, the anger was the one, standing on the top.

The bittersweet taste of disappointment, there it was again.

"Hey, how was school today?" she asked, casually, as though it was an ordinary day -- to be frank, she probably had forgotten about your ceremony anyways.

The man, standing by the kitchen island, with a glass of brandy in his hand, turned around.

Compared to what had travelled through your apartments over the years, he looked decent. Well-dressed, without an awful cologne and more importantly -- without a fake smile. Most of your mother's short-term partners would always pretend wanting to find out more about you.

When they only wanted to find out what was under your mother's clothes.

Still, it would not last forever, you thought.

"Good," you mumbled, putting the cap back on your head. "Same stuff as usual."

There was an urge to leave this uncomfortable setting but before you made a move, the strange man had noticed the clothes you had been wearing and smiled, again. As if though it was contagious.

"Congratulations," he spoke.

Your mother looked up, eyeing your appearance.

"Oh, you had the thing today, right?" she mumbled, grabbing her glass of vine.

You couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, the bizarre kept getting worse.

"Yeah, the Valedictorian thing, if that's what you mean," you mumbled, holding onto the red case of your diploma.

"Cool," she nodded, "Hey, how about you go pick us up some celebratory dinner? Noodles down the street?"

The anger crawled back into your mind.

"It's raining outside," you shook your head.

"Ever heard of umbrella?"

You never attempted to lash out at her -- solely because of knowing the fact that she would not care. But now, when she stood next to her latest boyfriend, vine in her hand and disinterest in her eyes, you just wanted to scream.

Every symptom of emerging emotional breakdown was on its way, and you knew, you had to get out of there. Not another word said, as you departed into your room. There was no energy to slam the door -- to give a little statement.

Throwing off the robe, along with the diploma, you laid down on the cold, wooden floor and closed your eyes. Five minutes, you just needed five minutes to gather your thoughts. You got four years left, in the same household. Then you would be free.

You never understood her stance. Why was it so easy to show to all of her dates and parties, but never to yours? When you stood on the stage, reciting your speech, you could see the numerous pairs of eyes of those proud parents.

You did want her to sit among them and weep.

You just want her there.

At this point, you would be grateful for anything. For the tinniest amount of your mother's affection that she so graciously gave to her boyfriends.

"Can I come in?"

The voice on the other side of your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

There he was her boyfriend.

You did not know why he knocked on your door and frankly, you did not care. He was going to be here long, there is no point in getting to know a temporary vise.

He could not overlook the redness in your cheeks and how swollen your eyes had gotten.

At that moment, you were thankful he decided to not care either.

Or perhaps?

"So, what food for the celebration?" he asked, trying to cheer up the mood, after a minute of an awkward silence.

You frowned.

"I was thinking, since it's raining, we could take a drive and pick up something for dinner."

There was an urge to leave the house, without a doubt. And you could either take a walk and come back soaked and cold, and mainly, hungry. Or you could follow him to the front door, watch him grab the cars keys and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat.

The further the house had gotten, the lighter your shoulders had become. The burden of your frustration kept following you everywhere, like an unwanted traveler. But now, you had a moment to breathe out a little, after everything that had happened today.

Even if it meant taking a ride with mom's newest obsession.

For a moment, you cursed yourself for not taking your phone -- since the first few minutes of your drive seemed awfully awkward. You could have at least pretended to read something profoundly engaging instead of staring out of the window, visibly trying to avoid his sight.

He was not very talkative, but still, had this odd aura that floated around the car. There was no tension, especially once he put a cassette in, having the tunes of Billy Idol fill out the space between the two of you.

He had a good taste, you thought. But still -- he was not going to be here longer than two weeks. Why invest your time, you thought.

"So, valedictorian huh?"

After ten minutes of the drive, he finally decided to break through the initial awkwardness.

You looked up from your sneakers, staring at him.

"It's just a stupid red diploma case, nothing else," you shrugged your shoulders, whilst rubbing your fingers, nervously.

He chucked, shaking his head.

"You cannot be so modest, c'mon," he so exclaimed enthusiastically, you found yourself staring at him, little taken aback. "I mean," he gave you a quick look, before locking the eyes with the green light, "You should give yourself a little credit. It is an achievement."

Somewhere, in the pits of your heart, under the walls you were forced the built, there was laying a part of you, wishing to hear this. Only if the source could have been your mother. She had these sweets words for everyone, but you. There was never an applause to be given -- not that you would be asking for it. But a little pat on the shoulder never hurt anyone.

But she never cared enough to do it. So, you settled yourself with the determination to do more, to try more. The desperation ran through your veins like fuel.

Despite the desire to hide it, his words brought a smile on your lips. With that, the awkward silence vanished, as you drove through the suburbs, with Billy Idol's White Wedding.

That evening, somewhere in the middle of ordering your victory dinner, you learned that his name was Joel. And for the first time, you caught yourself thinking that, perhaps, it would not be so bad if your mother's newest vise stayed for more than two weeks.

Over the summer, to your surprise, your mother and Joel had grown significantly closer, travelling almost all the time. You found a job at your local cinema -- with too much free time on your hand, you could have used it for something practical. Saving money was always a good choice. You spent your days watching the same comedy three times in a row, covered by the smell of cheese popcorn and splashes of coke on your sneakers.

Of course, your mother would stop by -- although, mostly to just repack and set off, again. Throughout the summer holidays, you hardly ran into each other. Usually, she left before you got home from work. She would leave a concise note on the fridge (or, if she was running late, a text message) stuck together with a small chunk of money.

As the days went by, you happened to notice the uneasiness that suddenly settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew the source very well -- the good, old, fear of missed opportunities.

It was supposed to be your last summer before high school, naturally, there was the teenage urge to do something memorable. Something, perhaps, completely out of your comfort zone.

And, as it turned out, your empty house presented an incredible opportunity.

Before this sudden urge to fit into your generation, you had never thrown a party. Frankly -- you had no clue how to throw one. Clueless to arrange but eager to learn, the help of your friends seemed as the best fit. As people more fitting for the extrovert description, it posed no issue for them.

Thus, the curse landed on your shoulders.

Certainly, you had no idea how quickly these thinks can come together. It took bunch of your friends, pack of plastic cups, one text message and before you knew, the beer was lined up by the front door and your suburban house was filled with at least thirty people from which almost a half of it were high schoolers.

Seniors, if you may add.

Quickly, they managed to turn your dining room into beer pong game hall, with liquid spilling all over your mother's expensive rugs. Only then, the feeling in your gut started to cry out for help. There were the warning signs, hanging in your mind -- but each one was followed by a cup of beer, until you found yourself looking for a balance.

You lost the track of time, somewhere between your cups, as well as of your friends. It was supposed to be one, welcoming drink. But the more your house turned into a trashcan, the bigger was the urge to kill the voice in your head, cursing you.

For being so reckless in the first place.

Before this spontaneous get together, you had not encountered alcohol -- certainly not in form as large as this one. Rules of drinking were unknown to you; not that you would be too intrigued about them, in your state.

In that moment, the only think you cared about was to stand on your own for more than two seconds. The world around you had become a little dizzy -- this state of being was completely new for you which was quite noticeable for the ones around you.

So, it happened to be a matter of time before one of the seniors posed himself as the knight in shining armor.

If only.

You were aware of his presence but paid no mind at first. After another lost round of beer pong (with no surprise, against him), you had decided to get yourself some water to freshen up. You had no desire whatsoever to lead a conversation with him, let alone anyone else. You wanted to stumble back to your bedroom, lock the door and sleep this off.

Unfortunately, in your current state, path to your bedroom down the hall felt like a ten-kilometer-long hike.

trigger warning for the part below

"Are you okay?"

He could not have asked more useless question. The false concern almost made you chuckle.

"I am absolutely perfect," you grinned your teeth at him.

"You should get some rest," he spoke, unsettling smile on his lips as he brought himself closer to you, locking your possible ways out.

He was much taller, undeniably stronger and determined.

Without a doubt, that was the worst combination.

"Thanks," a forced smile landed on your lips. You had to be smart about this, given his advantages. "But I should actually go and look for my friends."

There was an attempt to make a move, quick slip out of his claws.

You have not even fully tried it, he was already in your away, again.

"I can help you look," the creepiness of his smile imprinted on your brain. "We can search your bedroom first."

The gulp in your throat grew so big, you thought it was going to explode in your stomach, pulling everything out as well. The anxiety was circling throughout your body, up and down, the sweat was running down your shoulders, despite how cold the room had become. Every bone in your body, every nerve sent a signal into your brain.

The fear was going to swallow you whole.

You have never encountered a situation like this. The uneasiness that suddenly held so tight on you.

You could have screamed but what that be good for? Everyone around were too drunk to notice and too unbothered to care, anyways.

Or perhaps, there were exceptions.

end of the trigger warning part

Just not exactly those you would ask for, voluntarily.

You always knew that the universe had its ways to fuck with you.

But this time, this time, came the cherry on the top.

When the scream echoed around the house, buying you an escape from this situation, leaving him too shocked to notice, you ran into the shambles that once used to be your living room, coming face to face with universe's sense of humor.

Dressed in a police uniform, wearing your mother's boyfriend's face.

There he was, catching the sight of your drunken appearance.

"Oh, fuck."

Your stunned reaction came louder than you initially intended, reaching the wrong ends.

His end.

"Officer Miller, we arrived at the scene of disturbance, over..."

You mother's never mentioned his occupation -- not that you would be dying to know, but having this intel beforehand, before you had decided to tarnish your and your mother's reputation, could have been a little useful.

Now, there was no way back, as you watched three other police officers enter your nearly-destroyed house. The number of scenarios lined up in your anxious mind, one coming off worse than the previous. Frankly, just the idea of your mother receiving such phone call, interrupting her annual girls' trip, the wrath would be horrid.

After that, you would wish to be invisible, in her eyes.

You had no idea how these things work. Couple of your friends once mentioned how a party, they attended, ended being busted but the process was never shared. So, you stood there, as though your limbs had frozen, watching the cops escorting all of the kids outside.

He could have been an asshole -- with all due honesty, part of you thought he would be. Your self-made catastrophe presented an incredible opportunity to turn himself into a hero in your mother's eyes. Her brave vise that had stopped her adolescent daughter from drinking her brains out.

But when the distance between the two of you decreased and his hand landed on your arm, you founded yourself letting a sigh of relief escape through your lips.

You were not out of the woods yet.

As inconspicuously as one could, Joel walked you out of the filled living room and back into the kitchen. He was aware of the liquid courage running through your veins -- after all, he was a cop. This, most likely, was not his first rodeo.

Also, he was not an idiot.

Or so you thought, for now.

It all depended on the events that were about to unfold.

"Here," he mumbled, handing you a glass of tap water, "get some more, I will be right back."

Within a second, he was one foot out of the door.

"What now?" you called out, curiosity prevailing the fear for a glimpse of second.

"They'll do search up, so unless you wanna get your ass busted, you better stay here."

With that, he departed into the hallway, as you dissolved into your anxieties, chucking one glass after another, naively hoping the sobriety would arrive sooner.

Despite the conditions, your foggy brain was capable of holding onto the ends, getting the grasp of what was going on, from the pieces you had gathered. There had to be an advantage he had found in helping you out, you thought. The possibility of him acting on the goodness of his heart seemed too absurd to even consider.

All at once, every partner your mother had brought into your life was a copy of his predecessor. One shallow as the other, hollow and unauthentic as the one before. None of them, especially those who you once had decided to give a little faith, succeeded.

So as exaggerated as it may came to be, you could not let yourself get easily fooled. Despite the part of you that wanted to.

Undoubtedly, there was something about him, the warm your mother never had.

But once that you started building castles in the air, you knew it was over.

So, you had to snap out of your liquid-influenced thoughts and stood stern on the ground.

There was no time to be naive.

Especially, once the so-thought, banished glimpse of danger entered your space, again.

just in case, (last) trigger warning for part below

In all directions.

It still baffled you how tall and buffed he was -- he could surely pass for an adult. Adult that should have no interest in girl your age, but here he was. With that intense gaze, sheepish smile and hands that quickly found their way to your hips.

"Brought you something," he whispered, reaching into his back pocket.

He slowly reached closer, his breath brushing against your cheeks, as his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, tucking something in. Only then, he pulled away, hands still resting dangerously close to your body.

"Your friend told me you're coming in September," he smiled. "Figured we could finish what we started."

In that moment, you were stone cold sober.

"I think you should go," you mumbled, rubbing your fingers. "The cops and everything.."

You had to find an easy way to let him down. Words from people like him, especially the fabricated ones, travelled faster than one would have wanted.

But he turned out to be too persistent for your abilities.

"Seriously, you're gonna get in trouble," you chuckled, as forcibly as one could, to shake off the fear.

He laughed, shaking his head.

The false care was the right string to pull, as he became more curious of the sounds coming from the living room. The voices layered over each other, mostly coming from the cops and their walkie-talkies.

He turned around, one last time -- and the second his face lowered to your height, the worst flew over your mind, as the fear squeezed you like a ball.

For the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing to throw up.

Right into his face, right all over him.

end of the trigger warning part

"What the hell are you doing here?"

But perhaps, digestive problems could have been postponed.

When you found officer Miller standing by the kitchen entrance.

Officer Miller.

You were not sure whether it was the alcohol or the bizarre nature of this situation, but there was an urge to laugh over this phrase.

How absurd, you thought, that of all people, your mother would decide to date a police officer? The more you thought about this, the more you reassured yourself that he, truly, was not her usual type.

Whether it was a good or bad thing depended on the following twenty minutes.

The obtrusive boy gave you one last, nightmarish smile, before he followed your mother's vise out of the kitchen. You could not shake off the feeling his intrusive actions had left on you -- the eerie look on his face, the smile of winner. For awakening the fear.

You wished for this situation to disappear, cursing yourself for ever having such ideas.

After a while, the house fell into silence. The sirens outside the front door started to disappear, along with the heavy steps and chatters. You could not even think of the consequences that would follow this dreadful idea.

The urge to throw up arrived again.

And the kitchen sink turned out to be the only available option. So, naturally, within a second, every liquid your body had absorbed tonight, ended up exactly there.

There was no point in asking if this situation could have gotten any worse.

Because it could.

In the middle of cleansing your organs, whilst your hands were gripping the edges of the kitchen sink, you heard the slam of the front entrance, before a set of footsteps headed towards you.

It really could get worse.

Hair disheveled, mind on a rollercoaster and balance slowly disappearing into the night. Your already skilled friends knew how to throw a party -- just did not give you the manual of processing one. For a moment, you wondered whether your cheeks were splashed by the water, or perhaps, if those were tears, running down your neck.

Nothing about this night you wished to treasure. And you knew that what was about to follow -- was right behind.

Literally.

The pat on your shoulder startled you, almost hitting your forehead against the kitchen cabinet above. Slowly, turning off the faucet, you took a deep breath, trying to keep your existence in one place -- in all senses.

Knowing your current state -- Joel chose to be careful with the physical closeness, moving his hand away as soon as the room felt quiet again. Letting you turn away on your own, he stepped back, remaining focused, just in case your balance would decide to betray you.

"Get some more water," he mumbled, hands on his hips, as he watched you jump up on the cabinet. "That ain't smart, doin' this, y'know."

"Do I look like someone who makes smart decisions?" you hissed, wiping away the drops on your chin. Perhaps, the liquid courage was awaking, you thought.

Sigh escaped through his lips, now formed into thin line.

"Where's your mom?" he asked -- stepping into his police officer demeanor, frowning.

You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders, leaving him more confused than before.

"You don't know?" you looked up, mockery tone now swallowing your voice. "I'm surprised, considering you know more about her whereabouts than I do."

The sentence left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

The frown has disappeared, as he stood there, noticing the shift in your attitude.

"Does she know?" he asked, after a moment.

The look in his face almost made you roll your eyes. It was the typical look of someone who was about to offer you a lecture no one had asked for. Considering your experience with your mother's temporary better halfs, Joel was just passing through. None of your mother's relationships passed the three months mark. He was about to be gone in a blink of an eye.

"Look, I am trying to help you--"

Now, there it was.

The sentence, all of them had practiced. The sweet-caring tone of his voice, the pitiful look in his eyes -- all of them were the same.

Or perhaps.

You could not bet on him.

"Okay," you mumbled, chuckling again. "Good for you."

Joel's frustration started to arise. You did not make it easy on him.

He shook his head, trying to maintain his patience.

"Listen, smart ass," he stepped closer, as the frown arrived again. Although, this time with disaffection. "An ounce of gratitude would not hurt you."

Bitting your lip, you got off the kitchen counter, now standing face to face with Joel. He was much taller, with broad shoulders -- he was the epitome of someone who tried to play the good cop.

"Okay, Joel," you whispered, deadly sarcastic.

It was a risky situation; you were well aware. But the events of this evening emptied the rest of your decency.

"Thank you for being such generous police officer, even though we both know your true intentions," you smiled and curtsied.

Now there it was.

The thin ice had been broken and Joel's patience ran over the edge.

"Excuse me?" he asked, offended.

"Excuse me," you whispered. "I've got a house to clean. So why don't you go ahead and give my mother a call? She'll be delighted."

Part of you knew that being this harsh could come back and bite you in the ass. Perhaps it was the defense mechanism -- your mother had never brought an exemplary man into your life. And if they happened to resemble one and you chose to believe it, they vanished into the thin air before you knew it.

You could not settle with the thought of Joel being an exception.

For your own good -- for the high hopes you would be willing to give him.

Joel stared at you for a little, without uttering a word. Which, you chose as an opportunity to leave this conversation for good.

But it took one step in your condition, for you to fall on your knees.

Howls of pain escaped through your lips.

And two steady hands pulled you back before you managed to smack your face against the cold, kitchen tiles.

"Fuck!"

Curse words were flying left and right, though Joel had decided to ignore that. He could have paid you back -- which you were kind of expecting. Instead, with one swift move, you were back on your feet, with Joel being the one responsible for your balance.

The world around became slightly dizzy. And, for a moment, it felt as though your limbs were made out of Jell-O. The funny bubbling in your stomach made you laugh.

"I think I am gonna throw up."

Was the last thing you whispered, before leaning against the floor, letting the remaining bits of alcohol depart on the tiles.

It was Joel who, once again, caught you in the last minute.

"You really are a fuckin´ pain in the ass, kid."

It really, really, could get worse.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 14

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: we do not condone cheating in this household, that is all. enjoy!

About You Series

2013, Yas Marina Circuit

Jenson values his rest which is why lights were off as soon as it hits 8pm. Everyone knows that this was his schedule during the race weekend so why the hell is someone knocking at his door at 10:40 in the evening. He was about to shout and give this person a screaming but all the irritation disappeared when he saw Y/N at the door.

She was disheveled, an uncommon sight to him. As far as Jenson remembered, Y/N always try to make an effort to look as if she is well-composed even when the whole Multi 21 incident was happening last year. Jenson swears he remembered how she looked happy and excited when they parted ways earlier. What the fuck happened in a matter of hours?

“Jesus Christ, Y/N what is going on” Jenson was immediately awake.

He checked her for bruises fearing that someone laid a hand on her. To his relief there weren’t any. The puffy red eyes were a point of concern because there were only so little things that could make her cry like that.

“Can I stay here? I don’t know where else to go”she finally spoke.

“Of course, get in”

Jenson shuffled to make way for her inside. He was careless to let her stand in the hallway for so long but he didn't miss the implication of her sentence. Why would she say that she has nowhere to go if Sebastian is always there for her? Jenson has witnessed it several times how the Red Bull driver would drop anything to take care of her.

A thought crossed Jenson's mind but that would be impossible. He knew Sebastian would never break up with Y/N, the man would rather get run over by a car than lose her.

“I can prepare you a cup of tea. You should change to some clothes, I have some of our team kit in my closet that may fit you”Jenson suggested.

Y/N sits on the floor of the hotel blankly with tears streaming down her face. It was a scene that tugged the heart of Jenson deeply. If he could do anything to take that pain away then he would.

“C'mon Y/N, lets get you out of this clothes. You take a quick shower then lets talk” Jenson encourages.

The girl was running on autopilot and Jenson was scared. This was the first time that he encountered Y/N to be in this type of state. He has the idea to message if which one of the idiots in Red Bull fought again but he thought it would be best to hear it out from Y/N herself.

When Y/N stepped out of the shower with dry clothes, Jenson was already done with the tea. He led Y/N to sit on one of the couches and Jenson took a sit next to her. It was a few minutes of silence as they sip their tea until Jenson finally caved in.

“Talk to me, whats happening”Jenson begged.

Y/N's deadpanned expression turned to face Jenson. She seems to struggle which one she would tell first or how will she narrate the story. Jenson holds her hand as a form of comfort.

“I went to dinner with Hanna”Y/N found her voice

Jenson tried to recall any Hanna that he knew about. His face scrunched up in his heavy thinking and Y/N noticed that.

“Its Sebastian’s childhood friend”Y/N added.

“Oh its that blonde one right?”Jenson remembered “She used to be here for a few races“

There was silence again from the female Webber. It was frustrating Jenson and he wished he could just mindread the thoughts going on in her head.

“Turns out she is pregnant”she sighs.

Jenson's face contorted to one with confusion. Why would it matter if Sebastian's childhood friend is pregnant? What does it have to do with anything that's happening? Unless...

“No shit, are you fucking serious?" Jenson puts one and one together

It felt like he was being pranked right now and any second the camera crews will get out of their hiding. He wanted everything to be a one big joke but the room remained silent and tears continue to stream down her face.

Jenson wanted to get up and give that Vettel a piece of his mind but he stopped as he looked at Y/N. Leaving her on her own is not the best decision so he just enveloped her in a hug.

“I don’t know Jenson, its so fucked up” Y/N’s voice was faltering as she tries to stop her tears “Was everything just a lie? All those times he was wooing me and now I found out he has a fucking kid with somebody?”

Y/N wiped her tears and she let out a fake laughter. All the emotions are going haywire now.

“Hanna is 6 months along… It ties up around the time of the Spain GP, just before my fucking birthday”Y/N explained.

The scenes were starting to connect with each other. He remembered the earlier conversation with Sebastian about the big mistake he did. He should have seen this coming and punched Sebastian.

“That fucking twat”he mutters.

“I don’t know what to fucking do Jenson, I don’t know what to think anymore”

“Just talk to me, I’m listening”

But frankly, Jenson’s thoughts were filled with regrets. It shatters Jenson because this was the only thing he begged Sebastian, he begged him to take care of Y/N and Sebastian cannot even follow simple directions. If he knew that this is how things would have ended up between the two of them then he should have just tried his best to woo Y/N.

He felt so useless with everything, and he could just only be a comforting shoulder for Y/N.

“She begged me Jenson. She asked if I could talk to Sebastian because the kid needs a father” Y/N narrated “How can I live with that memory in my head that if I allowed myself to be happy then I’m depriving a kid of their father. And Jenson, I love Sebastian. I really love him”

Jenson could feel his heart silently shatter by that confirmation. With everything said and done, Y/N loves Sebastian. It was the reason why she felt so hurt by the whole thing because she loved him. He wanted to ask which God decided to play a cruel joke on him. Having to see the girl he loves the most crying over a man who didn't deserve her when he was there all along and could treat her better.

2013, Circuit of The Americas

Sebastian arrived at the circuit earlier than usual. He has been feeling a bit tense the past few days. Ever since Abu Dhabi, Y/N seems to be avoiding him. She didn't reply to her text messages, she flied out early, and she seems to not be present in the garage during the races. Some may say that it was just all a coincidence and that maybe Y/N was just busy but something was bugging Sebastian about the situation.

So he was hellbent to find some answers today. He headed out to the McLaren garage to talk to Jenson or even try to talk to Y/N.

Some McLaren staffs were preparing the car and they pointed at hush whispers to see the Red Bull driver in their garage.

"Hi goodmorning. Can anyone point me to where Y/N or Jenson is, I just have to speak to any of them and its really important" Sebastian greeted.

The staffs look at each other seemingly wary about his request. Little did Sebastian know but Jenson had a lengthy message before their arrival at COTA that Sebastian Vettel should not be allowed to speak with anyone in McLaren especially to Y/N.

"Did anyone not hear me? I'm asking where is Y/N or Jen-"

"What do you need me for?"Jenson appeared as if on cue.

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief upon seeing his friend. He was about to give him a hug but then Jenson's face seems to be filled with irritation.

"Are you okay? You look mad?" Sebastian pointed out.

"Mad? I'm mad?"Jenson fakes a laughter "Oh I am extremely happy Sebastian. I am fucking ecstatic"

"Seriously what's going on, why are you acting weird?"

Something about what Sebastian said pushed Jenson to the edge. The next thing he knows, Jenson was tackling him and they were engaged in a physical altercation. The McLaren employees were quick on their feet to seperate the two of them but Jenson was still lunging to get a punch towards Sebastian.

It was a good thing that there was no media around at this time or else this would have been a huge scandal. Only the employees of the team are present in the garages so this could be contained.

"What the fuck is your problem?"Sebastian roared.

"You're the fucking problem"Jenson shouts back "You are a fucking piece of shit"

The McLaren staffs tried to subdue Jenson but he seems to be adamant to get out of their hold. Sebastian could see in his peripheral view that some of the Red Bull staffs are running to get their driver out.

"We fucking know Sebastian, we know what you did"

And the color suddenly leaves Sebastian's body. His mind running a million thoughts, how the fuck did Jenson know? He stood there frozen unable to defend himself because he knows it was just right for Jenson to punch him. Hell, he deserves worse.

"What did you do Sebastian?"Britta wondered "Are you hurt Seb? Do you want to file a complaint?"

Sebastian shakes his head "Let's just go and leave".

"Yeah and stay the fuck away"Jenson warns.

Some McLaren employees were begging Jenson to stop and think of his rash actions' consequences. They may have physically restrained Jenson but his eyes followed Sebastian as if it was shooting daggers. Sebastian cannot shake the feeling of it even in the comforts of the Red Bull motorhome.

There were lots of things that Sebastian wanted to say. He wanted to tell Jenson that it was an accident and he had too much to drink which is why it happened. He wanted to ask how did he find out and who is the we that he is talking about.

His heart drops upon realizing the weird behavior of Y/N the past few days. Oh fucking shit, she knows.

2013, Autódromo José Carlos Pace

It was the morning before the free practice. The sun was still rising but Y/N managed to find herself early in the garage. Everything was still a bit empty, a big contrast to how the place would be packed in a few hours. With plenty of time to kill, she decided to take a walk around the track.

There was an empty feeling that there was no one by her side. She was so used over the years that there was always a driver by her side. It may be Mark discussing about the family and some kids he is mentoring. It can be Jenson who is busy winking and waving at the fans. And of course, Sebastian, the one who talks her ear off about the winners and the iconic scenes around the track.It feels a bit lonely to walk the tracks by herself.

In light of the recent events, she has been a bit lonely. Sebastian was someone she was ignoring for the obvious reasons. Jenson is someone she talks to for work duties but other than that he is on timeout after his outrage in COTA. Mark is also off the table because she might end up crying and Mark ends up doing something stupid such as crashing Sebastian on purpose.

Seb <3: Please let me talk to you. Seb<3: It’s the end of the season and I don’t want us to go to our winter break with this heaviness on our shoulder. Seb <3: Just please let me explain. Let’s talk about this

The same kind of messages have been circulating ever since the COTA incident. There was not a day that goes by that Sebastian is messaging her asking if they could talk about things. She has to hand it to him that he doesn't give up even if she was radio silent.

What's bugging her is how everyday she is itching to go talk to him. A side of her knows that whatever he has to tell her will never justify the whole thing. Sebastian still hid the truth about sleeping with someone and he betrayed the trust they shared. However, there was a part screaming inside of her to hear him out. It was honestly frustrating to end up in this position that it got her falling apart.

Funny how the mere thought of him causes tears to fall from her eyes and still she wanted to see him. Its so fucking stupid.

She hurriedly tried to find a towel or handkerchief because when she cries it was far from pretty sight with the tears and the snot. There were people coming around the track so it would be pretty bad if anyone sees her. God, she would hate herself to be pictured by the media and have to explain why she is crying to Mark.

"Here, you need this" A hand suddenly extended to her offering a handkerchief.

The first that she did was wipe her eyes to clear her vision and then blow her nose to help her breathe again. Y/N looked up and she was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Jules, oh my god this is quite embarrassing. I'm sorry you have to see me like this"Y/N fuzzes “I am seriously not like this always”

The last time that she met Jules by her own was in Monaco. She remembered how she was also upset and confused during that time. It seems like its becoming a habit that Jules sees her when she is feeling down.

"Oh no, nothing to be sorry about"Jules assured

“You always carry a handkerchief or do you have a dora backpack that carries everything you need?”Y/N tried to joke around.

Jules let out a soft chuckle clearly understanding the reference.

“Would have loved that Dora bag but”Jules shared“its actually my old man told me that I should always carry one so that I can lend it to someone crying or needing to use it to blow their nose”

“That’s very specific and I feel targeted by those statements”

He just held up his hand high in surrender with a smile. It was a joy to have Jules presence because it lifted her spirits even for a moment.

“Wanna walk with me?”Y/N wondered.

“Sure”

Small conversation were shared between the two of them as they walk. Jules gave an update about Charles, who Y/N notes to be ranking up in his career. The conversation was a distraction for Y/N but Jules can't help but notice the disposition of the girl a while ago.

"I don't mean to pry but you seem to have a lot going on in your mind"Jules pointed out "Maybe you could talk to me about it"

Y/N musters a small smile "That bad huh?"

"We can sit down at the side of the track if you like so you can tell me what's going on"Jules offered.

"There's nothing going on"

But she knows her voice is weak and it betrays her. Even, she was unconvinced by the sentence she just uttered. There was clearly a lot going on.

Skepticism was apparent in Jules' face however he nods his head in understanding. He knows that if Y/N doesn't want to talk about it then he won't force her to talk about it. He continues walking with her and Y/N appreciates that.

"But can I ask you a hypothetical question?" Y/N quizzed.

"Go on"

There were a lot of tell-tale signs that Y/N was nervous with the way she was fiddling with her necklace and how she avoids eye contact. Jules turned to her and stopped. He put his hands on Y/N's shoulders to keep her from shaking.

"Hey, you don't have to say anything if you aren't ready to talk about it"Jules assured "Don't stress on it"

"But I need help" there was the cry of distress.

"Okay then lay out the hypothetical situation"Jules encouraged.

"Okay hypothetically speaking, what does it mean if you got a girl pregnant and that girl is not your girlfriend. And still you want to talk and explain to your girlfriend. Do you still love your girlfriend? Why do you want to talk to your girlfriend?"

Jules seems bewildered by the whole story as he seems to curse in french under his breath. He just couldn't fathom how Y/N has been placed in such a deep shit situation.

"Please tell me you are not pregnant" Jules begged.

"I AM NOT!"

"You're not cheating?"

"For the record, this is a hypothetical situation"Y/N reminded "But to answer your question, im not cheating"

A sigh of relief escaped Jules as one of his hands massaged the temple on his head to relieve the incoming headache. He didn't want to ask anything anymore and he will just treat it as air quotes hypothetical.

"First of all, hypothetical or not, it is wrong to cheat on your partner. It should have never happened in the first place if a person truly loves their partner"Jules cleared.

An immediate frown graced Y/N's face as it confirms her earlier thoughts.

"However, there may be a reason as to why it happened. I have heard how some people had done it because they were drunk and did not know what they were doing. Others are actual serial cheaters who has done this several times. There are certain degrees of the crime and I think the next course of action should take it into account"Jules reasoned out.

Y/N remembered how Hanna mentioned that this just happened one time. It was just an extremely unfortunate situation that Sebastian knocked her up that one time they slept together. Jules explanation made valid points.

"If its one time?"

"Why not go talk about it and maybe they could work on it"Jules replied.

It was quite funny to even hear that suggestion. She never could have seen herself getting over the cheating incident so how could they work on it?

"Will things ever work with something as big as cheating?"Y/N questioned.

The driver just nods, "Yeah when you love someone. You can look past their biggest mistakes and flaws because you love them. Its why people tell us love makes us stupid at some point"

Love truly makes us stupid, a fitting sentence to embody Y/N right now.

"I think the best course of action is to hear what he has to say. If this is a one time thing then maybe you can forgive him and then you two can work this out. Or maybe you can take your time and not forgive him. Whatever works for you"Jules added.

"This is all a hypothetical situation remember"Y/N reminded.

A laughter comes out of Jules and he nods his head in agreement.

"Of course Y/N, everything is all hypothetical"

The two continued with their walk without a hitch. People are starting to enter and they made a good decision to head back to their respective garages.

"And this is my stop, thanks for a wonderful morning Jules"Y/N hugged Jules in front of the McLaren garage.

"Not a problem, you were a joy to walk with"

"Really even with the crying and all my hypothetical questions?"Y/N joked

"Yeah even then"Jules agreed " and I hope you aren't too troubled anymore next time we meet"

"I'll return your handkerchief then maybe you're the one needing it next time around"

The two waved goodbye to each other. Y/N reached out for her phone and she started to type. Her head was a bit clear now and maybe the talk with Jules gave her a bit of braveness to do this.

Y/N: Okay. I'll hear you out one time. Meet me after the race. You set the place.

[the-sinister-story-teller]

this is long, sorry. okay, so it would be angsty with a happy ending (maybe with some smut at the end) where reader is tall and looks like a total dom, but is actually a bottom who is head over heels for angel, and tries to show it but angel doesn’t believe him/thinks he’s trying to use him and pushes the reader away,, though angel has also caught feelings. eventually angel overhears reader telling someone (charlie, husk, idc) how in love he is with angel and how angel hates him and angel confronts him. crying and confessions happen and maybe some smut where angel tops reader.

thanks, i love your writing!!!

A/n: Of course! I love this idea! I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Angel Dust x M!Reader ~ Looks May Be Deceiving

Mentions: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Male Reader, MxM intimacy, Soft Dom!Angel.

Topic: Request above ^^^^

"Hey Angel have you seen my phone?" You called out to your friend, Angel Dust, who hummed in minor confusion.

"Uhhhh...No!" He called back, as you gasped in joy.

"I got it! Thanks Angie!" You hummed, before leaving to go run some errands. To be frank, you didn't lose your phone. You had it the entire time, you just needed a reason to try and confess to Angel, but you chickened out. You had arrived a while back, and grown moderately close to Angel. When you began to try and hit on him he...declined. A lot. At some point, you tried to ask him out to which he sweetly but bluntly said a flat 'no' to. You wouldn't lose hope though. Not that easily, especially with how smitten you were for him. You didn't know it, but he was in love too, but he didn't want to be used by someone again. So, he sheltered himself from it.

Later enough, you came back with groceries that Charlie had needed, your hands full.

"Princess! I need a lil' bit of help here!!" You shouted as Charlie rushed to help you, setting the bags down. You sighed at the relief of nothing heavy weighing down your arms now, before you plopped back into a chair in the lobby. It was then you saw Angel come down, making you sigh softly. You sat up, going to help him carry something. "Here, lemme get that for ya!"

"Oh uh...Thanks Y/n." He spoke sheepishly, as you chuckled nervously again.

"Say uhm...Are you free tonight?" You asked, raising a brow as Angel narrowed his eyes.

"No. I'm really, really, busy tonight.." Angel lied, leaving the room quickly with his things. You sighed, hopeless as you sat at the bar, catching husk's attention.

"Th' hells got you so gloom?" Husk asked, pouring a glass of booze for you, as you took the cup.

"Thanks...and it's nothing just...In a predicament."

"Of what sorts?" Husk asked, raising a brow as he drank a bottle of cheap booze.

"Just..Angel. He acts like he hates my guts but I..."

"You love 'im, don't cha?" Husk sighed as you nodded, taking a swig from the glass, groaning quietly in frustration. Before Angel could fully leave, he was still within ear shot, hearing your confession.

"Yeah..I am. I can't help it!! Have you fuckin' seen him!? He's gorgeous, funny, and just...everything I'll ever need.." You muttered, sighing softly. "I just don't have a chance with him...He hates my damn guts for christs sake!" You exclaimed as Husk huffed.

"They always act like that, to cover up their true feelin's. Only thing is, Angel's probably like that 'cuz of the shit he went through." Husk explained, as you nodded.

"Yeah...You have a point.."

"So, take it easy. He's probably in love with ya' too, he just isn't ready for it yet. Keep shootin' your shot kid." Husk said with a very light smile. You returned to expression, finishing your drink, and standing up.

"Thanks Husk. It...Really means a lot to me." You thanked and he nodded, waving his hand to shoo you off. You sighed, making your way to your room, before hearing a voice.

"Hey Y/n?" Angel spoke softly, spooking you as he came out of nowhere from behind.

"Oh, Angel. It's you. What's up?" You asked as Angel opened his mouth to speak, before sighing, holding his arms softly.

"Listen I...I don't hate you..You're just so nice and I didn't know if you were genuine or just wanted to use me for sex.." He spoke, his voice shaking a bit from the tears. He didn't want you to think he hated you, he didn't want you to lose interest because of it either.

"Where did all this come from Angie?.." You murmured, scared he might've heard your conversation with Husk.

"Damnit I-...fuck...I heard what you said and...and I'm sorry for bein' a complete asshole. I didn't want to get close to you and end up goin' through heartbreak 'cuz you got tired of usin' me." He explained and you swallowed thickly.

"Angel...I'd never fucking use you...Ever..I'm lovesick for you and I'd die a second time to make sure you're happy and safe." You said, a bit of confidence peaking in your voice.

"So you're not..Upset?"

"Fuck no!! If I'm upset at anything, I'm upset you didn't tell me sooner!" You joked, hugging Angel softly as he sighed with relief, quietly and softly crying from joy.

"I love you Angel.."

"I...I love you too Y/n.." Angel muttered. From then on, the two of you began dating, and to say the least, it was fun. Constant pranks and affection. You two were in Angel's room, cuddling as you watched some novela.

"...I'm fuckin' tellin' ya Y/n! She's just gonna dump him!" Angel exclaimed as you scoffed.

"As if! Maria loves Gabe!! I doubt she'd ditch him." You huffed as the two of you went silent, before breaking out into laughter...It died down, as it was just a silent cuddle now. A question lingered in Angel's mind for a bit since you two began dating, and he felt this was the right time to ask. Given he was a bit horny that day, from seeing you to heavy work in a tank top.

"Hey Y/n, can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Uh yeah! Shoot me with it hon-" You laughed, leaning your cheek on the palm of your hand, as your elbow propped you up on the bed.

"Are you...Ready for sex? If not that's completely--" Angel quickly sat up to dismiss it all before you cut him off.

"Yes." You bluntly spoke as Angel stammered before snickering.

"Didn't think you'd reply so fast damn." He laughed as you chuckled, your cheeks growing hot.

"But uh...One thing I'd like to mention...I'm not one to top." You sheepishly chuckled as Angel hummed.

"I get it...Got any big kinks you want me to know tootz?" Angel cooed as he laid you down onto the bed, climbing on top. You practically melted into his touch, bright red from all this.

"Nope...I'm followin' you Angie, you can take the pace however you want.." You muttered sweetly as Angel nodded, cupping your cheek with one hand, kissing you softly as he used the other hands to undress the two of you. He straddled your waist, running his hands over your now bare body as he pulled away from the kiss.

"Not gonna lie tootz, I was expectin' ya to be a top~" He giggled as you bashfully looked away. Angel simply cooed from this, turning your head to face him. "Awh~ don't get shy on me now babe~" He teased as you let out a shaky sigh, before jolting a bit with a soft moan, feeling Angel's hand wrap around your shaft.

"A-Angel please be-"

"I know, I know babe, I'll be gentle...Just wasn't expecting you to be so big~" He sweetly said, leaning down and kissing your cheek. You began to whimper a bit, feeling Angel slowly drag his hand from the base to the tip, rubbing it gently to spread the pre-cum.

"Holy f-fuck angel that- mhh~ -feels a-amazing- ah..~" You moaned out, shuddering from the feeling of Angel peppering your neck in sweet kisses.

"I'm glad babe, s'all i want you to feel..pleasure all the way..~" Angel cooed, holding you closely to him. While one hand pumped your length, the other began rubbing your entrance softly, before pushing its way in, earning a whimper of minor pain from you. Angel gasped, sitting up with worry. "You ok babycakes?"

"Y-Yeah I'm fine Angie..hnn..You can keep going..~" You muttered, as Angel nodded with a sweet look, hugging you close with his two free arms, while two fingers fucked your hole, and the other stroked you. You let out a soft whimper, beginning to pant.

"Are you close babe?~" Angel asked, keeping you close to him while you reached your high. You let out yet another whimper, this time more desperate and needy. "C'mon sweet thing, let loose, ok~?" Angel cooed as you covered your mouth, doing just that. Once you finished, you let your arms fall to your side, as Angel laid on top, playing with your hair. "Happy?"

"So fucking happy babe." You chuckled breathlessly, as you two shared a quick kiss, before Angel sighed.

"Love you Y/n."

"Love you too Angie."

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

[thecousinsdangereux]

i just recently discovered your soulmate au and i loves it so much. so incredibly intriguing and well written and damn is it hot 🔥 thanks so much for sharing with us. in your mind, does it have a happy ending for them?

also wanted to ask if you'll be checking in to see the big warrior nun announcement coming tomorrow?

Ahhhh thank you! This ask is kind of tragic now given how everything with Warrior Nun ended up going, but I thought I'd use it as a way to share my ideas for the rest of a beggar in the morning, if anyone is interested in learning how it was going to go. Long story short, it was going to have a happy ending. :)

Here's a full outline for what I had in mind for the second half of the fic. Under the cut because it's very detailed in the parts that I'd started writing. Also in case anyone cares about spoilers? At the moment, I don't plan on finishing this fic, but I do plan on returning to writing in general, so guess there's a non-zero chance that I could come back to it. Stranger things have happened.

Beatrice keeps looking for the recipient of the Letter she's been trying to deliver and starts taking trips out into the countryside. She takes Ava's advice and takes to enjoying the journey - stopping into small cafes for lunch rather than eating in the car, taking the long way when it means she can enjoy a new view, etc.

During one of these side quests, she's told about a man who lives way off in the middle of nowhere who has the last name of Reis (the last name of the Letter recipient: Lara Reis), and she tracks him down. He had a sister who had a child with someone who was not her Match. I wanted to go more into what this looks like (and how the church is still anti-abortion in this world, because they think this could potentially ruin a future match, cue eye-roll) but in this case, the woman was basically run out of town. The man directs Beatrice to an orphanage where the child was raised.

This trail eventually goes cold because the orphanage has no records of the girl. They only know she left when she became of age.

The end of chapter six is basically Beatrice being frustrated and taking some 'advice' from Lilith to find someone to fuck hfkjshlk so she goes to the bar and ohhh nooo Ava is working that night, filling in for someone. Ava gets jealous, Bea does some shots, and it's basically a rehash of the lemon drop scene from the show, but hornier. Eventually, they make out, and decide to be friends with benefits.

Chapter 7 was honestly just going to be porn. lol. It's actually some of the first stuff I wrote for this fic - just a page of porn. Beggar came out of a Secret Santa fic exchange, and my friend Alex asked for lots of sex and a soulmate au. So... Chapter 7 was the payoff (part 2). Here's a few disjointed scenes, in case anyone is interested in reading some unedited very E-rated stuff.

A few months go by and all the nuns visit Beatrice for her bday and they're like huh so what's going on here and Beatrice has to pretend that it's not that serious with Ava (lol). I also wanted to do a conversation between Shannon and Beatrice where Shannon talks about the whole Mary thing and loving someone against the will of god (or at the very least, in the very gray areas).

The end of chapter seven is Ava finally talking about her past, which is that Ava doesn't remember hers. She woke up in a hospital without her memories and then spent the next decade traveling around trying to find something that felt like home.

In chapter 8, a lot of time passes, and the fucking continues. Beatrice is kind of losing it, poor girl.

I hadn't exactly decided what was going to happen next, but Ava was going to overstep in some way (or in some perceived way) and Beatrice was going to panic. Either Beatrice was going to have a brief thought about being in love, they were going to have reallyyyy soft sex, or something like that, but either way, Beatrice was going to have to admit she has deeper feelings for Ava than what's allowed allowed, so she goes back to Spain and ignores Ava's texts/calls/etc.

Eventually she realizes she owes Ava closure. She comes back and kind of explains why she's reacted the way she has. She gets more into why she joined the church and it's not for God or the Church itself, but because she does genuinely believe that love itself is holy. She admits she's falling in love with Ava, but she can't break her vows. She believes giving into her feelings would be putting herself above the whole history of love... the sanctity of the entire universe... and to be that selfish would be monstrous.

There's a callback to their early game of three questions, and how Ava still owes Beatrice one answer. Beatrice nearly asks if Ava loves her, but pulls back because she's scared of the answer. They basically break up, but Ava tells Bea to let her know when she's ready to ask her last question.

Beatrice takes it HARD. She buries herself in her work and starts visiting hospitals in various towns. She finds a Spanish doctor and he recognizes the number (or rather, the system behind the number) that is on Letter Beatrice is still trying to deliver. He tells Beatrice she's not looking for a hospital in Portugal, but rather in Spain - one in a small town in Andalusia. He mentions a patient who was in a coma, who woke up without her memories.

At this point, Beatrice obviously knows and she flies to Spain in daze. She visits the hospital, gives them the number, and asks for the name of the patient. When they'd brought the girl in, no one knew where she came from, she didn't have an ID, memories, etc. Nothing except for an old receipt from a restaurant in Portugal. ("Beatrice braces herself for what she already knows, but doesn't want to face.") The nurse at the hospital tells her they used a generic Portuguese name for the girl and it stuck: Ava Silva.

Beatrice visits Cat's Cradle because what else is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to deliver this Letter to Ava, who she's obviously in love with. She talks with Mary and we get the other side of the whole Mary/Shannon thing, and Mary is kind of like, okay, the Letters matter but they don't Matter. Beatrice asks Mary what she would do if she got a Letter (since Mary isn't a nun and could get one, but Shannon never could) and Mary basically says she would throw it away without opening it because she wouldn't want to give Shannon a reason to go self-sacrificial.

Of course, Beatrice doesn't really think this is her call to make. She's going to deliver Ava's Letter. There's this whole scene of her very dramatically and angstily getting ready for the delivery in the Official White Habit, then walking through the town she's come to associate so completely with Ava. And chapter 9 ends.

When Beatrice walks through the doors of the bar, Ava looks up, but doesn't seem surprised, even says 'oh, finally', which is pretty much the last thing that Beatrice expected, but then again, maybe it should have been the first, because Ava is always surprising her, and shouldn't she expect it by now? She asks Ava if she'd known that she was the person Beatrice had been trying to deliver to all along and Ava looks confused at this, like she hadn't considered that at all. "It's not that. I just knew my Letter would be coming because I'd already met you."

Beatrice is like, no no no. That's not how this works. It can't be me. I've been carrying this Letter with me this whole time - before I met you - and the Letters are only sent to a person when they've met their soulmate. And obviously, Beatrice is a nun and can't have a soulmate, etc. etc.

And then Ava says something like this: “Maybe every once in a while, God -- or the universe or whatever it is -- knows that it’ll be really hard to make two people meet organically, so it fudges the rules a little bit. Makes one girl a nun, makes another one hard to find, and sets up the dominos really early on."

And when Beatrice says she's being ridiculous/it's impossible, she says, "I know what’s in that letter. It’s you. I don’t need to open it to know it's you." and "Maybe it’s like some people say and god arranged it all. Fine. Then god chose me for you. Simple. He made me in this exact way, down to my hands and toes and whatever, so that I was perfect for his favorite creation in all of the universe. Because that has to be you."

And: "Or maybe it’s like what those other people say. You know - the past lives reincarnation stuff. Fine, then in our first lives we fell in love and then I found you in the second and third and the five hundredth. I found you and I picked you and I wanted you every time. Or okay, fine, maybe it’s what the the pseudo science people say. Even if those guys are right, I still know. It’s you because at the very start of the universe - at the very beginning of everything - we were the first two bits of something. The first two tiny little sparks. One of those was you and one of them was me. And even when we split off into a million trillion billion infinite pieces, the core of one was you. And the other one was me."

And: "In every religion or in any theory, the world exists so that I can find you again, and the world will do whatever it takes - bend the rules in whatever way - to make sure that at the exact right time, we would meet. And maybe it wasn’t perfect - maybe it was stupid hard for us to get to this point - maybe there was an easier way to make it happen - but I don’t care. Because it worked and I found you and I fell in love with you and I would do anything for that. So yeah. This Letter is telling me that I’m for you. That’s easy. It’s not faith. It’s just a fact.

And: "Besides, whatever’s on that paper? It’s going to be you. If it’s a picture of a butterfly, then it’s going to be you because of that time we went to the dam and one landed on your hand and you said “isn’t the world beautiful?” and that’s when I knew I loved you for the very first time. If it’s the notes to the first bar in At Last, then it’s you, because we used to play it all the time in the bar and I always thought it was fucking stupid to think you'd know like that right away, before everything, but it was the song that played in my head anyways when you walked in the bar that first night. There she is, I sort of thought, a dream that I can speak to."

"It could be any single word or phrase or letter and it would be you, because I love you and I love you so much I see you in every part of this entire world. I love you and I want to keep you with me always, and so you’re always there in my thoughts, slipping over and into everything else and I love it. It makes me love everything I see a little bit more, because it reminds me of you. It makes the world more beautiful."

"So, no offense, but I don't really give a fuck about the Letter. I already know it's going to be you. But I think you need to see it. So you know you’re not as selfish as you think you are."

And Beatrice admits that she wants to be with Ava anyways. Even if it makes her selfish. (Even if it makes her heretical.) Love is holy and what she feels for Ava is holy too, even if it's a sort of holy no one else will ever understand.

I went back and forth about whether they actually SHOULD open the Letter. lol. But I think I eventually settled on that they should, and that when Ava does open it, it's a blank page with like, 7 little dots and Beatrice is like??????????????? But Ava recognizes it instantly and it's the freckles on Beatrice's cheeks, the ones she's always tracing, and she does that again, following the ink on the paper.

Beatrice had been ready to give up her religion for Ava, so getting to keep it, maybe, suddenly is a LOT. She can't quite believe something divine would do something like this for her. But maybe she can believe that something divine would do something like this for Ava.

Later, I wanted Beatrice to have a conversation with Mother Superion. I thought it would be interesting to get into the philosophical bits of it. To debate if Ava could actually be right in her ideas about how this could be, and still fit into what they know about god/Letters/religion. I liked the idea of the conversation ending with neither of them really knowing, and Mother S being like, look girl, you'll never know for sure, but that sounds like faith to me. And Beatrice says no, no this is different, capital F Faith is for the divine. This is just trusting that Ava isn't lying about the freckles thing, or won't get tired of me, or won't find someone else. Etc etc etc. because it's panicking time for Beatrice, suddenly. And Mother Superion just raps her knuckles sort of in the most gentle way she can manage and says "That's love, Beatrice." in the way way someone might say "That's pussy, babe."

Beatrice does leave the church (though she eventually goes back to 'consulting' kind of like Mary). And when she does actually physically leave as well, Ava is waiting outside on a bench. Beatrice asks why she didn't just come inside, and she says something about being a little afraid of churches these days. She did steal god's favorite, after all.

And then they walk off into the sunset, with Beatrice being like wait a second, I thought you said this was all God's plan. And Ava shrugs and says that she would never willingly give Beatrice up, so god might come to her senses and change her mind.

I was going to end it there, but I did consider doing an epilogue as well. Early on in planning I had this idea where, years later, all the nuns regularly come over to the Silvas (because Ava does keep her 'second' name, though she does start to learn more about the Reis family, and meets her Uncle - the dude Beatrice learned about the orphanage from). And on one of these occasions, the nuns are all in white, and they're delivering Beatrice's Letter, which is addressed to Beatrice Silva. In the end, I decided against this, because I liked leaving it more open-ended, but nothing had been set in stone at this point, of course.

So yeah, that was going to be a beggar in the morning. lol. I plotted most of it out before I even started writing, because it wasn't the sort of story you could make up as you went and still tell it well. And I did want to tell the story well! There's a part of me that's sad that I wasn't able to, but I do think it was worth writing what I did. I really loved seeing people realize that Lara was Ava, even as early as chapter 5! And I also loved people coming up with theories about how Avatrice would be endgame. Some of them were honestly really good and maybe better than mine fhdskjhfd I had one person be like PLEASE let Ava's Letter be for someone else so they can metaphorically spit in god's face and honestly that was valid.

I don't know if anyone is going to bother to read this very, very long reply to an ask that doesn't actually ask for any of this, but it honestly just feels nice to put all these ideas together and 'complete' the story. Even if I've done it in the most half-assed way possible I am so sorry fhadskjlfhldsj

[tyudearyous]

dilly dally - c.s

pairing : choi san x reader

genre : fluff, angst

wc : 880

author's note : was in the mood of writing and had this idea for quite some time now so why not? LESGOOO. also, everything here is fiction and isn't accurate to the person! differentiate reality and fiction okay!!

🎵 for lovers who hesitate - jannabi

masterlist

...

"choi san. how much are you going to drink?"

your nagging rings on san's head continuously while he takes sips after sips of the alcohol in front of him. it was a random saturday when he had the sudden urge to drink and lose it all. well, it was a coping mechanism perhaps? it was his favorite way of coping with all the feelings he's experiencing.

he loved your company and he wished he could have it all the time. however, you were just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

"do you remember when we first met?"

a sudden urge to reminisce came over to san. he was pretty much wasted at this point. he was smiling at you, as you tried to remember the events of the past.

"it has been ten years so you probably don't"

he laughed slightly while sulking. he doesn't understand it. why does his heart hurt when you don't remember the events of the past? why is he this bothered? and oh. i'm crying, he thought.

"wait, why are you crying? wait wait i'm sorry, i only remember a bit that's why i was hesitating, oh come on sannie let's not cry okay?"

you comforted him in panic. he was a big emotional dude but even so, you just didn't expect he'd shed tears out of nowhere. you went over the table to sit next to him and wipe off the tears that were running down his cheeks. he then nuzzled into your shoulders and continued sobbing for some time. you let him be, because that's what friends do. right?

"i wish you loved me like i do"

his confession made you froze on the spot. he likes you? your best friend of almost a decade, had feelings for you?

"it's okay, i don't expect anything hic but can you pat me right now? i'm not asking for too much right?"

san looked up to your frozen expression. he knew he was fighting a losing battle. he knew it all too well but he'd do anything even for a moment. he'd do everything.

"i made you uncomfortable right"

he chuckled before moving away from you and continued finishing the bottle of alcohol he drank from previously. his cheeks are flushed and tears kept streaming down his face.

"san, i-"

"it's okay. i'd rather you not say anything more. i know it's just me hic, so let's just be friends hic. nothing more nothing less."

you couldn't answer him any further. it was the truth, it was just him, you never really saw him in that light. except for that time when you did but you never had the guts to do anything. he was supposed to be out of your league. it was supposed to be that way.

the situation was uncomfortable for the both of you. you decided to just leave his apartment to not make the situation worsen.

"stop drinking, i'll take my leave and don't cry too much. you'll puff up"

and with that you took your leave. leaving san in his room, alone with his feelings and emotions all over the place. normally you'd stay but you couldn't that day. it was supposed to be this way, right?

the walk home was difficult. you had to take in the fact that your best friend had feelings for you but you never noticed it and heck, you even buried your own feelings just because you were convinced he was not someone attainable to you. but with the new revelation, everything felt like it became a mess.

...

"did you fight with san?"

it feels like you've heard that question hundreds if not thousands of time this past few weeks. after the whole confession, you couldn't approach san that easily anymore. he needed space and you too. you haven't talked to each other for weeks now and it was weird at first but it was for the better.

"no, why?"

you always acted nonchalant, without fail anytime asked you about san. however, this act of yours is far too noticeable in the end. how could you leave someone who has always been there for you so easily? how can you act alright if deep down, you're just a mess?

that's exactly how you end up finding yourself hovering over your phone, deciding to send san a text explaining everything. it was selfish but losing him was hard for you and you couldn't handle it. thus, you sent him the text, hoping he'd reply.

hours passed, days passed, weeks passed, still no response. it was clear enough for you. he didn't want to do anything with you anymore. it's not his fault, it was never his fault. it was never your fault either. it was simply how things should unfold. it's fine. it's better this way. it was genuinely better this way.

or was it? or was it just you trying to convince yourself? whatever it is, that was how you lost both your best friend and your first love.

the end. or is it the end?

[ae-azile]

Fadel/Style "One-Shot" (or probably longer 🙄) Idea

Impulsive one-shot idea that I should not start because I am that person with 59496492 WIPs. But here is the general idea:

Three years into Fadel's and Bison's sentence, their relationships with Style and Kant are still surprisingly strong. Style and Kant visit every Wednesday, volunteer on Saturdays and Sundays, and write and send packages so often that they rarely come back to their cell empty handed when the mail arrives. It's hard, but they are past the halfway point and this is finally starting to feel doable.

And then - on visiting day - Style doesn't show up. Fadel doesn't get called back to the visitation room like he always does. Bison does, but Fadel is left alone. He tries his best to not be upset. He has told Style countless times he does not have to come every single visiting day, especially now that he's volunteering. But it's the first day he has ever missed and he never even gave Fadel a head's up. When Bison comes back, he just says that Kant told him Style isn't feeling well and that he's very sorry he couldn't be here. That worries Fadel enough and makes him feel guilty. He spends the rest of the week beating himself up over not being able to tend to Style while he gets over a virus. He's hoping that Style will call. That way, Fadel can let him know to just take it easy until he is completely better and to not feel guilty if he can't visit until that happens.

But he doesn't call. When Fadel gets a turn with the phone, Style doesn't answer. He tries again the following day with the same result. He tries not to assume the worst. Style is sick, so maybe he just isn't up for talking. He just wishes Style would tell him that, even if it is croaked out and they aren't on the phone for more than thirty seconds. Fadel would take it, because he is now jumping to other conclusions.

Maybe Style met someone else. Fadel always told him he could and that he would understand. That always resulted in Style throwing a fit and calling and writing even more, just to tell Fadel off for undermining his love and devotion. Sometimes, Fadel will get multiple letters in one day when Style is riled up like that. He finally got to a point where he understands that Style isn't going anywhere.

But if he isn't answering Fadel's calls, maybe that has changed.

When Saturday comes along and Kant arrives to volunteer, Style is nowhere in sight. Since he can't talk to Style, he corners Kant. He does his best to be reasonable. He even tells Kant he won't be mad if Style found someone else. He just needs to know so he isn't left wondering.

Kant doesn't tell him much of anything. All he does is look at Fadel sadly and hand him a letter. As soon as Fadel finds a private area so he can read it and not become targeted if he bursts into tears, he's glad that he did. It's a single page, just one, long paragraph. He's used to Style writing at least three pages front and back. But he still gets his point across.

I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia last week. Same as my ma. My 5 year survival rate is about 30%. I am in the hospital now, but I will come back as soon as I am out if you still want to see me. If you don't, I completely understand. I'm sorry I'm not telling you in person, and I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. It just isn't looking good, and I didn't know how to say it without trying to make light of it. That pisses Pa off, and I figured it would piss you off too. I don't know when I will be discharged. I also don't know when I will lose my hair. Probably soon. Fuck. I don't know if I can pull it off. Whatever. My sex appeal had a good run. Kant can give you updates on that and everything else if you get curious. Again, I understand that you probably don't want to be a part of this. Just write, tell Kant, or give me a call. As long as I am awake, I promise to answer this time. I've been sleeping a lot, but I told Pa to watch my phone Saturday and Sunday in case you do call so he can wake me up.

I love you,

Style

Or...

Style gets diagnosed with cancer while Fadel is in prison and has a bleak prognosis. Fadel feels like his world is completely falling apart as he becomes more and more desperate to find a solution.

I hate it when I get one-shot ideas, especially depressing ones like this LOL. And also, idk if I could make this work as a one-shot. It will probably be very angst heavy if I ever do start it, and I have several KinnPorsche fics I need to get back to. But if anyone is interested in seeing where this could lead, feel free to let me know!

[leggerefiore]

We’ve seen how Pokémon characters react to being sick but how would Maxie + various other Pokémon characters of ur choosing react to you being sick?

cw: reader sick with a cold

characters: Maxie, Archie, Lysandre, N, Guzma

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The minute you begin to show signs of being ill, Maxie is banishing you to bed. Unlike with himself, he does not want to risk your pathogen spreading throughout his team and worries about your health. Unfortunately, he becomes a bit nervous to be around you due to a small bit of germaphobia. The redhead does get over it when you keep asking for him, however. This leads to him quarantining himself away with you to prevent further spreading it around. He also finds himself fretting over it being something worse than it actually is.

🪨 He sends out grunts to buy whatever you may possibly need to get over your bout of illness. Medicines, tissues, a humidifier, a dehumidifier, a heating pad – anything. Maxie is certain to make sure you have everything that could possibly aid you in getting over your sickness. He will help away any sweat from fevers and make sure that everything is clean around you both, too. Disinfectant is used gratuitously. Of course, excluding excessive physical contact. He loves you, yes, but he does not feel like joining you in bed-rest.

🪨 You watch him scramble out of your shared quarters at some lucid point of going in and out of consciousness and wonder what he is doing before passing back out. Yet, the slumber is short as the smell of something hot singes your nose. Maxie has returned with a soup, made by him. He may not be the best cook, but he carefully made a favourite quick meal of it to help boost you up. Its spice is nothing to scoff at, and somehow clears your sinuses from its sheer heat. You can only stare at him in wonder while downing water. Maxie seems very smug about this all.

🪨 Once again, cuddling is not happening. He cannot stand the idea of getting sick and being unable to focus on his work. Not to mention how certain he felt that Courtney sneaked into his quarters the last time he was sick and snapped a picture of him. Though, towards the end of the illness when he knows it's nowhere near as contagious as it was during the earlier stages, he may give in. He crawls under the covers at your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Your head ends up pressed to his chest as he tries to figure out how much longer you should be like this. At some point, you fall asleep, and he does not have the heart to push you away in the end.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 He honestly probably doesn't catch the earliest signs that you are getting sick. Archie just does not get sick often enough to understand what is happening. Though, after it becomes complete apparent you are ill, he makes sure you can be comfortable in bed. It most likely was something going around in Lilycove that his grunts accidentally brought in with him. The Aqua Leader ends up stuck at your bedside, too. Poor guy cannot handle his Luvdisc being in such a situation. (Shelly sprays him down with disinfectant when he leaves his quarters, knowing full well be didn't clean himself nor use any germ killer. She alone prevents the spread of the illness.)

💧 If you just vaguely mention wanting something while sick, he rushes out himself to get it. Local pirate man spied at a pharmacy buying up an inordinate amount of cold medicine. Probably got questioned by someone, but somehow got off. He also grabs whatever else you may have requested. Endless tissues, air humidifier (though it is probably unneeded in the seaside cave you live in), snacks, gifts – He runs into the Lilycove Department Store and nearly loses his mind. Archie just wants to help you get better as soon as possible.

💧 Somewhere in the madness of it all, grunts spy him in the hideout's kitchen. They can only wonder what he is making, but the smell of seafood clearly wafts through the air. You get pulled from a light slumber to a bowl of some kind of fish stew. Archie holds it out with big eyes. Needless to say, it was eaten by you. Even if Archie had to spoon it to you in a few moments of weakness. Truthfully, his cooking was not that bad. Just a tad heavy to consume while sick. You did somehow feel better after eating it, too.

💧 Honestly, when it comes to affection, he is all over his partner no matter what. Even if you are sick, he wants to be stuck to your side. You do not even have to ask for him to cuddle because his arms already tight around you and have you pulled into his chest. Your comfort is more than met. Archie even barely goes for kisses, despite the obvious risks. Your emotional needs are just as met as your physical needs. It made you wonder if that was why you became better so quickly. And, somehow, Archie managed not to get sick, either. His immune system appears to be something to be feared.

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ The tall man feels stricken when you begin to develop the tell-tale signs of a cold. Especially as you try to continue going throughout life as you usually do. Lysandre quickly works to change that. Right before your cold gets worse, you find yourself forced into bed by your very distressed boyfriend. He scolds you for neglecting your own health. His heart aches at the thought of you suffering for no reason. Needless to say, when a near seven-foot man tells you to rest, you probably end up resting. Your shared home is kept clean by his efforts and that of a housekeeper, thankfully.

☕️ He already buys you everything you could possibly want, adoring to shower his darling in gifts. But, now, he is doing it in a frenzy. Special orders for medicines he believes will truly aid in shortening your illness and help alleviate your more painful symptoms. Tissues are always in supply near you and anything from a humidifier to some weird home remedy he does not quite understand but nonetheless gets for you. He only wishes to bring you comfort and happiness in your unfortunate state.

☕️ It comes as no surprise that he makes sure all the food you eat (in general) is extremely healthy and filling. He only has the best made for you by a restaurant he finds to by one of the best in Kalos. Of course, there is a time you find yourself eating an unfamiliar soup after waking up quite late from a near all-day slumber. Its flavour is pleasant and there is clearly a lot of skill put into making the dish, but it was obviously not made by the usual person who apparently had been making your food. You only learn it was a personal recipe that Lysandre had made after getting over your sickness. Supposedly, it was something that Sycamore had made for him at some point during their long friendship.

☕️ Lysandre is a rare hesitant about affection while you are ill. The last thing he needs in his busy schedule is to be forced to rest. Team Flare would almost certainly fall about without his leadership, and his duties as the president of his labs would stack up to a distracting degree. Yet, still, when you look at him with pleading eyes in such a condition, he feels weak to his own love for you. He gives in, allows you cling to him. Perhaps a bit of physical comfort would give your immune system the boost it needed to get through all this. You both end up drowsing off, cuddled up together.

🌿N👑

🟢 He is not sure how to react when your cold becomes too obvious to ignore. Panic consumes as he thinks about statistics of deaths related to illness, before he recalls what his sisters used to do for him when he was younger. Suddenly, your green boyfriend is dragging you back to bed and demanding you rest. N is so very worried. He has never had to handle another person being sick, so having his lover be the first one is making him fret too much. Hilda finds herself in a hard place when N calls to ask what to do and has to give him a run-down. He was a very quick learner, thankfully.

🟢 He finds himself unsure what to get for your symptoms, so he probably nearly grabs one of everything for cold medicine in the hopes it makes you get better fast. This, too, means he ends up buying some strange homeopathic things, but honestly, it is the thought that counts. And, he did actually manage to grab a few helpful things in his whirlwind shopping trip. N was also careful to stock up on tissues and the like. He just wants to help you get better so desperately and seems to be trying literally everything to help you.

🟢 This includes cooking. While he is not too familiar with the skill, he quickly finds aid in both his pokemon and human friends. Hilda makes sure he follows the recipe as best as he can, while the pokemon bring him the best ingredients out from the wild (besides what he had to buy). The dish is carefully made before being brought to you as you wake up from an extended nap. The soul is very herbal and probably skews a bit too bitter, but the love N put into making it is obvious. (You did feel strangely more energetic after finishing it, too.) He is happy that you enjoyed his desperate attempt to cook for you.

🟢 Poor green boy is stuck to you like glue while you are in such a state. The fear of getting sick does not even occur to him, all he simply wants to do is make you feel better. His affection is always so gently and warm with a hint of desperation. You probably feel completely at ease with the near always present touch of your adoring boyfriend. Thankfully, his immune system is hardened from his youth spent partially in the forest, so he does not get sick too easily. Though, he trusts if he falls ill that you would care for him all the same as, he did for you.

💀Guzma🕶

□ The minute you begin to show signs of sickness, Guzma honestly begins to worry. He does not express it aloud, of course. His reputation must be upheld, but you do notice him pushing you to rest. Whenever he gets up, he is extra careful to keep quiet and scolds any grunts making noise outside his room. Big bad Guzma just wants his partner to rest and get over whatever was coming over them quickly. Eventually, though, he does actually demand you rest. Your steps were a bit too wobbly for him to want you wandering around in the endless rain of the dilapidated Po town.

□ Poor guy rushes into a pharmacy in a near frenzy trying to find things he swore worked the last time he came down with something. The clerk can only watch this delinquent scrutinises an antihistamine like he actually understood how the active ingredients worked. Eventually, he settles on two he trusts before buying them, heading back to you. He also grabbed a few boxes of tissues, but they go so fast he finds himself out buying more a day later. Guzma also grabs anything else he thinks might help. Like tea. His mom always told him to drink tea when he was sick, so it has to work. (He has no idea what he is doing, but he is trying his best.)

□ At some point, he realises there is no food in Po town that is good for someone who is sick, so he has to grab ingredients while he is out buying more tissues. It feels like a never-ending cycle of madness. Then, when it came down to actual cooking, he tried his best to make something edible. That failed, however, and he instead returned to the tried and true canned soup. Hopefully, chicken noodles would cure your ailments. You happily eat the soup, and thank him for going out of his way for you. He can only give a laugh.

□ He does hesitate a bit when you first get sick with affection. Guzma actually despises feeling ill due to the weakness associated with it. But, when you tug on his jacket when he is about to leave, he finds himself relenting a bit. Fine, yeah, he will cuddle his sick partner. If he gets sick, then thankfully he already has medicine to take and a stash of canned soup. It also feels nice to comfort you as you nuzzle into his chest. You probably hate being in your condition in a place like this. He just combs his fingers through your hair and gives you a light scalp massage. At some point, you both fall asleep.

[fatefulfaerie]

Tears

“Link!” Penn exclaimed, wings outstretched in excitement. “What a great sense for news you have! Here I am chasing a new lead on the Princess and my partner appears before my eyes!”

Link hadn’t seen Penn since they finished chasing all the leads they had on the Princess’ whereabouts. It was at least a month since they went from stable to stable, Link almost believing the Yiga’s tricks and getting barely a wink of sleep until all twelve were dead ends. He was left just as lost as when he started until he found Impa and sunk himself into the mysterious geoglyphs that dotted the land. Link hadn’t yet found the courage to admit to anyone the truth about Zelda, so he pretended the best he could to be the eager, young reporter Penn knew him as.

“I’ve heard that Zelda has a homestead here in Hateno,” he continued. “Villagers tell me it’s across this bridge, but I’m afraid I’m at a standstill. You see, investigating her home for clues seems to go against my morals as a journalist. This may have to be a story we leave be.”

It was public knowledge that Princess Zelda lived in Hateno. That was no news story.

“What’s the lead?” Link asked. “Was she seen here recently? S-since her disappearance I mean.”

“It may be hearsay but rumors have been circulating that the Princess is married,” Penn said. “The villagers here have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’m thinking it’s no more than gossip. Traysi wanted me to check it out nonetheless. I’m thinking we at least find the may–”

Link averted his tear-filled gaze.

“Link, are you all right?”

“I…I’m fine,” he stammered. “Just…allergies.”

“Where,” he began weakly, but forced his voice to be stronger. “Where does the lead come from?”

“An old Zora at the Domain,” Penn answered. “He’s losing his memory but tends to spout some random things about his long life in an effort to keep a grasp on it. His niece heard him talking about marrying the Princess to someone, but he didn’t specify who. She was so excited about the prospect that she sent word to Traysi.”

Link looked notably nervous as he hugged his arms close.

“Don’t…don’t run the story,” he said in a hushed voice, no longer meeting Penn’s gaze at all. 

Penn looked confused.

“Link…what do you mean? Do you know something?”

“It just…it paints her in a bad light.”

“Link, I know you care about the princess’ public reputation. Your work at the paper honors that gleamingly. Your search for the absolute truth is inspiring to the whole team. You service our kingdom and our princess well.”

Link steadied his nerves with a deep breath and a slow blink of his eyes.

“It was me,” he admitted, quietly at first.

Penn blinked, shocked. He assumed he heard wrong.

“What?”

“It was me!” Link finally burst out pointing at himself. “All of it, everything. The mysterious hero who came out of nowhere and saved Hyrule from the calamity, me. I brought Zelda here and we built a life, and it was a good life. I married her because I loved her. We didn’t tell anyone because goddesses the Yiga were trailing her everywhere and everyone was looking at her to rebuild but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore because she’s gone, okay? She’s gone! That’s it, that’s your story. She’s a magic, floating dragon in the skies because I failed her again. She sacrificed herself for this kingdom and no one will ever know because there’s no proof! Nothing! No one else sees the dragons but me, so that’s what I have for you, absolutely nothing! I have nothing!”

Link panted and Penn stared. He blinked his eyes once, twice. Link expected him to call him crazy. Instead, he pointed his white-feathered wing at the house across the bridge.

“That’s your house?”

Link’s disbelief was shown in his face.

“Yes.”

Penn looked at the house for a moment, letting the breeze sift through his feathers.

“Link I think in a time like this Hyrule would quite like to hear a story like this about their Princess,” Penn said. “I don’t think your story paints her in a bad light in the slightest. In fact, it may be the heartwarming tale people need right now.”

Link’s gaze angled down and pondered the suggestion.

“And no, they won’t believe that she’s turned into a dragon,” Penn continued. “But they will believe as I do how much you loved her, and how she must have loved you.”

Link nodded.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to interview you,” Penn admitted. “In the house you built together. You’ll get final approval of the story I send to Traysi.”

Link looked up and over at the house. It felt like he hadn't been there in ages, like it was a lifetime ago that he went in scouring for clues, hoping she'd just be around the next corner. Waiting for her was like waiting for a sunrise that would never come.

“No, I don’t mind.”

[modelbus]

Who else could I possibly do this for except Wilbur? And does this even count as fluff?

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 28 - History has its eyes on you

Wilbur’s hunched over a map, furiously scribbling on it. The sight makes you wince. Not because he’s defiling a priceless map of the country—he is—but because of what a mess he looks like. Unkempt hair spills wildly into his eyes, glasses smudged and dirty. His usual elegance and fashion is nowhere to be seen, leaving him in simple pants and a mismatched sweater.

You’ve been at war for 131 days, going on 132, and he’s been like this for all of them. It’s what war does to someone in charge, you assume. The leader of a country that was fighting for its life.

Everyone expects your country, and him, to lose. Wilbur’s determined not to let that happen.

“I brought tea.” You announce, setting the cup directly on top of the map.

“Thanks.” He murmurs distractedly, reaching for it and taking a drink. Wilbur pauses, narrowing his eyes and looking up at you. “This is—“

“Chamomile.” You confirm for him. “You need sleep, Wil.”

“I need to be strategizing. I need to be right here, doing everything I can.”

This is a familiar routine. In the midst of war, you enjoyed these familiar things. New and old.

“You’re of no help if you run yourself to death. A nap, Wil.”

“I really should start making you call me by title.” He grumbles, unmoving.

“And I really should start just dragging your ass to bed.”

Rounding the table, you stand next to him to stare at what he’s looking at. You manage more of the financial side of things, not the actual fighting, so all the lines and marks look like nonsense to you.

“I’m thinking we need to defend here more heavily. Our exports rely on it.” Wilbur taps a city along the water with his pencil end. There’s already loads of marks around the spot. “But that’s leaving this spot open. We can fill it by delegating soldiers from here, but we’re spread thin then.”

He was going to drive himself to the brink of insanity.

“Just take a break, please.” You implore. Although you’ve been regularly bringing him meals and water, sleep is a necessity too. “A nap. Two hours. I’ll even wake you.”

“Do you have any idea how many places can fall in two hours?”

“None, because your generals are the very best. Trust them.”

Wilbur scowls at nothing in particular, making you sigh.

“Let someone else take the reins for now.” You coax, hoping you’ll be making it somewhere.

“History has its eyes on me, not anyone else. Their failures are my failures.” He retorts.

You’ve known him since childhood, yet never would’ve imagined him in this situation. In charge of a country at war.

“History can wait.”

His head snaps up, and he finally turns his entire body towards yours. “No it can’t! We’re making it right now, and we need to…”

Wilbur trails off as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. After a long moment he relaxes into it, dropping his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I can’t leave my country without me.” He murmurs into your ear.

“You won’t.” You promise. “I’ll get work done while you sleep, how about that?”

“Not for long.” He argues. Somewhere along the way, this turned into a negotiation rather than begging. You’ll take the progress.

“Eight hours.”

“One.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Five.”

“Three, and that’s final.”

“Deal.” Three is more than you expected from him, so you’ll take it. “Now, respectfully, get your ass out of here and into bed.”

Wilbur laughs softly into your shoulder. You can feel his smile pressed against your skin, which, in turn, makes you smile.

“Just another minute of this?” He implores quietly.

“Anything that you need.”

History does have its eyes on Wilbur, and unfairly so. But you’ll make certain his name in the history books will be gilded with gold, esteemed highly.

After a deep breath, Wilbur pulls away and straightens. He gives a longing glance back at his map, one you intercept immediately.

“No.” You deadpan. “Go.”

“And here I thought I had the highest position.” He grumbles, heading towards the door. He pauses there, looking back at you. “Thank you.”

“I’m not your best friend for nothing, Wil.” You reply softly.

He nods his head, then vanishes. You look around the room, taking in the multiple dull pencils and maps. There’s maps on the floor even, making your cringe. You said you’d get work done while he slept, and you will.

But first, you’ll clean this mess up for him.

[ryanthel0ser]

Now that I've read the DMC4 novel, the scene Dante tells Nero that Vergil is his father has changed for me. Having that extra context has me changing my interpretation of the whole scene and why Nero doesn't go looking for answers during that 5 year period between DMC4 and 5

Disclaimer: this is my own opinion and thoughts, not fact just speculation based on what we've been given

It's very easy to say that the scene where Dante tells Nero about Vergil that Nero is clueless before this and that this is some kind of new revelation to him. The DMC4 novel though implies Nero has some idea that Vergil, or to be specific, Dante's brother is his father. Not only does he refer to Yamato as his birthright but Sanctus straight up states

“It all makes sense now. That man must’ve been a descendant of Sparda. He must have impregnated a woman from Fortuna…”

TO Nero.

So what are the facts Nero knows:

He's a descendant of Sparda

His father was a foreigner

Yamato belonged to Dante's brother

Yamato chose Nero to wield it after he repaired it

Dante's brother has been dead for a while

So it's easy for Nero to assume that Dante's brother may have been his father, the problems that have now arisen are that last point and that the guy with any answers just left. I believe in Before the Nightmare, Nero thinks something along the lines of "his brother has been long dead, so why does it matter" to sort of shrug off the thought. But why shrug off this thought? Nero remarks how he had always wanted someone like Dante in his life (which he is a little annoyed with himself about because...it's Dante, who is nonstop teasing him) so why not think about his father and want to know more? I think there are two main reasons as to why Nero doesn't pursue more information.

Why get to know the guy if there's no chance you'll ever meet him? It's a sad thought yes, but from Nero's position it's a safe one. He's dealt with and is dealing with a lot of grief from both Kyrie's parents dying and Credo dying, adding on the yearning to meet a man that has been long dead would only make things worse for him. It's likely he also developed this defense during his time at the orphanage; he probably for a bit wanted to know who his parents were and wondered if they'd come for him at some point, but after years of wishing and wondering why he was abandoned he put up a defense of "it doesn't matter, so why try looking into it" and turned his attention to his present day family: Kyrie, Credo and their parents.

Fortuna is a wreck and I nearly lost Kyrie, I don't want to leave her alone to deal with all this and any possible danger that might arise We get a scene at the end of the DMC4 novel of Nero and Kyrie helping out with the recovery and in Before the Nightmare we know they are still helping and now running the orphanage, but are HELLA poor because Kyrie accepts payment in meat and veggies instead of money (cause she's a saint like that). Additionally, there are still demons appearing on occasion although not at the rate they were before the whole Savior incident. His whole motivation (ha) for fighting and keeping Yamato was to protect Kyrie, and after nearly losing her and losing Credo it's not a surprise he decides to stick by her side during these five years. He already had to watch her grieve her parents, now he has to be there for her when she grieves for her brother whilst doing everything she can to help the survivors. Leaving her alone does not justify the want for answers to Nero.

Having this in mind now, let's look at the situation surrounding Vergil's return and the scene Dante tells Nero "he's your father" from Nero's perspective.

He just learned from V that the giant demon king named Urizen is actually Dante's older brother Vergil and that they're fighting each other despite being brothers based on their opposing ideas

This mysterious guy who showed up out of nowhere with a ton of answers for things and none about himself is now deteriorating rapidly and wants to be there for when Urizen is defeated

V landed the final blow and all of a sudden there's a guy there who is apparently Vergil and he and Dante immediately begin fighting before Vergil leaves

He thanks me???

Somehow V was part of that guy

Dante is refusing to let me fight even though this guy taking my arm kicked this whole thing off

To us the audience, this doesn't seem as strange because we're used to DMC nonsense like splitting your being in half but to Nero who has only dealt with the events of Fortuna and this past month this is still bizarre and seems like the most insane set of events to happen.

And then Dante has the audacity to tell Nero to go home and that it doesn't concern him. This is the man that took his arm, the one that took his power, the one that nearly killed Dante, the one that is responsible for thousands maybe even millions of lives being taken and despite how confident Dante was in Nero last time they met in Fortuna and has seen what he is capable of with the Devil Breaker he seems to have thrown that all away?! His own rage at the whole situation blinds him in that moment and Dante hits him with

"He's your father!"

This snaps Nero out of it. As Dante explains, we can almost see the implications of it all set in for Nero. It makes perfect sense. But this man took his arm. This man was supposed to be dead. This man has caused so much destruction. This man was the one he had been working with this whole mission and the one he was fighting. This is the man that Nero never imagined even meeting. And he was alive, he was real, but could this be called a good thing when he's caused so much pain for others and Nero himself?

Nero has gained so much information in the span of an hour and now Dante is on his way to fight Vergil that is guaranteed to kill one or both of them. Like Nero says on the phone with Kyrie, he's suddenly gained a family and he might lose both of them if he doesn't do something. And he's not losing anyone else.

[justali-anne]

Drunk Skelebros Take

I just had a hilarious idea (at least in my opinion)!

Imagine that when Sans and Papyrus get drunk, they become the OPPOSITE kind of drunks to their usual selves.

Sans, for example, would turn into a wild party animal when drunk. In addition, I like to imagine that he has a very low alcohol tolerance (more on that later), so give him a couple of shots of whiskey and he's already in a hyperactive state. Expect drunk!Sans to be singing and dancing at the drop of a hat, flipping tables, disappearing and reappearing out of freaking NOWHERE, and having intense mood swings where he either laughs at everything or finds the most ABSURD reasons to cry ("fish don't have legs, bro, how can they run if they don't have any legs? *sob sob*"). However, even with all these absurd outbursts, there is one thing Sans will NEVER do when he's drunk: talk about his problems. In this state, Sans will be more focused on the present moment than any of the grievances in his life, and even if you try to pin him down and get him talking, he'd be too delirious to give you a comprehensible chat anyway. Bottom line is, someone will definitely need to babysit this guy when he's drunk, because left to his own devices... Well, he might just destroy the whole bar.

Papyrus, on the other hand, will actually slow down and become slightly more introspective when he's drunk. He'll just suddenly start asking the strangest, most "profound" questions and try to be all smart and philosophical, but they're really just a bunch of utter nonsense. ("ART? WHAT IS... ART? IS ART WHAT YOU CALL PENCIL MARKS? OR IS ART SOMETHING GREATER LIKE... THE UNIVERSE?") It doesn't stop there, either. Papyrus will take random strangers to the side and ask them strange questions, sometimes it's about the utter philosophical nonsense above, or it could be a bit... too personal for them. ("DO YOU EVER THINK THAT IF YOU HAD TAKEN A DIFFERENT PATH IN LIFE, YOU WOULD'VE ACHIEVED YOUR HOPES AND DREAMS BY NOW?") However, there are times where Papyrus could get really upset or even angry while drunk. He'd start bemoaning the littlest annoyances and all the problems in his life, which is the exact opposite of what Papyrus is normally like, so this kind of behaviour will be jarring to everyone around him. On the surface, Papyrus might seem fully functional while drunk, but out of the two brothers, surprisingly it's PAPYRUS who conks out first. Yeah, Sans may have a low alcohol tolerance, but Papyrus isn't much better.

My headcanon is that skeletons, in general, would have pretty sensitive and powerful magic. My reasoning for this is that while most monsters have organs and stuff to help them with their bodily functions (they just function differently due to magic), skeletons (and ghosts) will need a LOT more magic to achieve those same functions. Talking, eating, moving etc. So logically, I think alcohol would actually disrupt that magic, and if they have too much alcohol, a skeleton could actually fall apart and lose their basic functions. It's not fatal, just give it time and the skeleton can recover, but it's still pretty dangerous and terrifying when it does happen. The skeleton would just be in a state of paralysis and that's not good for anyone. And the weaker a skeleton is, the more likely this alcoholic paralysis is gonna happen.

Therefore, Sans and Papyrus have to be extremely careful about what they drink and how much they consume. A shot or two is enough to get them hammered, after all. Sans is more vulnerable, of course, for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean Papyrus can take much more. He's tough, but he's still vulnerable. Both of them would start shaking and rattling if they drank too much. And hangovers are a NIGHTMARE. Sans would probably be bedridden, and Papyrus would pretend that he's fine and he's functioning properly, but if his rattling is any indication... yeah, he'd suffer.

Also these alcoholic principles don't work the same way on ghosts, since they're non-corporeal. I think the effects of alcohol on them would be different depending on the type of ghost, whether they have a body (like Mettaton) or not (like Napstablook). Or even if they're somewhere in-between (Mad Dummy/Mew Mew). I'll leave that for another time.

So, enjoy drunk skeletons!