#for those two bastards to be born right now

[cienie-isengardu]

Quan Chi's bio states he was basically born to be a slave in the mines. With Shang it's at least debatable whether he 'chose' to be poor of it he was just unlucky but I don't think Quan Chi chose to be enslaved since he was a child and mined minerals for OutWorld's government.

This seems awfully deliberate, like how Liu Kang had a hand in Smoke's family dying as a way for him to join the Lin Kuei. Like Liu Kang gave Mileena the life most iterations would kill for and whilst he did cripple Shao, Shao got the better deal compared to Quan and Shang.

I don't think there's a really good way to justify that one. It feels like Liu is punishing an incarnation of Quan Chi for something he didn't even do. Unless someone wants to make the assumption that Quan Chi was born evil...which doesn't make any sense since we literally see a good version of him and Shang fighting against Titan Shang Tsung.

Even if he was born evil, erasing him probably would've been preferable than subjecting him to slavery given how slaves are treated.

Last time I checked mortalkombat.com there was no official BIO for Quan Chi so I can’t address something I did not read yet by myself - not that I don’t believe your word, I just like be familiar with officially released source material and context before I start throwing the stones at any characters, especially since MK1 already proved with Shang Tsung that BIO, story mode and intros may approach differently character’s origin.

That said, I don’t have a doubt that Liu Kang is biased when it comes to certain people as it is visible in story mode alone how he interacts with the Royal Family or his Champions he considered his friends and for example Lin Kuei serving him and Earthrealm from centuries. He on purpose get involved with characters lives, be it choosing Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao and Raiden for Earthrealm’s Champions or deciding that Shang Tsung and Quan Chi won’t get a chance to obtain any power (magic) however the same story mode proved that Liu Kang’s plans could be - and in fact were - foiled by actions of others. Shang Tsung and Quan Chi learned magic due to Titan Shang Tsung’s scheming, Kenshi lost his eyesight again, despite Liu Kang’s hope for different means for his bonding with Sento

so it is not like every character’s life is set in stone and the once made Keeper of Time’s decisions won’t change due to outside forces.

My main problem with accusation that Liu Kang intended Quan Chi to be born in slavery or Shang Tsung in poverty is the implication he intended slavery and poverty to be part of his new era in the first place - and with that he chose to doom billions beings to unimaginable hardship solely to punish two people he personally dislike for things done in previous timeline steered by Titan Kronika who cared only for balance between good and bad, not for the living beings who were her own creations. 

Because Shang Tsung is not the only character we could see living in miserable conditions, as the Edenians infected with Tarkat sickness lived in literal poverty, banished and shunned by society, with little food or basic goods to survive on their own. Quan Chi may be a slave working in mines, but we have the whole Umgadi system that literally takes away freedom from the first-born daughters of edenian families, who from childhood are trained and indoctrinated to put Royal Family’s best interest before anyone and anything, because apparently the monarch is more important that the lives of common people. 

If we agree that Liu Kang in fact decided to include slavery and poverty in his new timeline just to punish two people, following that logic we should also assume that by making Johnny the USA’s famous movie star (with all the references to Hollywood and pop culture we know from previous timelines and our own word), he also allowed history to repeat itself with the European colonization of Americas and coming with it irreversible destruction of native cultures followed by unjust and cruel treatment of the indigenous population and ever further consequence: the Atlantic slave trade and the racial segregation that was part of America’s history preceding the official independence of USA (and racism being part of its history for another ages). All just to put Johnny in comfortable life as close to what his friend had in previous timeline.

What frankly, does not sit well with me knowing what kind of person Liu Kang was once and is currently as Earthrealm Protector. He was not a flawless human and definitely he is not the flawless and all-knowing god now - he doesn’t pretend to be one either. And sure, some of his decisions led to bigger tragedies but the fact he stepped down from Keeper of Time’s position to be just a mere Earthrealm’s deity implies he truly wished to allow people make their own choices. Because as Keeper of Time he could manipulate time and events to his own liking at any given time, but as a mere deity he is forced to play alongside the unfolding events and mortals choices - he may guide people, he may punish those disturbing the established peace, but he does not fulfill characters’ wishes or demand to erase the problems of their world because he did not give himself such power, as intro dialogues suggest is the case:

Li Mei: Why permit crime to fester in this timeline? Geras: It was beyond Liu Kang's power to prevent it. 

or

Liu Kang: It is beyond my power to prevent all injustice. Li Mei: Then it shall always fester. 

or

Scorpion: As Time’s Keeper, you could have abolished kombat. Liu Kang: Even a Titan’s power has limits.

or

Kenshi: With Liu Kang's help, maybe they'll find a cure. Baraka: If he could've helped, he would have done so by now. 

or

Baraka: If you're a god, then cure me. Liu Kang: I did not give myself that power.

or

Baraka: Tarkat is a cruel fate, Geras. Geras: As Liu Kang has told you, we cannot cure it. 

My point is: when a god gives mortals a free will then he must also accept that people will choose the wrong, even outright evil things. Not because anyone is born inherently good or bad, but because things like greed, pettines, fear, curiosity, ignorance or love exist and emotions are as strong an impulse, if not stronger, as is common sense. 

As much as I would really like if Liu Kang gave everyone the same, fair chance for a good life, I think we need to take into account that each character's life does not exist in a vacuum and was preceded by hundreds of lives and choices of other people that lead to this point in time. Choices that could get in the Keeper of Time’s way and push events in different paths that he intended. Like Smoke’s family - did he truly decide to kill them to get Tomas into Lin Kuei as the best way of action or did the Lin Kuei warriors, who found outsiders on the protected by them territory, acted too aggressively on their own and their choices lead to unplanned tragedy? Or Shao’s sickness - was it Liu Kang’s choice to prevent the possibility he will raise one day against Sindel but the plan was foiled by one stubborn father who wouldn’t accept his child’s sickness as it was or the iron discipline of father was a part of the plan from the start? My point is, it is hard to tell where Keeper of Time’s will ends and where start the will of mortals that make each day their own choices, for good or bad. 

Sindel is the best example, as Liu Kang intended her to rule Edenia as a firm yet fair queen and for all we know she indeed is one compared to the previous rulers. Yet what we learn from story mode and intro dialogues put a great shadow of doubt on whether she was truly so great Queen, if the sick Edenians are banished and forced to live in poverty, as their assets were taken according to Sindel's own edict, and in general treated like unwanted trashes. Not only that - Li Mei's intro dialogues says that Outworld has organized crime and Sun Do's beauty hides its darker side as it is far from the peaceful city Earthrealms think it is. Since people often are pushed into crimes by the bad circumstances (poverty, seeking refuge from persecutors) rather than inherent evil, should we accuse Liu Kang he planned such misery for those mortals or we accept that Sindel - generally seen as a good person, even admired by vast number of characters, including Liu Kang himself - made a choices that in fact have endangered or literally destroyed hundreds of innocent lives for ages? The Royal Family got rich off the harm of others, its power was secured by people deprived of their own civil freedom (Umgadi, the Palace Guard). Who should we blame for that? Liu Kang who destined Sindel to be Queen or Sindel herself, who had a power and free will to decide?

Like I said, no one lives in a vacuum and there were countless numbers of mortals before our main heroes were even born. Kenshi is dealing with his ancestors’ desperate choice to join Yakuza for protection and born out of it shame and crimes; their choices affect who he is and what drives him. Bi-Han is affected by his father’s decision and decisions of Lin Kuei Grandmasters before him that shaped reality in which Bi-Han lives now and considers an enslavement, because someone in the centuries old past chose to pledge their clan to serve Earthrealm and by extension, Fire Lord. Did Liu Kang intend such a turn of events or is it an effect of countless choices made by mortals preceding Bi-Han and Kenshi existence?

And so we come back to Quan Chi and the question, did Liu Kang decide to introduce slavery to his new timeline solely so Quan Chi could end in one or did mortals (Edenian aristocracy/government) at some point make the choice to enslave other living beings, including Quan Chi’s family, for their own gain? Because for Quan Chi to be born in slavery it means:

his parents or at least mother - and that alone may implies Quan Chi's being a result or rape - would need be a slave in the first place and

mother was punished for her son’s crimes he did not commit - and if Liu Kang’s plan had succeeded, he would never have committed either.

We can go on with questions like that but I think it comes down to this one matter: do we believe that Liu Kang would intentionally damn a billions of innocents to either punish Shang Tsung and Quan Chi or secure the well-being of his favorites like Royal Family and Johnny or not.

The game and intro dialogues won't give us a definite answer to that and each of us will need to settle this dilemma for themselves. I myself still debate whether to believe or not that Liu Kang sat down eons ago and wrote out how numberless generations will live so a few certain characters end in miserable (Shang Tsung & Quan Chi) or happy setting (Sindel). I do however believe that within Liu Kang's timeline, the Keeper of Time's choices shaping people's destiny and free will of characters can and are co-existing. I won't cross out yet the possibility that Liu Kang indeed decided to include slavery just to fuck up Shang Tsung and Quan Chi's lives - and I won't do it at least until I read the new source material.  However, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that slavery and poverty are the outcome of bad choices made by mortals living before the heroes and villains were born.

Of course, this is still not the best scenario and there is no denying Liu Kang wanted a meaningless life for both sorcerers and that he did interfere with events and destinies of mortals. But if he set all life in motion and then immediately step down from Keeper of Time’s position, we need take into account that A) he gave up control over people voluntarily and B) he did it eons before Shang Tsung or Quan Chi - and their families - came to alive and for such a long period of time, many bad things could have happened without his participation or ill will (is Tarkat even part of Liu Kang’s plan or did it happen spontaneously, as a result of the actions of unforeseen forces? As the “forces of nature” balancing things out?). The characters already asked Liu Kang why he did not prevent injustice, why he did not abolish violence, why he did not cure the horrific illness, why he did not make his timeline the better place… but I think to do so he would need to take away the free will, so no mortal could commit a crime again or go against his plan. Which is the total opposition of what he wanted and Liu Kang is aware his world did not improved as he hoped:

Liu Kang: This timeline has not improved as I had hoped. Geras: Thoughts like that led to Kronika’s madness. 

But I guess that is the problem with free will, it allows bad things to happen. There is no win-win scenario and someone will always be harmed - if not by their own choice, then by someone else's, because people do not live in a vacuum.

So, unless Quan Chi’s Bio (that I still didn’t see for myself) outright says Liu Kang decided to made his former enemy born as a slave, I’m willing to give Liu Kang the benefit of doubt that slavery and poverty weren’t on purpose added to his new era just to fuck up two people he didn’t like - even if his dislike is well-understandly considering everything that happened. 

It is easy to look at MK1’s story mode and blame Liu Kang for the characters' background but that is looking at this specific point of time the way we look at NRS and blame them for messing up our favorite heroes for drama’s sake alone. In-universe though? There are plenty of factors outside Liu Kang’s control that shaped the world before any of them came into picture. Like I said, it may not be so easy to determine how much for things to be the way they are now is the fault of god and how much of mortals alone.

Also, in regard to why not just erase them from the timeline, I too myself wondered about that. Or why not make them born in Earthrealm, whereas as mere humans they would pose a threat for a 100, maybe 120 years at best and then be safely tucked in the afterlife. Or why let them both live at the same time and not separate them by ages. My working conclusion for now is that erasing people is not such an easy matter, as people - their histories and relationships - are too well connected threads on time fabric. MK11’s Jacqui ending showed that changing one thing may lead to much more serious consequences. She wanted to spare her father from death at Sindel’s hand and following it the life of revenant. But when she removed that event from his history, in result she erased her own existence, as Jax did not meet Jacqui's mom and thus Jacqui wasn't born. Original Shang Tsung and Quan Chi brought more pain and despair to people than anything else, but since we don’t have an idea how time fabric works or how much it is influenced by the countless erased timelines, maybe Liu Kang couldn’t erase them without erasing more innocent and/or important people? Just a thought to think about.

[derpinette]

i have a physiognomy that is so aching for a cigarette

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[metalhoops]

‘Of course, I remember you.’ 

As far as first words go, Eddie’s were a hell of a head-scratcher. 

To catch up the uninitiated, everyone in the world has a soulmate. It’s been debated and speculated if a person can have more than one, but the mechanics behind soulmates was a pseudo-science at best and downright magic at worst. The first words a person’s soulmate spoke to them were inscribed somewhere on that person’s body, typically in their soulmate’s handwriting. 

Doesn’t handwriting change over time? The uninitiated might ask, to which Eddie would repeat, it’s pseudo-science or magic. Either that or something like quantum mechanics, where people are pretty sure, one day we’ll understand how it works, but right now there are a lot of theories and only a little bit of evidence, most of which contradicts itself.

Most of the time, the words are boring and wholly unhelpful. He could count on two hands the number of people that simply had some variation of ‘hello’, tattooed somewhere on their body. From Eddie’s point of view, he got lucky. 

He had a sentence of scratchy scrawl written on his inner arm stating, ‘of course, I remember you’. And really, what the hell was Eddie meant to make of that? 

Typically, your tattoo lets you know you’d found your soulmate upon first meeting, but his words implied he’d meet his soulmate before they first speak and that it would be memorable. Wasn’t that goddamn frustrating? 

His soulmate’s first words were right up there with ‘hello’ in Eddie’s list of ‘top five worse soulmate marks,’ because how the hell were those poor bastards meant to know if they’d just met the love of their life or if it was just their weird neighbour Tom? With his number one spot reserved for Gareth’s truly horrific, ‘I’d thought you’d be taller’. His soulmate was original. He’d give him that. 

There was no surefire way to know your soulmate’s gender, same as there was no surefire way for a mother to ‘just know’ a baby’s gender before it was born. Yet if Eddie was being sacrilegious, as he so often was, he’d say he ‘just knew’ his soulmate was a guy. 

There was nothing in the handwriting that gave it away. Nothing particularly ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ about the lettering. But ever since Eddie was a kid whenever he thought about his soulmate, he’d always think of them as ‘him’. 

He would like this or that. He wouldn’t be an asshole, like the meathead jocks at Hawkins. He would be different. He’d be kind, caring, and of course, a total badass. Eddie just had to wait to meet him. 

Steve’s soulmate mark drove him crazy. 

‘You might not remember me’. 

What the hell was Steve meant to do with that? Soulmate tattoos were meant to let you know when you’d met your soulmate, not that you’d already met them. In the days before Steve received the shake-up of his life in the form of Nancy Wheeler and the Upside Down, he had a reputation for sleeping around. He knew back then he’d been a little hopeless, but surely he’d said more than a couple of words to a girl before he slept with them. 

It horrified Steve that he could meet his soulmate, in some respect, know them, and yet had never talked to them. Could he really be that much of a jerk?

He’d never thought Nancy was his soulmate. He knew their words didn’t match up. That didn’t mean he loved her any less. Statistically, the odds of meeting your soulmate were somewhere between getting crushed by a vending machine and winning the lottery. Steve’s parents weren’t soulmates and boy did that show, but a guy could dream. Call him a hopeless romantic, but Steve was holding out hope for them. 

He’d almost thought his soulmate was Robin. It fit, right? They went to the same school, but they’d never really talked. He’d been so busy with his first day at a real job, he’d missed Robin’s first words to him. It wasn’t until later he’d started to expect it might be her. That was, until the pair were huddled beside each other on the floor of a bathroom stall. Robin was a lesbian and her first words, although interesting, definitely proved they weren’t soulmates. 

When Steve was a kid, he’d spend hours daydreaming about what his soulmate would be like. She’d be outspoken. She’d be bold. She’d be able to make him laugh. When he’d gotten older, something changed. He didn’t know how to put it into words, at least not ones he was ready to say out loud. ‘She’ didn’t fit his soulmate quite right. So after high school, he started wondering what ‘they’ would be like. ‘They’ felt not quite right, but closer. 

Their handwriting was distinct. It was all sharp-edges and odd-angles. It looked like it was trying to replicate something Steve couldn’t quite place until he walked into the record store at Starcourt and caught a glimpse of an Iron Maiden album cover. That gave Steve his first real clue as to what his soulmate might be like. 

It would be another year before the same handwriting would stop him in his tracks. Dustin had marched into the Family Video store as they were shutting up shop, brandishing a notepad and talking about needing a ride to go play his fantasy game. Steve was always going to drive Dustin, but he’d been dragging his feet, to show the kid he wouldn’t always drop everything to take him places. A familiar sharp edged, odd angled handwriting stopped Steve cold. 

“What are those?” Steve asked, trying to fain disinterest as his heart pounded in his ears. 

“They’re notes from the last session. You know, so we can keep track of what’s happened so far in the campaign. Who’s doing what quests, how many hit points everyone’s got. Mike is currently—.” Steve couldn’t give a crap about Mike. 

“Who’s writing is it?” Steve tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

Robin must have known something was up because she moved to Steve’s side. With one glance at the notepad, she understood why Steve was acting so strangely. She’d seen his tattoo, she knew it was his soulmate’s handwriting. 

“Our D.M.’s” Dustin replied. He might as well have been speaking in freaking code. 

“Alright, I’ll drive you,” Steve gave in, hoping he could catch a glance of his soulmate. Maybe his tattoo was wrong, maybe he’d know his soulmate when he saw them. 

They pulled up outside of the high school. He saw a group of people loitering outside the auditorium. Dustin had brought a lot of loose sheets of paper, so it only made sense Steve helped him carry his notebooks in. Most of the people there were familiar faces, the kids he’d babysat with a few exceptions. 

“Well, if it isn’t our favourite bard. I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” an oh-too-familiar voice crooned. A boy broke away from the crowd to meet Dustin. 

He was Steve’s age. They’d gone to school together. The dude used to do all these weird soap-box sessions on their lunch table. They had gym together, and history. Steve didn’t think the two had ever actually spoken.  

“I would’ve been here quicker if I hadn’t had to play twenty questions with Steve. Steve, you know Eddie, our D.M.? Weren’t you two in the same year?” 

Eddie was practically shooting daggers at Dustin’s side profile, shaking his head discreetly as though hoping Steve didn’t remember who he was. He supposed Eddie always had a reputation. 

“You might not remember me,” Eddie spoke before Steve could answer. 

Holy shit.

“Of course, I remember you,” Steve argued and watched as Eddie’s eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates. 

Both boys stood, slack-jawed and stiff-shouldered, peering at one another. Steve’s brain short-circuited, because holy shit, Eddie Munson was his soulmate. Holy shit he’d found them, him. 

Steve dropped Dustin’s notes and swarmed forward without thinking, throwing his arms around Eddie. Much to his surprise, instead of freaking out, like any normal person, Eddie was waiting to catch him, leaving both of them to tumble ass backwards onto the parking lot asphalt.

They held each other in a bone-crushing hug. Steve buried his face in Eddie’s neck, surprised at how naturally the action came. He’d never hugged a man like this, hell he’d hugged no one like this. He was clinging so desperately to the man that he’d never thought he’d really find. Eddie pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face. The guy’s eyes were alight with wonder and mischief. 

“That was quite an entrance, Harrington. All for little old me?” 

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” Steve admitted. 

“Well, clearly you’ve been doing a shit job of it,” Eddie argued which earned a snort from Steve. His soulmate would be able to make him laugh. 

“You’re not disappointed, you know? That your soulmate is the town Freak?” 

Steve had given up on caring about labels, on caring about what other people thought. Since high school, he had changed. He was different.  He didn’t want to be just another, shallow, meathead jock. He wanted to be different. 

“No. Absolutely not. Why would I care?” 

Dustin shattered the moment, clearing his throat and proclaiming,

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell just happened?” 

[yourlocaltrashcan657]

Long Distance Lovers

Reiner Braun x Female Reader

Sweat. That’s what Porco felt trickling his forehead and down his back as he shot up and sat against the bed frame. Rays of sunlight lit the room as he put on his shoes and walked to the warriors kitchen to see Reiner standing in front of the sink.

‘Great. This is probably the last person I want to see as of right now. Especially after that memory.’ Porco thought as opened the pantry.

“Morning.” Reiner said as he closed the tap and dried his hands.

“Hey.” Porco mumbled back as he pulled out snack bars, trying his best not to make eye contact. The two awkwardly sat at the table, waiting for others to arrive so they could start eating.

“You’re only gonna eat that?” Reiner asked, attempting to break the tension.

“Thanks for asking, shouldn’t you be worrying about your Devil Girlfriend.” Porco said mockingly as Reiner froze in his spot.

“I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reiner replied as he kept a his head down.

“Cut the shit, Reiner! I should’ve known you’d betray Marley once you’d get to that Island.” Porco yelled aggressively. “I saw everything in that bitches memory. Filthy Devils the reason we live like this-“

Suddenly, Porco was being lifted into air as Reiner gripped his collar. Anger was clearly evident on Reiners face as his features stiffened.

“Now you listen here you, bastard. I allowed it the first time but if you call her a devil again, so help me I’ll rip out your vocal cords until you can’t regenerate anymore.” Reiner threatened quietly. “That woman was probably the best thing that appeared in my life and I don’t care if she was born on that Island, she’ll always be an angel compared to the rest of this shitty world.”

Porco breathed heavily as they maintained eye contact before Reiners eyes widened and suddenly dropped Porco gently so he’d stand nicely.

“Sorry.” Reiner said as he held his head in one hand.

“Tch. You’re crazy you are. Falling in love like that.” Porco mumbled as they sat back down.

“I don’t care if you tell the officals.” Reiner mumbled as he looked up at Porco. “If anything it’s the last thing I care about now-“

“Relax asshole. I’m not gonna have them pass down the armoured titan because of.. that.” Porco interrupted as he reassured the blonde. “Let’s just keep this between us.”

“Yeah.” Reiner replied. “Did you by any chance hear what we said?” Porco scoffed at his question as he leaned back and crossed his arm over his chest.

“Yeah, you damn hopeless romantic.” Porco mumbled before speaking up. “From what I saw, you gave her a rose before embracing her.” It stayed silent for a good few seconds before Reiner smiled and chuckled at the response.

“I remember that. That rose must’ve been thrown out after I revealed myself.” Reiner mumbled as Porco nodded silently. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away on Paradis, Armin sat next to a flustered (h/c) girl as he looked at her in shock.

“I didn’t expect you to see those memories, Armin.” Y/N mumbled embarrassed of what he saw. “I think Bertolt was the only guy who knew about me and Reiner.”

“Y-yeah.” Armin said, not wanting to reveal Ymir being present in the memory.

“What exactly did you see, Armin?” Y/N asked nervously as she looked up at him. “What memory did you see?”

“It was when he gave you a rose and uhh… showed you his love your physical touch.” Armin answered embarrassed as he recalled the hug and kiss in the memory.

“I remember that.” Y/N chuckled as she got up and walked to the window. “You dont mind if we keep this between us, right?”

“O-of course Y/N! I came to you first since I just thought I’d let you know.. I don’t know if it was right though. I feel like it’s made you uncomfortable with me.” Armin said.

“I’m not uncomfortable with you, Armin. It just caught me off guard.” Y/N reassured. “If anything I’m glad you came to me first.” Opening the window, Y/N grabbed a watering can and tipped it to put over the plants attached to the window. “If anything I feel bad that you kept it to yourself for a while.”

“I didn’t even realise you had flowers out near the window.” Armin mumbled as he got up and walked over to see a lot of roses.

“I’ve been growing them for 4 years.” Y/N said as a smile grew on her face before pointing at the biggest one in the middle. “That one. That one means the most to me.”

“Is it..?” Armin asked with yet another shocked look as Y/N nodded.

“That’s the same one that handsome idiot gave me.” Y/N said as she stared at the blooming flowers.

[sunny-mercya]

Goth Moth

Shinichiro Sano x Male Reader

Fandom -> Tokyo Revengers

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

Your love for fashion—and your own style, a more philosophical approach to the much more darker beauty of life and death and all whats lay in the shadows beneath—had been stemmed from your older twin brother, by a hour as you had been a late baby—Wakasa.

It had already begun in the early teen years, when Wakasa—much to mothers disdain as she always nags in anger, that boys should be boys and if her own boys wants to be more feminine than she would have prayed for daughters to be born—had taken a interest in anything fashion related and you followed quick afterwards with the same quick starting passion.

In contrast to Wakasa, who likes to wear much more colourful clothes with mostly floral designs on it—his favourite being roses—you wore much darker themed clothes, more in the Gothic department.

Your gothic style—especially dark blue, almost pitch black, Blouses with ruffled cuffed and those few minimal touches of silver and white (and the occasional lone (f.flower), in homage to Wakasa as he had gifted you these when you were in the hospital) with tight skin hugging trousers—your trademarking outfit—is how you had met Shinichiro in the first place.

And it was your gothic style as well, which had earned you the silly nickname „Goth Moth“ —thanks to both, Shinichiro and Wakasa—within the gangs and groups, although your only active role in said gangs and groups were that of a secretary.

~~~

It's a Saturday night and the restaurant—Wakasa had the bright idea to take you and Shinichiro, his one and only future brother-in-law, out for some dinner—was filled close to the maximum capacity of being overfilled with costumers.

The hours passed and all well went—Shinichiro having the most talk with Wakasa as you, despite your minijob, didn't really care for gang affiliation related topics—till some guys, one or two tables away from you, decided to spurt some drunken nonsense.

Shinichiro wouldn't be bother by it, having learnt to ignore such and choosing battles wisely, if it weren't for the fact that these drunken men were spurting some sexual and sexism words towards you.

You weren't bother by such either—having come across such bigotry and ignorance during your school years, you're used by it as your appearance in contrast to Wakasa weren't by the norm of society (not that you cared about such misconceptions anyway)—but it does bother Shinichiro the more he listen, because they have no damn right to utter such judgemental bullshit.

»Shin, leave them be. They're just drunk.« Wakasa tried to defuse, seeing how his friend got angered within the passing minutes—jaw clenched already.

»Fuck it. Let's fuck them up all bloody.« Wakasa had changed his mind in a instant, when one of those bastard did not only catcalled you—which was, doesn't matter what gender even, never okay to do so—but also shouted words to you, which shouldn't be repeated.

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief—boys, you think, dumbasses you muttered—smudging some of your eyeliner, eyes gotten a bit dry from the cold air conditioner air.

~~~

Sitting in the park, next to Shinichiro—head leaned against his shoulder—with take away food and watching the sunrise, had something romantically to it.

Shinichiro and Wakasa—claiming to defend your honour and you just looked at your two dumbasses in confusion, because it wasn't like as if you weren't able to defend your supposed "honour" (both of them watched Mulan a bit too intense and much) yourself—did make their threat come true and with good violence dragged the men outside and beat them up.

After, it had been spontaneously decided to take a stroll through the city and the park—which leads to the now and here.

You wouldn't trade with what you have with Shinichiro for anything in the world.

»What's that for?« Shinichiro asked, a bit taken by surprise, when you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

»For nothing and everything,« you said, smiling.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Unknown's Chapter 351

Brief summary: Game community users stuff. Cale heads to Earth 3 to find a game dev.

==========

I'm still unsure if we're still in the Aipotu arc or the New World arc now because we're suddenly going to Earth 3 in the next chapter. 😂

First part of the chapter discussed the various user communities centered on RPOG, like NC (New World Community), NF (New World Forum), and RU World (RPOG Users World), and their talk about the game update.

We got info about the 3 rankers who were known to have received the Emperor Quest: "War God" from China, "Water Witch" from Sweden, and the "Black Lion" from Arcea (Jungle Union). There was speculation that the countries of these 3 rankers were backing them.

Users also discussed that there might be more players hiding the fact that they got the quest, and were convinced that these players were those in the top 100.

But one user named "Chief of Staff of the Universe" warned about the repercussions of this quest in relation to the NPC kingdoms and nations already present. Players were considered foreigners by NPCs, so how would these NPCs react if these foreigners suddenly built their own kingdoms? After all, even the top 10 rankers were barely in the top 100 strongest list in the entire New World (NPCs + players).

Moving on, we had one last banter between Cale and Alberu. 😂😂😂

Cale: *talks about Alberu being a hero* Alberu: *feeling uncomfortable about becoming the hero* Cale: What, you don't want to do it? Alberu: You're such an annoying dongsaeng. Cale: Don't put too much meaning in names. Think of it as a means to an end. Alberu: *frowns* Cale: I'm sure His Highness must be thinking "This position doesn't fit me. I'm not cut out for it." Alberu: Irreverent bastard. Cale: I'm irreverent? But I'm an incredibly high-level villain in the game while you're a low-level newbie? *smiles* Alberu: … Alberu: *smiles brightly* Cale: !!! Cale: (No, that was a joke! Was he taking this seriously? Did he seriously become a game addict?) Cale: *hurriedly adds* And that villain mastermind works for His Highness. Haha! Alberu: Haha! Really! My dongsaeng's got a way with words. Cale: Right? Hahaha- 😅

20 hours before the game server opens, but Rosalyn reported to Cale that they encountered a problem with the portal. She and Sheritt had figured out a power source and a way to keep the portal open. But they did not know how to connect to the game. So she asked Cale for an expert in the game's systems, and said she needed it before the game update finished in 20 hours.

Cale decided to find a game company employee, or a former employee, who were at odds with Transparent Co, Ltd., to help them with the portal. And in order to find that person, they needed to head to Earth 3.

Thus, a quartet was born - Cale, Raon, Rosalyn, and Alberu. Rosalyn joined in because they planned for her to register as a regular user to assist Alberu in his Hero Quest. GoD opened a portal to Earth 3 for them.

Ending Remarks Well, they said they would "briefly" head to Earth 3 to find that expert/game dev before returning to the Black Castle which was still in Aipotu. But I feel like we're in the New World arc now... Next chapter would be the quartet in Earth 3. I guess they'd be surprising Ahn Roh Man with their sudden appearance. 😂 I'm also looking forward to the meeting between the two "Alberus".

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

I really hate that Jon//sa shippers have equate Sansa's Alayne Stone arc to Jon Snow believing he's a bastard. Because those two characters experience totally different situations.

Even if Jon is at some point revealed to be a Targaryen prince ( which isn't confirmed for all we know he could still be a Targaryen bastard) it won't change the fact that for the first 17 years of his life he lived with the bastard stigma. Nor it would magically erase the feeling of not belonging he felt on his own home due to his status and the way his father's wife was treating him.

Meanwhile, Sansa has lived her whole life knowing she's a noble lady and even now she's posing as Alayne she still knows that she's a Stark of Winterfell. It's different to pretend to be a bastard than to actually believe your whole life to be one.

And since I usually focus my meta on Jon, let's focus this one on Sansa and describe how, in my humble opinion, I believe this comparison is unfair for her, too.

Sansa's biggest problem right now isn't that she pretends to be a bastard. Actually, that's hardly an issue for her considering that Petyr, who poses as her father, treat her like the lady of the house and allows her to have all the comforts ladies of noble heritage have. Her biggest problem is that she has to live with that predator, who half fantasises she's the daughter he could have with his beloved Cat and half views her as the idealised younger version of his beloved Cat. And honestly, living with a creepy pedo is one of the worst things a teenage kid could have to deal with.

Returning to her Alayne Stone persona, I do believe that Martin choose her to pretend to be a bastard for a reason. But that has nothing to do with Jon Snow or any other character fans ship her with. Shocking I know, but asoiaf female characters exist outside of your preferred pairings and some-most!- of their plotlines exist to cater themselves alone.

Sansa grew up with an narrow view of the world most Westerosi noble girls usually have. When Joffrey and Cersei showed their true colors and her father died, her fantasies were shattered but she continued to have a narrow view of the world as she was still a noble who right then was also a hostage. By making her pretend to be a bastard while she's in Eyrie, Martin has given her the opportunity to associate and talk with a larger variety of people than she could have as a noble lady. Also, by temporarily changing her status, she's given the opportunity to witness how things work for those who are less fortunate than those who are born nobles - even if this happens only on a theoretical level bc as I said above practically she's still enjoying the benefits of nobility. I do believe this experience of hers will enrich her view of the world and add even more layers to the already complex personality Martin has crafted for her. And I do believe it's a shame to diminish that for the sake of a crack ship.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

A Bump In The Night: Part 5- The End

Summary: With the baby growing, it is becoming to difficult to hide it anymore. Threats were made, Pol hardly even batting an eye at you still worried sick about Michael. Meanwhile Lizzie still has her intentions and is willing to make a bargain with the devil himself in order to ensure Tommy is hers, and James is yours as it should have always been. The only thing is, they don't realize Tommy is and will always be one step ahead and has plans of his own, he knows how to press people to tell the truth.

Warnings: Kidnapping, incest, pregnancy, mentions of arranged marriage, violence, assault, non consensual touching, guns

Taglist: taglist: @calmingmelody96 @sunflower-tia @haydenpookiebear @star017 @sweetcheesecakesblog @mamawiggers1980 @calam-arii

3 months prior

"Oh for godsake Thomas" Polly rushed through the kitchen like a bat out of hell in disbelief that thing could get any worse, anymore disturbing what in the fuck were you thinking! She slammed her hands down on the wooden table, spitting her venomous words with such vile and anger.

"She will marry James! Word will get out about the two of you fucking in that filth riddled forbidden bedroom! Enough people know already! You can't marry her! It isn't right and neither is that rotted fruit in the womb! Are you out of your god damn righteous mind because I will help the both of you find it!" You cowered in your seat shamefully, your feelings hurt while your heart was racing about ready to burst out of your chest. How could someone that you love say such hateful words about he r own kin? Yes it was wrong but the child bared no play in this family affair.

Tommy stood their clenching his jaw, an animalistic anger widening his blue eyes as he noticed your lip quivering. You hated conflict he needed to remind himself and Pol of that but she was too far gone to hear anything he had to say, there was only when option which was to level the playing field.

"She will not marry him! You want to know why Pol, eh? You want to know why?" Spit was flying from between his lips, anger rising and pumping and in his chest. He flicked his cigarette in Polly's tea, slamming a fist at one of the cabinets.

"She is pregnant with my child! Those boys, those Birmingham low life fucking scum don't give a fuck about her! But I do! I will not throw her or our child in harms way. So with the utmost, tumultuous disrespect go on and fuck yourself as far as your bastard of a son goes. You bring up one more word about my unborn child I will ensure Michael will never been seen or heard again, and I will blow all of us up in this fucking house and if you want to play me, you should know better than anyone, I will win." Polly went quiet, gulping back her fear and anger. What was she to do when she still had no clue of Michael's whereabouts or what Tommy may have told his men to do with him. What if he gave him away to someone as bargaining chip? The Shelby's had many many enemies over the years, the list going on and on to the point Pol didn't even know where to start.

Th dark turn of events made you nauseous, what will happen when this child is born? Will these problems still occur, are you going to have to walk on eggshells, constantly being terried that your own family would be out to get you? Maybe Pol was right, maybe it would be better just to get rid of it but the idea of aborting something, someone that was made from a powerful, endearing form of love hurt you immensely. You could just picture it now their baby bright blue eyes that looked just like Tommy's yearning to be loved and taken care of. Excusing yourself from the table Tommy raised his hands up in irritation with Pol about her insensitive comments toward you.

Fast forward to now...

Your bump was growing, you were becoming too big for your typical everyday clothes but Tommy has been such a lamb in giving you his, ensuring the maids were checking in with you when he was away for business. Today's business in particular was a cause for concern as he had a meeting with Lizzie. You weren't so much worried about Tommy as you were her making a move on him or trying to outsmart him to where you would marry James in just a few days.

Your hands cradled your tummy anxiously, nibbling on your nails while you paced the room waiting for him to return. Tommy knew how you were and insisted everything would be alright. A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, probably Frances again seeing if you needed anything. She really lived up to Tommy's expectations in caring for you, not going more than thirty minutes of checking on you in fear of losing her job, which you couldn't blame her the family paid her very well, even insisting on free time for herself and occasionally allowing her to have dinner with everyone, she did make the meals after all.

Twisting the knob, the phone started to ring, your heart thudding in your chest thinking about how maybe it was Tommy calling to check in on you and give you an update on the situation, but before you could think any further, you were met with a wetted cloth pressed harshly against you nose and mouth, the last thing you saw being a blurry image of a man that looked familiar...

"Shhh, shh, it'll all be over soon sweetheart..."

Meanwhile Tommy tapped his foot anxiously, Lizzie sitting across from him with an unhappy face and her arms crossed. She had been getting nowhere with her plan. When you didn't or Frances hadn't answered the phone his eyebrows furrowed together as he rang again, and once more after. Still no response, something seemed dreadfully wrong.

"You're not trying to get a hold of that whore of a sister you have are you. Don't play stupid with me Tommy, the town talks and it's quite obvious she is baring with child isn't she? We know it's yours. I can assure you it's far too late though, she should be gone by now. This is the part where you thank for taking care of your problem." At her bold statement, reality set in that she was behind this or at least was involved. Tommy hung the phone up calmly, taking in a deep breath and raising his eyebrows with a narrowed look of threatening, crystal blue eyes.

In a hasty hurricane of emotions Tommy whipped his hand back, slapping Lizzie across the face, not once but twice cheek to cheek, knocking the wind out of her hair and disheveling her once perfect hair. She grasped at her jaw in shock before Tommy cusped her chin, forcing her to look into his dead sea eyes.

"Listen to me and listen closely. There has never been a connection to us. Now you can dream on in this fairytale word of yours but what happens between my family is none of your business. As far as I'm concerned you are just another whore on the street, opening your legs to any man who will give you what you won't work for yourself. If you think your life is hard now, then tell me where she is before I make it worse." Lizzie was blindsided by the intimidating man's harsh words. He had never snapped at her like that before but maybe that was what she needed for him to get his point across that this was not a game she wanted to play.

"Now, if you know something I suggest you tell me."

-

Sirens were the first thing you heard as you slowly came back to reality, vision blurry and hearing rendered. The fuzzy image was like looking at an etch a sketch a child drew, all you could make out was two men chatting across the room, one being tall and dressed in a white long sleeve shirt, the other one slightly shorter but the more submissive one by the way he was slouched over cowering.

When you released a low groan, it was clear you were being gagged by what felt like cloth, limbs tied to the chair you were sat in, along with your wrists nowhere for you to go. Your vision became clearer as you blinked rapidly, now able to make out who this man was. Tommy had tried to kill him long ago, he was a dangerous man.

Perching his eyebrow up with your sudden cognitive awareness, he picked up a shiny metal object approaching you like an animal did it's prey, yelling at the other man to get out.

Fucking Mosley...

"Good morning sweetheart, you look quite rough but that body-" His hand flicked at the buttons of your shift, revealing your cleavage, wasting no time ins grasping at the cushiony skin, causing you to wince and shake your head vigorously.

"Ravishing, aren't you?" You tried to scream through the makeshit gag, only making him chuckle darkly, green eyes shimmering in the dimlit room. Glancing behind him, the walls were coated with luxurious wallpaper and you could hear the sounds of music just outside the door, surely there were other people here, only intensifying your fear. Where the fuck was Tommy?

"Now let's see what else we are working with, hm?" He untied the sweat pants you were wearing, the bump now resting out as clear as day. Your breathing increased rapidly when he slid the blade down your stomach, tears flowing freely.

"If you wanted a child and not an abomination, I'd love to give you the pleasure Y/N.. but first this has to go." He pressed the blade into your skin sharply, shedding blood instantly. In a fight or flight response, you headbutted him with all the force you could. He dropped the blade, but perhaps that wasn't a smart move after all.

"Why you little bitch!" He sent a powerful blow across your face, knocking you out once more.

"Fucking Shelby's."

-

Walking into the pub, wind rustling his hair, there he found Arthur sat at the bar wasting away the same as any other day. When they locked eyes, Arthur huffed not having anything to say to Tommy as he demanded another glass of whiskey from the barmaid, taking a glance at her cleavage when she wasn't paying attention and smirking to himself.

"Everybody out! Family business." Well there went Arthur's fun, fucking Tommy always sucking it right out of the room.

Tossing his hat onto the bar, he sat on the stool throwing Arthur's glass over the bar onto the floor where it shattered.

"What the fuck Tommy, can't have one fucking drink, eh?"

"Y/N's missing. I have an idea of where she is, but we need to move fast eh?" As soon as Tommy mentioned that you were gone, he demanded information as to who took his baby sister.

"James and fucking Lizzie thought up a grand plan, only reason I got it out of her was because I know her fucking past, parts she didn't know I knew but that's besides the point. They've made contact with someone from our past Arthur, and I have a great idea of where she may be. She didn't give me a name but I didn't need one. My men saw James after our meeting going into a club 5 miles from here." Arthur sat their contemplating the right thing to do, you were his sister after all but that didn't mean he wasn't disgusted by the revelations he encountered that first night.

Still not speaking, he ignored Tommy simply huffing in disbelief that Tommy would come to him for help. Why should he? Incest was a crime, a disgusting relationship and he would not stand by it, he was disappointed in both of you. Taking the hint Tommy carried on.

"Arthur I don't ask much of you, I've never once judged you from your past, I've always been at your side now I need you to be here for me...You may not agree with the situation but I need not remind you she is our sister, she needs us. Who knows who the fuck has her or what they are doing with her. I need you brother." Arthur brushed his hand through his oily hair, down over his beard contemplating. Tommy had a point and fuck did he hate when he always did, however you were not the only Shelby missing.

"What about Michael? Hm? He's a Shelby too that only one of us in the room knows where he is. He's Pol's kid for fucks sake Tom. Where is he?" Tom shook his head, uninterested in relaying those details just yet, once you were back and he could see with his very own that you were unharmed and the baby was okay then he would spill.

"That information is not important now is it? Y/N is a sweet, innocent girl and she's always been there for everyone Arthur, can you say the same about Michael, 'cause I can't." He had a point there, Arthur remembering all the times Michael screwed him over and Pol expecting them to just forgive him because of the last name he shared. It was bullshit.

Tommy had plenty of dirt on his brother but he didn't operate like that, he was Arthur's weakspot and he knew that, he didn't have to use his past against him for him to give in and fall in line with his requests and orders. Nodding, Arthur slammed the rest of his drink, groaning and following Tommy out the door.

"You smell like shit." Tommy tried to make light of the situation, setting a subtle reminder that neither had to agree with the others decisions they just needed to be there for one another.

"Ah shut up Tom. Who's ass are we killing this time, hm?"

-

With Tommy being gone, Polly was making herself at home in his office, digging through the drawers of his desk, scattering papers across the room looking for any information that might help her find her son, but there was nothing. Now that you were missing, she'd be damned if she was going to lose her own kid, putting him first in a selfish way.

A knock at the door startled her, thinking it may be Tommy until the voice spoke.

"Relax Pol, it's just me." Oh thank god, it was just John.

He walked in with sympathetic eyes, hating see his aunt in such a desperate state of mind without a hint of a starting point to find Michael but he knew something and she could tell.

In a moment of silence, Pol pointed her cigarette accusingly at him, blowing smoke into the brisk air of the room.

"You never come in to Tommy's office unless he's here. What do you know, where is he?!" John put his hands up surrendering the idea of him indeed knowing something, but he wasn't here just for that.

Tommy clued him in on the plan, asking him to stay home and keep Pol subdued, and to inform her Michael would be home soon unharmed but only after you were safely secured in his arms once again.

"Michael is safe. He will be home later after Y/N is found alive and safe. He forced him to work in the states and keep business affairs civil to bring the company in money.

A wave of relief washed over her, but when she heard who they think had taken you a dreadful, terrified feeling rushed through her veins. She didn't think it would go this far, that James and Lizzie would be so spiteful, not that she was much better herself. But never this bad.

"Where's Arthur?" John scoffed with a surprised yet irritated look on his face.

"Don't you in the least bit care about y/n and Tommy? I know they are on your shit list but they're family Pol, they're blood. We've all made mistakes but if they are happy just let them fucking be happy."

Pol stood their contemplating on the right thing to say, she couldn't separate her love for the both of you from her views on this relationship.

-

Kicking the door in Tommy walked into the club with determined eyes, searching for his target while Arthur walked behind him smoking a cigarette, waiting for the younger Shelby's queue to start fucking people up.

"You see him Tom?" He shook his head, but was still scanning the room while keeping his composure. Heads turned toward the family with looks of disgust, some with fear as they knew very well who the brothers were.

After a few sharp turns and corners, Tommy motioned toward Arthur to light this god damn place on fire and kill anyone that got in his way as they were both carrying. The boy spotted Tommy out of the corner of his eye but Tommy was faster, shoving him against the wall and cocking his gun beneath his chin.

"Where the fuck is she? I knew you were no good from the fucking start. What can't pull a beautiful, innocent girl so you go and have her fucking killed eh? Sounds like an insecure little bitch to me. You didn't think I'd find you did you James?" He eyed the boy skeptically, his eyes beaming with anger, giving off a profound sense of dominance. He kneed him in the stomach, causing him to groan out in agony, almost falling to the floor if it weren't for Tommy holding up, ignoring the chaos behind him his brother was causing, a table flipping in the air and hitting the wall besides James's head. A piece of wood flying of a broken leg and striking him in the eye.

"Take me to the fucking room." He dropped the boy, kicking him in is back to go on and crawl if he had to. He didn't care, he just needed you.

The room was in a far back, closed off area of the club, away from people that no one would have heard your screams.

Barging in the room Tommy threw James's bruised, and battered body on the floor, ignoring his whimpers, seeing red when he saw Mosley's lips against the warmth of your neck, his hand caressing your breast while blood flowed freely from your nose. The cut mark of the sharp knife glistening in the light beaming in through the dirty window.

"Ah well if it isn't Mr. Shelby. It's been quite some time no?" When Tommy pulled out his gun once more, Mosley was quick to yank your head back by your hair, pressing the blade roughly into your skin.

"Ah, ah. Temper, temper. I was simply doing what the young lad here couldn't. You should know by now you can't escape me." When Arthur screamed angrily and bolted forward, Mosley dug the knife in deeper, causing you to scream out in pain, making Tommy grab Arthur by the arm and yank him back. He didn't want to risk it, not yet.

He breathed in the sea breeze scent of your hair, continuing to pepper kissed to your temple, making you squirm in discomfort from the man's unwanted advances. Your eyes locked with Tommy to put a stop to this, to end this right here right now. Seeing you in such a pitiful, abused state angered him but also shattered his heart to think Pol couldn't be trusted to look after you.

"What do you want eh? The campaign is fucking over, she has nothing to do with this. This fight is between us, the men. Now why don't we handle this like proper gentlemen eh? Let the girl go." Mosley wasn't convinced, shaking his head no. That would be too easy. He expected adventure, excitement, he wanted to see his enemy crumble, to have no choice but to admit to defeat.

"And why would I do that hm? If I recall correctly you tried to kill me. You've lost my trust Mr. Shelby. Quite the disappointment you turned out to be, now here I am trying to rid your baby sister of this rotted fruit in the womb that belongs to you." Tommy was blindsided, no one had actual proof that there was any relation more than a sister and brother relationship. Lizzie didn't have solid proof, James hadn't either just speculation he was bluffing but Tommy couldn't risk egging him on instead standing there silently with his hands folded in front of him in a gentlemanly manner as he tried to keep his composure.

"Mr. Mosley, not quite sure where you are getting false information from. After all I think the only one that may have fucked his sister is you, you do like to keep it in the family if I recall correctly." Mosley stiffened his jaw, grabbing a tightening his fist in your hair before shoving your head down and smacking his gun down on your head merely knocking you out as blood trickled down your forehead.

He was moving away from you slightly, they just had to wait for the opportunity, even though Tommy's heart was thudding inside his chest rapidly in fear of what would happen if they didn't make a move soon. Just a few more steps away from you...

"The per-petulant know it all, walking into my fucking club. These are my grounds Mr. Shelby, what kind of host am I not offering you a drink first? Maria-" Before he could finish yelling for a woman, in a swift motion Tommy went to throw a punch and reach for his hat to scrape his skin off while Arthur rushed to your unconscious aide.

Mosley was faster though, head butting the younger Shelby as he fumbled to take his gun from his jacket. The weapon falling out and sliding across the floor.

As Arthur undid your bindings, he noticed his brother needed help. Unlike Tommy, Mosley wasn't messing with him at the moment, giving him an advantage.

Pulling his gun from the back of his trousers he aimed it at Mosley, who grasped his own gun in his hand now, holding Tommy in a head lock with his forearm wrapped around Tommy's neck.

"Put the gun down Arthur, or a bullet goes through her head." Tommy was losing air and attempted to scream for Arthur to take the fucking shot.

Simultaneously, Arthur screamed a "fuck you" Mosley's way, both guns going off in a poetic yet dreadful scene of the dangerous men at play.

Blood splattered across the wall, Mosley's grip on Tommy loosening, making him drop to the floor on his knees as he tried to catch his breath with weary, fuzzy eyes glancing up. The bullet Mosley shot had only just missed your head by a centimeter, his lifeless body flailing to the ground as Arthur managed to him with a killshot in the middle of his forehead.

"You alright Tommy, hm?" He waved him off, stumbling to get up and pull you out of the chair at this godforesaken place. Carrying you out in his arms while Arthur picked his gun up off the floor, taking Mosley's in the process.

"C'mon sweet girl, let's go home." Relief washed over Tommy like an immense wait had been lifted from his shoulders.

He gave Arthur the go ahead to call the man he put Michael with to allow him to be released from his duties, too zoned out and only focused on you, worried if the baby was alright.

-

Your dreary, restless head rested against Tommy' shoulder as he walked you inside, spotting Pol and Michael standing by the fire place. A look of pity washing over your aunt's face when she noticed the bruises on your face, the dried blood painted from your hair down your forehead. She hadn't wished this upon you, she never would, she hadn't realized just how serious this situation was or how perhaps James wasn't the man she thought he could be for you.

Now with the family reunited even with strained ties, the house settled, the fire crackling in the background, Tommy laying your cold body down on the sofa beside it to warm you up, tossing a wool throw blanket over you in the process.

Pol was the first one to speak.

"I-I'm so sorry I-I didn't know I-" Tommy cut her off abruptly with the raise of his hand not even batting an eye at Michael standing in the room, acting as if he wasn't present.

"No, no you didn't know. You didn't take the time to know. Frances has already informed me that you were too wasted to even hear someone breaking in the fucking house. She had to hide in a fucking closet Pol. Look at her now, tell me is this far enough for you, or do you want her dead along with our child?" This place was no longer a safe space for you, and Tommy refused to put you in harms way ever again, too worried to even risk it because it was clear he could not trust anyone in the family to even care about your safety just because of one unplanned pregnancy.

When the early morning light peered in through the window, the sounds of bird chirping in the harmonious summer day, you woke up head pounding from the painful blows Mosley striked you with. Tommy was layed beside you, caressing your cheek delicately and lovingly, glancing down at your weak state with sympathetic eyes.

"Good morning love. I set two tylenol on the table with a glass of water. We should get going soon, we don't have long until the others wake." With a puzzled look, you glanced around the room only to see your belongings no longer there. Only the dusty old furniture that was handed down through generations.

"W-what?"

"We're going away for awhile, at least until she is born." Your eyebrows propped up with excitement and surprise, how did he know the gender?

"That's right she. I had Frances contact the doctor. Now take your pills and let's get the hell out of hear because I won't risk your health and safety again nor hers." The tears started welling up in your eyes, insisting on taking the pills to go in the car. You were finally getting away, having the light at the end of the tunnel with Tommy by your side. He assisted you up, holding on to you with a protective, and caring hold to help you into the car.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the events from the previous night still washing over you, reminding you both as you stared back at the house you grew up in of why you were leaving.

"Well, wh-where are we going?"

"Far, far away from here my beautiful girl." He took your hand in his, digits scanning over you smooth skin before resting a kiss to your forehead, smiling like a fool in love that the day had come, he finally was going to have the ability to be happy, no arguments, no danger, just a family of his own with the girl he shouldn't have loved the way he did.

[allbark-no-bite]

This is Real Life || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the kook princess comes home from college with a new boyfriend and Rafe isn’t happy about it. unfortunately, he isn’t in the position to tell her what to do

warnings: 18+ smut, foul language, unprotected sex, slight mention of underage sex

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: this contains NO SPOILERS for season 3! y’all i have had this in the drafts for a year and couldn’t finish it. i was quickly motivated by the release of season three. i actually have some more OBX stuff on wattpad that i hope to transfer over if this gets some attention :)

It was feral really, their relationship. What else was to be expected of Ward Cameron's only son and the kook princess? But for the record, she preferred the term bastard. Born the illegitimate child of the second wealthiest man in the Outer Banks, she could go by whatever she wanted and people would still be besotted—albeit wary—by the name.

She was exactly the type of drug Rafe Cameron couldn't resist time and time again. Better than anything Barry could ever try to sell him. One taste and now he gets an itch for her worse than cocaine. Midsummers made this temptation all the more unbearable. Liable to her father's heavy name, she'd be inclined for the occasion to put on some kind of obscenely form fitting dress that left little to the imagination and Rafe intoxicated by the sight all night.

It's a toxic green color, and by toxic he means the dark teal accents her sun kissed skin and dark hair perfectly. She'd dyed it black two summers ago before leaving for college, and it had yet to return to its natural fair brown. He's sure she did it just to spite him. Rafe had always preferred blondes. But damn did it look good on her.  Shamelessly, his eyes drink her in as she flashes a pearly smile at the bartender taking her order.

Unfortunately, he also then catches sight of the guy standing next to her. He's a tall, brute of a man with large shoulders, a perfect nose, and sickening puppy dog like eyes. From the looks of him, he's undoubtedly one too many years her senior. Despite that, it's obvious that he's not the one in charge. Rafe watches as the older man hovers around her. He's confident in the way he carries himself, but Rafe can see how he moves around her with an air of caution, like he knows she's going to bite him if he gets too close. This observation leads him to his next point; the guy is not her type and Rafe knows it.

She met Armand nearly a year ago through a friend of a friend. He had returned to university from Europe to continue his studies with the leisure that his comfortable home life in a wealthy, two parent household provided him. While the six year age gap certainly raised eyebrows —specifically those of friends of her father's— it's not the reason she was uninterested in him.

Armand was the product of fine European breeding and the maturity that came with age. He spoke astutely and with confidence. He also had an unlimited amount of patience. And while it was nice to be indulged by his attentiveness every so often, it became quite boring if she was being honest. Armand was the type of guy one would bring home to meet their family, a quality that she had very little interest in.

Her eyes catch Rafe's from across the country club bar, and she immediately looks away. Instead she sweetly asks Armie, as she calls him, to get her another glass of champagne — her current one had gone warm. She pretends that she doesn't see him sidling up to her until he's standing right behind her.

Rafe has to hide his smile, licking his lips to wet them. After all these years, he's quite used to the games she plays. She makes him wait a few more seconds before she turns around, her exposed back pressing against the bar as she faces him. Her eyes first travel slowly down his body, coming about as close as one can to undressing a person without actually touching them, and only then returning to his face.

"What are you doing here, Cameron?"

They both know what she means is 'what are you doing in my face' and not 'what are you doing at Midsummers'.

Catching the message that she's not in the mood for any sort of shit answer he could give her about his required attendance at Midsummers, Rafe shrugs casually, rolling his expensive suit clad shoulders. His thumb drags across the smooth plane of his jawline, moving downwards and catching along his bottom lip.

"Heard you looked good in a sundress," he suggests, still trying to maintain an air of nonchalant indifference. He wants to know if her golden skin still tastes how he remembers it.

She rolls her eyes as a lazy, taunting smirk appears on his face. Before she can reply, Rafe saunters closer, practically eliminating the distance between them and blocking her against the bar. His face is close enough to her cheek that she can feel his hot breath as he wets his lips.

"Heard you looked good undressed."

Her expression remains unchanged, not bothered by his forwardness. "Would you let my brother hear those words come out your mouth?" She eyes him knowingly, feigning concern. "Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face again."

The word 'brother' is synonymous to a warning to Rafe and immediately he glances sideways. Around them, residents of Figure Eight chatter and happily sip champagne. No one is paying the pair at the bar any mind. It is likely that no one has noticed them yet. Usually just the sight of the pair together is enough to draw a couple of stares.

When Malcolm Coors doesn't materialize from the crowd, Rafe's sharp blue eyes settle back on her. “Real funny," he sneers.

She has no shame in admitting she gets a little kick out of Rafe's fear of her brother. The two boys had graduated together a year before her, and she still remembers the pair of them being intentionally separated despite alphabetical order as they walked across the stage to receive their diplomas. Malcolm had been sporting a broken nose at the time and Rafe his own nasty looking black eye.

She smiles, enjoying his irritation. While she would like to bask in the fact that it looks like he's still licking his wounds after the past couple years, they need to get to the point before Malcolm does find them.

Rafe nods his chin over towards the unsuspecting back of her European rendezvous as he chatters amiably with the bartender. Rafe wants to swing a golf club through his perfect teeth. "How do you know this guy?"

She shrugs, playing at indifference. "Your inconsistency introduced us."

They haven't talked since before she blocked his number, which was over a year ago. The interaction wasn't exactly civil either. He specifically remembers screaming through the phone at some ungodly hour of the night and ending the call when she finally hung up on him by hurling his phone against the wall. Thankfully his parents had overheard the conversation and already assumed what all the noise was.

Biting back the urge to argue that he's not the one playing the hot and cold game, he persists "A bit old for you, don't you think?"

Her eyes don't follow Rafe's, which she knows are staring daggers at Armand. "You missed me," she points out.

Rafe sucks his tongue across the front of his teeth as an act of stalling, his expression becoming fed up and annoyed. Getting answers out of her has always been like pulling teeth. She doesn't want to play nice? Fine.

"Daddy doesn't have some billionaire's trust fund baby lined up for you?"

Her black lined eyes narrow. He levels his cool gaze with her. Oh he went there.

"Unlike you, my father has no say in my personal life." She's never referred to the man who sired her as anything other than her 'father'. It's the socially acceptable way of saying 'he's a bastard and I hate him'. "Besides, old money doesn't entice me, Cameron."

"Yeah?" he scoffs. Rafe leans in, murmuring softly into her ear. "That's not what you said what I was inside of you."

Her face flashes hot, and it's the first chip in her armor he has seen all night.

"I was seventeen. A minor, Rafe. You could go to jail for that," she snaps.

He smiles, cocking his head in a manner that says he isn't all that worried about his chances of going to jail. "You always act like I took advantage of you. Sweetheart, even if you hadn't begged me to screw you, we both know there's nothing you could have done to stop me."

It's her turn to scoff. "Am I suppose to thank you? You don't get an award for not being a fucking predator." She spits out the last part, and it causes a few heads to turn in their direction.

Among those heads, Rafe notices the blonde one of Malcolm; aka his sign that he needs to excuse himself. "Bitch," he mutters as he shoves past her.

She catches his arm before he can get too far. "Bathroom. Ten minutes.”

It is actually a grand total of twenty minutes before she finds Rafe in the small guest bathroom. Armie had remained glue to her side for another fifteen minutes and even after she managed to escape him, she was stopped by multiple friends of her father’s, asking how college was going and whatnot.

Nevertheless, Rafe waits for her. Each minute after ten, he promised himself he wouldn’t wait another, but the truth is he would have waited all night.

“Fuck. I’ve been thinking about this dress all damn night,” Rafe groans, grabbing a handful of her green velvet covered ass. His other hand is around her chin, guiding her mouth so that he can kiss her against the wall. Their mouths collide so bruisingly that for a moment he considers if he’s just broken his nose. Rafe doesn’t dwell on the possibility for too long because he’s been achingly hard for over twenty minute now and he won’t make it one more without coming in his pants. There’s only one place he’s coming tonight and it’s inside of her.

“I knew you were always a perv, Cameron,” she huffs out as he pulls away from the kiss to unbuckle his slacks and pull down his boxers. The length of him springs out against his stomach. Just looking at the size of him makes her legs shake. Much to her disappointment, he’s forcing her around, hips pressed against the counter before she can ogle at the sight of him for long.

Rafe slips into her as though it were a well practiced move and not something he hasn’t done in over a year. He still knows his way around her body.

She nearly yelps in surprise at the sudden intrusion. “Jesus—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, breathing hard. Just the feeling of her around him is enough to make him spill right now and he’s trying to hold on a while longer. Stomach burning with the effort of not coming, he bucks, just once to satiate himself, into her. The feeling is overwhelming.

Not pleased with his sudden lack of performance, she consciously clenches around him. “Are you going to fuck me or what because I’m sure Armie—”

Rafe cuts her off by drilling his hips back into her once more, this time much more forcefully, and her pelvis hits the counter. That is going to bruise. Rafe grabs a fist full of her dark hair. “I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name. I don’t want to hear it again. You hear me?”

Eyes locked with his in the mirror, she nods quickly, desperate to let him have his way with her. “Fuck. Yeah, Rafe. Please just fuck me.”

Without wasting anymore time adjusting to the feel of her, Rafe begins thrusting his hips rhythmically at a ridiculous pace. The hot heat of her seems to suck him back in each time and he wonders if she’s like this for him. Armand. By the way she’s panting, moaning against the counter, he would say no.

As weird of a thing that it is to say, there are people who are good at sex, and then there are people who are great at sex. Rafe is one of those people. She’s never been with another guy who fucks her like Rafe does. It’s raw and filthy and animalistic.

Just when she think he’s as deep as he can be, he shuffles a bit, readjusting himself to get a better angle and hit a spot inside of her that tears a cry from her throat.

“Oh fuck— Please, Rafe. That’s it. That’s enough. I can’t—” When she starts begging for him to stop is when he knows she’s close. She’s always been too prideful to tell him when she’s close and it pisses him off to no end. He slows his pounding to get in a few more drawn out thrusts. The head of him catches inside of her and she cries at the sensation.

“There you go, there you go,” he groans, finding the breath to encourage her to finish as he struggles to control himself. “Feel me? Atta girl, you’re right there. Right there, baby.”

Crying out a moan, her head falls back as she orgasms, her walls fluttering in protest around him. The shock last for several long seconds throughout her entire body, and she contemplates if she’s ever going to be satisfied by another orgasm ever again. Even after, the electric buzzing sensation remains, and she remembers that Rafe is still throbbing inside of her.

Without warning, he thrusts into her a couple more times before finding his own orgasm. With his nose pressed into her hair, mouth right next to her ear, Rafe moans as he releases inside of her, and he hears her breath hitch at the sound. As if he needed proof of the fiery ball that had been pent up in his stomach all evening, he spills and spills and spill inside of her. It leaves him trembling by the time he’s done.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” she repeats, humoring him. He almost laughs but he doesn’t think he had the energy left for it.

Slowly moving again, the noise that his dick makes fucking into her, his cum dripping out is obscene, but he wants to savor the hot mess of her around him for as long as he can.

Smugly, he catches her gaze in the mirror, watching himself move in and out of her. The mascara under her eyes is smudged, making her searing gaze all that much darker. Rafe thinks she always looks perfect no matter what. He does have a bias towards ‘freshly fucked’ though.

As much as he would like to remain pressed against her —and in her— he knows she’ll only tolerate him for so long. So with a final sigh, he presses a prolonged and affectionate kiss to her hair and pulls out of her. As she fixes her dress, he tucks his still-leaking dick back into his boxers, pulls up his pants and watches her walk out the bathroom without a word. Rafe waits a respectful few minutes after her to make his exit.

Feeling truly fucked out, no pun intended, he heads over to the bar, where he spots her with her boyfriend, his arm wrapped low around her waist as he kisses her cheek. He needs a fucking drink, he thinks. And then, probably something stronger.

—

There are very few things that can rouse her from the dead sleep that she gets in her childhood bedroom. Coming home to the plush baby blue comforter that covers her perfectly made bed is like downing a handful of melatonin gummies after sleeping on a crummy twin mattress for nine months. Despite this usually holding true, Armie is the only one dead asleep beside her.

'I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name.'  The memory keeps replaying in her head. The perfect infliction of his voice down to the scent of him as he leaned in is marred into her memory. He still wears the same cologne.

Without warning, her phone on the bedside table blares to life, ringing loudly, and the bright screen illuminates the mostly dark bedroom. Scrambling to shut it off before the commotion wakes Armie up, her immediate response is to swipe the answer button.

"Hello?" she asks, her voice hushed, into the phone.

"I need you, (y/n)."

Rafe's voice transfers crystal clear through the receiver, like he's not even trying to be quiet.

"Rafe?" Cupping her hand over the speaker and pressing the device closer to her ear, her eyebrows furrow as she hurriedly swings her legs over the side of the bed and quickly tiptoes out into the hall."Rafe?" she asks, this time louder now that Armie can't hear her. "Are you fucking cra—"

"I—I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I— fuck, (y/n). I just—" He's rambling, his smooth as honey voice much thicker than usual and notably less precise. He sniffs, loudly.

She sighs as he tries to collect himself over the line, mumbling and stuttering. "Why do you only call me when you're high, Cameron? I mean, seriously?" This is not the first time he's phoned her in the middle of the night, high out of his mind.

Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she checks the clock on the wall. It's well past 3 am. There's a slim chance she will even get any sleep at this point.

"Listen, (y/n). I–I just—"

"No, you listen," she snaps, cutting him off. "You'd better be at your house when I get there or else. Got it?"

She can hear him swallow over the phone and something crashes to the floor. "Yeah— I— yeah, I will. I will."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

It helps that the Cameron's live only a few houses down. In reality, no one lives very far from anyone in the Outer Banks. Figure Eight is only a bike ride away from the Cut.

With the majority of the Cameron household likely asleep, and not caring to wake up Ward, she walks in without knocking. She'd never knocked before and wasn't about to make a habit of it now. Creeping slowly through the entryway, her sneakers echo loudly on the pristine tile floor. She knows this house like the back of her hand and therefore has no difficulty in navigating it in the dark. Around her, the house is still.

"Ra—" A hand clamps around her mouth from behind, effectively cutting of her startled shriek. Shoving his heavy body off of her, she whirls around to face him. "What are you doing?" she whispers loudly, shoving his hands away.

"I didn't want to scare you," Rafe defends, his blue eyes shining even in the darkness.

Shoving him once more in the chest, hard for good measure, she moves past him into the kitchen and flips the light on. Now that she can actually see, she steps back to take him in.

His pupils are blown, leaving very little of the blue of his eyes distinguishable. The suit jacket from earlier in the evening is gone, but everything else, from his dress shoes to the the white button up shirt underneath remain. Half of the top buttons of his shirt are open, revealing the golden skin of his chest. Nervously, he rubs at the back of his neck, where the short crop of his buzz cut fades.

"(y/n), I—," Rafe begins, stepping towards her.

"Shut up, Rafe."

His head fogged with the determination to get her to just listen to him, he ignores her instruction. "C'mon, baby. I just—"

"Shut up, Rafe," she repeats, sterner this time. She knows his head is not in the right place at the moment, and he needs to get it together if they're going to have this conversation.

"I need—"

"I said shut up!"

Finally something must reach the inside of that thick skull of his and Rafe immediately clamps his jaw shut. Now silent other than his heavy breathing, his big doe eyes watch her attentively.

She stares at him for a moment, using the quiet to gather her thoughts. Seeing him like this tears her up a little inside and it’s hard to find the right words to say to him. Sure, she treats him like shit most of the time, but that’s because it’s like second nature to the two of them. Fucking is the only thing they’re both good at.

She knows somewhere behind his drug induced haze, he’s really just a scared little kid. Most people take one look at Rafe and assume he’s just another screw up, destined to end up mooching off the Cameron family inheritance for the rest of his life. But she knows deep down that he has it in him to be better.

“You gotta stop, Rafe.” That’s the most honest and genuine sentence she’s spoken to him in a year. “This is not some prodigal son fairytale where you just get to walk away from it all when you decide to get your shit together. This is real life.” Her voice has risen towards the end and his already glossy eyes look wet.

Rafe can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in his life, especially in front of someone else. His emotions tend to teeter from slightly cocksure to overwhelming rage without much of a grey area. But right now his throat feels tight and his eyes burn and he’s coming pretty damn close. And maybe it’s from the coke he snorted earlier but even that’s starting to wear off. He knows because his head isn’t swimming anymore and his eyeballs don’t feel like they’re rolling around in their sockets.

Fighting the swell of emotion that is threatening to erupt out of his chest, he looks up, tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek, suddenly not wanting to look in her eyes. Rafe finally nods, sniffing hard while he gathers himself. “I know,” he whispers, the noise barley even audible.

Still nodding to himself, he settles his gaze back on her. “And I know you think that this is the cocaine talking, but I promise you it’s not. I mean it when I say I need you.” Timidly, he paces towards her from across the kitchen. “I—I need your help. I need you. I—”

While he continues to ramble, she hushes him as he rests his chin in the crook of her neck. One hand cups the back of his head while the other rubs his shoulder through the soft cotton of his shirt. “Okay. You’re okay,” she murmurs into his ear, still holding onto him as he sinks to his knees on the kitchen floor. He’s tall enough that his head meets the middle of her stomach even on the floor.

Rafe can’t recall the last time anyone has held him so carefully before. But he does know that it feels wildly more intimate than any sort of sex they’ve ever had. Drowsy with relief and crashing from his high, he almost asks her if she loves him. It would be so easy to breathe the words, but instead he closes his eyes and lets her hold him a while longer.

[peach-top]

➤ ❝𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙐𝙍𝙀❞

➤ 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙞. | 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜.

➤ 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: nah

The next day, Sebastian let out a frustrating sigh once the young scientist arrived into his room. [Y] greeted Sebastian with a bright smile on his face which made the fishman more annoyed.

“Ugh. It's you again…” Sebastian huffed.

“Yep, it's me.” [Y] beamed before grabbing a lollipop from his pocket, “And I brought more lollipops~”

“Gimme.” The fishman huffed. The young scientist swiped the lollipop from Sebastian's reach, “First, let us get to know each other.”

“Why should I?” Sebastian deadpanned.

“Because it's important to bond with another. I don't give up so easily. Just like my mother says: “Don’t y'all give up and keep moving y'all ass forward”. So…I won't stop until you're open to me.” [Y] grinned with determination. Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows, “You literally just said yesterday that you won't force me to open up to you.”

“To me, that's different. So~ Let us start, shall we?” The young scientist winked. “I'll start. Ahem! I'm [Y] [L]. Aged 19. Born in a farmyard with eleven older sisters and two older brothers. I'm by far the youngest.”

“The fuck? That's like…1…2…3…14 of you. How did your mom survive that shit?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

“That's something I'm not sure about. She's a strong woman even when she's close to her 60s. Which is the reason why I became a doctor and a scientist to be sure she's perfectly healthy.” The young scientist explained.

“And…here it is…” the young scientist shows off a photo of his family on the farm. Sebastian's eyes widened, “Damn. That's a lot of them…”

“Right? Which is enough to help ma and da with the farm. It's a…crazy farm, but it's fun.” [Y] chuckled.

“...” Sebastian is sitting quietly and listening to the young scientist’s tale, but he's curious. “How come you don't have a southern accent?”

“Y'all think I can't keep up with these words without my accent? No. Do ya know how hard it is to stay professional as a scientist?” [Y] asked in a southern accent, catching Sebastian by surprise. “But I'm only using that accent when I'm angry. Ma has that anger issue going on. She can get madder than a hen.” (this part kinda hurts to write, i'm trying😭)

Sebastian snorted, “You seem like a completely different person when speaking in that accent.”

“Force of habit.” The young scientist spoke in a normal voice. Sebastian hummed, “...You're lucky to have a family to go to instead of being imprisoned here for something you've never done…”

“...I can tell you have a mother. What's she like?” [Y] questioned. “But...you don't need to tell me if you don't want to.”

“...” The fishman only knows this young scientist for a day and he's starting to trust him. But he doesn't trust him enough to physically touch or befriend him. There's still some way to go. “...You know, like how some mothers are. Sweet, loving, gentle, and always love you no matter what. But what's worse you can get…is a look of sadness and disappointment on her face when she finds out that her son was convicted of 9 murders that he never committed.”

“And yet…he'll never be able to see his family after he…he turned into this…” Sebastian growled, observing himself. “Being stuck here and turned into a monster is worse than receiving a death sentence. Those bastards did this to us.”

The fishman then rises up from his bed, raising his voice, “We are forced to become monsters! What did I do to deserve this, huh?! Why?!”

“I just want to prove my innocence! Clear my name! And go back to my family! It hurts! It fucking hurts…” Sebastian whimpered, covering his face to hide the tears from [Y]’s view as he slowly slid his back against the wall and plopped down on the bed. “...I fucking hate it here…I want to go home…”

“...” [Y] frowned and was going to say something, but the senior scientist called in to the young scientist. “Dr. [L]. Your time. Is. Up. Leave it be and move onto the next one. Now.”

“...” The young scientist furrowed his eyebrows at the senior scientist. He turned his attention back to Sebastian and handed him two lollipops. Sebastian didn't accept it and plopped face-first in bed, so [Y] left the suckers on the nightstand and a sticker on a wrapper. He whispered, “We'll continue this tomorrow and figure something out.”

“...” Sebastian turned away, facing the wall.

[Y] let out a sigh before leaving the room with the senior scientist. After they left, Sebastian turned to the lollipops on the nightstand.

“...I don't need his pity…” Sebastian muttered, gripping on the pillow. “I don't…I just…want to go home…”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

[Y] arrived into the underwater laboratory. The senior scientist forced him to only take one minute. Why the fucking change? Jealous? Anger? Disappointment? [Y] doesn't care if he disappointed his senior unless it's his mother.

The deal doors open up, revealing Eyefestation who was waiting for the young scientist’s arrival. What's more interesting is that they're wagging their tail. They must've become interested in [Y].

“Aw, did you miss me? I've come just as I promise. However, I am forced to stay for only one minute.” [Y] huffed with his hands on his hips. “Sounds very unfair, right? Which means I won't be with you for long. But hey, I think I might know what can keep you company.”

“...?” Eyefestation tilted their head.

“I've decided that I can bring my glowing goldfish tomorrow and…sneak them in the tank with you.” [Y] whisper the last part, “Please don't eat them. They've been wanting friends for a long time. And I thought that you might need someone to accompany you while I'm gone.”

“FrIeNd…?”

“Someone who can be close to you and never leave your side. A companion. So like, you can swim around with Ziya. I'm sure you two will be best of friends.” [Y] grinned. “...Geez…if only I can set you all free. Being here can be such a hassle.”

“It's always so dark and bland. There's nothing to do here. Where are those times where you all can finally see the light? The green? The sky?” The young scientist questioned as he observed the dark area. “This is like a factory holding a bunch of animals hostage while pretending to be a good company that—”

The glass window was sealed before the young scientist could finish his sentence. That fucking senior scientist interrupted him and one minute wasn't even up yet!

“Excuse me? It hasn't been 1 minute yet.” [Y] glared at the senior scientist. The senior scientist scoffed, “One minute. Check the other monsters. Don't waste anymore time and keep your mouth shut.”

“Tch! It pissed me off how you even allowed me to do this and yet you won't let me do my job properly.” [Y] growled.

“You're a scientist. Act professional. There's no optimism here at Hadal Blacksite. Understood?” The senior scientist furrowed their eyebrows.

“...What-fuckin-ever…” [Y] huffed. He softly tapped on the seal and gave Eyefestation a soft “see you tomorrow” before following the senior scientist out of the underwater lab.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Life sucks, why the fuck did they even give him 30 seconds to communicate with the monsters or is it just the senior scientist? Bullshit. Maybe…

“So, I would like a 30 minute communication with the monsters. I was able to communicate with them without any harm.” [Y] explained to another senior scientist. “You see, Dr. ███████ wouldn't allow me to communicate with them a little longer. It's part of my job as a recruiter. I can't get to a higher rank if Dr ███████ wouldn't allow me to. So, you don't mind me as a scientist, may I have a 30 minute interview?”

“...You do have a great degree. Your optimism isn't suitable for a professional, however…you are the only one who was able to keep them in check, so it wouldn't hurt to give you 30 minutes. Starting tomorrow.”

[Y] clasped his hands together, “I was hoping for more time today, but tomorrow is great.”

The young scientist then sent Dr ███████ a smug look, “See ya tomorrow, doc?’

“Tch!”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“You seem to be working a dangerous job. Are ya sure ain't harm this time?” [Y]’s mother asked after her youngest son showed her some pictures from the Hadal Blacksite.

“Nah. I'm fine. Fresher than a fresh apple.” [Y] grinned.

“Ya don't seem to mind handling these dangerous tasks, huh?” the eldest sister raised her eyebrows. “I'm sorry that these monsters might harm ya.”

“They're not monsters. They're just hostages who were forced to be experimented on which is why I'm planning to find a way to expose the dark company and their scheme.” [Y] explained. “Sis. You're a chief officer, ya got those documents I can research on…Sebastian Solace?”

“Sebastian Solace? You mean that man who committed 9 murders? Why?”

“He's one of those experiments that was declared dead. Z-13…” [Y] said, placing the files on the table for his elder sister to grab. The elder sister observed the files and she was…not surprised, “I knew it. They're up to something, but it isn't enough evidence to expose the company. We'll need more.”

The elder sister’s twin brother led over and checked the files, “I've heard of that company. They took some of our animals, didn't they? Cuz’ we mistaken them as a company that helps animals.”

“Yup. That's the one.”

“Let us try to figure something out in order to have them exposed. We should collect more evidence.” [Y] hummed.

“But ya gotta be careful now, sugar plum. It could lead to you being killed.” The mother frowned.

“Don't worry, ma. I'll be alright.” [Y] smiled. “Promise…”

“Mm.” The father muttered. That's right, the father couldn't speak, all he could do was mutter. “Mm. Mm.”

“It's ok, da. As your youngest son, I'm doing my best to try to free them from that rotten place.” The young scientist smiled.

╭      ⁞ ❏. facts

┊      ⁞ ❏. [y]’s siblings name all start with b

┊      ⁞ ❏. [y]’s mother will bake pie for sebastian who [y] told her about

┊      ⁞ ❏. [y] will one day get in contact with sebastian's mother

➤ prev.

➤ next.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

There's this weird thing going on Reddit right now where people are claiming that legally, Rhaenyra children are not bastards. And I was wondering if you agree or disagree. I think that people are just making up their own canon lore at this point.

Hi anon,

I think what gets kind of muddled in this discussion is what "legally" means in the context. Generally speaking, children born within wedlock are considered legitimate until proven otherwise. Now in the medieval world, it's not like you were issued a birth certificate that you could whip out and say see, it says right here who the father is! There were no DNA tests, it was all a matter of word, and by and large a woman's virtue was her word, and it was what kept her and her children protected within the framework of medieval marriage. But the reason why bastardy matters in this context is also important. It's not like Rhaenyra is trying to collect child support here, nor is she a common merchant's wife whose husband has decided just to roll with it. She's the heir to the throne and the parentage of her children is a matter of inheritance and dynastic succession, so it's not a situation where a legal loophole is particularly helpful as a gotcha. There is not at this point in history a comprehensive codified law that clearly defines what these terms mean and defines the rights and obligations of parents and children legitimate and illegitimate, mostly you have combinations of precedent, tradition, oath, and a healthy dose of might makes right.

(I saw another reply to this question in which the responded basically goes, "free yourself from the shackles of this construct! Marriage isn't real it's an oppressive institution and the idea of bastardy is made up, so let it go," and while it's true that marriage, legitimacy, etc. are all social constructs and not absolute states of being, they started off as having a functional purpose within a certain social framework. And this is a basic problem a lot of people have with George's world, it's not that we have to have the views of a 12th century French peasant, or that everything has to be historically accurate, but George chose the medieval world as a setting for a reason, and it's not just an aesthetic one. Characters in even a quasi-historical setting have to act within the constraints of that setting. We have to understand that people don't know what they don't know. The medieval world doesn't have any framework for the introduction of feminist ideals. Westeros hasn't even had a Christine de Pizan yet. You couldn't walk up to a medieval peasant woman and say "marriage is a tool of patriarchal oppression and bastardy is a social construct," they'd look at you like you had two heads. And so we have to acknowledge that you can't simply start dismantling existing social structures if the framework doesn't exist to replace them with something better that offers more protections for a broader group of people, and at this point it definitely doesn't. Making an exception for one very privileged woman does not mean progress for all women, instead it often means destabilization of the flawed system that does exist, and even more violence against those less powerful in order to enforce the exceptional status).

So from a medieval point of view, marriage was pretty much a non-negotiable for a woman. And women weren't simply getting married because they were pressured into it by their families or because their fathers were opportunistic assholes, they got married because unmarried women had no legal status or standing. In most places they could not sign contracts or own land. A woman could join the church or get married (or become a prostitute, but it's not like sex workers had freedoms or protections either). Divorce wasn't a thing, and annulment was hard to get and usually available only as a tool for men to set aside their wives. So, for all intents and purposes, once you were married, that was generally it, you were stuck for life (the upside is that widows did get a lot more freedom, so marrying an older guy and waiting it out was not a bad option sometimes, all things considered). But what marriage did provide was assurance that you and your children would be protected and provided for. Marriage was a practical agreement, involving dowries, inheritances, and alliances sealed in blood. And this is one of the reasons why bastards could not inherit. Inheritance for once's children was one of the few perks of a marriage for a woman (this is, incidentally, why Alicent is so pressed about her children being effectively disinherited. There is NO reason for her, as an eligible maiden of good standing, to marry a man who will not provide for her sons, king or not). And of course, a man's bastards are obvious and are disqualified from inheriting (setting aside legitimization because it is not nearly the easy out that people think it is). You can't really pass them off as legitimate because your wife clearly knows which children she gave birth to, whereas a man might be told he is the father of a child when that child's father is in fact someone else.

In a dynastic marriage, all of this becomes even more important. Marriages were made as alliances and to strengthen the ties between kingdoms or houses. A child seals the marriage agreement by binding two bloodlines and creating kinship bonds that will last beyond the current generation. Those kinship bonds can ensure peace between kingdoms at war, trade agreements, and military aid. Passing a bastard off as trueborn breaks that agreement; it violates the very principle by which the agreement was made. And in this context, it doesn't actually matter if the father claims the children as his, because in a dynastic marriage inheritance is not just a personal matter, it's a matter of the state. The truth matters to a great many people, more than just the immediate family. A lie doesn't become the truth simply because the liar isn't caught, and there's no statute of limitations or court ruling that will ever put the matter to rest for good. Passing off a bastard as trueborn destabilizes the succession and breaks the dynastic bonds that the marriage was meant to establish. When the bastard heir in question attempts to take the throne, it won't be a smooth transition.

So what does it mean that Laenor and Corlys agree to pass Rhaenyra's children off as trueborn? It means that their bastardy cannot be proven at the moment insofar as the legal father, Rhaenyra's husband, is playing along and covering for Rhaenyra, and Viserys is backing them up by giving this his "legal" stamp of approval. But again, our view that it's no one else's business but Laenor and Rhaenyra's and that Viserys "legalized" their status is very modern. Jaehaeyrs and Alysanne were not considered married in the eyes of the Westerosi until they'd had a bedding ceremony, that is, the consummation of their marriage was witnessed. Royal marriages and the children that come from them are a public matter because the succession affects everyone in the realm. Laenor, Corlys, and Viserys can protect those children in the short term, but Laenor and Corlys and Viserys won't live forever, and they could withdraw their support for those children and renounce them as bastards at any time. Harwin could admit to fathering them, Rhaenyra and Harwin could get caught in the act, or someone else close to them might confess. Sure right now the black faction are all one big happy family, but 20 years down the line when bastard Jace takes the throne over trueborn Aegon III? There are multiple people in the family who could confess to knowledge of the bastardy, including Aegon III himself. The bastardy is too obvious and there are too many legitimate heirs of both house Targaryen and house Velaryon getting pushed aside in favor of bastard born children for it to be an issue that simply disappears because Rhaenyra and Laenor say so.

So "legal bastardy" is a pretty meaningless concept when it comes to royal succession because it's not a matter that's going to be settled by some neutral third party in a court of law. What matters in the long run is not whether or not Laenor claimed the kids, what matters is whether or not the situation is questionable enough that people with the power to challenge it might challenge it. And we see even within the actual narrative of the Dance that this is indeed the case. There is already a situation brewing with the other branches of the Velaryon family who are rightfully pretty pissed to see their ancestral seat pass to someone with no blood ties to the family (and as an aside, people will say Vaemond was self-serving, and of course he was, but that doesn't make him wrong, and maybe Baela or Rhaena should have inherited instead, but neither they nor their father were pressing their claims because they were backing up the bastard claimants, so was Vaemond supposed to do that for them?). And yes the king and Rhaenyra can cry treason and they can kill Vaemond and cut out tongues, but using force to silence people for telling the objective truth is by definition tyranny, and that's exactly the sort of situation that would get the nobility nervous. Because if Rhaenyra has to silence people already and she's not even queen yet, what will Jace have to do when he takes the throne? That's the real problem, not the "legal" status of Jace and his brothers, but the practical ramifications of hiding the truth.

[lavender-nerd]

Before Her

Summery: Azriel having a nightmare about life before meeting Rhysand, Cassian and Reader

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Warnings: A bit agnsty and abuse

Word Count: 1.7K

(A/N: this is my very first post on Tumblr, so any feedback is appreciated!!)

(not 100% cannon)

Azriel age 11 pov:

Cold, so very cold.

Coldness, that was the only thing I felt, and darkness surrounded me like a blanket.

Drip, drip, drip.

The only sound besides my breathing could be heard in the stone-cold bricked room I'm in. At this point, I don't even remember where I am. The cracks in the wall let in the harsh wind from outside. I could hardly move my wings, or any of my limbs due to the cage I was stuffed in. They were the first to betray me, the ones I called family, my father, my brothers.

Hands and laughter woke me up as I was thrown from the cage onto the snow from outside. Snow, how cold and cruel it was. My two brothers came at me, one with a bottle in hand and the other with flint.

"Give me your hands" Radin commanded.

"What?" Fear slowly rised in me as Thoman held my shoulders to the ground. Snow and rocks pinched my stomach when I started to fight back.

"Give me your hands now!" Radin commanded once again, but with more anger.

"Hahaha come on you bastard, give him your hands" Thoman now sat on my back grabbing at my elbow, raising them up.

"Now be a good bastard boy and keep your hands still". Radin now popping the cork from the bottle and oil invading my nose.

"No stop, please stop no no no NO" Fear now taking full control as oil now coated my hands. Bottle dropping to the ground below.

"Give me the flint now" Thoman now handing the flint to Radin I start to wiggle and thrash around not wanting my horrors to become true.

Clink. clink, clink, WOOSH.

"AHHHHH" I scream in pain as fire now engulfs both of my hands, Thoman now off my back I hunch over trying to put the flames out with the snow, but nothing works. Laughter fills my ear as now the once beautifully white snow has been tainted with my bastard born red blood. My screams reach my father's warriors as they rushed over with a dripping wet rag. Skidding to a stop in front of me both warriors kneel down and roughly drapes the rag over my hands. Tears stream down my face as they desperately try to kill the flames.

"Hahaha, now look at yourself, you think your 'Illyrain healing gift' can help you now?" Radin and Thoman both laughed at me, looked at me as if I was a piece of gum on the bottom of their shoe. Once the flames were out, I laid on my back, tears still coating my face, looking up at the sky thinking how cruel the mother above could be. Picked up by the two warriors, I was hauled back into my cold metal cage.

Blood slowly dripped from the many gashes and burns on my hands. My brothers- no, they were no longer my brothers, not when they did this to me. Those vile creatures. I was left to rot in this cage for what I presume, for the rest of my life. Darkness took over me as I succumb to the pain.

After a long and cruel beating from those vile creatures, I laid quietly trying to regain a steady breathing pattern, relaxing my limbs and my wings. I roll to my side blinking slowly, trying to clear my blurry vision. I realised that they left the door open. I hastily got up and try to open the cage door by lifting, pushing and pulling, hoping it will open.

My freedom is right in front of me, if only I could get this stupid cage to open. I could see the blue sky, even taste it at this point. The snow from outside has never looked so white. I need to get out, I NEED TO GET OUT. I lift and push with all my might, sweat coats my brow. Please, mother above, hear me, please. I fall to my knees and give one last push of every strength left in me. The hinges fall off and the gate swings wide open as I fall onto the bricks below. I pull myself up and made a dash for the door, only to stop a foot away. What if my father and my brothers saw me or or if the warriors saw me? What would happen to me then? Should I just go back into the cag- NO NO I'm never going back into that cage again!!

I step into the doorway and look left then right, all clear. I made a mad dash into the woods in front, snow nipping at my bear feet.

"Stop right there". I hear behind me but I'm not stopping now, not when I'm finally out. The crunch of snow behinds me let me know that the warriors are behind me. I duck left and right, dodging the trees ahead. It's cold, so very cold. My breathing rough and ragged as large cloud of mist comes from my mouth, again and again. My feet snagging on rocks and roots, staggering I keep myself up. I look behind me and the estate has never looked so small, but I don't stop running. Looking forward, I keep running, even though my legs and feet feeling stone cold. The shouting behind me getting quieter and quieter, then nothing, but that didn't mean I would stop running.

I kept running till the sun went over the horizon and the moon rose. I slowed to a walk finding my breath and finally looked at my surroundings. Nothing but snow and trees for miles and miles. As my adrenaline faded, I finally realised just how cold and sore I am. I found a stump to sit on and have a look at my legs and feet. My feet and legs were blue and starting to turn a dark purple in some spots. I needed help and fast. I started to look for higher ground to see if I could see any fires or any signs of life. But there was nothing, nothing at all, no fires and no signs of life. Frustrated tears filled my eyes as I realised that death may just come for me.

I started aimlessly walking but the cold was harsher than I thought. There was no place in sight and had no destination in thought, all I knew is that there had to be someone out there. Sleep started to creep up on me as I fought my lids to stay up. Black dots evaded my vision, then everything went black as I collapse to the snowy ground.

I don't know how long I was out for, but I could hear voices ahead of me. I tried to get up but had no strength left in me. I tried and tried again, over and over again. There's voices and they're close!

"Please" my voice too soft. I was desperate at this point, nothing around me could aid me to get their attention. If I couldn't walk, I'll crawl, and that I did. I clawed at the snow beneath me, longing to see them. to see life. I crawled and crawled, their voices growing louder and louder. I came to an opening and finally see two other Illyirans flying without a care in the world and laughing, then I see the most beautiful being in the world. It was as if the mother above touched her at birth and gifted her the beauty of a thousand. It was as if I was lost in a trance as warmth filled me, but that warmth didn't exist. Then she looked at me.

"Hey are you alright?" She came rushing over to me amd knelt down.

"Oh my god, you're freezing! Cassian, Rhys, come down here!" She called. The two Illyrians dove down and rushed over once they were on land. The snow stirred for a moment before settling down.

"Hey are you okay?" The taller one asks, voice uncertain. I could hardly even answer him, voice trembling as I replied a quiet "help".

"We need to get him to my mother, Cass, give me a hand". And thus, I was lifted between the two and off we walked to who knows where. I could hardly keep my eyes open as winter fought tooth and nail to bring me down.

"It's okay, you can rest now, we're going to my mother. She can help you" and with that, I was out like a light.

I woke with a cold sweat, chest heaving, sweat coating my brow and chest.

"Azriel?"

A soft-spoken voice invaded my ears as I tried to come to sense.

"My love? Are you okay?"

I looked to my side and see the mother touched women sitting up in bed next to me. Her soft skin was kissed by the moonlight that swept through the curtains. I came to sense about where I am. I'm home in our cabin near Velaris, in bed with my amazing mate, y/n. She softly touched my shoulder as I collapsed in her embrace.

"Was it that nightmare again? About your past my love?"

I slightly nodded in her shoulder, and she kissed my head softly and said nothing but reassuring words into my ear and all felt better after those kind words.

"After 500 years you would think I would stop having these nightmares." I said with a breathy laugh.

"My love, there is no shame with having nightmares, it's a part of us, it makes us who we are today. I will always love you, nightmares and all".

"And this is how I know I have the perfect mate in all of the world". I raise my head and look deeply into her eyes before capturing her lips to mine.

"Come on my love, let's go back to sleep". She says through the soft kisses. I nod and I pull the covers over us and pull her onto my chest. She draws lazy lines over my chest that soon stops as she falls back to asleep.

"I will always love you too, to the moon and back I will always be here for you, thank you my love for showing me that kindness still exists to this day". I soft speak to her, kissing her temple before closing my eyes and letting sleep takeover.

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness 5

Find the series masterlist 

In which Logan makes his grand entrance (and there is a lot less bloodshed than most of you seem prepped for). Some discussions are had. 

Side note: JTF2 is a Canadian special forces unit. Also, I’m thinking of writing a side chapter that is just Logan and the 141 pack. Thoughts? 

Warnings: Swearing, Logan is a jerk, Price needs a warning label, world building, shifter behavior, pack cuddles. 

Word count: 2.2k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

The plane landed back in England and you leaned back a bit, watching the pack. Soap was glued to one side of you, Gaz napping on your other side. Price was watching all three of you, something undeniably soft in his gaze. 

You hadn't forgotten about Logan, but you hadn't expected him to find you so bloody fast. 

You got to put your things down in your room, at least, before Price was knocking on your door, expression thunderous. 

"Who did you tell about this base?" He asked in a low snarl. 

"No one," you snapped, frowning. "Signed too damn many NDAs to tell anyone." 

"Then why do you have a visitor at the gate?" 

You froze. "Oh hell," you breathed. "That bastard!" You stepped around Price and took off towards the gate, barely paying attention as the pack all gathered behind you. 

Sure enough, Logan stood on the other side of the gate, smirking, all 5’6” of him in jeans and a flannel, duffel bag dropped at his side. But his hair was a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him, and his beard was nicely trimmed. 

“I told you not to come,” you growled, ignoring the gate guard and striding straight up to Logan. 

“Good to see you too, kid.” His smirk widened as he looked past you. “That them?”

You finally turned to find the pack had followed you and had settled into a loose cluster behind you. You hissed out a breath. 

“It doesn’t matter because you are going home.”

“Aw, but I came all the way out here just for you, kid.” Logan’s grin reached shit-eating proportions. 

“You are not supposed to be here,” you growled, narrowing your eyes at Logan. “And I don’t just mean because I told you not to.”

“Been here once before.” Logan shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seen him before, too.” He nodded to Ghost. When you turned to look, Ghost returned the nod. 

“...What?” You felt like he’d pulled a rug from under you. 

“Few years back,” Logan said, tipping his head as he looked up at the bigger shifter. “You lot needed help finding someone.”

“Right.” Ghost huffed what might have been a laugh. “Good to see you again.” 

“When was this?” You frowned a little as you looked at Logan. 

“You were down south,” he said, scratching his chin slowly. “The pack in Ohio, I think it was.” 

“And you worked together?” Price looked at Ghost to confirm. 

“Joint op with JTF2,” Ghost confirmed with a solid nod. 

Soap whistled lowly. “Now that’s not easy to get into,” he said, looking at Logan with new respect. 

“Mmhm.” Logan grinned. “Now, you gonna invite me onto base, or we gonna shoot the shit out here?” 

You hung your head with a low groan before you looked back at Price. It was his call, his territory. 

Price clenched his jaw briefly but nodded. “Be welcome on my territory.” 

“Gonna introduce me?” Logan drawled, one finger hooking through your belt loop before you could escape.

You looked up at the sky for a moment. Looked like rain. You wouldn’t mind a good soak right then. “Logan, that is Alpha Price, Ghost you apparently know, and those two are Soap and Gaz. This is Logan, the longest-running pain in my ass.” 

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to be her wolverine friend, would you?” Gaz stepped closer, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Talkin’ about me, kid?” Logan smirked, looking far too amused. 

“I hate you,” you grumbled, hunching your shoulders. “I’m gonna go find something tall to throw myself off of now.”

“Good luck, have fun.” 

You gave up, jogging ahead to catch up to Price as the other three hung back with Logan. “I swear I didn’t ask him to come here, or tell him where I even was.”

“I know,” Price murmured soothingly. One hand touched yours. “If he’s JTF2, he’s got his own resources.”

“He’s quasi-retired. Which I’m sure is why he was able to drop everything and fly out here.” You rubbed a hand over your face. You should never have called him. 

“Hey.” Price’s hand fit warm over the back of your neck. “You’re fine. Don’t stress about it.”

You sighed, some of the tension running out of your shoulders. “Yeah, alright.” You drew in a deep breath. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Price shrugged, his thumb gently smoothing over the back of your neck. “Today’s an off day since we just got back. I’ll probably be working on paperwork, but they’re free to do whatever they want.”

“Right.” You pursed your lips. You could find places to hide on base and be out of the way. “I’ll stop bothering you, then.”

“Not bothering me.” He glanced at you, eyes dark, hand squeezing the back of your neck lightly. “Stop worrying.”

“It is literally my job to worry.” 

“Then maybe you need a day off.” He stopped outside one of the buildings, hand shifting just a little lower to squeeze again. Your eyes slid half-closed in pleasure, and his lips quirked. “You know where my office is?”

“Nope.” You blinked slowly at him.

“Ask one of them. I’ll be there all day if you need anything.” He ducked his head a little to meet your eyes for a moment before he released you and walked away. 

You blinked after him and then turned to find four shifters all watching you curiously. You warmed and flapped your hands at them. “Shoo, you hooligans. Go cause chaos somewhere else.” And you promptly fled. 

You ended up on top of the barracks (and briefly told yourself to talk to someone about this habit of going high places when in distress). The sky was still threatening rain, but so far activity on the base hadn’t ceased. 

Soft swearing made you finally look away from the view, spotting Logan climbing up onto the roof. He shot a mistrustful look at the sky before he walked over and sat next to you.

“So?”

“So what?” you asked, looking back out over the base.

“You like them.” He nudged you, just once. 

You blew out a sigh. You could try to lie, or deflect. But it wouldn’t work for long. Logan knew all your tells. “I do.” 

“So make it work.”

“It’s not that simple.” 

“It’s never that simple.” Logan snorted. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You glowered at him and then gave up, sighing and looking away again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I have no idea how they feel.”

“Don’t you?” Logan looped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Or are you just ignoring signals?”

“Stop being so damn perceptive,” you growled. 

“Well, no snowbanks to throw you into here,” Logan rumbled. “This is my next best bet.”

You groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re stubborn, makes us even.” 

The first fat drop of rain landed right on top of your head, followed immediately by one landing on your nose. 

“Aw, fuck,” Logan grumbled. “Weather here is still shit.” 

You snorted, getting to your feet. “You live in Canada.”

“And?”

“You have snow at least half the year!”

“Snow is easy. This is just wet.” Logan motioned you to go down first, keeping a close eye on you. You got down to the ground with no issues and moved out of the way so Logan could get down too, grimacing at the pull of wet clothes. It had gone from threatening to downpour in less than a minute. 

“Did they give you a room yet?” you asked, jogging to the door to the barracks and heading inside.

“Nah, mentioned something about it.” Logan shrugged, unconcerned, following you. 

“Guess we’re going back to mine, then.” You led the way, unlocking the door and letting him in first. Not that there was much to see. 

“You don’t travel with any pictures?” He frowned a little, gaze darting around the room. 

“No. Usually I try to give my full attention to the pack I’m working with.” You pulled out a clean top and dry sweatpants. “Besides, I talk to people almost every day.”

Logan grumbled, displeased, but changed as well. His duffel bag had been left in your room, although you weren’t sure if it was a joke, an easy place to put it temporarily, or because someone had assumed something about the nature of your relationship. 

With the both of you in dry clothes, you debated what else to do now. You hadn’t exactly come equipped to entertain, after all. 

A knock on your door made you blink, but you pulled it open to see Soap and Gaz. 

“Movie day?” Gaz asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Alright,” you agreed. “You okay if he tags along? He gets bored on his own.” You jerked a thumb back over your shoulder at Logan. 

“Watch it, kid,” he grumbled without any heat. 

“Sure.” Soap grinned. “More the merrier. I’ll drag LT in later.”

You snorted softly but followed Gaz to the rec room. Soap and Gaz immediately ensconced you between them on the couch, and Logan chuckled as he settled in a chair. 

“You two are menaces,” you said without heat, letting Gaz spread a blanket over the three of you. But you forced yourself to look at them a little more closely, to actually note how they behaved and their body language. While neither of them really fussed, they both paid attention to you, and to have you squished between them like this? This was a definite sign of favor, of acceptance, only enhanced by how relaxed they both were with you. 

Almost reflexively, you wanted to pull away, to hide. To protect yourself from the inevitable hurt. But you forced yourself to pause, to breathe through it. You relaxed back into the couch, breathing slowly. 

Soap made a pleased noise and cuddled in closer to you. Touch was important to pack, and cuddle times like this, or even sleeping together in a pile, was not unusual. But it also was another sign that he wanted you here.

Maybe even for longer than just this job. 

You met Logan’s eyes across the room, knowing you were showing your internal struggle. He just smiled a little, almost the softest expression you’d ever seen on his face, and very intentionally closed his eyes. One of the biggest signs of trust from a shifter. 

You swallowed hard and relaxed between Gaz and Soap, warm and comfortable and comforted. 

Sometime after the first movie, Ghost settled in the room. In a chair, of course, away from the pile of you on the couch. Gaz freed himself enough to start texting someone rapidly, glancing at you a few times. 

“What are you planning?” you asked him quietly, eyes narrowing a little.

“Nothing,” he immediately protested. “Well. Nothing bad.” He met your gaze for a long moment before he looked back at his phone. You blinked, startled. He… Had he just…? No. No way. 

His little noise of triumph distracted you, and he hopped to his feet. 

“Back in a mo,” he said before darting out of the room. 

“You have any idea what he’s planning?” you asked Soap, taking the chance to get up and bring back water for everyone. Ghost blinked when you set his down in front of him, apparently surprised.

“Not really.” Soap grinned and took his, watching you go back for snacks. “Ye ken we can get our own, aye?”

“Oh hush. You’re always hungry.” You threw a protein bar at his head. 

“You’re not wrong about that.”

You jumped at Price’s voice behind you, in the doorway. You turned to find a very amused Price standing there, a smug-looking Gaz behind him. 

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled without heat. “Giving up on the paperwork for the day?”

“Something like that.” He glanced around the room before refocusing on you. 

You tossed Ghost a snack and chucked one at Logan too before you dropped a few more on the table in front of the couch and sat back down. Soap plastered himself to your side again, looking smug. 

“Are we finishing this movie or starting something else?” you asked, giving everyone time to settle down. 

But you were surprised when Price dropped down next to you instead of Gaz. He leaned back into the couch, big and warm, his arm draped across the back of the couch. You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen even as a playful bout of bantering went straight over your head. 

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with Price, and him being this close was… distracting. More than you had accounted for. Especially since he was relaxed, at ease. This close, that lovely rumbling laugh could be felt and heard. 

This was dangerous. You needed to go, needed to get out before you got in too deep–

Logan caught your eye across the room, holding your gaze. You stilled. He breathed in deliberately slowly, not looking away, almost forcing you to follow along until the urge to flee vanished. Then he blinked and looked away. 

“Alright there?” Price asked quietly, though you were well aware everyone in the room could hear him. 

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked into something close to a smile as you leaned back and just a little bit into him, already steadier. “I’m good.” 

Nobody but you noticed the smug smirk on Logan’s face.

[the-broken-truth]

The Prince's Precious Brother [3] - Leona Kingscholar [Platonic Yandere] [Male Yuu]

Summary: Leona goes to Ramshackle to persuade his brother to become the person he was meant to be.

[Ramshackle - Common Room]

The halls of Ramshackle were incredibly quiet. The tension in the air was palpable and heavy, almost like a dense fog. Yuu's companions watched from around the corner while Yuu sat across from Leona. Yuu was in the middle of the sofa while Leona was seated across the table in a rocking chair. Grim rested on Yuu's head, glaring at Leona with his blue eyes, while Leona had his focus solely on the younger Kingscholar sitting in front of him. Yuu refused to acknowledge his true lineage, and Leona was determined to make him see the truth.

Leona was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions after discovering that Yuu Arisugawa, the Magicless Prefect of the Ramshackle Dormitory, the Annoying Herbivore who managed to defeat him, was none other than his younger brother, Feore Kingscholar, the Kidnapped Prince of the Sunset Savannah. He felt both sadness and happiness at the same time - saddened by the memory of the night when Feore was taken away from him, yet happy that his brother was alive and well. He was also filled with anger towards the mysterious men who broke into the Kingscholar Palace and abducted the 3rd Crowned Prince. Leona now had two goals - to reunite with his brother and to seek vengeance on those who sealed away his magic and took him away from who he was meant to be.

"Are you gonna say something or are you just gonna stare at my henchman like a creep?" Grim asked, causing Leona to glare at him.

"Don't call my brother a 'henchman', you little rat. He is a Prince and you will always be under him, just like those he keeps in his company." Leona growled at Grim but Yuu folded his arms.

"I keep you in my company: Does that mean you are beneath me as well?" Yuu asked, causing Leona to silence him, this resulted in Grim and all of Yuu's Friends chuckling at the Lion's Silence. "Why are you here, Leona? You don't usually waste your time coming to Ramshackle for no reason."

"I have a reason: I want you to give up on being 'Yuu Arisugawa' and become who you were always meant to be, 'Feore Kingscholar, the 3rd Prince of the Sunset Savannah'." Leona said.

"And just who are you to tell me who I am meant to be?" Yuu asked with a raised eyebrow, the irritation clear in his voice; all of his friends could accept him for who he chose to be, why couldn't Leona do the same for him?

"I am your Older Brother, Feore; I only want what is best for you." Leona said but the growl coming from Yuu's Throat caused him to look at him uneasily; why was his brother so upset?

"Let me make something clear to you, Leona: I was BORN as Feore Kingscholar, but I was RAISED & GREW UP as Yuu Arisugawa. Just because you find out I am the brother you lost 16 years ago, doesn't mean that you have any right or position to come into my life, into my dorm, and try to take control of my life. Not now. Not Ever." Yuu said.

"About this dorm, I want you to come to Savanaclaw and become my Vice Dorm Warden." Leona said.

"Why in the name of the Great Seven would I do that? The Mirror didn't place me in Savanaclaw, that's why Headmage Crowley made me Prefect of Ramshackle." Yuu said.

"The mirror couldn't place you because your magic was sealed away - it couldn't sense it! If your magic hadn't been sealed away, then you would have been placed in Savanaclaw! Hell, if it weren't for the bastards who kidnapped you that night, you would have stayed Feore and Yuu would have never existed! You're not supposed to be here! You are supposed to be with your Big Brother!" Leona said while slamming his hand on his chest.

"Well: I was taken, my magic was sealed, I grew up in another world, Yuu Arisugawa does exist. Also, the Vice Dorm Warden Role doesn't even exist in Savanaclaw (It really doesn't - I always thought Ruggie was the Vice Dorm Warden. Shocker.), so I couldn't even be VIce Dorm Warden. I am Yuu Arisugawa & I am Grim's Beast Tamer, as well as The Prefect of Ramshackle; I am not going to change who I have always been just because I find out who was originally. If you can't accept that, I don't want you hanging around me, Leona." Yuu said in his calm voice, but his friends could tell that Yuu was holding in his anger.

"Feore, you can't really mean that. I am your brother." Leona said.

"Then, act like it! Accept my decision and stop trying to control me, Leona! You want to be my brother? I will allow it to a certain extent, Sevens, you can even call me 'Feore' if you want, but I am not changing anything about myself. Understand?!" Yuu roared at Leona.

There was a silence in the room before the Dorm Warden of Savanaclaw exhaled and hung his head down.

"Okay. I understand." Leona said.

"Do you now?" Grim asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. I will stop trying to change you and force you, but I want to be able to be the Big Brother I was never able to be. Please, if you need anything, come to me and let me help you. " His eyes went wide he started looking in his pockets for something, "I have an idea."

He pulled a Black Card with the Kingscholar Crest on it and held it out to his little brother, who looked at him confused, "Here, use this. I already sent a letter to the Sunset Savannah explaining the situation and ordered them to make a card for you with direct access to the Kingscholar Vault. Until it comes and your allowance is set, use my card to buy whatever you need: Clothes, Food, New Furniture. Anything."

Yuu looked at the card and then back at Leona - The Prefect knew that Leona was not going to leave until he took the card. The Prefect exhaled and took the card from his brother, "I am only going to use this for emergencies. I'm not wasting your money."

"OUR money, Little Brother." Leona corrected.

"Fine. I guess I could order the supplies to get Ramshackle repaired and some new appliances, maybe some decent food to cook. Thanks for the help, Leona." Yuu said.

"Of course, I would help you." He smiled, "That's what Big Brothers are for."

[END]