#i have a ton of ideas!!! i just gotta find the time for it all

[raiiny-bay]

boyz

[arolesbianism]

Combining ego gifts is my favorite activity. You have six ego gifts? No you don't. Get stylized idiot

[anam-mana]

It fascinates me that Alistair gets lumped in with the “Chantry Boys” in discussions about Dragon Age Archetypes because it’s just. Very untrue. But it’s an idea the text actually pushes you to connect with in a way I think is purposeful.

This guy introduces us to the lore of the Blight by asking if we want “the chantry version or the truth.” If we ask if they’re not the same thing he smirks and says with some attitude “they rarely are.”

He sums up his religious beliefs saying he’s “not especially” Andrastian, and that “believes in the Maker well enough.”

He’s actually LESS religious than Zevran, who describes himself as fully Andrastian with a regular prayer routine in optional conversation branches.

The things that people use to categorize Alistair’s supposed “Chantry Boy” boy status all have non-religious motivations.

For example, the big one, his virginity, is because 1. He’s nervous around women, which is the gender he finds most attractive 2. He’s actually the youngest Party Member, being freshly 20 years old. 3. And most importantly, he correlates sex with love and was brought up to see them as requiring the other and so feels uncomfortable having sex without what he sees as “true love.” And he just hasn’t been in love yet.

Another example would be his reaction to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. He reacts with wonder akin to Leliana where many others react with a contrasting blasee attitude. Even the Andrastian Zevran.

But you gotta read between the lines here. Zevran doesn’t hold remains as sacred. He’s an assassin. So his prophet’s body is in that urn. It’s a body. The least remarkable and most mundane, perhaps even the hardest to swallow, thing she could ever be to Zevran is a corpse. Kinda takes the wonder out of faith for an assassin if she dies and rests just like any one else.

But Alistair is fascinated, in awe. 1, probably because the Chantry he doubts so much now has some kinda proof that something they said was true, unlike what he previously believed. 2, Alistair is WAY more patriotic than he is religious and we gotta remember that the Fereldans pride themselves on Alamari heritage, and Andraste was probably the most powerful and influential Alamari person to ever live. 3, he’s actually a giant history buff. He info dumps history on you often, with the memorized readings of whatever question you ask. If asked about the King and Loghain before the betrayal at Ostagar, he shows respect for Loghain’s service in the War for Independance, and knowledge of his tactics. And when speaking about his time in training with the chantry as a child, he says the education was actually what he liked most. And a lot of his gifts are things like replica soldiers, Fereldan historical things, maps, (along with his interest in magical artifacts but that’s for another day.) etc. Given his patriotism and love of learning history, yeah, the Urn is a big deal to him.

I have more things I could say, but really, I just find Alistair to be one of the most misrepresented by fandom characters. His character has a TON of subtext that challenges you to look beyond what others represent him as and the low opinion he holds of himself.

The perception of him as Andrastian and devout is one pushed on him by people like Morrigan (and others to some degree) who fights Alistair more like a straw man representing society than she engages with him as himself. She sees him as a Templar even though he left the order specifically because they abused him And he fundamentally disagreed with their practices, The Harrowing specifically being what pushed him to fight to leave.

There are, textually, two ways to interpret Alistair. Through face value aesthetics and symbolism pointing to association with the Chantry and by observing other’s opinion of him. Or through actually listening to what he says and watching what he does.

And it’s just interesting to me that a lot of people get caught in the trap of what he represents aesthetically rather than who he is.

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader) Part 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Seek medical attention for infected bite wounds.

The first chapter

The next chapter

Shanks POV

Hongo tilted his head to the side while contemplating your last statement. His mouth opened and closed before asking  “Captain, may I speak to you outside for a moment?” Shanks nodded, using his thumb to wipe away the tear tracking down the Omega’s face.

“Stay here, OK? I’ll be just outside the door,” Shanks said in your ear quietly, his stubble scraping against your cheek and earning him a shiver from you. Picking you off his lap with ease, Shanks set the Omega down on the unmade bed. You were still steadfastly looking down at your feet and avoiding eye contact with either Hongo or himself. Shanks stood up and followed the doctor, opening and shutting the cabin door gently behind him to avoid startling you. 

“Are you keeping her?” the doctor asked, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Shanks hadn’t given it much thought in the short time he’d had the Omega on his ship. If Shanks was a better man, he could let her go back on suppressants while living in anonymity on a protected island. She’d made it years without being detected and likely could go back to doing the same. 

Or he could sell her and make a ton of Berri, maybe even equal to his bounty. This idea was dismissed as the thought of turning her over to someone who would traumatize her just as badly - or maybe worse - turned his stomach. Besides, the islands he protected were perfectly happy to supply him with whatever the crew needed. The Red Force was welcomed all over the Grand Line, Shanks had no need for more money.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” Shanks said, rubbing his goatee. The idea to keep the Omega for himself had growing appeal. Your scent had started to perfume the cabin and it was taking everything in Shanks not to rub his nose on your scent glands. You had a subtle scent of lily of the valley and cedar that Shanks found incredibly appealing. With his status, power, and crew he could keep you safe from anyone else who would seek to have you. 

“Well, you’d better decide quickly. If you’re not keeping her, we need to get her off the ship immediately.”

“How much time do we have?” Shanks asked, peeking back in on your still form again. If he didn’t see you breathing and blinking, he would have thought you a statue.

“Only four to five days, and that’s if your presence around her doesn’t initiate her heat sooner which it likely will. If you’re not keeping her, we gotta put her in the infirmary, brig, or somewhere where your and Beckman’s scent is weak.” The mention of Beckman set Shanks on edge, surprising both himself and the doctor. He’d been friends with Beckman for over twenty years and this was the first time he’d ever felt anything so negative towards the man.

“How much do you know about Omegas?” 

Shanks hummed as he recalled that he had read a few books over the years, but hadn’t taken a particular interest in Omegas. He didn’t think he’d ever find one and he wouldn’t want to spend a single Berri on buying one through the slave trade. He’d bedded hundreds of Betas and even a few Alphas which had suited him just fine. “I know a little but not all that much truthfully,” he stated while looking at you through the circular window in the cabin door. You hadn’t moved an inch, your gaze still trained on the floor, sitting in the exact position Shanks had left you in. He could only imagine what Kid had done to you to train you to such a sick level of obedience. 

“We’ve got to get to an island and dock for the duration otherwise everyone’s gonna be miserable, especially Beckman. You’re not gonna want anyone else around her either.” 

“How do you know she’s going to be in heat?” Shanks asked, genuinely curious.

Hongo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Doctor isn’t just a title, I went to a real medical school. I learned about all this and we need to get her ready. If this is her first heat like she’s saying it will be, it’s going to be intense.”

“What does that mean exactly? What do we need to do for her?” Shanks’s practical knowledge about heat cycles left something to be desired. He’d often glossed over those sections in manuscripts under the assumption that it would never apply to his situation. 

Hongo rubbed the back of his neck in thought. “If you’re keeping her, there’s a lot we need to do. First, she must bathe so I can tend to her wounds. After that, you’ll have to scent her. If you want the heat to go as smoothly as it can we need to erase any scent left from Kid and replace it with yours. That way she’s not searching for her old mate, even if they had a….bad relationship. We’ll need to get her soft, clean, unscented linens and blankets so she can make her nest. She needs to eat up - heats use a lot of the Omega’s reserves and she doesn’t have that much left. We need -”

Shanks cut off Hongo with a wave of his hand. “One thing at a time. First, let’s bathe her.” 

“After the bath, we’re gonna need Beckman,” Hongo stated.

“Beckman? Why?” Shanks was an Alpha too and stronger besides. Anything Beckman could do, Shanks could do better unless it took two arms. Belatedly, Shanks realized his feelings were the precursor to jealousy. He threw Hongo a frown before he carried on speaking in a sullen tone, “She doesn’t need him.”. 

“I’m gonna have to clean and dress her wounds,” Hongo explained.

“So? What does that have to do with him?”

“He’s gonna keep you from punching or trying to fight me. You’re not going to like watching me tend to her or hurt her, no matter if it's for her own good.” Shanks rolled his eyes at the doctor’s words.

“Pffff. It’s not gonna be like that, I can control myself. It’s not like she’s my mate,” Shanks scoffed.

“I’m getting Beckman,” Hongo stated, unmoved by Shanks’s self assuredness.

Your POV

You heard the Captain and doctor talking outside of the door but were lost in your own thoughts. You’d been off your homemade suppressants for a while but you had pointedly avoided thinking about the possibility of going through heat. You had chalked your rising temperature up to your wounds causing you to be feverish. Nuzzling into the cloak, you inhaled Shanks’s scent deep into your lungs. The velvety material and clean smell made you feel peaceful to the point of being a little sleepy. You ached to lay back on the comfortable looking bed and curl up into a ball but he hadn’t given you permission to. You wanted to pass and show that you could obey in case this was a test. Kid liked to test the limits of your obedience in creative ways and you’d learned your lessons the hard way. He would leave food out when you were hungry and punish you if you ate it, or leave out blankets when he’d told you to remain naked and enter his cabin randomly. So you sat even though you were bone achingly tired.

You tried to look about your surroundings surreptitiously while you waited. The wooden cabin was mostly tidy but well lived in. Clothes were piled on a lounge chair in the corner, a writing desk had letters, maps, and an inkwell on top, and a small bookshelf held a few tomes. A dark colored chest had more linens poking out of the corner while the bed you were perched upon was large and covered in fuzzy sheets and piled with blankets and pillows. You didn’t see any hooks or chains hanging from the walls, maybe the Alpha wasn’t going to shackle you to the bed. The room had the aroma of the Alpha and gave off the feeling of coziness, of snuggling under blankets on a cold night. It felt….homey.

The door opened and Shanks reappeared without the doctor. Watching the Emperor approach, you didn’t want to imagine his displeasure at finding you asleep on the bed when he hadn’t allowed it. Kid’s power was mind boggling to you and the Emperor had swatted him away like a fly. You would do anything to remain on the Emperor’s good side even if it was to your own detriment. You heard him approaching you and watched his sandaled feet stop in front of you. He didn’t stoop down to catch your gaze but you felt his hand land at the top of your hair. You winced, remembering all the times it had been pulled in the past. No pain came as Shanks just patted you and rubbed the strands of your dirty hair between his fingers.

“Hongo has to treat your wounds. We need to get you clean first though, yeah? And take these off too,” Shanks’ fingers left your hair as he spoke. He reached down into the cloak and pulled on the chain between the cuffs you were still wearing. Feeling the bed dip next to you, Shanks pulled one of the cuffs closer to his face to inspect the manacle. “Where’s the lock? They’re not welded shut,” Shanks noted. 

“Magnetic,” you said in your hoarse voice. Shanks’s face soured as he traced the smooth metal of the handcuff with his thumb.

“Ah.” Shanks seemed to mull your response over for a few moments before he commanded you to close your eyes. You complied immediately and heard crunching as the metal of your cuff fell off your wrists. You desperately wanted to see how the Emperor had gotten them off but you were waiting for his command. A warm and calloused hand rubbed your bruised wrist where the metal had been previously. “You can open them again,” Shanks said softly, running his thumb over your pulse. There were no weapons around and the Emperor’s sword was still sheathed within the scabbard. You could only guess the power he’d used to remove them. 

The door swung open and three men appeared, two carrying a metal tub filled with steaming water and the third with a bucket with toiletries. Shanks stood to put himself between you and the crew members, blocking them from your view. “Thanks, guys, just put it over there,” the Emperor requested, gesturing to the largest open area of the cabin. The men followed their Captain’s request carefully but a little water sloshed on the floor. Alarm shot through you at the sight of the water on the floor, and you hoped the Captain didn’t blame you or punish you for it. You nearly went to clean it but you hadn’t been told to leave the bed and the new men were still in the room.

“Is it time for introductions? I’m Lime -” one of the men began speaking in your direction.

“Ah, not now. Maybe later Lime Juice, sorry. Thanks for bringing the tub,” the Emperor said with genuine praise in his voice.

“No worries. Nice to meetcha Little Miss,” the man said easily. You didn’t reply. The men exited the cabin leaving only you, Shanks, and the piping hot bath. 

“Come on, then. Let’s get you in there while it's still hot,” the Emperor suggested. You nodded and stood up, shucking the Emperor’s cloak you’d been clutching.

Shanks POV

He shouldn’t have been surprised when you complied immediately, leaving his cloak on the bed and revealing your nude body. You’d been beaten into submission - if he told you to jump overboard he’d hear the splash shortly thereafter. His eyes raked over your form while you limped to the tub, noticing the bruising, the cuts, the marks he hadn’t before. Even in your currently broken form, you were breathtaking. Shanks’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch you but he stuffed his hand into his pocket for the time being, getting closer to aid your descent into the water.

“Why are you limping?” Shanks asked as you gripped the edge of the tub to lift yourself in. You froze in place, looking down at the water. Raising your foot behind you revealed a deep gash in the sole of your foot. Shanks crouched down to get a better look at the wound while capturing your foot in his hand. The doctor hadn’t inspected the bottom of your feet so he was sure Hongo hadn’t seen this one. The cut was clearly deliberate with how deep and uniform it was. Taking a deep breath to avoid swearing caused the tempting perfume of your cunt to hit Shanks’s nose. His first instinct was to hold you in place and run his tongue all the way up your legs till he reached your tantalizing pussy. Then he wanted to rub his nose up and down your slit until the scent of your pussy was all he could smell. Now wasn’t the time, you were shaking and tired and had a long way to go until you could rest.

“Ach. I wish you’d said something, are there any other cuts Hongo didn’t inspect?” Shanks said in mild admonishment. You licked your lips and nodded slowly. You were shaking, your shoulders hunched in to make yourself smaller. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not mad,” Shanks said quietly, putting your foot back down and standing up, regrettably moving away from the scent of your groin. He cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek repeatably in an attempt to soothe you. “I’m not mad, I just need to know where you need medical attention. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information, right?” You nodded, your hair obscuring your face from his view. “Where’s the other cut?” Shanks inquired while moving his hand to the small of your back.

You took in a deep breath and put your good foot on the tub, opening your legs to his eyes. At the very inner crease of your leg, where your thigh met your groin, was another infected bite mark. Shanks squared his shoulders and kept his face neutral. His first instinct had been to snarl at the offending sight but managed to restrain his response at the sight of you. Shanks saw your vacant gaze, shaking hands, and clammy skin and knew it would only make things worse.

“”S all right. We can let Hongo know later,” Shanks slipped on the mask of his affable nature as he spoke to smooth over the moment. “In ya go, Love,” Shanks said while picking you up by the waist and depositing you into the tub without warning. Shanks needed you in the water so your smell would dissipate before he lost control of himself. You hissed when your skin hit the water but otherwise made no movements. “Here you go,” Shanks said, handing you soap and a towel before dragging a stool over to sit near the tub. “You do your front, I’ll get your back.” 

You began lathering the washcloth with soap and warm water before you began rubbing down your arms and torso. Shanks maintained a steady one sided conversation while he started pouring water down your back. He was trying to acclimate you to the sound of his voice in an attempt to bring you comfort in what surely was an uncomfortable time. While lathering his own washcloth Shanks saw the formerly clear bathwater turning rust red with every swipe of your hands. As he began sudsing your back his eyes picked up faded scars he’d missed when looking over your more recent wounds. 

“I’m gonna wash your back now, ok? It’s hard to wash your own back and even harder when you only have one hand. There are more tasks than you’d think that require two hands, even beyond fighting or washing. Can you imagine how difficult buttons are to do with one hand? Or even tying boots? I have Beckman help me, that’s Benn Beckman, my first mate. You’ll meet him later, you’ll like him for sure. He looks gruff but make no mistake he’s a total sweetheart. He says that I milk it, and I do of course, but what’s the point of being a Captain if my first mate won’t hand feed me eggs every morning?” 

Shanks was acting casually but he noticed a miniscule shift in your mouth as he joked about Benn feeding him breakfast. You were close to smiling and Shank’s heart swelled with pride. He knew there was some glimmer of you buried deep within and he was going to bring you back to the surface. He finished washing your back and you’d washed your arms, torso, and legs but made no move to wash your hair.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, Love? I can if you’d like,” Shanks was trying to offer you as many simple choices as possible to show you that he wasn’t going to control every aspect of your life. You shook your head in response to his query. “Alright, go ahead then, almost done here,” Shanks said gently but to his surprise, you shook your head again. “No? I don’t mean to be rude sweetheart but your hair’s dirty, it needs to be washed.” 

“Cut it all off,” you rasped. Shanks tilted his head to the side, your request startling. Even male Omegas preferred long hair, it was simply a characteristic commonly associated with the dynamic. One of the most severe non-corporeal punishments an Omega could face was having a forced haircut. For an Omega to request a drastic haircut was unheard of. Your hair was long, indicating you’d been growing it long before Kid had gotten his hands on you even through your time being suppressed.

“Can I ask why?” Shanks questioned, picking up the soggy ends from the water. 

“Can’t be pulled,” you answered. You parted your hair in the back, showing a bald spot where your hair had been yanked out from the root. Shanks moved his stool so he was no longer sitting behind you but beside you.

“Look at me,” Shanks requested and you partially complied as you turned your head towards him. You looked at his chest but not at his face. “��Look at me,” Shanks repeated, this time with a Command. Not physically able to disobey an Alpha of his power, your widened eyes snapped to him. It was the first time he’d Commanded you to do anything, but this was important.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. You may not always like what I do, but I will never harm you. Do you understand?” Shanks said softly while stroking your cheek with his thumb. He’d done that a lot, he mused. Something about you called him to take care of you, to provide for you physically and emotionally. You nodded. “I’m gonna have to hear you say it,” Shanks said, almost sorry for forcing you to talk.

“I understand,” you stated in your ruined voice. Unsure if his Command was completed you continued looking at him. Shanks smiled at you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a deal. I’ll wash and brush your hair for you tonight. If you still want to cut it off tomorrow morning, we will. We can have matching haircuts if you want,” Shanks said, flipping back his own hair for emphasis. A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of your lips as you nodded your consent to his deal.

Your POV

Your arms looped around your knees in the cooling water as Shanks washed your hair tenderly. You had been sincere in your wish to cut it - you never wanted to be dragged by your hair ever again. Shanks’s offer startled you since Omegas were often physically groomed to whatever standard the Alpha wanted regardless of how they felt about it. The bath had given you a lot of stress since you weren’t sure what to expect. Anything new, any deviation from the standard made you nervous since you couldn’t predict the outcome. It had been an all right experience but not as relaxing as the Emperor had anticipated. 

Shanks only had one hand but it didn’t slow him down when bathing you. He rattled on about whatever he was thinking about while you listened as he worked the soap onto your scalp and rinsed it. He was pulling the brush easily through your hair while telling you about a strange boy he’d met years before when there was a knock at the door. 

“Wait,” Shanks ordered in a tone more stern than he’d used when speaking to you. “Up, dear,” Shanks motioned with the hairbrush. The water dripping off you in rivulets left you exposed to the cold air making your skin erupt into goosebumps. Shanks quickly dried you off with a fluffy towel before he wrapped it around your body. After you were dried to Shanks’s satisfaction, he swapped the towel for a large purple robe, picked you up, and sat you on the chair by the desk.

“Come in,” Shanks said, sitting on the edge of the desk next to you. He took your wrinkly hand and held it in his own as you resumed staring at the floor. Three pairs of boots walked past and you heard them hefting the tub back out of the room.

“Blech, what’d she do? Bathe in mud?” one man said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongo replied calmly while coming to stand in front of you. He had his medicine kit again and you knew this part would be even less fun than the bath. Two pairs of boots stopped in front of you but you only recognized Hongo’s. The other male was also an alpha though not as strongly scented as Shanks.

“There’s a few more Hong,” Shanks said casually, stroking the top of your hand. “She’s got a cut on the sole of her foot and one on her inner thigh. Both need attention.”

“Alright, not an issue. Let’s get started,” Hongo said while setting his bag on the desk. “Over to the other side of the cabin,” Hongo ordered Shanks, who bristled immediately. 

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here,” Shanks said, keeping your hand in his own.

“No, you’re not. Go over there with Beckman. I don’t want to have to treat my own wounds in addition to hers when I stitch her up.” You cringed, waiting for the Captain to slap his subordinate but it never came. Instead, you heard a deep voice ushering the Emperor away from you.

“C’mon, Cap. ‘S for the best. We’ll be a few feet away and she’s a big girl, she can be apart from you for a minute or two.” You were guessing this was Benn Beckman, the first mate Shanks had told you about. Shanks whined in response but let go of your hand nonetheless.

“”M right here if you need me, Sweets,” Shanks reassured you as he receded. You didn’t protest but a part of you did wish Shanks was nearby. You didn’t feel all that comfortable around him but he was the person you were most familiar with. Hongo had been taking tools and liquids out of his bag in preparation for the procedures. After putting on a pair of glasses, Hongo snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

“It’s not gonna feel great, but I’ll try to make it as painless as possible, OK? Let’s start with your neck, I think that’s the most severe. Did you wash it in the bath?” He asked, using the stool Shanks had previously occupied. You nodded in confirmation that you had followed the doctor’s orders.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” You tilted your head to allow the doctor access to your neck. Even though you knew he was going to touch you, you still flinched when he made contact with your skin. “I’m gonna clean it and drain the pus. After I’m gonna have to stitch it,” the doctor informed you. You heard the sound of liquid moving and felt alcohol being applied to your neck. Not wanting to interrupt Hongo’s work, you stayed as still as you could even as the alcohol burned on contact with your wound. 

“See? Not even a single reaction outta me,” you heard Shanks say in the background and Beckman grunted in response to his captain.

After wiping down the area, you heard the clanging of metal as Hongo picked up a scalpel. You closed your eyes and waited for the sharp pain as the knife met your skin. Based on other wounds you’d received, you knew the doctor was trying to be gentle but you still hissed as he cut into you and pressed on the wound.

“No, sit down. She’s fine -”

“I AM sitting down, but I just wanna go -” 

“No, stay put.” You heard Shanks and Beckman arguing on the other side of the room. Hongo was right to bring the first mate, it sounded like Shanks was having a hard time watching the doctor tend to your wounds. You wondered if it was from possessiveness, like Kid, or because he didn’t like watching you being hurt. You didn’t think about it for long as a sharp pain crowded out your train of thought when the doctor began pressing on your wound to drain the pus.

“Not much more, almost there. It’s a deep wound, otherwise I wouldn’t have to stitch it.” You whimpered as the doctor pushed even harder for a moment, then covered the area with gauze. You heard scuffling again.

“Let go of me Benn, I need to - I said stop shoving me!” Shanks’ voice rose with more anger in his voice. His scent was starting to bloom, filling the air with the smell of oranges and cloves in an unconscious effort to soothe you.

“One more time and you’re out of the cabin until he’s done. Stop talking and distracting everyone. You know it’s for her own good so Let Hongo work,” Benn huffed. You couldn’t concentrate on Shanks anymore because the doctor started to stitch. You closed your lips into a thin line and screwed your eyes shut in a futile effort to block out the pain.

“Ah, relax, relax. If you tense your muscles it hurts more,” the doctor chided you gently as the needle pricked your skin over and over. You relaxed your face as much as you could. You’d had stitches before and you were no stranger to pain but the bite was in such a delicate and sensitive area you couldn’t help as a few tears escaped your eye. Finally, you heard the words you were waiting for.

“All done, just snipping the end of the thread. One more moment and we can move on.” Scissors were brought close to your face and snipped the end of the medical thread. “Look straight ahead for me?” Hongo instructed you, facing you head on. You looked forward, your neck aching with the effort. “And turn to the other side?” You turned and saw Shanks smiling and waving at you despite being held against the wall by Benn. You dropped your eyes after a moment too long.

“So what’s next? Shanks said you had a foot injury? Those are a real drag,” Hongo said, trying to make light conversation. You nodded and crossed your leg over your knee to show the doctor the sole of your foot. Hongo reached out to pick up your foot by the ankle and peered closely at the wound with his glasses.

“Knife?” he asked abruptly. You nodded. “Accident?” You shook your head. 

“Punishment. Ran away,” you said quietly. Hongo hummed and tilted your foot. You used the extra fabric of the extravagant robe to cover yourself more as Hongo lifted your leg and placed your foot on his lap. Shanks growled lightly but otherwise made no noise.

“Luckily it’s pretty shallow. Probably hurts to walk but it should heal quickly. I don’t need to suture it but I am going to wrap it,” Hongo explained. He cleaned the wound and used long nosed tweezers to get a few pieces of debris out. The digging was uncomfortable and made you try to jerk your foot back unintentionally but Hongo’s grip was tight. He finished quickly and wrapped the wound in gauze and bandages.

“Next is the leg, right? Let’s see,” Hongo offered. Your mouth twisted as you thought of having to show the wound. You pointed to the bed and hoped the doctor didn’t think you were arrogant.

“Sure, go ahead and lay down if it's easier for you,” Hongo offered. He picked you up and you heard the Emperor’s rumble returning, making you ball your hands into fists.

“Oi, you’re scaring her Redhair,” Benn said as you were placed on the bed. The rumble stopped for a moment but quickly resumed as soon as you opened your legs to show Hongo the wound. You were covering what you could with the robe but Shanks only got louder as Hongo came closer to you. As his head dipped low to look at it with his glasses, Shanks’s loud roar made you cower. 

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Ben said, manhandling the Emperor out of the cabin. “I’m keeping this one outside. Let us know when you’re done. C’mon you,” Beckman said, still grappling with a struggling Shanks. You knew that if the Emperor really wanted to stay, no one on board could keep him out. You guessed that the Emperor was trying to allow Hongo to take care of you but the Alpha within him didn’t like the other male so close to you. You closed your eyes and willed this experience to be over as soon as possible. Hongo was touching your upper leg in a professional manner but the feeling of someone near your core had you near tears. This wound wasn’t as bad as the one on your neck since you had secretly washed it a few times. 

“All done. Good job, Omega. You did better than some of the men on board,” Hongo said before removing the gloves and putting his glasses back in their case. “You stay there, I’ll get Shanks.” No sooner had the doctor finished speaking than the door opened and the Emperor strode in, carrying a basket in his hand. You sat up and gulped, unsure how angry he would be. 

“Out,” he said to Hongo before he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry Hong. What I meant was, thank you. And you were right about Beckman, owe ya one.”

“Owe me a bottle of booze is whatcha owe me,” Hongo said, smiling easily. “Have her eat and go to sleep. Poor thing’s exhausted.” 

“Already on it,” Shanks murmured. He placed the basket on the bed as the doctor left, taking his equipment with him. “Didn’t know what you liked, so I took a bit of everything. The crew already ate dinner and those assholes left no leftovers. Well, we didn’t really know you were coming, but Lucky’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow. For now, here’s a little snack.” Shanks reached into the basket and pulled out some cheese, dried meat, grapes, crackers, and some nuts. “I stole a bunch of this from Beckman’s cabin, he’s got good taste.” You hesitatingly reached over to the slices of cheese, taking one in your hand. Biting into it, you nearly moaned. You hadn’t had fresh food in forever, subsisting on whatever Kid remembered to bring into his cabin. 

You ate a few more slices in silence, Shanks leaning back on the bed and eating some of the mixed nuts he’d taken. “You want one?” he asked, holding a grape in his hand. You nodded and held out your hand to take one from the bowl. “Ah ah. Open,” he demanded, putting the grape right in front of your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and Shanks popped the fruit in. You didn’t know why but you felt yourself starting to blush faintly. You were wearing the Emperor’s robe, on his bed, after he bathed you, and yet feeding you a grape made you feel embarrassed? You yawned after you swallowed, your eyelids feeling heavy. You wanted to rest but were still unsure if you needed permission.

“Aw, you’re tired? ‘S alright, we can eat more tomorrow. Drink a cup of water and we’ll be off to bed,” Shanks said, pouring water into a cup from a bottle on the nightstand. Handing you the cup, your fingers brushed against his. You drank greedily, draining the cup in seconds. “More?” Shanks asked but you shook your head. He quickly put the food back in the basket and set it on the floor.

“Lay down. You look so sleepy little Omega. Come on, right here next to me on the bed, it’s nice and warm, I’ll hold you,” Shanks cooed at you. Your lip wobbled at the suggestion but you held firm and didn’t cry. You’d spent many nights on the cold floor of Kid’s cabin, your chains pulling at your weakened limbs. Crawling over to the head of the bed, you laid down on your side on one of the fluffy, feather filled pillows. The Emperor covered your body with his heavy blanket and you burrowed down into its warmth while inhaling the rich scent of the Alpha. You’d missed being warm and comfortable at night more than any other luxury, even more than eating regularly. Shanks laid down behind you and pulled you close to his body, draping his arm loosely across your torso. 

“Good night, little Omega,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Good night, Emperor,” you croaked, already half asleep. One thought tickled the corner of your mind before you could succumb to sleep completely. “The other ship?” You’d felt the Emperor’s boat rock earlier but you were too focused on your circumstances to notice anything else.

“Hm? Kid’s ship? Dorry and Broggy cut it in half,” Shanks mumbled while running his hand up and down your ribs. You hummed happily and let sleep overtake you.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle

[pricegotmedickmatized]

hiiii it's the person who sent you the graves x fem reader request yesterday (idk if you wanna keep track of anons but if so can i be 🦜?) anyway i'm having more Thots about him:

graves bringing his gf(reader) to the shadow company base and having her wander around some empty hallways so he can hunt her down and fuck her (in all his gear ofc. idk what it is about a tac vest but they're fucking sexy). in my head it's a whole cnc/roleplay thing where he's super into it and really leans into his scary military man persona :)

hi pookie!!! i don't have any tracked anons yet but i'd love to start!!! you can definitely be 🦜anon!! (also i hope you liked the first little drabble, this one got...far longer lmao)

you should have known that Phillip was up to something when you walked out of the bedroom that morning to find him still sitting at the kitchen counter with a mug of long cold coffee. the smirk alone hadn’t rung any alarm bells, he was still Phillip, and if he wasn’t smirking he was pouting scowling.

but when you’d asked why he hadn’t already left for work as was his usual habit all he’d said was that he wanted to take you along. show you around.

“Half of it’s yours, honey, don’t you wanna see what your man gets up to during the day?”

which that was a whole other problem, what did he mean by ‘half of it’s yours’ exactly? and with you thus distracted and shocked by his casual notification that oh yeah, he’d already signed over half of everything he owned to you “What the fuck else would I do, babycakes, does that ring on your finger not mean nothing to you?” you didn’t wind up pressing him on why today of all days he decided he wanted to show you around Shadow Company.

it was, of course, an extremely impressive operation. not that you really knew much about military private contractors, or what Phillip and the Shadows did while off on assignment, sometimes for months on end, but you figured you got the big picture idea around the time he was proudly showing off an armory that would make several countries green with envy.

and now he was laying out his usual kit for you, piece by piece, your eyes growing wider and wider as he just kept adding things until you interrupted his lecture on why he preferred a specific kind of knife in this specific holster to blurt out-

“There’s no possible way you can carry all that around all the time.”

he blinked, smirk curling up the corners of his mouth. “That so, sugar?” chuckling, he leaned in, teasing, “Should I be hurt you think so little of how much I can lift, honey?”

“No, I mean,” you huffed, waving a hand at the veritable ton of equipment now neatly arranged on like three different stainless steel tables. “I just mean that…Phillip there’s so much of this stuff, if you tried to carry all of it all the time you wouldn’t be able to move around, and even if you could, it wouldn’t be quick!”

Phillip laughed, denim blue eyes dancing. “You’d be surprised, pretty baby. Wanna see?”

raising a brow, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Only if you’re prepared for me to laugh at you when you get it all on and you look ridiculous and run a four hour mile. No, I’m calling your bluff, you’re just trying to impress me in some weird, macho military man way.”

in a second Phillip had your chin gripped in his hand, pulling your head up to seal your mouths together with a kiss that stole your breath, and several brain cells. when you were a panting, horny mess (god, he knew what it did to you when he groaned into your mouth how good you tasted he did that shit on purpose) he pulled back, smirking wide with his pupils blown, hair mussed from your hands still tangled in it.

“Babycakes,” he crooned, “now that’s a mean fucking lie. You know I ain’t gotta do a damn thing to impress you by now, honey. But if you wanted to see me all kitted up, shit. Happy to arrange it for you, sugar.”

you couldn’t even scrape together the wherewithal to protest or defend yourself, the inside of your head all cotton stuffed and hot from his kiss and wandering hands. he chuckled as he picked you up by the waist and set you down on one of the long metal tables with a warm but firm, “Keep it parked there, sugar, eyes on me, you know how I like it.”

and so you did, trying not to squirm as you watched him pull on sheaths and holsters heavy with weaponry, wrap something that looked suspiciously like a collar around his neck, then came the vest, the gloves, the beige balaclava, the helmet-

why was it so fucking hot watching him get dressed? wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

but he looked so...dangerous.

in your head you knew that he was dangerous. you knew what he did for a living, and that he was good enough at it that he could afford to, if he wanted, literally buy and sell Dallas itself.

you'd just never really dedicated a whole lot of thought to this side of him before. at least not in front of Phillip, where he could see you quivering in your seat chewing on your lower lip, thighs clenched together as your pussy got hot looking at your fiancé wearing all of his tactical gear.

he wasn't just your fiancé right then, and that was what was really fogging up your head. he was a soldier, the soldier, the best of the best, faceless, unfeeling, unmovable object and unstoppable force.

in the back of your head, an idea prickled.

sometimes he went on missions to try and find people.

what if you were one of them?

what if you had to try and outrun the Apollonian god before you?

by the time the last strap was buckled tight, you were sure you'd soaked through your panties.

trying to ignore it, you hoped he couldn't hear the threadiness in your voice as you teased, "Well you got it all on, but that doesn't mean that you can move around all that fast."

his head tilted to the side, and the fabric covering his face shifted. he'd be smirking beneath it, you knew him well enough to know that instantly. and then he chuckled. low and...vicious.

that was when your stomach flipped, some gut deep instinctive reaction born out of evolutionary necessity. and you got the first inkling that maybe, just maybe you’d walked into a trap.

"Wanna bet?" his voice was muffled a little, but you didn't have any trouble hearing him. all you could hear was him as he took slow, measured steps forward until he was caging you in against the table, blotting out all light, all sound, everything else in the world but him. "How about we play a game, sugar?"

it took a few tries, but eventually you were able to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth to mutter weakly, "A game?"

"Mmhm." one rough gloved hand came up and took your chin, the scratch of the material making you shiver. "I'll give you a sixty second head start. And then I'll come after you. F'you get out of the building 'fore I catch you, I'll make dinner for a month."

oh god. oh god oh god oh god, he really had seen what you were thinking hadn't he?

the words came out of your mouth unbidden. "What if you...what if you catch me?"

his thumb rubbed over your mouth, pressing against the swell of your lips, mindless of disturbing your lip gloss that got smeared over the black fabric.

when he chuckled again, the sound went right to your clenching, empty pussy. "F'I catch you, I get to do anything I want. Wherever we are. Even if you try and pretend like you don't want it."

a moan slithered out between your parted lips before you could catch it.

Phillip dropped your chin, stepping back and neatly avoiding your hands reflexively coming up to try and keep him close. "Time starts now, honey."

the beige balaclava stretched, his denim eyes burning through your body above it. "Run."

you did.

in the moment it was like some wild animal had taken over your brain. no thought. no plan. no instinct. just something driving you deeper and deeper into the darkly shadowed labyrinthian halls, something that you couldn't even begin to pretend was just plain fear.

sure, there was some fear.

that was normal. healthy. that was a billion years as predator/prey in your bloodline pushing you to run further, faster, harder away from your pursuer.

but the pulse in your pussy? the hot clench of your stomach every time you froze when you heard the tiniest sound before you scrambled through another door you didn't recognize? the way you could feel your nipples tight and needy against your thin shirt Phillip had picked out for you just a few hours ago?

that wasn't fear.

not even close.

god, had he planned this?

of course he had, he must've. but how had he known?

you turned another corner, panting hard, staring at a long line of lockers, most decorated or obviously in use. your heart was racing, drowning out anything you might have heard beyond your own heavy breathing.

and that was when you saw it.

the door just to the left and all the way at the back of the room, opened ever so slightly. a tinge of sunlight falling through onto the dark floor.

you dove for it, but a thick muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, hauling you backwards into a wide, familiar chest.

and even though you kicked your feet in the air and back at those sturdy legs, and scratched at the thick fabric covering that burly arm, it didn't do a single bit of good.

against your back you could feel the hard threatening lumps of the weapons and various equipment Phillip had strapped on. his other gloved hand raised, curling around the front of your neck, and you froze instantly, brain going blank.

"Caught you," he purred.

even just the sound of his voice like this was different somehow, and not just because of the balaclava. you'd never heard him sound like this, raw and vicious and arrogant. a predator who'd caught his prey.

the arm around your waist shifted, and his gloved hand moved to start playing with your breasts, rougher than normal, like he wasn't taking care to control himself for once.

"And what a pretty little thing I've caught." he sounded so proud, as his fingers found your nipple through your shirt and pinched, hard enough your hips bucked and you whined, way louder than you should have.

he only laughed, low and mean. "Look at these pretty things, could cut right through that flimsy fucking shirt, babycakes, couldn't they? Aw, sugar, don't tell me. Don't tell me you liked being hunted."

you heard it then, the slight waver in his voice. felt the shift in his stance as he continued to hold you aloft against his body. you couldn't feel the press of his hips, not with him wearing his vest and weapons, but you knew, you knew he was hard.

"P-Phillip-"

the hand around your throat tightened. not cutting off air, not yet, just threatening to. "Nah, honey. Don't even think about fucking lying to me."

with a few long strides he turned you to face the nearest blank wall, pinning you against it, barely able to brace yourself on your tippy toes as he reached down and shoved your skirt to the floor.

his groan drowned out your strangled sound of surprise. "Fuck, can see you liked it. Fucking soaked these panties, sugar, feel that?"

another whine snuck out of you when rough, blunt pressure rubbed at your cunt, the sensation lighting sparks up your spine, blinding you for a moment.

"I got a confession, honey." Phillip hooked a finger in your panties and ripped them right off. "I fucking liked it too."

he was still wearing the kit. still wearing the helmet, the balaclava, the gloves. you were completely and utterly at his mercy, dripping wet around his digits as he unceremoniously shoved two knuckle deep inside of you uncaring of the rough drag of the unfamiliar fabric against your ultra sensitive walls, and all you could do was stay there and fucking take it, squirming and moaning until you were dizzy with it.

you shouldn't be as close to coming as you were. he'd barely touched you, and what he had given you had been mean and cruel, but it just made your cunt drip and your thighs shake.

"Fuck," Phillip grunted in a tone you only recognized from when he'd already gone two rounds with you in a night just to find that it still wasn't enough. you'd never heard him sound this base and primal outside of nights like those. "Fuck."

he leaned forward as his hands disappeared, fumbling behind you, his masked mouth pressed against your ear, his body weight keeping you in place.

in the back of your head, you remembered his terms. once he caught you, he got to do whatever he wanted with you.

you could feel the heat of his breath as he bit out, "Gonna feel that fucking pussy on my cock right fucking now. And I don't wanna hear you whining that it hurts or you can't take it. Be a good girl, sugar and just - just fuck - fucking - god!"

Phillip usually liked to tease you. liked to fuck your folds, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit or only fucking you with the head of his cock and asking you sweetly why you weren't satisfied, why you were begging for more, wasn't he being a gentleman by not fucking you with the whole thing? why couldn't you be grateful and just take what he gave you? and only after you broke down into near hysterical teasing would he give in and finally sink deep.

but not tonight.

tonight he rammed balls deep in one thrust and set a deep, brutal pace that had your eyes rolling back, your hands clawing at the paint on the wall like it could help your fluttering, spasming walls around his cock as you struggled to take him, could help that deep point inside of you where he was ramming his cockhead against your womb.

like it could help the rising tidal wave of pleasure threating to hit you and knock you to the ground at any moment as he fucked you in the open for his own pleasure, like you were nothing more than a toy for him to get off with.

patience was out the window and he was proving a point that you didn't even know was in question.

"You belong to me," he growled, not even sounding that out of breath as he just kept pounding, easily catching your hips and holding you up when your knees gave out as you came untouched and unasked for on his cock. "Every inch of your body, and especially this perfect fucking pussy, it belongs to me, and I can do whatever I want with what's mine."

your head bobbed mindlessly, back arching sweetly as you tried to take his cock, every thrust jolting you head to toe. tears stung your eyes, started sliding down your cheeks as you shouted when he shifted the angle almost imperceptibly and started nailing your g-spot on every thrust.

"Say it," he snapped. "fucking say you belong to me, angel."

"I - I be-belong to y-you!"

"That's fucking right." his voice was like a snarl, uncaring of your squeal and your writhing as his hips picked up speed. "Think I don't know how fast you can run? Think I don't know how that pretty head works? Can't fucking fool me, babycakes, you wanted this almost as much as I did. My perfect fucking slut, god, so goddamn greedy for my fucking cock, take it so fucking good, c'mon baby, c'mon baby, c'mon baby fucking cum for me, one more time cum right on my cock or you won't cum this whole fucking week I swear to god-"

you screamed as another wave hit you, your body bucking against Phillip like you could push him off, secure in the knowledge you never could, that he'd keep you pinned against the wall with those hands bruising your waist as every muscle in your body contracted.

you could feel every inch of him inside you. every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock as he fucked you sloppy and deep.

and you could hear him, muttering hotly against your ear, "Atta girl, atta fucking girl, darlin', god, that's it, that's it, just stay tight for me feels so goddamn good, let me fill up that pretty pussy, hm? Want me to fill you up with my cum?"

speech was totally beyond you now, black spots blinking in and out of your field of vision, and all you could do was nod and whimper pathetically, weakly trying to tilt your hips back to give him the perfect angle.

"Fuck, yes, good girl, my good fucking girl ain'tcha darlin', just take it, be good and fucking - fuck, fuck!"

he slammed in one last time, all the way, deep enough it did more than just stretch you, it felt like he was about to break you, like one wrong move and you'd be feeling his cock in your throat and not just your stomach.

searing heat filled you as he pumped you full of his cum. your legs shook, the only thing holding you up was his hands, his cock, and the wall.

heat burned over your face and chest as you felt some of that cum start to drip out, coating your inner thighs, sliding down your leg.

all you could manage was a thin, reedy whine.

"Shh," Phillip soothed, hoarse and breathless. he shuffled closer, leaning against you and the wall a little more. with him that close you could feel the barest hint of a tremor in his own thighs pressed against your own. "Fuck, sugar. Gimme a second. Still fucking cumming."

and he was. you could feel every pulse, every twitch of his cock inside of you like this, could hear every mutter and moan he made as he rode it out.

when it was over he let out a long, relieved sigh, like an itch that had finally been discovered and scratched to satisfaction.

"Good girl." his hands gentled, arms sliding around your waist and mouth pressed against your neck, humming like a lazy cat in the sun as he carried you over to a long bench and sat down, keeping you in his lap, his softening cock still inside you.

you whimpered, jolting, but his gloved hands rubbed over your thighs, your belly, up between the valley of your breasts to cup your throat.

"Shh, s'alright, babycakes," he crooned. "Jus' need a little breather. Jus' wanna feel you a little longer."

one of his hands left you briefly, and you heard his helmet fall to the floor. and then his mouth was on your neck, smothering every bit of skin he could get in kisses.

the two of you moaned when an after shock of pleasure made you clench down on him again.

Phillip's hand turned your face to his so he could kiss your slack mouth. "Gonna be the fucking death of me, honey."

pouting, you forced out a disagreeable sound.

he just laughed, smoothing his hand over your stomach, squeezing the inside of your sore thigh. "The ideas you come up with? Having me hunt you in my own company building? God, that was so fucking hot."

for the moment, you refrained from reminding him that it had been all his idea. you were too fucked out and sleepy to bother with it for the moment.

Phillip's hands were checking on you, massaging muscle, testing sore spots, gently soothing abused skin and muscle as you climbed down from your high.

"Better be careful," he cautioned, smirking against your throat. "Or I'm gonna want to do this all the time. Gonna want to put you on those pretty knees in a conference room here, bend you over my desk and fuck that tight, pretty little asshole of yours."

you just moaned in response, which of course made him laugh.

asshole.

he'd definitely been planning this all along.

but he was your asshole.

and you'd get your revenge, one way or the other.

[seventiesweetheart]

𓆩♱𓆪 party monster.

dark! ex bf! rafe x pogue! fem! reader

SUMMARY. in which y/n and the infamous rafe cameron once shared a secret relationship, one that she knew the pogues would be heavily against. and so eventually, after a series of events, y/n decided to break up with him and be done with his toxic behavior once and for all. but while sneaking into some kook’s house party with the pogues, she’s caught by the one person she was hoping not to find.

WARNING. smut, dubcon, a bit of violence, implied toxic relationship, oral (reader receiving), choking, manipulative behavior, jealousy, tons of swearing

A/N. this is the first ever fic i’m posting yaaaay >< just a note that this definitely ended up being way longer than i planned, so i might write a part two tomorrow since it also still feels kind of lacking :( but hope you enjoy!

it wasn’t easy sneaking in. but with sarah’s help, they managed to slip through unnoticed. and of course, jj wasted no time diving into the kitchen where bottles of booze were scattered like treasure, hence why y/n found herself struggling to maintain control of the situation, fearing that at any moment, someone would eventually realize who they were and the fact that they completely weren’t supposed to be here.

to be honest, y/n never wanted to come here. if anything, the last place she wanted to be after her recent breakup was anywhere near the kooks. yet, as soon as john b and jj heard about the party, they couldn't resist the temptation to crash it in true pogue fashion.

as usual, y/n and ki couldn’t bear the idea of those boys getting their asses kicked again, especially after the millions of times that that happened in the past.

“jj, seriously, that’s enough. this is absolutely no place to get wasted right now. please.” she begged her best friend who was now downing his third bottle and moving along to music.

“god relax y/n, no one’s gonna figure us out, alright? just drink, dance, and we’ll be out of here as soon as possible.”

her eyes bored into him, clearly not believing a word he said, “uh huh, you say that now but—“

“c’mon! just dance with me.” before y/n could protest any more, jj had her by the hand, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the living room. the air was thick with the scent of flavored smoke and alcohol. loud trap music pounded from the speakers, the bass vibrating through the floors and walls, matching the rhythm of her racing heart.

“jesus christ…” the girl muttered, watching jj get lost in the music, his head swinging and hair flying as he danced amidst the throng of bodies.

y/n's eyes scanned around the room, her anxiety mounting with each passing second. sweat slicked her forehead as she continuously looked around the crowd for any familiar faces who might recognize them.

and then she saw him.

his pair of piercing grey-blue eyes locked onto hers, sending a jolt of fear through her body. those same eyes flicked between her and jj, and before she knew it, she felt a chill run down her spine.

rafe cameron lounged on a plush couch, arms draped over the backrest with the usual unreadable expression on his face. next to him was some girl who was bent forward towards the glass table, snorting a line of powder. she raised her head back and pinched her nose, waiting for the rush to hit.

but y/n’s focus was solely on rafe. whoever the girl was didn't matter. either way, rafe’s attention was fixed on her, and she couldn't tell if that excited or terrified her more.

snapping out of the daze, she turned to her best friend again, “jj, we gotta go. rafe’s here.” she desperately tried to tug on her friend’s arm.

“jj!” she yelled over the music and that finally caught his attention.

“what?!” he yelled back, irritation flashing across his face at the sight of her anxious expression.

“we have to go! now.”

rafe never liked jj. throughout their secret relationship, he always thought of him to be a little too loud, violent, and far too carefree. on top of that, he also thought jj was always too close to y/n for his liking.

and y/n knew this. she knew both of them well enough to understand that she needed to act quickly before things escalated and this night became another reminder of why sneaking into this party had been a terrible idea in the first place.

her hand wrapped tightly around her best friend’s wrist as she moved as quickly as she can through the crowd in order to find an exit.

but almost immediately, she felt jj's wrist slip from her grasp. her heart dropped as she pushed through a dense cluster of bodies, the press of people making it hard to move.

"fuck, jj—" she started, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

but it wasn’t jj behind her anymore. instead, she found herself face-to-face with the same pair of ominous blue eyes she saw earlier. she barely had time to think as she shoved past more bodies.

finally breaking free from the crowd, she found herself at the foot of the stairs. without hesitation, she dashed upwards. it didn’t matter, she was going to find a window and get the hell out of here. kiara would find jj, y/n was sure of it. and pope had to be somewhere downstairs as well.

reaching the second floor, her heart raced even faster. she frantically looked left and right, searching for a room to hide in. she pushed open the first door she came to, only to recoil at the sight of two strangers making out.

“fuck, sorry,” she mumbled, cringing as she backed out and moved to the next room.

she hurried down the hall to the last room, cautiously peeking inside. finding it empty, she slipped in quickly.

but the door couldn’t close behind her.

she attempted to push it again, but it wouldn’t budge. y/n stumbled backward as the door pushed back against her efforts, her breath hitching when she realized it wasn’t any problem with the door—it was rafe on the other side.

“closing the door on me again? i’m starting to think you love doing that.” a mischievous smirk played on his lips as he slowly stepped into the room, his presence making the space more suffocating as he closed the door behind him.

the silence in the room was deafening and the growing tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. y/n definitely did not miss the sound of the lock clicking into place.

she could still hear the music blaring from downstairs, the bass vibrating through the walls and floorboards. or maybe this time it was just her own heart, pounding in her chest as she kept her eyes locked on his. every fiber of her being braced for his next move.

rafe took a step closer, his gaze never wavering from hers. the dim light cast shadows across his face, making his expression even more unreadable.

she never expected for this situation to happen again, wherein they would be both locked in a room and none of her friends were even slightly aware of the fact that they were alone together. every instinct screamed at her to run, but she stayed rooted at her spot.

“not running this time?” he inched closer, his voice a low and threatening.

“i know you won’t hurt me.” it sounded like a whisper, as y/n back slowly to the desk behind her.

rafe scoffed, “you say that but i see you still trying to escape from me.”

y/n glared at him, defiance flickering in her eyes “well, what do you expect? for me to run to you?”

his glare intensified, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he moved closer. but then, in a flash, his expression softened.

“i missed you, you know?” his tone turned manipulative, a tactic she recognized all too well from their relationship. she had fallen for it many times before, but she wasn’t going to this time. “i really did, y/n… we were so perfect together and you-you just left without giving me the chance to explain myself.”

“well, i don’t think any more could have been said after you beat the fuck out of my best friend, don’t you think?” y/n's voice grew more aggressive, her anger flaring.

“yeah well he hit me too! and what’d you do? nothing!” he yelled, and she flinched at every word, her body tensing as she tried desperately to find an escape from the suffocating situation.

his breathing grew heavier as he looked at her with pain and frustration in his eyes, “you said you loved me but-but you didn’t even come to defend me.”

“rafe… you started that fight and i-i told you if you laid a hand on any of my friends then that would be the end for us.”

“god, fuck!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. rafe's hand shot out, knocking the floor lamp until it crashed to the floor with a loud shatter, fragments of glass scattering across the hardwood.

y/n flinched, raising her arms to shield herself as she inched closer to the corner where the bed was.

“it’s always you and those fucking friends of yours.” he spat, his face contorted with rage.

and before she could even process his movements, his hand was on her throat, pulling her forcefully towards him. she gasped, feeling the pressure against her windpipe, her fingers clawing desperately at his chest in an attempt to break free.

but even in her panic, she couldn't ignore the familiar sensation of his solid chest beneath her hand.

“and now, let me guess, you’re moving on to that fucking blonde you claim to be your best friend.”

“jj really is just my best friend! p-please, rafe. let go of me.” y/n pleaded as she fought the urge to look at how close his lips were from hers instead of holding the weight of his intense gaze.

“see, that’s where you’re wrong, y/n. i’ve never let you go, and i’m not fucking letting you go now or ever.”

his lips crashed down on hers, the kiss intense and demanding, leaving her gasping for air as she struggled to keep up with his pace. his other hand found her waist, pulling her closer against his body.

“r-rafe…” the moan she tried to hide escaped freely from her lips, coming out as a breathless whisper as his lips trailed down to her neck, no doubt leaving a trail of marks.

“god, l-let me go.” y/n weakly pushed him while he backed her up towards the bed.

“you say that, but your body tells me otherwise. you’ll have to tell me what you really want, sweetheart.”

he continued to suck on her skin, marking her with dark red and purple bruises as his hands trailed down to the hem of her floral sundress. slowly, he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric until he was hooking one side of her lacy underwear.

“still haven’t answered my question, y/n. or do you seriously want me to fuck it out of you?”

his eyes locked onto hers with growing frustration and need, “just fuck me, rafe.”

finally, the mischievous smirk returned to his face, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he leaned in closer.

despite her initial reluctance, y/n lifted her hips, allowing him to easily pull her underwear down until it hung around her ankles.

her hand grew clammy as she clutched the sheets beneath her, her breath catching in her throat as she lay staring at the ceiling.

meanwhile, rafe moved his hand back up her thighs, brushing her skirt up slowly to tease her until the fabric pooled at her waist. she could feel the air around them mixing with his breath against her skin, making her exposed wetness grow colder.

“d’you let anyone get near this after you left me?” his voice came low and deadly as his fingers played at her entrance, sliding against the slick liquid between her lips.

y/n whimpered at his touch, trying to hide her face with her hand while she shook her head in response.

“use your words, princess.”

“n-no, i didn’t.” she stammered out, her breath hitching as she felt his finger plunge through her hole.

satisfaction evident in his voice as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin, “good girl.”

her eyes shut tightly as soon as she felt his lips wrap around her soft bud, tongue lapping over and over it, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

“w-wait, rafe! slow down!” she groaned, her hands moving to tightly clutching his hair, her body trembling with the overwhelming sensation.

but rafe didn’t slow down, his hands holding her legs firmly in place before they tried to snap shut and he continued running his tongue over her clit, his warm saliva mixing with her wetness, making his actions even sloppier and faster.

“sh-shit, i’m close—rafe, please.” she begged, her voice thick with desperation. her hips moved involuntarily, seeking more friction and intensity, driving her to buck her hips against his face, urging him to keep going.

her fingers pulled his hair as she arched her back, and rafe buried his face deeper between her legs, his hands gently and possessively molding her thighs like they were lovers. like they never broke up and she had always belonged to him all this time.

“come for me, princess. c’mon.” he voiced breathlessly, the tip of his tongue tracing maddening circles around her bud, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

it was all too overwhelming for y/n. she felt her orgasm building up, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to engulf her completely.

“fuck, rafe!” she moaned, her entire body tensing as her release crashed over her in waves, leaving her breathless and shaking.

rafe wasted no time in savoring all her juices, his lips and tongue eagerly lapping up every drop as they poured onto the sheets of some stranger's bed.

with gentle kisses kisses trailing along her inner thighs, he moved up to face her, delicately wiping the sweat off her forehead and gently brushing her hair out of her face.

still recovering from the intensity of her climax, y/n struggled to catch her breath as she locked eyes with him. the full weight of her actions had yet to sink in but she pushed the thought aside for later as his lips came down again to meet hers, softly grazing the bottom with a gentle nip.

“finally remember who you belong to, sweetheart?”

© 2024 seventiesweetheart | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙒/ 𝙎𝙆𝙕*

Pairing: Hyung - Line x Reader (GN)

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Could I have made this just all one? Yes. Why didn’t I? Because I wanted something to post tomorrow on Christmas too lol. Hopefully these turned out as cute as i thought. Happy holidays to all! PS. Sorry for any mistakes!

Hyung Line | Maknae Line

-🎄

Bangchan:

Both bundled up for the cold weather as you walked into the tree farm. Chans hands interlocked with yours. This was the first Christmas you were spending living together and he wanted to make it perfect. He came up with the idea to go find the perfect tree for what he says “the perfect person.”

“How about this one?” He asks pointing at a tree.

“Chris- that’s gigantic” you said laughing making him laugh.

“Fine fine, let’s keep looking” he said smiling taking his hand from yours to wrap it around your waist.

After a few minutes of strolling you came to a medium sized tree, it had the perfect amount of leafiness. “Oh oh! This one’s perfect!” You say smiling. His heart melted at the way your eyes just lit up. You were smiling so widely looking at him with those beautiful eyes.

“Alright this one it is! I’ll go get someone you protect our new son” he said with a teasing seriousness.

When he came back with the guy he helped cut it down and took it to the car. As you got it back home he listened to you talk about decorating it. Smiling ear to ear just listening to how excited you were.

“You know, I’m happy I get to do this with you” you said smiling taking his hand that was on your lap.

His cheeks and ears started to turn red blushing at your words. He brought your hand up to kiss it “me to love, and many many years to come” he said blushing even more. His words making you blush along with him.

As you decorated you both couldn’t help the warm feeling of it all. Chan helped you up to put on the star stepping back to look at your work. “It looks perfect” you said smiling. The lights from the tree making your eyes look even more sparkly than normal.

“Not as perfect as you” he says pulling you to him. He kissed the top of your head as you smiled looking at the tree. He insisted on taking a bunch of pictures and making sure to get one or a ton of you both in-front of it.

Minho:

You weren’t completely sure if he’d be down to do it but you were hopeful. You had gotten all the stuff for it plopping down all the bags on the counter. You sat everything up before he got there. Placing all the little candies out and the boxes for the gingerbread houses. You may have went overboard but you were just excited.

When he arrived he couldn’t help but chuckle making you jump. “So this was your big plan hm?” He said with a grin.

“Yep! But if you don’t want to it’s-“ you started to say only for him to interrupt you.

“No I want to, gonna build a better house than you” he teased.

“Oh yeah? Wanna make a bet?” You say.

“Name your price loser” he teased.

“If I win you have to match PJs with me and take a picture!” You say.

“Fine and when I win you have to make those cookies for me” he says.

“Oh it’s on!” You giggle.

You both sit down at the table crafting your masterpieces. However he was getting frustrated with the house. It kept sliding “I think this was rigged” he huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his house was leaning, the one side falling off. You wanted it to be a fun time so you decided to help him. “You’re using too much if you do this” you say as you fix it making it stand perfectly.

“There” you say smiling.

“You know you shouldn’t help your opponent” he said with a chuckle.

“Well I was planning on making those cookies either way so” you still smiling as you decorated the house.

“Yeah? Guess I’ll do the PJs buuut we gotta get the cats in the picture” he said.

“Deal” you say kissing his cheek.

As you finished the houses Minho took a glob of icing smearing it on your lips. “Oops” he laughed. “Let me get that for you” he said kissing it off your lips.

“Smooth” you blushed.

“Of course, it’s me” he said before kissing you once more. “Missed a spot”

Changbin:

It had been snowing a lot the last couple of days. Changbin had come over surprising you because you thought he worked. “Hey gorgeous, get your snow stuff on” he said smiling.

“For what?” You asked confused.

“Just do it pleeease” he whined.

How could you say no to him? You got up putting all your stuff on. He smiled taking your hand as you both went outside. It was still snowing a little but he had a few things In a bag.

“Let’s make a snow couple” he said grinning ear to ear.

“Gonna be together human and snow form?” You say laughing.

“Duh” he teased back.

He helped you roll the snow up as you both got to work making cute little snow people. He had a few item to put on them like hats and scarfs. He found the perfect sticks for the arms as you made little faces in the heads.

You decorated them both stepping back to look at the snow couple you made. “They’re in love” he said smiling. “Oh wait!” He said moving their hands so they were holding “now they’re in love” he said making you giggle.

“If we stay out here any longer we’re gonna be the snow couple” you said.

“Right, let’s go inside and get some hot chocolate?” He said smiling.

He made you sit on the couch in a bunch of blankets making you both some hot chocolate. He handed you the mug snuggling up to your side. “Warm?” He asked. You nodded prompting him to put his cold hands on your stomach. You jumped at the coldness “hey! I just got warm!” You pouted.

“Yeah, now I gotta get warm” he said chuckling putting the rest of his cold body against yours.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin found a flyer for a holiday market that was going on this weekend. He excitedly asked you if you wanted to go with him and of course you said yes.

He had cute couple outfits picked out for the both of you making the whole day even more special. You both strolled down looking at the booths. Some had holiday candles, snacks and clothes. “I’ll be right back.” He said with a grin running off to another booth.

When he came back he had that smile of ‘I did something’. He moved your coat placing a little necklace around your neck with the letter H on it. He had another in his hand with the first letter of your name on it. “Would you do the honors” he said smiling moving his hair.

God why was he so freaking cute. You placed the necklace around his neck. He brought you into a tight hug kissing you softly. He couldn’t help but smile looking at you. “I love you Angel” he said kissing your cold nose.

“And I love you hyune thank you” you said softly.

“For what?” He asked.

“The necklace silly”

“Oh right” he laughed “of course! Thought it would be cute.” He blushed. “We should take some pictures” he said pulling his phone out.

You both strolled, stopping at more booths and to take more pictures. After it all you ended up with bags full of clothes, one with a few candles and of course all the snacks. He couldn’t help it, anything that you even so much as looked at he bought.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; weird amnesia Timberkon. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You can recognize their heartbeats?” Bernard asks incredulously–that is a very creepy and invasive thing to recognize about someone, much less be passively listening to, what the fuck–and then frowns. “Wait, got back from where?” 

“Long story,” Superboy mutters. “Alternate realities were involved. It sucked. But I got back here, and it’s supposed to be right, and there’s people I recognize, but there’s . . . different people, too. And no one here recognizes me. And I thought . . .” 

“That you were either totally insane or just stranded in the wrong reality for no discernable reason with no idea how to find the right one?” Bernard assumes. 

“That, yeah,” Superboy says tightly. “Definitely that.” 

“Good news, I guess, if you are insane, it’s a shared delusion, and if you’re in the wrong reality, so am I,” Bernard says. “Because again, I definitely remember you. And Hawaii. And Superman being dead. And like, all that shit in general. Also you kinda died that one time too? There was a statue, I’m pretty sure. Actually I think there were two.” 

Superboy’s smile is tight and humorless, and he digs his fingers into the inside of his wrist. Bernard has no clue how a dude in such severe and obvious distress can look so fucking good about, like . . . literally everything he’s got going on over there. It’s a lot of “everything”, is all. Superboy is a lot no matter what, obviously, but still. Like, extra a lot. Secret bonus levels of a lot. 

A lot. 

“I mean, there used to be,” Superboy says, and the pained smile he’s wearing turns–bitter, kind of. 

Fuck, Bernard feels so bad for this dude. Like so many levels of so bad. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I need to google some shit,” he says as he digs his phone out. Tim is clearly taking his sweet-ass time in the bathroom, and since he isn’t actually in there waiting for Superboy, it’s gotta be a Bat thing, which usually gives him a good fifteen or twenty minutes of fuck-around time before Tim makes it back with the weak excuse du jour. Or, like, three and a half weeks, one very memorable and kinda fucking awful time that Bernard had spent wondering if jumping into the timestream was how vigilantes ghosted you. “And maybe check some forums or something.” 

“I don’t think ‘is this weird dude at the boba shop crazy’ is gonna pop up on Bing, man,” Superboy says, still wearing the same bitter smile. Bernard wonders why he didn’t just go to the Justice League and explain himself to them. Like, they’d probably believe him, right? Or at least they wouldn’t instantly not believe him; they’d check things out or whatever. 

Alternately, though: half-Kryptonian full-telekinetic with Lex Luthor’s DNA and Superman’s face who doesn’t even know if he’s crazy or not.  

So like . . . that seems like an awkward conversation to have with Superman, maybe, Bernard allows. Or just fucking agonizing and terrifying and wildly, wildly likely to end in one of those stupid misunderstanding-based super-fights and, like, maybe also getting drop-kicked into the Phantom Zone because said stupid fight would be against Superman and that is, apparently, what Superman usually does with supervillain Kryptonians. And probably Superboy is having some very understandable issues about getting drop-kicked out of reality right now, if that’s a concern he’s had. Which–the Phantom Zone isn’t the same thing as an alternate reality, as far as Bernard’s aware, but also what the fuck does he know about the Phantom Zone? 

Bernard googles, in quick succession: Superman’s death, the Phantom Zone, and Superboy. He gets a ton of articles and photographs and blog posts with absolutely zero trace of Superboy in a single one of them, a lot of contradicting intel about what the hell the Phantom Zone actually is, and also some blurry candid photos of a ten year-old in ripped jeans and an S-shield hoodie that he’s never seen before in his life. 

. . . so that’s weird, yeah, Bernard observes, blinking down at his phone. 

“Huh,” he says, brow furrowing. “Hey, should I know this kid?” 

“Did you literally just google ‘Superboy’?” Superboy asks, which is notably not an answer to Bernard’s question. 

“Obviously, yeah, the entire internet is in my pocket, why would I not do that,” Bernard replies reasonably, still scrolling through random photos of this completely unrecognizable kid. Said kid continues to look like a total fucking stranger and Bernard continues to have zero clue who he is or why he’s wearing the “S”. Another clone, maybe? Like, an even mini-er mini-Super? Bernard can’t see his face all that clearly in any of the pics, still, but he’s at least got Superman’s coloring, it looks like. 

“Because Tim would give you shit about it, probably, I don’t know,” Superboy lies, because he very obviously does know. Probably better than Bernard does himself, come to think of it, which is kind of a weird thought but also, like, an obviously objectively true one. Superboy’s spent a lot more time with Tim than he has, even having been, like . . . unrealitied and all. 

God, that is still so disturbing a concept, too. 

[that-hazbin]

Media Demon AU

Imagine Charlie gets that tour in heaven and.. Isn't really all that impressed.

Somehow she convinces Emily to take a tour of hell, Sera and Adam agree because they want to see/spy on why their exterminations aren't as effective as before. So as Charlie and Emily have a week of exploring and partying in hell, the Heavenly Council is scrying their activities the whole time.

It isn't what they expected, between Angel Dust explaining the Safety & Consent Contracts, Alastor dragging the duo out on a multicultural day of musical hyperfixation, Vox explaining his failed attempts to make it big in entertainment, Velvette animatedly talking up the individual sectors separate cultural fashions and foods. Alastor definitely heard about Charlie's first adventure in heaven in the previous timeline and he can't resist a little oneupsmanship so Hell definitely has a petting zoo dedicated to tamed Hellscape animals. They meet Sir Pentious The Architect overseeing the reconstruction of a few devastated areas that 'that one uncouth uncultured golden pigeon Exorcist who wouldn't know good architecture from a mud hut keeps levelling' and who is undecided between rebuilding using a Russian Theme or South African theme because he's done too much Roman architecture lately and if he has to carve one more marble pillar he is going to cry.

Maybe they run into one of the other Overlord's like Camilla who offers a tour to the visiting ambassador of her own district's musical instrument repair and medical facilities dedicated to removing angelic steel contamination from demons, amongst them, child sinners still in recovery from angelic steel wounds caused on extermination day.

There is uproar in Heaven upon seeing actual children in Hell, even more so when they look up their files and learn they're in hell on a technicality.

And then they learn that Charlie Morningstar's redemption project isn't facing problems about recruiting sinners because they don't believe redemption is possible, but because the Exorcists actions have soured any belief that Heaven is any better than Hell.

Really, if the Exorcists stayed out of Hell and never returned, Hell would happily just go about it's business as if Heaven didn't exist at all.

Alastor probably isn't the only demon with Pocket Dimensions like his Bayou in terms of providing space for overpopulation issues.

While I don't think Heaven would do a tour of Hell specifically because they can just spy on them whenever they want without having to go in person, I absolutely LOVE the idea of Alastor purposely showing off how great Hell is. Alastor worked so damn hard to make Hell beautiful and worth loving, that Charlie probably WOULDN'T be as impressed with Heaven as she was in the previous timeline.

In fact, she might find Heaven a bit... ugly, actually. Heaven's all whites and pastels, everything looking entirely modern, clean to a clinical degree, kind of quiet, and it's just not very appealing to her. In fact, it's both blinding and sort of boring. Meanwhile, Charlie's used to a Hell full of jewel colors, fairy lights, street performers, murals on the side of buildings, and a whole TON of cultural diversity at every corner. Sure, Heaven has petting zoos and rainbow sprinkles, but uh... So does Hell. Does Heaven have paintball parks? Escape rooms? Laser tag? What about rage rooms, those are super popular in Hell, and they're pretty fun! Sometimes you just gotta break things to let off stress. How do people burn stress up here?

Heaven kind of leans towards anti-chaos, while the Hell that Alastor built embraces the chaos. I imagine the Heavenly Counsel or whatever they're called would be taken aback by this new version of Hell, as well as the sinner behind the change. Sinners are not just modeling the same behavior most have on Earth, they're living exponentially better lives than before.

Hell is meant to be a place of suffering, and yet it's basically become a place of rehabilitation itself, and the evidence of its effectiveness is everywhere. The fact that sinners are willingly selling their souls, expecting safety and human respect, and then getting that safety and human respect, is absolutely insane. People are actually kind to one another, work exploitation is basically non-existent in the entertainment industry, everything is bathed in artistry, from the streets, the buildings, and even the people themselves.

I think Charlie presenting her case in this timeline is going to go very differently from the previous one, because for one, she's not going to struggle with her talking points at all. Alastor had an impact on her upbringing and she knows exactly how to present her case in a way that forces her audience to listen, whether they'd like it or not.

For another, the sinner she'll choose to represent the possibility of redemption probably isn't going to be Angel Dust. It's going to be Alastor, despite the fact that he doesn't want to be in Heaven. Because in her eyes, he is by far the prime example of a redeemed sinner.

And Alastor, knowing from the previous timeline that the Heavenly Council is going to be spying on hell during Charlie's trip, is going to put on a Performance. He brings Angel along with him to the hospital, having a casual and Totally Not Planned conversation about how they can improve the soul contracts to make everybody feel safer. They pass through beautiful city streets, a park, a petting zoo, briefly stop by to talk with Pentious about his new project, the whole works. Take the scenic route to the hospital, making sure to show off just how beautiful the Pride Ring has become.

He visits the children's ward, because he's going to make this Hurt, and he and Angel distribute donated toys, blankets, and books. Makes sure to mention how "the angels killed this one's parents" to Angel, just to make DAMN SURE the exterminations are revealed. He knows he's changed things so he has to take extra measures just to be sure.

Sera is left floundering as the room devolves into Chaos, and Charlie, upon realizing the exterminations weren't public knowledge, smells blood in the water so she sinks her teeth in like a shark. Yeah, why do you think she's here? You've been killing children, and as you can SEE, Hell's doing FANTASTIC without Heaven's interference so she wouldn't even BE HERE if it weren't for the YEARLY GENOCIDE. You know, the crime that sends mortal souls down to Hell to begin with? And now you're trying to tell her redemption isn't possible BECAUSE you want to continue committing yearly genocide, is that what she's hearing?

Charlie's still a bleeding heart, but she's much more inclined to manipulation in this timeline because Alastor made sure to teach her that manipulation in itself isn't mean or evil, especially when you wield it as a weapon or shield to protect others. And she's going to manipulate the rising emotions of this room to her advantage and make them SEE her point. She's going to win this trial by a landslide.

[hellisharchive]

Some Adam smut with a fangirl? I mean he did mention a band.. so that means he would have a ton of fans across the music genre! And one in particular likes HIM the most. How would he handle that? Just like another groupie? Or maybe something more? Please have fun with this!!

・﹒・ diggin' on the guitarist - request

Summary: You wanted him to notice you- but you were too scared to make yourself known. You were his biggest fangirl but too shy to say something. However, he finally noticed you in ways you never could have imagined.

Warnings: 18+, fingering [reader receiving], aftercare

Pairing: Adam x Fem!Fangirl!reader

You went to his every show, but not feeling confident enough to go up and meet him as you would probably find someway to mess up. You had the biggest crush on him, biggest fangirl this side of Heaven regardless of what everyone else says. He was just so hot, you would kill just for a little wink at you. This show was no different as you jumped up with the crowd as you yelled along to his lyrics, always so passionate about his music, you loved the energy. By the end, you were exhausted and had another amazing time. Starting to leave after mostly everyone filed out, you felt a hand grab onto your wrist. Turning around, you saw that it was Adam himself. What did he want? With someone like you?

"Heeeyy now, where ya goin' hot stuff? Don't think I don't notice ya at every single show of mine. Gotta say, I'm always sad when I see ya leave. Not this time" He had on a smirk as he let you go, only to get right up in your personal space. Only then did you realize just how much bigger than he was from you, he had to lean down a good few inches just to be above your head. Face growing hot from the size difference, you panicked and looked around the now completely empty venue- it was just you two. Was this really happening? Did he actually notice you every single time? Freezing, you had no idea what to say and how to respond. He was your idol, your true love, and he actually noticed you. You felt like an idiot, like you were back in high school with a stupid crush on a guy. But, you try and muster up something and fail spectacularly.

"I uh- I just uh. Uhm-" A slim finger rested itself on your lips, promptly shutting you up. Eyes wide, you saw his mischievous ones as he pulled his finger away, grabbing onto your waist and walking you backstage into what looked like a sort of lounge room. You were shaky and unable to fully process everything that was happening. The Adam, the first man eas hitting on you, touching you, and bringing you on stage. Your dreams were all coming true.

"You don't have to say anything Babe, it's ok, I know I'm too awesome that I make you speechless. Now- sit down" You stayed silent as he gently pushed you onto the pale, golden couch, opting for being quiet that as the bst option so you don't keep making a fool of yourself. You didn't know what he was planning but you did as he asked, sitting on the cushions as he stood and hovered right over you.

"You ready to be pleasured by the original dick, Babe?" You nodded egarly and he chuckled before telling you to take off your clothes. You hurriedly rushed as you ripped them off while also being careful not to damage them, you felt the cold rush of air hit your now naked body. Staring up at the man, he took off his mask to reveal a handsome face with brown hair and gold eyes. It then occurs to you that you've never seen him without his mask, or anyone has.

"I know, I'm fucking handsome. Now sit back and relax as I give you a special show for my favorite fan" Before you could fully register that he said you were his favorite, he smashes his lips against yours and grabbed onto your tits. You moaned in his mouth as he tweaked your nipples, already making you so aroused as you grabbed onto his hair and tugged it. After a few minutes, he pulled away and took off all his clothes except his underwear. He then slid himself between your thighs, sloppily kissing your neck, causing you to moan loudly. He nipped and sucked until the point where you're sure there were at least 2 hickeys that would form. As he was doing that, he slipped a finger to your pussy, which caused you to jump in his hold. The first man moved down to suck on your tit, picking the nipple as he gently moved his finger right where your clit was, flicking it and gently dipping it into your folds.

"Adaaaammm..." You moaned, from the tit sucking to the feeling of his finger penetrating you was getting overwhelming. Squirming, you tugged on his hair and gripped it as he started to move in and out of you, switching the breast he was sucking to the other side. He then added a second finger, going faster as you could feel that familiar pool gather in your stomach, at this rate, you were going to orgasm in a little bit. Biting your lip, your breaths became fast and unsteady as he knew exactly how to move his fingers inside you as a guitarist.

"Keep moaning my name, its hot as fuck" Before you could release, he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine from having your orgasm robbed from you. Chuckling, he took off his underwear to reveal an average sized cock, but it was pretty thick. Gulping, you wondered if it would even fit. Looking back up at him, he pulled you into a kiss- a softer one this time- as he lined himself up.

"Tell me if it gets too much, alright? Or tap me or some shit I don't know" Nodding, you took a deep breath as he slowly started to push in, with just his tip you were already feeling full. Grabbing onto his arms, you closed eyes and curled your toes as he was making sure to be gentle. Taking deep breaths, you felt kisses on your untouched side of your neck as he finally pushed all the way in. Opening your eyes, you saw him have a soft look on his face before he asked if you were ready. Saying yes, he started thrusting in and out. Yelling out his name, you moaned the entire time as he went slower at first before quickly picking up. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as you tugged on his hair hard, causing him to fuck you into the couch harder. Tears formed in your eyes from just how good it was- heavenly- if you will.

"Keep sounding like that and I'm gonna have to claim as mine, fuck" You could barely register what he said as he pounded into you mercilessly, the feeling of an orgasm quickly returning. You started sobbing as you finally orgasmed, moaning out his name so loud you swore all of Heaven heard you. Breath slowing down, he slowed down as well, hair all messy from your tugging, sweat covered both of your bodies as you stared into each other like old lovers. He gently slid himself out of you and you already missed the feeling of being so full. His cum and your fluids mixed as they leaked out of you. You watched as he grabbed a towel that he slightly wet and a water bottle and set them on the couch.

"Drink" He noticed you were out of it and shaky, so he opened the bottle and lifted the opening to your mouth, slightly leaning your head back as you drank some water. He set it back down when he thought you had enough for now and started to clean you off. He was being so gentle as he made sure to get every single part of your body. He went to grab your clothes when you tugged on his wrist, even if weakly, but it was enough to signal him.

"Can you uh...can we uh..." Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming and the water only did so much, but even after he fucked you silly, you still couldn't ask to cuddle with him. Smiling, he shook his head as he pulled away and grabbed a random blanket on a chair and walked back over, laying you down softly on the large couch. Resting the blanket on top of you, he crawled in behind you as he was much larger than you. Wrapping his arms around you, you felt him kiss your head, making your chest warm.

"Thank you for being my favorite fan"

[yellowbrokenblue]

„Just… Pretend.”

summary: in which harry convinces you to spend your summer in cape cod with his parents as his ‘girlfriend.’ but everything is just pretend, your not actually his girlfriend and you never have wanted to be his girlfriend, you’ve never seen him as more than harry styles, the singer… but by the end of the summer will that change?

tropes (so far) : fake dating

part one

“It’s just for one weekend.” He pleaded, “Then you can go back to hating me. You never even have to talk to me again, I don’t care.”

You sigh, your head falling backwards with a groan. You did not want to do this at all, but he’d been persistently asking you for days.

“C’mon, please?”

You roll your eyes, “You’re on a date with a new girl every week, I’m sure any of them would be up for it.”

“I can’t just take anyone to my parent’s place.”

“Why not? Or how about you just tell them you’re not seeing anyone right now? They won’t care.”

“I just need you to come, alright? I’ll owe you one, I promise.”

“Why me? There’s a million other people you could take, besides I’ve already met your parents at a show, they’ll never believe we’re seeing each other.”

“And they really liked you!”

“There’ll be a ton of other people that they like too, Harry. Choose anyone else.”

“I can’t.” He sighs.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He repeats.

You look at him with tired eyes, awaiting his explanation. You’d been over this a hundred times, you had no interest in pretending to be his girlfriend while he visited his parents over the summer.

“I already told them we’re together.” He says quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“What?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

“They just… They met you at the show, and they really did seem to like you, and they kept going on and on about how they want me to find someone who makes me happy and stuff and I shut them up by saying we’re together…”

“You’re unbelievable.” You say, annoyed.!

The fact he’d been telling his parents ridiculous lies without even telling you about it, when said lies actually involved you had pissed you off.

Harry’s parents were lovely, and a producer on his latest album you’d met them a couple times at shows- Especially during the LA residence where you and his parents sat through the concerts in a VIP booth. His mum was lovely, always smiling and knew every single lyric. She told you that she was in Harry’s 0.5% of top listeners on Spotify last year.

You thought that was cute.


You couldn’t relate though, 5 Seconds of Summer were your top Spotify artist- Harry could never find out about that.

“They’ve been asking for me to take you to the beach house for months-“

“Months?!” You interrupt, “How long have you been telling them we’re together?”

He shrugged, “Since the end of the Forum residency?”

“Harry that was SIX months ago!” You yell, “I can’t pretend to be in a six month relationship with you, that’s ridiculous.”

He sits down on the couch, hugging a pillow.

“Yes you can. You practically know everything about me already. We spent every day of the tour together.”

“Everything about you in a career aspect.”

“Everything in general.” Harry corrects, “Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do.”

“I don’t. You’re just saying this because you’re convincing yourself that this ridiculous idea will actually work.”

“Name my first pet.”

“What?” You question. He was being stupid. There is no way you’d ever be able to spend two weeks with his parents over the summer, it was never going to work. It was a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon. You know the answer.”

He just kept staring at you. He wasn’t giving up. The longer you stayed silent the more intense his stare got. When he began to raise his eyebrows you’d given up.

“Max.” You mutter quietly, unimpressed with this whole game he was playing.

“And what am I allergic to?”

“Marshmallows, but you eat them anyway.”

Harry was grinning, and it was pissing you off. He was winning and he knew it.

“My favourite Christmas song?”

You rolled your eyes, “Christmas lights by Coldplay, but you tell everyone that it’s Merry Christmas Everyone because it’s a classic.”

Harry was giving you a ‘I told you so’ look. He wasn’t going to quit until you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend.

You sigh softly, “Even if I agree to this… It could he really damaging for my career.”

“No one will find out.” His face was more serious now, and you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he meant it, “I’ll make sure of that.”

“But if if does-”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, because there’s always a chance no matter what you think, then everyone will only think I got hired to tour manage because we’re ‘sleeping together.’” You say, using air quotes, just to further elaborate that this was all fake.

Harry had already got his grammy, he was at the peak of his career he’d be fine no matter what happened. But you were a female music producer in a male dominated industry, if people think you were only hired for this album because you’re fucking the singer- your career was over.

“If people find out I’ll kill you.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna agree?”

You nod, reluctantly.

“Thank you!” He jumps out of his chair, “I swear I’ll make it up to you, thank you so much.”

— — —

If you were in Harry’s position you’d be vigilant of everything, everyone, everywhere. You’d be paranoid of someone jumping through your bedroom window while you were asleep. But Harry was oddly calm. Maybe he was just like that. His lips were formed almost in a smile while he slept, and his eyes were moving under his eyelids- probably from a dream he was having. He wasn’t calm very often- recently he’d been very on edge and anxious about everything, it was nice to see him look so peaceful. You hoped for that sort of peace someday soon.

You had been in the studio going on six hours, and when he’d taken a break from recording so you could go over the tracks he’d managed to fall asleep in that short period of time.

You let him sleep while you packed up the equipment, putting things back into their assigned places, and didn’t bother waking him up until you were 100% ready to go.

“Harry,” You said softly, shaking his shoulder lightly, “Harry we gotta go.”

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to adjust himself to the light.

“Huh?”

“We only had the studio booked until six, we gotta go.”

“Oh,” He sat up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck that had went into a cramp, “Sorry, don’t even remember falling asleep to be honest.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You shrug, “We got enough done today anyways. You deserve a rest.”

There were only three days left until the day Harry had said you were leaving for his parents place, and you had skipped over the subject every time he’d tried to bring it up. You didn’t really want to think about it because you were dreading it so badly.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Harry said as you left the studio building.

“No, it’s alright.” You say, “I’ll just get an Uber.”

Harry glared at you, “Y/N, just get in the car.”

You glare back. But it had been a long day so getting a free lift wasn’t so bad.

“So.” He said, starting the car. “We gotta go over some things.”

“About the album?” You play dumb.

“… No.” He rolls his eyes, “Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Love, you gotta tell me some stuff about you. My parents are gonna ask me shit and I don’t have a clue what to tell them.”

You groan. You should’ve stuck to your gut and got an Uber.

“Like what.”

He shrugs, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” You reply.

“Mines is blue.”

“I know,” You reply.

“What’s your favourite song?” He asked.

You laughed to yourself a little.

“Jet black heart,” You grin, knowing you’d get some sort of reaction out of this answer, “By 5 Seconds of Summer.”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” Harry scoffs, “They’re punks!”

You roll their eyes, “They turned to pop music and half of them are married, they’re hardly punks.”

“You know one of them dated my sister, right?” Harry groaned.

“Yep,” You grin, “And wrote a banging tune about it as well.”

“Don’t remind me.” He muttered.

“Look, you asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. You can’t complain.”

“I know, I know.” Harry said, “You got any exes?”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

“This is the kind of stuff I need to know! Like I dunno if I’m your first boyfriend and all that.”

“Harry… I’m 24 years old. You’re not my first boyfriend.”

You said it almost as if he was your boyfriend. It sent a chill down your spine. This was going to be a long few weeks.

“Good to know.” He said.

He dropped you off outside your apartment.

“I guess the next time I see you will be for when we’re leaving, yeah?”

You nod. There was no studio session booked until after his vacation to Cape Cod, where his families beach house was, so he was right. The next time you see him would be at the airport.

“Flights at seven.” He says.

“Got it.”

The next few weeks were going to be hell.

part two coming soon…

support me through ko-fi! (buy me a coffee!!)

[russeliarat]

Im constantly putting out LU headcanons when I'm stupid tired at like 2am, so have a couple for funsies:

Four has seizures sometimes. The dissociative kind but also the kind that is epileptic because his brain needs to reset. Yes this is borne from people saying portals throw bricks at him in fics. I imagine that a lot of powerful magic overwhelming the brain can be a seizure trigger in the world of LoZ, as per the logic of seizures.

I also think Four's 4'4 (132cm) and does have proportionate dwarfism. Like it's specifically a random genetic mutation thing though, not a 'Minish Cap adventure kept him shrunk' thing.

Hyrule's fully fae to me. Idk I just think it's more interesting, especially if you go off of what fae are like in European folklore. The idea of a fae choosing to live like a hylian after thousands of years of witnessing how humanoid creatures live. Like they're natural shapeshifters idk, as long as their magic is powerful enough, they can become anything.

Hyrule's appearance comes from finding Legend's disguise ring after Legend died and Hyrule deciding to take on the appearance when he shape-shifts. Probably the start of getting his sisters to use masculine descriptors and pronouns for him.

People have suspicions that Hyrule is fae-inclined, touched by the fae, or straight up is a fae based on his behaviour but no one's got anything concrete and it's mostly based on their personal knowledge of fae and their era's perceptions of the fae. And Hyrule definitely has gotten them all to introduce themselves to him as Link so going by fae rules, Hyrule could basically claim ownership and power over them. He just doesn't coz he doesn't want to (yet.)

We all know Legend is a soggy bastard but he's the 'I miss my wife tails' gay edition sort of soggy. That prob made no sense icl but those who get it, get it.

Sky's got an undiagnosed form of narcolepsy. It severely got in the way of his studies in Skyloft but he barely managed to pass it off enough that it didn't raise alarm bells (coz he was trying not to raise alarm bells in his own brain). It gets worse during the course of this new adventure because he's going through so many extreme emotions and doing so much physical activity that he's exhausting himself into sleep attacks constantly. Yes the chain are worried, yes Sky is deep in denial that anything is wrong with him. Good ol' hiding your issues Link over here.

Legend is Fable's twin. He just got passed between caretakers a lot (whole lot of being given to his uncle and then being forced by the king (his grandfather) to pass Lege back to them and so on), but he remained quite attached to his sister. A telepathic link helps. The two calm each other down and lot and they take care of each other. The two are quite similar - stern, far too wise for their years with too much experience under their belts, and very very traumatised so they hide it behind a face of pure disdain.

My Zeldas are all topsy-turvy so Aurora is AoL Zelda and Dawn is LoZ 1 Zelda. Hyrule's got an amiable friendship with Dawn but his affections lie with Aurora. She's kinda insane and let herself break a shit ton of fae rules because girl is mad in love with that boy.

Athena (yes Athena fits her so much better than Artemis guys pls I've been saying this for years) is like a big sister to Time and Wind, and she has a dependable colleague-like-but-also-kinda-dependant relationship with Warriors. It's weird, she helped raise Mask and Tune in the war where she could so it stemmed from that. She also knows Twi but only in Wolfie form. Yes chat, HW really fucks up everything but you gotta roll with it, he was in the game and yes I do believe Athena met him in the game.

I've posted in the past about my hc that Legend's transformation into a rabbit leaves his skeletal and muscular structures very weak and it causes him to go limp for a short amount of time coz his body is running on fumes. Yeah so combined with his time in Holodrum as a traveling performer/acrobat, he's just insanely hypermobile and flexible, and he can basically dislocate every bones in his body that connects to a joint. Including his spine/neck he found out one day to terrifying news when he just couldn't move at all when he hit his back wrong. He can obviously relocate them too (his back he maybe needs more assistance with), but it really freaks people out.

One more coz you've gotten more than I thought I'd type. I'm spreading the Four is buff as shit propaganda. At least his upper body anyway. He's a trained blacksmith, he's gotta have a lot of strength in his arms to hammer away at melting metal all day. (Plus gotta give him some kind of advantage, that boy got the short (ha) end of the stick in life and got nerfed to all hell and back)

[visenyaism]

what triggered the daemon riverlands suicide bender again? like did he have a falling out with rhaenyra?

well the book doesn’t say a ton about what happened between them and it’s all made more confusing by the fake historical perspective and weird misogynistic characterization of rhaenyra and mysaria but. fire and blood unserious as it is establishes basically this sequence of events:

-once daemon and rhaenyra get to king’s landing he brings mysaria to court. they’re fucking every night which rhaenyra is seemingly fine with (surprisingly this bit is not a mushroom quote)

-rhaenyra makes a plan to end the war that includes daemon and nettles going and finding aemond in the riverlands to go kill him. unclear whose idea this was or whose idea it was to bring nettles also.

-daemon and nettles hole up in maidenpool because they can’t seem to find the worlds largest dragon actively terrorizing the countryside anywhere. they are weirdly close. because he’s grooming her. they cannot find aemond so theyre stuck like this for weeks. in my mind this is where daemon starts to lose the plot and just not have an exit strategy.

-two of the other dragonseeds betray rhaenyra and join up with daeron the not appearing in this narrative to sack tumbleton. rhaenyra reacts by charging up about 5% of the bastardphobia within the heart of the average team green twitter user and is like okay they are treacherous and base due to their bastard nature they all have to die right now.

-including nettles. rhaenyra sends a letter to the lord of maidenpool saying hey you have to kill this child my husband is obsessed with who is living under your roof i don’t care about guest rite i don’t care about him retaliating against you for this i am literally the king you gotta do it. don’t kill daemon though. xx rhaenyra

-this alienates daemon from rhaenyra permanently though he does take the time to call mysaria a whore and blame her for this too. what an upstanding guy.

-anyways the next morning nettles takes off out of the narrative on her lonesome and daemon tells the lord of maidenpool “this is the last you are ever going to see of me. tell aemond i’m at harrenhal” we can tell at this point there is no exit strategy but for:

-daemon engages in murder-suicide with his nephew who thinks they’re having a fight.

what do we learn about daemon from this? well that he has problems and also doesn’t ever have a long term plan

[maybege]

Weekend One Shenanigans

Summary: There is only one solution to your best friend’s break-up: One weekend at a desert festival to see his favourite band. But when The Bucket Heads' bassist calls you onstage to keep the burly drummer company, you find that this weekend has much more in store for you than just securing your place at the bannister.

Pairing: rockstar!drummer!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.3k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Rockstar AU, unprotected sex (be smarter than that, folks!), love (and lust) at first sight, technically slight exhibitionism, creampies

I gotta thank @catsnkooks and @bitchin-beskar for encouraging my thots about an Instagram reel I was inspired by. I don’t think this would have been written otherwise, lol. Other than that, shout out to the long weekend which allowed me to focus on writing! I am currently really on a roll when it comes to ideas and writing and I am so excited to try my hand at so many different ideas that I hope I get to share sometime.

Please do let me know what you thought in a comment or in a reblog, I am so fucking excited that I get to scream with y’all about my favourite big blue man. 🥹

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The best way to get over a breakup was to distract yourself. That was a universal rule and one that your friend, Chants, took very seriously. The only thing that was even more important to him was that his friends indulged in said distractions with him. The first major breakup you witnessed as his friend resulted in a week-long road trip down the West Coast. When things between him and Val had ended, he had organised a holiday home in Palm Springs, where you had proceeded to spend two weeks, drowning your sorrows.

Compared to this, a weekend trip seemed like peanuts – and was not dependent on you getting time off work. Which was how he got you to the one place in the world where you had never, ever seen yourself: An open-air festival.

The Bucket Heads were the rock band of the century, and even though you didn’t religiously listen to their music like Chants did, there was no way to not know who they were. And for today, they were the headliner everyone was waiting for.

You tried not to think about how long you had already spent in the heat, steadily working your way forward show after show until you were standing in the very front. This is what Chants had dreamed about ever since you met him and, from his excited screams and dance moves, he was not thinking about his break-up at all.

Mission successful.

Seeing your friend so happy finally allowed you to relax for the first time this weekend. Gone was the constant worry that filled you when your friend was unwell. Your heart felt tons lighter, and now, as the sun began to set and the sky darkened, you could feel the crowd’s enthusiasm rubbing off on you.

“How ‘bout we get some company to cheer Paz up, hm?” the bass player, Boba Fett, joked into the mic, “Seems like he could use someone to cheer him up. Turn that serious frown upside down and all that.”

The audience erupted and you wished you had remembered to bring your earplugs, but you did not care when everyone was cheering and so were you. Anything to keep the happiness and joy going, to convey just how excited and light you felt.

 Only you didn’t account for the fact that you were right there, at the very front, and Boba Fett seemed to be in a mood.

“You,” he said, his eyes looking straight at you, “C’mon up here, we love a volunteer.”

Wait what?

You froze, the words slowly filtering through your brain until you realised what he had said. You. You were supposed to go up on stage. In front of all these people?

“Hell yes!” Chants cheered beside you, his hands gripping your shoulders as he jumped up and down with an even bigger grin on his face, “Oh my stars, you are so lucky! Remember everything and tell me later! Maybe we can even join the afterparty? This is the kind of story you will remember for the rest of your life.”

He was right. Of course, he was. Your doubts simmered down somewhat as you realised this really was the story of a lifetime (and it would be good to have something to talk about at lunch break when the ever-dreaded “So how was your weekend?” made its rounds). But that still didn’t take away any ounce of anxiety you felt as one of the security guards helped you over the bannister and you made your way away from the audience and right to the stage.

The metal steps up the stage were a bit tricky and you kept your face down, focusing on setting one foot in front of the other, watching the ground change from dry grass to metal stairs to black planks, littered with cables taped down on them and the odd bra or thong thrown on stage.

“Everyone, give it up for our volunteer!”

Din Djarin’s voice animated the crowd more than you thought possible and the sound reverberated in your entire body as you were led to the drummer.

What had they called him again? Paz. Paz Vizsla.

In the desert heat, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his tattooed skin gleaming with sweat and there was so much body to him, you did not know what to focus on. The designs on his arm and chest? The dog tags reflecting the light around his neck? The fact that he was sitting there, legs spread, having a cocky smile on his face as your feet carried you closer and closer made your heat race and something your body clench.

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to, love,” he greeted you, his head tilting to the side, “You can enjoy the show from backstage just as well.”

Following the movement of his head, you spotted where some of the technical workers were waiting in the side wings, clearly at the ready to solve any problems as they may occur. You would have the best view if you were to join them.

But something in his dark gaze kept you right where you were. “N-No,” you shook your head just like your voice was shaking, “It’s fine. Um, how should I sit?”

With dark eyes, his hands landed on your hips, his fingertips touching the bare skin just above your waistband and dragging you between his legs. Your squeal was interrupted by your laugh as you saw his mouth turn up in a mischievous grin.

“Don’t have to face them, if you don’t want to, sweetheart,” he murmured as you settled on his lap, making sure you were face to face with him, “just look at me and have fun.”

There was this feeling in your chest, now that you were really looking at him. As if you couldn’t breathe. Similar to the beginning of a rollercoaster, where you slowly ascend with the inherent knowledge that you are about to fall. Only this time, you were looking forward to the fall because you had a feeling that Paz would catch you.

Everything was so loud, your thoughts were drowned out by the cheers, the blaring music, and the pounding of your heart. But with Paz never losing your gaze, you wouldn’t have been able to think straight anyway. Another song started and you could see his arms moving, his muscles bulging with the movements as the sticks practically flew through the air. And then he moved his feet too, his legs jostling your seat on his lap, and you saw his lips twitch.

You squeaked in shock, your hands flying to his broad shoulders as you tried to keep yourself from falling off him. Paz winked at you, adjusting his legs so that suddenly, every movement did not threaten to dislocate you from him but rather bounce you closer and closer until you were pressed right against him. There was pure joy in his eyes, and you found yourself echoing his feelings.

Even on this stage, with this stranger, you suddenly felt completely free.

Your arms raised of their own accord, playing with your hair, waving to the beat of the music as you could hear the crowd sing along to Din’s words. You knew this song, it was one of Chants’ favourites, he had played it at least five times on the drive to the campsite. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to mouth the words to the song, but you couldn’t sing. Yes, your mouth opened, but suddenly you were panting, heat radiating off your body as you ground against the sexiest man you had ever seen and who did not even take his eyes off you for one second.

“Drinks on me if you can make me forget my set,” he winked at you, and your smile turned to a full-fledged grin. The air between you was electric and you found yourself bouncing even more, feeling your body react to him in a way it hadn’t for a long time. For anyone.

You wanted to touch him, you wanted him to touch you. You wanted this whole concert to be over and be alone with him in a room, so you could be close to him exactly like this. Stars, you wanted to trace your tongue over the tattoos on his arms, suck a hickey into his neck and bury your teeth into the cords of muscles in his neck as he plunged into you.

If you closed your eyes, threw your head back and arched your back just like this, you could feel him against you. A bulge that could only let you guess at the sheer size of him and made you even wetter than before.

There was a low sound that made your eyes peek open, glancing to the side to see if someone had moved a large instrument or something similar. It took you a second and a shift from Paz’s hips to realise that it had been him. He had groaned. For you. Because of you.

Your movement grew hasty, needier, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that Paz shifted now and then, making sure his cock was pressed right against where you needed him most. Over the blaring of the music, no words were exchanged but his heated look said enough. He needed this just as much as you did.

Completely drowned in the haze of your pleasure, you hadn’t really considered what all of your movements would do to your risky outfit choice. You were wearing shorts, sure, but your top was the kind that tied both around your neck and your waist. You had made sure that the tie was good on your neck, but in all the morning rush to secure your places, Chants had tied it for you at the back. As you wondered if your top felt looser than before, you suddenly noticed two strings swinging with your movements.

Before you could stop moving, the back had come apart and now you were sitting Paz’s lap, a stretch of fabric hanging loosely between your tits. Bare tits that you were now basically shoving in the face of an incredibly attractive but nonetheless strange man who hadn’t necessarily asked for this kind of proximity.

And you were in front of thousands of people.

Oh fuck. Did you just accidentally flash this man? In front of thousands of people? In public? On a concert that was surely being recorded or streamed and that would find its way on the internet and –

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Paz instructed, “Do it now.”

You didn’t even think before you did as he asked, effectively pressing your bare chest against his. Tears of shame threatened to spill over your cheeks as the exhilaration in your body was overwhelmed by feeling incredibly silly. Who were you to think that this had been a good idea? Who were you to think you could have a meaningless hot one-night stand with a man so talented and so famous and so fucking handsome he was way out of your league?

“I got you,” Paz assured you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “It's dark here and no one saw. No one will see, if I can help it, okay?”

You nodded, taking one deep breath after another, “Okay.”

The urge to hide from the world got stronger when you made the (very normal) observation that the crook of his neck looked really comfortable. Before you could stop yourself, you buried your face right there, breathing him in, closing your eyes and trying to forget about the world for just a moment.

It was easy to do that when his aftershave, mixed with his sweat, acted like an aphrodisiac and the heat of his body got you to relax against him. You bet your month’s salary that taking a nap against him would be heaven on earth.

You stay like this, tucked against him, for one full song before the lights dimmed for a water break. You leaned back, allowing him to reach for the water bottle somewhere next to him.

“What? No bra you can throw on stage for me? Little one, I’m almost insulted,” he joked as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and you smiled, your nipples pebbling against his chest. There was no way he did not notice that, but you found that you did not mind. You liked his teasing and you liked him knowing the effect he had on you.

“Who says I’d throw my bra for you?” you whispered in his ear, feeling particularly sure of yourself. What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was his hand sneaking between the two of you. Thick, rough fingers with tattoos on his knuckles that looked harsh against you as his fingertips closed around your nipple, pinching.

Your mouth opened in indignation, your chest arching against him at the pleasurable pain. Had he really just –

Another song started and Paz’s hand disappeared but his dark gaze did not move from you as he played the drums like he hadn’t just rolled your nipple between his fingers. Why was that so hot?

“You having fun, though, sweetheart?” he asked you gruffly in the next moment between songs, “You feel comfortable?”

“Yes,” you whispered back, once again leaning back a little so you could look into his eyes. The movement made your lips brush against his cheek and you could feel him stiffen against you. “I’m having so much fun.”

The way your nipples brushed against his chest made you gasp and you could feel your core pulse with the need to feel him. More than you did already.

But the concert went on and all you could do was hold on to Paz’s shoulders and swallow a whimper every time your tits brushed against his chest. Was it possible to die from need? Because if so, you were sure to pass away from something similar to heatstroke.

Paz’s legs kept on bouncing, and you kept on gasping, your hips moving in these minuscule thrusts that you hoped he would not notice. Of course, he noticed.

“Bounce those pretty tits for me, baby,” he rumbled after a particularly fast song, his breath raising goose bumps all over your skin, “Here I was thinking about how I could ask you to get a drink with me later but it seems you’re much needier than that, hm? What’s next, love, your little skirt rides up and you’re begging for my cock?”

With your teeth buried in your bottom lip, it was hard to answer, and to be honest, you wouldn’t have had an answer at the ready anyway. You were horny and embarrassed and exhilarated and scared and so incredibly out of your depth, you did not know what to do. But you knew what you wanted.

You wanted to feel more of this, more of him. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted to hear more of his filthy praise whispered in your ear and remember it for when you’d lie alone in your bed at night. You wanted –

The lights went out and you flinched in surprise. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see people rushing on the stage, switching out instruments and water bottles. Two fingers under your chin made you blink before you felt a mouth on yours. Not just a mouth, his mouth.

Paz’s kiss started out gentle until you relaxed against him. Only then did he coax your mouth open, his tongue tangling with yours as his other hand landed on your ass, pulling you right into his crotch.

“Fuck,” he cursed as his bulge pressed right against the seam of you, “I bet you'd let me put my mouth on these pretty tits in front of all these people, wouldn't you?”

His words made you wetter than you wanted to admit. The thought of being claimed by him like this – in front of everyone – evoked images in your head that made heat rise to your ears. Why did that sound so appealing all of a sudden? Why did the thought of letting this man take you wherever and however he wanted make you squirm?

“Fuck this concert, sweetheart, I’d love to get my hands on you,” he continued before nipping your bottom lip, “Your nipples are just pleading for someone to play with them.”

You opened your mouth to plead with him to please play with your nipples, now only hard pebbles against his chest, when the light went on and the music started up again. The disappointment must have been plain on your face because Paz tucked you closer to him.

“One more set,” he growled in your ear, his leg moving for the deep drum “One more set and then there’s nothing stopping me from playing with you until all you can do is gasp my name.”

Emboldened by his words, you leaned closer, planting a kiss on his jaw, “I can’t wait.”

The next three songs felt like bliss and torture. Bliss because you were basically grinding against the hardness in his pants with every beat, gasping into his ear and enjoying the way your tits pressed against him. Torture because all this made your lust spike even higher and there was nothing you could do about it until you were somewhere more private than a concert stage.

“Thank you for having us,” Din’s voice sounded through the speakers, followed by the screaming of the frenzied crowd, “You were the best! Good night!”

“Take it off,” Paz tugged at the strap around your neck, “I’ll give you my shirt.”

You were about to ask him what shirt when he reached to the side and presented you with a very soft-looking black button-down. That seemed more preferable than your sweaty top that hung between your bare tits.

With a quick tug, the top fell into your lap and before you could try and cover yourself, Paz had already thrown his shirt around your shoulders, helping your arms through the sleeves.

“There,” he murmured, settling the soft fabric around your shoulders, “That’s better.” You smiled in thanks, feeling awfully shy now that the music was done but Paz did not seem to waste any time. His fingers found your nipples again, gently rolling them between his fingers and tugging on them. Your gasp was accompanied by your rocking hips against the bulge in his pants.

“A little taste of what’s to come,” he teased you and leant forward, his mouth landing on yours in a possessive kiss and he cupped your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh in his rough hands. “Stay with me, yes?”

All you could do was nod as he helped you stand, his fingers quickly doing up the buttons until you were sufficiently covered. Your top wandered into the pocket of his pants.

He took your hand and went to the front of the stage and you hesitated. Did he really want you there? In front of everyone?

Paz turned around, dark curls falling into his face and a smile so genuine on his face that your heart skipped a beat. “C’mon, love,” he smiled, his hand squeezing yours, “You deserve your big moment.”

And so, you followed him right to the front of the stage, shyly waving to dozens and hundreds of faces you did not know. But you weren’t nervous because Paz had tucked you right into his side, his big hand settling on your waist and making sure you always felt him on you.

“They know you?”

You followed Paz’s pointed hand and grinned when you spotted Chants, excitedly cheering for you. “Yes, they are my friends.”

“They should join us for the afterparty,” Paz suggested, “If you want to join us, that is.”

*

You did, in fact, join the afterparty, squealing with your friends for about three minutes how exciting everything was and witnessing the moment Chants lost all words when Din Djarin introduced himself to him.

But just as quickly as you had joined the party, you left it too, giggling as Paz’s bulk cleared your space through the crowd. You were still dressed in his shirt, the fabric doing little to hide the outline of your pebbled nipples. Especially not when you were pressed against him in a heated kiss.

“Stars, I’ve waited too long for this,” he muttered against your lips, his mouth trailing down your jaw until you tilted your head for him and he focused on your neck. His hands were hot when they bunched up his shirt and you shivered when his bare hands finally met your skin.

“You think I haven’t?” you teased him as he led you through a dark hallway of makeshift rooms. The sound from the afterparty followed you even to the little curtain that Paz opened, a little placard declaring it as “Stage Room (Paz Vizsla)”.

“Well, you were the one who said she wouldn’t throw her bra for me,” he joked right back. The curtain fell closed behind you and now all you could hear were the faint bass notes in the distance. You were finally alone.

“That’s before I knew how you could make me feel,” you shrugged off, feeling a little shy, “Today was … exciting.”

The smile on his face would have melted the panties right off you if they weren’t already drenched in your juices. “Exciting is certainly one word for it,” he agreed and sat down on a little couch in the corner.

Never having been in a backstage room before, you were not sure what you should have expected but as you looked around the (some half-)empty water bottles, papers full of notes and scribbles and a few different shirts, you found that this room was somehow exactly how you had envisioned it. Kind of chaotic, kind of cosy and a little bit forbidden.

“Tell me what you want,” he asked you, pulling you right into his lap, “Tell me what you don’t want. Tell me everything.”

“I want everything,” you whispered, your fingers playing with the buttons of your shirt, “I want you to kiss me. I want you to touch me,” the first few buttons undone, you watched as his eyes roamed over the skin you slowly revealed, “I want … I want you to play with me like you promised.”

“I’ve been thinking about all the ways I want to touch you,” he admitted slowly, his face leaning forward until he hovered over your chest, his eyes on you, “I’m afraid I will never get enough of you.” 

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t a bad thing, that you were pretty sure he had somehow taken up space in your heart that would never be returned to you because it was his. It was always his.

Instead, you kissed him. With your hands on his face, you kissed him, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips, his teeth on your lips and his beating heart against yours; you kissed him like your life depended on it. And Paz kissed you back.

“There it is,” he muttered in awe and his hands ghosted over your shoulder right to your chest, cupping your tits and massaging them like he had before. Only now, you both had the freedom of time. “Fucking gorgeous, sweetheart."

“Paz, please,” you whimpered, grinding against him. You had been so close to coming before and now you were right back there at the edge, threatening to tumble over the cliff into a sea of pleasure, but only if he would finally – “Please touch me.”

Two fingers trailed down your chest, your belly, until they landed at the waistband of your shorts. In a matter of seconds, they were open and he found his way between your thighs, spreading the slickness right to your clit.

“Look at that,” he marvelled, his thick fingers crooking inside you, “Look at that little pussy clenching around my fingers. Baby, you’ll be a dream to fuck.”

He stood up, taking you with him, and you moaned, his fingers still nestled inside you. “Shorts off,” he muttered between kissed, his thumb circling your clit, “shorts off so I can fuck you, sweetheart.”

You had never stumbled out of your clothes this fast, and soon enough, you were back on the couch, watching as Paz ripped off his belt and stepped out of his pants. Just as you had suspected, he was big all over and your pussy clenched in anticipation.

With a dark smile that made you tingle all over, he climbed over you. “You look so good beneath me,” he observed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “If I do anything you don’t like, anything at all, let me know, all right?”

You nodded shyly, your eyes still settled on his rather impressive cock.

“I know, it’s so much, isn’t it?” he rumbled, finding his place between your thighs. His shaft bumped against you, flesh against flesh, and you gasped, your hips twitching in an effort to create more friction. “But you’ll be good and take it, won’t you?”

Stars, yes, you wanted to feel it all.

“Paz, please,” you whimpered, your hands reaching up until you could bury them in the soft hairs at the back of his neck, “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

“Believe me,” he chuckled, “I plan on it.”

One arm caged you in, allowing Paz to lean his weight over you, covering you from head to toe without burying you under his weight, while the other disappeared between the two of you. Moments later, you felt the tips of him, broad and wet, slowly push into you.

Paz never lost your gaze, neither of you speaking, as he fed his cock into you. The size of him made you clench and you breathed through it, forcing yourself to relax and enjoy the sensation of this man breaching you in a way no one had ever quite achieved.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured with the first inch settled inside you, “You okay, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, “Uh-huh. Just … I just need a moment.”

“Of course, baby, anything you need.”

There was something so intimate about this moment. About how his nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingling, your eyes locked together, as you took your time to get used to him. Your walls slowly unclenching around him.

“There we go,” he praised you, “Good fucking girl.”

He shifted, ever so slightly, and with it another inch sank into you.

“Oh my!” you gasped, your arms locking around his neck, “Paz, you’re … fuck, you’re big.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased you and you giggled, angling your leg so you could slowly lift it around his hip. The movement opened you up even more and after another nod from you, Paz proceeded to slowly thrust, his shaft soon coated in your wetness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his fingers gently circling your clit, “Who’s my good girl? That’s right, you’re my good girl.”

It was funny that he had mentioned flattery when really, all he had to do was praise you and you felt your juices coating him even more. It was like your body craved him, craved him in you, on you, next to you, whatever he was willing to give. And now that he was willing to give you everything, you did not know what to do with all the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Nah,” he chuckled in your ear, “Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Just let it happen.”

You whined, your back arched off the soft cushions of the couch and you were sure you had to clamp him so tight it must have hurt. The pleasure just seemed to climb and climb until you lost all control of your limbs.

“Poor sweetheart,” he teased you, his forearm resting right next to your face as he leaned above you, “Can’t do anything about it, can you? But here’s a secret,” he nipped at your bottom lip and ground into you, his cock reaching even deeper than before, “You don’t need to do anything. You just need to lie here and let me please you, hm? You can do that for me, can’t you, baby? Can you be good for me?”

You nodded, desperately clutching at his shoulders, “Paz, I’m so close ...!”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, not stopping his thrusts but seemingly landing on the exact spot that made you see stars. “Come for me, sweetheart. Milk me dry, I know you can.”

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes and all you could do was gasp as your body went taut, like electricity was coursing through every limb. You faintly noted that your leg was shaking, and your hands, too, but you could not really care when Paz’s finger was still rubbing your clit just so and you clenched around the biggest cock you had ever taken.

“Coming so hard for me,” he kissed you, his bot body pressing fully against yours as his hips did those slow but deep thrusts that kept you from coming down, “Keep coming, baby, look so pretty when you come apart for me.”

A whine was all you could respond with as you turned your face into the crook of his neck, hiding from the light and anything that wasn’t him. You wanted this moment to last forever. It was not even over and you knew your body would need a long time to recover.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Paz murmured, his hips continuing to work you, “You were such a good girl for me. Coming so beautifully around my cock.”

“You gotta come too,” you whispered against his jaw, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, “Please, Paz, want to feel you come inside me. Fill me up, I – I want to feel you tomorrow, too.”

“Stars, the things you say,” he rumbled, his hips snapping against yours, “Needy little thing like you and you beg me to fill you up? Mark you as mine, huh? There’s no going back, sweetheart, might be stuck with me for a while.”

“Yes, please,” you gasped, wrapping your legs tighter around him, “Paz, please.”

Just like yours, Paz’s orgasm seemed to take everything out of him. His groans were like heaven in your ears as his body landed on yours, his hips pressing hard against you as if he wanted to bury himself as deeply as possible. You had only once allowed an ex-partner to come inside you and you remembered it being messy and slightly awkward.

But there was nothing awkward about the way Paz buried himself in you, how his cock pulsed inside you and you could feel him spill into. It was messy, yes, but as you felt him soften and the come trickling down between you, it felt more arousing than anything.

“How long will you stay?” Paz asked, carefully lifting himself off you. For a second, you were scared that he would leave you already, but as soon as he sat up, he pulled you with him, your naked body pressed against his.

“We’re leaving this weekend,” you answered, your chest resting against his chest. A strong breeze from outside ran through the makeshift walls, making you shiver.

Paz reached down, covering you with his shirt like a blanket, his hands resting on your back. “You have any plans next weekend?”

“No, why?”

“Well, we will be here again,” he murmured, “And I think I play better with a beautiful woman on my lap. You wouldn’t want to deprive the audience of my best music, would you?”

You smiled, lifting your face so you could look into his eyes. They were full of warmth and as his fingers brushed over your cheek, you found yourself thinking that this could be the start of something phenomenal.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you confirmed, “Maybe I could arrange to be back here next weekend?”

The smile lit up his whole face. “Good,” he kissed you softly, “I will arrange some tickets for you. And maybe you can take the week to think about whether you would be interested in going to dinner with me sometime?”

You smiled. This really was the beginning of something phenomenal.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

i somehow doubt that the noldor didn't tell the sindar about the first kinslaying out of malice. they weren't rubbing their hands with glee, cackling and mwa-ha-ha-ing, they weren't trying to sneak into the sindar's good graces to betray them all or whatever the fuck. i think it was more -

it can't have been deliberate. they were the children of a world without death, part of a culture that holds slaying another elf as the worst crime a person can commit, only one of them had ever raised a weapon at someone else in anger before. i think here, before their doom proper even began, the idea wouldn't have even occured to them; if it did, it would have been dismissed out of hand as obviously insane. i suspect what happened is that fëanor came up with some ridiculous cockamamie plan to steal the ships - literally to steal them, like they were going to sneak into the harbour, climb aboard the ships, and sail away without anyone noticing somehow - and of course they were discovered almost immediately, and then -

the sky was dark for the first time in almost all of their lives. as far as anyone knew, the entire world was ending, and a ton of people - on both sides - had grabbed sharp things in case of giant spider. everyone was on the edge of panic, negotiations had conclusively broken down and yet nobody was backing down, the valar were conspicuously absent, nobody could see worth a damn without the trees, nobody really knew what was happening -

that, to me, doesn't sound like the army of professional soldiers the noldor aren't yet massacring innocent fisherfolk. that sounds like the kind of situation where, if they had guns, someone would have fired a shot, and no one would ever find out who

it's chaos. the noldor somehow get out of there with the swan-ships, but not a single one of them could tell you how it happened. they don't even really start processing what they've done until they're already fleeing up the coast in a disorganised mob, and then...

children of a world without death. born to a culture that holds kinslaying as its highest taboo. there is no possible way the realisation they had just barrelled over every ethical law they had didn't hit them as hard as the trees going out

so no, i'm not surprised they didn't volunteer this information to the sindar. i mean can you imagine opening relations with thingol with this partially it's the guilt, partially it's the shame, partially it's the fact that the first thing they did on their heroic quest to reclaim their stolen masterworks was somehow actual kinslaying, that's gotta do a number on your self-image, partially... i think they were still having trouble processing it, especially early on. how do you come to terms as a culture with having done something like this, when nothing like this has ever happened before?

(and maybe - they're never going back, right? mandos was pretty clear they'd never be welcomed in valinor again, and the teleri probably aren't gonna come chasing after them seeking vengeance. whatever... that was (because they don't have a name for it, not really, everyone who knows about it was either there or learned about it while the blood (don'tthinkabouttheblood) was still drying, how do you even give a name to such a crime?) all its consequences are on the other side of the sundering sea, and chances are they'll stay there)

(so maybe. maybe if they don't mention it. maybe it can stay back in valinor, with the valar and tirion and everything else they'll never see again)

(maybe, it'll be like it never happened at all)

[redux-iterum]

Apologies to nicoisaway for not asking for your Tumblr, which I only just now realized I don't have (EDIT: I now have it! This is @outofb0unds). I was given permission to answer this Patreon comment on the blog by them, in the hopes that this can help someone else doing the same thing as we here on Iterum.

With that!

Dullard's List of Tips They Wish They'd Known Early On:

Your notes, summaries and ideas do not have to be tidily organized. They just have to be in places where you can easily find them and go through them. This can include multiple docs, sketchbooks or images of text. Name your docs goofy things if it helps you remember what's in them.

Do whatever is easiest for you to get the story written. You do not have to write more in a day than you have the energy for. You do not even have to write every day. Experiment with your pace and you will find your happy medium. Don't be ashamed of whatever that medium is.

I know, you're writing a ton and you're having a great time and you've been on a roll all day. I know. It's a feeling better than most drugs. But be prepared for an intense crash that could last a couple days if you overwork yourself. Here's a test: if you stop what you're doing and go make food or watch a video, and then come back and don't want to keep working because you're a little tired, that is your cue to stop. Do not overcook your brain like I do. It never ends well.

Rubber ducks, editors, betas, any second mind and voice to discuss your ideas with - those are diamonds. Do not let them escape you. Do not be afraid of their critique. You need someone outside of yourself to hear these things and tell you if they make sense or not. And hey, they may even fix a plot point for you with an idea of their own. It's worth the initial anxiety.

You will never know for certain how good or bad something you've directly created is. That is just a fact. You're too close to the project to see it objectively. Accept that and seek outside opinions. They'll be able to see what you don't.

If you're stuck somewhere and don't know where to go next, make a note along the lines of "something happens here that connects A to B" and continue writing. Once you have some more material to work with, you can come back and usually find a connecting thread a lot easier than if you just sit there and hem and haw without still writing.

Your creations will never, ever be perfect. Never. In fact, sometimes they're going to be bad. This is not a reflection on your worth as a person. This is reality. Learn to shrug your shoulders when something doesn't turn out right, and then keep creating. Take failures as a learning opportunity, not a spot of shame.

Don't throw every ingredient you have in the pot and assume it's going to taste good. Sometimes an idea needs to be taken out because it doesn't match the theme/tone/feel/genre/etc of everything else. You can always use it later. Just remove it for the cohesion of your setting and story. This also goes for plotlines. Gotta metaphorically kill your darlings sometimes.

An inevitability of writing is that, multiple times per story, you are going to land in a part of the plot you don't really want to write. Maybe it's less interesting to you and you really want to get to the part you're excited about. But the thing is, you don't get there until you write the boring part first. Have your broccoli, and THEN you get your cake. It's a discipline thing. It gets easier the more you do it, I promise.

Most importantly, you are writing because you like to do it. If you aren't being paid, you're doing this as a hobby. You are completely free to stop writing something that's just making you miserable. Or perhaps you're not interested anymore, and it's not because you're in a part you don't like. It could be a number of things. But if you have to violently force yourself to keep writing for nothing, you're going to hate your hobby. Please feel free to put the keyboard away and try something that isn't writing, if this is becoming too much for you. It's okay. You're not a failure. You're tired. Rest and see if you want to come back later.

That's all I could think of off the top of my head. Hope it helps!