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velaris-fic-repository · 2 days ago

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Lovestruck

Azriel x Reader, Eris being nice, Also Eris being a little shit

Summary: You pose as Eris’s date for a reconnaissance mission into the Autumn Court’s markets. Things take a surprise turn for the worst at an apothecary stand

This mission was already a disaster before it even happened.

A reconnaissance mission between Azriel, Eris, and you - Azriel’s trusted second - to assess early options for dispatching the Autumn heir’s father.

Part of that mission was feeling out Autumn’s very seedy underbelly without tipping off the High Lord or those loyal to him.

You were perfect for this, often doing the jobs Azriel couldn’t thanks to his notoriety. That and being a master of illusory disguises, it was a no brainer to bring you along. Even if your spymaster was not a fan of the strategy the three of you had elected to use.

You, glamoured into an Autumn Court native, were playing date to the High Lord’s son. None of you were particularly pleased with the notion, but it was a good idea for keeping intentions secret. Eris would play at showing you around, falling into proper courtship rules - no touching - and if any gossip got out it would be easily squashed and of a different nature entirely to what was actually happening. Bonus, no one would know who you really were or where you were from. Perfect.

Azriel was grinding his teeth about it though. He was not walking behind you both as you flitted about the market squares of Autumn as the day slowly came to a close. But, something about the shadows around the golden hour autumnal market felt agitated, irritable. Like someone you knew was nearby and clearly not happy.

“How can you stand working with him?” Eris said with a chuckle in your ear, playing at being the slightly irreverent courting male.

You smiled and giggled, an act, as you whispered under your breath, “Now hardly seems the place to discuss what I actually do for a living. And you’re no prize, Eris.”

“You wound me, my lady,” Eris teased.

A million comments were poised on the tip of your tongue, but you held them all, focusing on the topic at hand.

You tugged Eris’s hand to stop him as you paused at an apothecary type vendor, expecting the wares. You pointed to a few bottles then whispered to Eris, “Poisons are always a viable option. They seem like this court’s style.”

Eris smiled and wrapped an arm around you, whispering back, “The Night Court doesn’t regularly check what’s in their food?”

Bastard.

Your smile fell just slightly portraying the ghost of the glare you wanted to give him. Only Eris noticed.

“I’ve already thought of that, if it would have worked, all of my brothers and I would have tried it.”

The sun had all but set by now, dim faelights filling iron lampposts around the grounds, creating only small pools of light every few feet. Not the most illuminating, but perfect for the rest of your evening’s purposes.

“We should move on,” you whispered, painting on your smile, looking away to feign embarrassment at whatever you hoped the onlookers thought Eris had said to you.

You began to walk away when the vendor called out, “sample for the lady?”

You smiled, shaking your head politely as the apothecary held up a perfume bottle. “No thank you-“

The vendor’s smile turned oily and wicked, “no, really, I insist… Such a lovely couple you two will make…”

A sweet smelling mist pelted you in the face, overwhelming your senses. Eris sidestepped the plume of perfume, eyes wide as you had no choice but to inhale whatever had been sprayed in your face.

Even worse, your disguise was fading.

Eris moved quickly, grabbing you and pulling you out and away from that vendor into one of the shadowy alcoves of the market.

You were lightheaded, you didn’t know what had happened to you but there was a disorienting want within you. You wanted… You wanted something… someone…

Eris shook you a little, calling your name and pulling your chin up to face him. Your eyes locked on his and that want did not dissipate. You wanted someone, but that someone was not Eris and you were terrified.

You struggled and pushed against him, trying to get up, get out, get away. Flee to wherever that someone you wanted was.

Eris swore and held you down as best he could without scaring you further. You called out to the shadows around him. Moving you, as much as he wanted to, was not an option right now.

Azriel materialized from the shadows almost immediately. He surveyed the situation quickly. He detested Eris holding you like this but saw no other option to keep you from clawing at the both of them.

He stalked forward and cupped his hand around your cheek - the only part of your body he could reach on Eris’s other side. He called your name and hushed you until you looked at him.

You were terrified, a prey animal clawing for its life. That is… until you looked up and saw Azriel’s face.

Everything in the world focused in on one point. Him.

You couldn’t see anything else but the hazel of his eyes, the swoop of his hair. Couldn’t hear anything else besides his night chilled voice.

The male you were wholly and completely in love with.

Your boss, sure. Not really professional, but, for whatever reason, the thought process you usually ran down to keep yourself from pursuing him just… didn’t occur to you.

“Are you alright?” Azriel asked you, voice velvet soft.

Unthinking, you blurted, “I am now.”

Azriel’s eyes widened as Eris swore again, looking back in the direction you’d come.

Azriel watched you closely, unmoving. Whatever Eris did you either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“We’re gonna figure this out, okay? Don’t worry,” he told you in that soft, comforting voice you loved so much.

“Not worried,” you whispered, leaning into his touch, practically purring as you closed your eyes.

“Love potion?” Azriel whispered in Eris’s direction.

“Looks like it,” Eris responded.

“I’m the first she saw?” Azriel asked for confirmation.

Despite the situation, Eris finally seemed amused. He smirked as he said, “No. She saw me first.”

Azriel’s brain, for once, was having a hard time putting the pieces together. He looked between Eris’s ever growing smirk and your lovesick behavior. You had practically melted into his hand where it still grasped your cheek.

But if… But if you saw Eris first… And had still reacted the way you had… Dazed, confused and disoriented… Until he crossed your field of vision…

“Shadowsinger,” Eris said, still smug, “now may be a good time to get her someplace safe. We can continue later. You seem to be-“ Eris feigned waffling for the right phrase- “indisposed.”

Azriel growled at him, coaxing your eyes open and up to him. You looked worried as you asked him, “What’s wrong?”

Eris had the audacity to laugh, but he didn’t leave. He watched the area around you all, Azriel realizing he was watching out specifically for the two of you. Until the two of you were out.

“Go,” he said, “I’ll clean up whatever mess is left.”

Azriel nodded to him before dropping fully into your vision. He sent you a comforting look, immediately calming you back into your dreamy state.

“We’ve got to go home now, okay? I’m going to winnow us, is that okay?”

You nodded.

“Words, please.”

“That’s fine,” you responded softly, “I trust you.”

Azriel didn’t doubt it, but he did doubt that even if you didn’t you would have much choice.

“Okay,” he said, a small shake coming into his voice as he held you.

The way you grasped onto him, nothing but unadulterated love in your eyes, had him winnowing you both without even a glance at Eris.

Once the two of you were back in Velaris, Azriel had been determined to drop you off and let you ride out the effects. He’d talk to you about in the morning, hopefully when whatever potion this was wore off.

You were not having that. Every time he attempted to separate from you, you either just followed after him like a dog or got such a sad look on your face that you practically cracked his heart in half. He had little options left.

You woke up with a far clearer head than you remembered going to bed with. Not that you remembered much of the previous night in the first place.

You shook your head to clear it and glanced around. You were in a large bed, held close by… strong arms and draped in familiar membranous wings…

Panic overwhelmed you as you pushed away from Azriel in an attempt to flee whatever this situation had been.

But, Azriel’s hand shot out and gently grasped your wrist. “Wait.”

You stopped.

Azriel, fully clothed sat up in bed and looked at you. He waited for you to wake up more fully, to realize you were still fully clothed as well.

When you seemed a bit more calm, he asked you, “what do you know about love potions?”

Oh. Oh no. Oh Mother save you.

Memories of the mission, and exactly when and why it went wrong ripped through your mind. You remembered every thing you did, everything you thankfully didn’t do, and every little lovesick thought you’d had In Azriel’s presence.

Unfortunately, they weren’t too different from the things you already thought. Amplified maybe, but certainly nothing new.

“Azriel, I am so sorry. I didn’t… I couldn’t… It absolutely will not happen again I-“

Azriel squeezed your hand, halting your motor mouth speech.

“You saw Eris first,” he said, a bland statement of fact.

“Yes,” you responded.

“That means what I think it means, right?”

You couldn’t discern the emotion leaking into his face.

False. You could. You just couldn’t accept it.

“I’m so sorry,” you said again, “it was unprofessional of me. Had I not been under the influence of something I never would have-“

Azriel’s cool mask fully dropped and shifted into something dangerously close to desperation until he finally surged forward and kissed you, slow, passionate and full of at least a centuries worth of longing.

It was everything you had ever hoped it would be in that secret place of your heart.

When you finally, regrettably, separated for air, Azriel rested his forehead against yours. As if he needed to be as close to you as possible or he would cease to be.

“How…” he said through his panting, “How’s that… for professional?”

You laughed weakly. “Does that mean what I think it means?” you echoed.

“Yes,” he breathed, not waiting too long before kissing you again.

Your morning devolved into nothing but the two of you kissing and reveling in the other’s presence.

You finally went to the kitchen and it was there that you finally engaged in a debrief of sorts from yesterday. It was stranger than any you had ever done with him before. In the kitchen of his private residence, him still holding onto you, kissing the crown of your head, drinking a coffee he made you out of one of his mugs.

Strange, but most assuredly welcome.

“Eris took care of that vendor after we left. He was trying to ensure the heir and his date stayed together, trying to then sell that information to Beron. Eris sent a message not long after I coaxed you to sleep.”

You laughed a little at the soft tone he used and at him anticipating your question before you asked it.

“Maybe,” you said into the rim of your mug, “we should have thanked him instead.”

Azriel smiled but said, “not funny.”

“I think it’s pretty funny.”

You’d always kept as many personal details out of your discussions as you could. You two had been friendly before, but there was always this unspoken barrier between you. At your mention of finding something funny, Azriel’s eyes lit up.

“I can’t wait to find out everything about you,” Azriel said, “starting with that sense of humor.”

You hummed and met him when his lips came down to kiss you again. Perfectly content.

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #eris vanserra

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wendichester · 2 days ago

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Dearest,

Once you have the time and are in the mood, would you be so kind and write a little piece about the reader dramatically mourning the loss of Sam’s beard in season 14? Like, “Who’s this stranger?”, while absolutely forgetting he was like that for most of the time, or “I won’t kiss you till it grows back” while already kissing him…

Thank you so much,

Len

｡𖦹°‧⭑ in loving memory,

summary. sam shaved. you were not expecting it.

pairing. s14!sam winchester x reader genre. silly fluff

wordcount. 502

notes / warnings. obsessed with this idea. thank you oh so much for requesting, len 🩷

You gasp so hard it echoes through the halls of the bunker.

“Oh my god.”

Sam turns around mid-step, brow furrowed, lips parted. “What—?”

You stagger back, hand to your chest like you’ve been struck. “Who are you?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Where’s Sam?” You look him over, horrified. “Oh my god. You shaved.”

Sam touches his now-smooth jaw like he forgot. “Yeah. This morning.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Not this. This is—this is treason.”

Sam sighs, amused, but clearly not surprised. “It’s just a beard.”

“Just a beard?” You walk a slow, dramatic circle around him like he’s a ghost you’re trying to banish. “That was not just a beard. That was a character arc. That was emotional support facial hair.”

Sam crosses his arms, clearly fighting back a smile. “You hated it when I first grew it.”

“Yeah, and I hated spinach too, but I evolved. I grew. I fell in love with it. With him.” You gesture mournfully to the memory of the beard, eyes misting. “He was strong. He was wise. He made you look like a rugged lumberjack philosopher and now…” You pause, squinting up at him. “You look twelve.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I do not.”

“You absolutely do.” You cross your arms. “What even possessed you?”

“I just… felt like shaving.”

You clutch the wall. “God. The betrayal.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m grieving!”

“You saw me without it for years,” Sam points out, smiling now. “Like, most of the time we’ve known each other, I didn’t have a beard.”

“And I didn’t know what I had back then,” you whisper solemnly. “I was blind. I didn’t understand the gift that had been bestowed upon me.”

Sam steps closer, looming with his usual gentleness. “You’ll survive.”

You look up at him, narrowing your eyes. “I won’t kiss you till it grows back.”

He tilts his head. “Sure you won’t.”

“I’m serious, Samuel.” You poke his chest. “No kisses. I’ll pine. I’ll write poetry in its honor. I’ll light a candle in the bathroom where you trimmed it.”

Sam just leans in and kisses you. Full, warm, slow. And goddamn it, you kiss him right back.

When he pulls away, you blink up at him, stunned. “That was cheating.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

You huff, scowling half-heartedly. “Fine. But you’re on thin ice.”

He brushes his knuckles down your cheek. “Want me to grow it back?”

You pause. “Yes. But also, no. I mean—you’re hot either way, it’s just…” You trail off, scrunching your nose. “I miss the beard. He was like a friend to me.”

Sam chuckles. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You knew what this was when you fell in love with me.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in again, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Next time I’ll ask before I betray your heart and your jawline loyalty.”

You sigh, defeated and already nestled against his chest. “You better. Or I’ll hex you with patchy regrowth.”

He laughs. “Noted.”

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #spn #.docx #.req

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plutodexay · 19 hours ago

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Thunderbolts* Headcannons

Them asking you out on a date and how they would go about doing it!

Includes Bucky, Ava, Walker, Yelana, and Bob! In that order

⋆˙⟡Bucky⟡˙⋆

He would be awkward but weridly confident. Like he would need to pysch himself up in the corner before walking over to you but would also have the idea that theres no universe in which you'll say no to him.

Its not the most romantic thing, he didn't bring flowers or a gift but he has that old timey mindset of how to do these things and that comes heavily into play.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me?" Bucky asked, a smirk on his face that for once showed no malice.

"Dinner?" You could feel your eyebrows furrowing at the simple question. Bucky was mostly distant with you, making this honestly a somewhat scary situation, but also an exciting one.

"I like you." His hand reached out to grab yours, the warm skin a contrast from what you'd expected. "And I would like to treat you to a nice evening if you'd let me." Emphasizing his words by bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into the back of it. You knew what your answer was.

⋆˙⟡Ava⟡˙⋆

Something tells me she'd be waiting for you to ask her first, like she would be secretly staring at you and trying to egg on conversations that could potentially lead to the two of you being alone together.

If she did end up asking first, it would be out of despration or a slight outburst in the middle of a conversation. Asking is hard but she also doesn't want to risk you getting with someone else or leaving.

"I mean I have the reservation, I'll probably just ask some random tinder match to go with me ya know?" Yelena laughed along with you at your words, the topic of this stupid gifted reservation on valentines day driving you insane.

"Could take me." Ava muttered, face strained in annoyance as she stood by the both of you.

"Sorry say that again?" You asked, trying to make sure you heard her right, and you really hoped you did.

"Take me." Ava said louder this time, a tone of anger in her voice. "I'm right here, more than willing to have all the cringe romance shit you could just take me."

"I'd love to." Her face turned to one of pure shock, matching Yelenas similar expression. "You'd be the perfect date."

⋆˙⟡Walker⟡˙⋆ (Im still in the constant changing opinion of this man but I am a women of giving daydream ideas to people so enjoy)

I don't even think he asks. He's full of that surface level confidence that slowly fades the more comfortable he gets around you. His pride is intense so he just doesn't ask, he tells you.

Even with this he'll get visbily excited when you don't say no. He has an extra kick in his step when he walks away from you after it. You can't point it out until much later in the relationship which by then he'll admit to rehearsing it all in a mirror the nigth before.

"You me the park at 7pm tomorrow." John said as he walked up to you, no hello's or anything else.

"Oh yea?" You chuckled as you watched his smirk faulter at your pushback for just a moment.

"Yea, you have a problem with that." He took a step closer, keeping eye contact with you seemingly attempting to challenge you to push him furhter. You weren't going to, you knew that but the fact that he did not for these few seconds made it much more fun for you.

"I'll be there." You broke the silence, and all you got was a nod from him as he turned to walk away, watching as he walked as if he'd had multiple shots of expresso hilariously.

⋆˙⟡Yelena⟡˙⋆

Oh so stereotypical for some reason. Once she knows she wants you she will be getting you and that is the end of the discussion. She'd ask you while handing you a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers wrapped in perfectly tied ribbon.

It'll be done in private to, a timed place where nobody could dare to interupt. She wants it to be perfect even if its just a first date and she will make it painfully so. She won't have anything planned for the actual date though, wanting to get your opinion on it before hand.

"Is there any reason why we're out here?" You said aloud, looking around the quiet park. This specific spot you were in had nobody running around it, you could hear the rest of them off in the distance yet here and now it was just you two.

"I wanted peace and quiet so I could ask you." Yelena's tone was serious but her face gave off hints of excitment. You watched as she ducked below the bench to pull out of bundle of flowers. "For you." She extended the flowers towards you, waiting with a smile until you grabbed them.

"Why?" You could feel the confusion on your face as you switched focus between the flowers and her.

"I would like to take you out on a date if you'd let me." Now she was nervous, you could hear it but god was it endearing.

"Please do."

⋆˙⟡Bob⟡˙⋆

Sleepily, its the only time he has enough confidence. You two would be resting in the common space after a mission, everyone else had left to go to their own rooms but you two always watched something before doing so.

He'd be half asleep bundled under a big blanket on the couch next to you when he'd ask. Saying he'd been thinking about it for ages and would really like to start sharing couches. Falls asleep the moment you agree but thankfully remembers in the morning.

"We should share a couch one day." Bob mumbled, words coming out at the right commercial break.

"Yea?" You chuckled, pushing your own blankets down enough to get a view of his red but bundled face in the tv's light.

"Mhm." He hummed, eyes closed and shifting further down into the cushions. "If we go out on a date we could do it." A smile grew on his face, imagining that scenario.

"I'd like that." You responded, watching him grin adorbly. "If you'd like." You added, knowing his tired mind races from him often enough that it can and has become an issue.

"Zoo date?" He whispered, prying his eyes open to look at you with baited breath for a response that wouldn't ruin the moment.

"Zoo date."

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unabashegirl · 2 days ago

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Love Island — part 6

Author's note: Hey lovies ❤️ I hope you're all getting some rest and taking care of yourselves. If you had a great week, I’m so happy for you—and if it was a tough one, I’m really sorry. But hey, you made it through, and that counts for something. 💛

Please, please don’t hesitate to send in your requests — whether it’s blurbs, one-shots, or even just a fun idea you want to see come to life. If you're feeling a little shy, no worries at all — you can always send them in anonymously through Tumblr! I’d love to hear from you and create more content you’ll enjoy 🌞💌

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

⭐️ Please consider submitting your one shot request -> Forms

The beauty room was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound accompanying Y/N as she wiped away the remnants of her make-up. The day had been long and emotionally draining, her mind replaying every interaction, every glance, every word. Harry’s behaviour, or rather lack thereof, gnawed at her. She’d seen him laughing with Sophia earlier, their heads bent close as if sharing a secret, and the sight had felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

The door creaked open, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up to the mirror. Harry stood there, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts, his usual confident demeanour replaced by something hesitant. She turned back to the mirror, focusing on her reflection as she continued wiping off her make-up.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice soft but steady. “Can we talk?”

Ah, Harry. The king of timing. Nothing like waiting until the absolute worst moment to finally address the elephant in the villa

She didn’t respond immediately, finishing with her make-up wipe before tossing it into the bin. Finally, she turned to face him, arms crossed. “Talk about what, Harry?”

He took a tentative step forward. “About today. About… everything.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression guarded. “Now you want to talk? After ignoring me all day?”

Harry winced, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I just… I didn’t know how to approach you.”

“Approach me?” she repeated, her tone sharp. “Harry, you’re my partner. We’re supposed to be in this together. And yet, you’re off entertaining Sophia while I’m left wondering where we stand.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly, his voice rising slightly. “She asked me to go on the date. I didn’t have a choice.”

“And after the date?” Y/N shot back. “Did you have a choice then? Because you chose not to come talk to me. You chose to avoid me, Harry.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You’re right. I should’ve come to you. I should’ve explained everything, but I was… scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of making things worse,” he admitted. “I knew you were upset, and I thought if I gave you space, it might help. Clearly, I was wrong.”

Y/N’s gaze softened slightly, though her stance remained firm. “You can’t just shut me out, Harry. That’s not how this works. If we’re going to survive in here, we need to communicate. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

He nodded, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. “You’re right. I messed up, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored or unimportant because you’re not. You’re the only one I care about in here, Y/N.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity but finding none. Slowly, her arms uncrossed, and she let out a sigh. “Do you like her, Harry?” she asked suddenly, her tone firm. “And I mean be straight with me. No bullshit.”

Harry froze, his eyes darting away as he hesitated. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “I like spending time with you, Y/N. But I… I guess I just want to keep my options open for now.”

“Ah, the classic ‘keep my options open.’ Translation: I like you but not enough to close the shop.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, the bluntness of his words cutting deeper than she expected. She straightened, her walls going up again. “Right. Well, thanks for being honest, I suppose,” she said, her voice quieter but edged with hurt. “But don’t expect me to wait around while you figure out your options, Harry. I’m not a backup plan.”

“Backup plan? Y/N isn’t even the plan—she’s the main event, Harry!”

Harry’s face fell. “Y/N, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” she interrupted, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve. “Because right now, it feels like I’m the one doing all the work to keep this going. And if you’re not all in, maybe we’re wasting our time.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but faltered, unable to find the right words. Y/N shook her head, turning back to the mirror. “You know where I stand. Prove to me that I’m wrong about you, Harry. Otherwise, don’t bother.”

For the first time that day, Harry didn’t know what to say.

The next morning, Y/N and Chloe were sprawled out on yoga mats on the villa terrace, catching their breath after finishing a Pilates YouTube video. The sun bathed the terrace in a warm glow, and the faint sound of birds chirping added to the calmness of the scene. Y/N wiped her forehead with a towel, her expression distant.

“Nothing like a bit of Pilates to stretch the legs and spill the tea.”

Chloe noticed immediately. “Alright, spill. You’ve been quiet all morning. What’s going on?”

Y/N sighed, sitting up and crossing her legs. “It’s Harry,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “Last night, we had a chat. I asked him straight up if he liked Sophia, and do you know what he said?”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“He said he wants to keep his options open,” Y/N said, her voice cracking slightly. “I mean, what am I supposed to do with that? I feel like an idiot for even caring at this point.”

Chloe sat up, her face serious. “Y/N, listen to me. You cannot let him see you sweat. If he wants to keep his options open, fine. Let him. But you need to act like you couldn’t care less about him or Sophia.”

Y/N frowned. “Easier said than done. I don’t know if I can just switch off how I feel.”

“You don’t have to switch it off,” Chloe said, her tone firm but encouraging. “You just have to fake it for now. Trust me, guys like Harry hate feeling like they don’t have control. If you act unbothered, it’ll throw him off completely. And in the meantime, you’ll give yourself space to figure out what you actually want.”

“Chloe, handing out advice like smoothies. And she’s not wrong. Nothing shakes a lad like a girl who’s unbothered.”

Y/N bit her lip, considering Chloe’s words. “So, what? Just pretend like I don’t care?”

Chloe nodded. “Exactly. Smile, laugh, chat with everyone else, and don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you upset. Time will do the rest.”

A small smile broke through Y/N’s conflicted expression. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Chloe admitted with a grin. “You’ve got this.”

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight on her chest feeling slightly lighter. “Alright. Let’s see how unbothered I can be.”

Chloe laughed, nudging her playfully. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we reward ourselves with a smoothie?”

Harry stood at the kitchen counter, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. The morning sun streamed through the villa’s glass doors, casting a warm glow over the open-plan space. Lucas joined him, rubbing sleep from his eyes and grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

“Nothing like a cuppa first thing,” Lucas muttered, pouring hot water into his mug. He turned, leaning against the counter, and nodded toward the terrace where Y/N and Chloe were mid-stretch, their workout mats rolled out on the tiled floor. “Well, they’re looking pretty good this morning, aren’t they?”

Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. “Yeah, they’re putting in the work, that’s for sure.”

Lucas tilted his head, watching Chloe as she effortlessly moved through a set of lunges. “Chloe’s got some legs on her, mate. Proper strong. Bet she could kick a ball further than me.”

Harry snorted. “Wouldn’t be hard. Your kick’s shocking.”

Lucas smirked but didn’t argue, his eyes still on Chloe. “Fair play, though. She’s got this, like, natural confidence about her. Proper attractive, you know?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, hiding a grin behind his mug. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

“What can I say?” Lucas replied with a shrug, setting his mug down. “Anyway, enough about me. Did you sort things out with Y/N last night?”

Harry’s smile faltered, and he stared into his tea as if the answers might be swirling in the cup. “We talked,” he said slowly.

Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. “And? What happened?”

“She’s not happy, mate,” Harry admitted, leaning against the counter. “Asked me straight up if I liked Sophia. Told her I wanted to keep my options open.”

Lucas groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, Harry. Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” Harry said defensively. “I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure.”

“Right, but you’re not exactly making it easy for yourself, are you?” Lucas countered. “Y/N’s not the type to just sit around and wait for you to make up your mind. If anything, she’ll use this as fuel to move on.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. Chloe’s probably in her ear right now, telling her to forget about me.”

Lucas glanced back at the terrace, where Chloe and Y/N were laughing between stretches. “If she’s smart, she’ll listen. Chloe doesn’t mess about.”

Harry’s jaw tightened as he looked out at Y/N. She was glowing in the morning light, her hair pulled back and her smile wide as she joked with Chloe. “I just… I don’t know what to do, mate. I like her, but Sophia… she’s got this vibe, you know? Makes me wonder what else is out there.”

Lucas shook his head. “You’re playing with fire. If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose Y/N and not even get a chance with Sophia. Girls talk, mate. And no one likes a bloke who can’t make up his mind.”

Harry didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on Y/N as she stretched her arms above her head. The thought of her pulling away, of her laughter directed at someone else, left a sour taste in his mouth. He took another sip of tea, trying to shake the feeling.

“You’ve got to figure it out, Harry,” Lucas said, his tone serious. “Because right now, you’re playing a game you might not win.”

The sun blazed down on the villa as the Islanders gathered on the lawn, coffee cups in hand and nerves bubbling under the surface. In the center of the garden stood a brightly colored spinning wheel, its glossy paint glinting in the sunlight like a harbinger of chaos. The air hummed with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Y/N adjusted her sunglasses, leaning back lazily as Chloe leaned closer.

“I’m telling you now, this game is going to start World War Three,” Chloe muttered, her tone low but laced with amusement.

Y/N let out a small laugh, though her stomach was already knotting. Across the lawn, Harry was lounging on the beanbags, his body sprawled out casually as Sophia leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that made him grin.

“It’s 10 a.m., and the Islanders are already sweating. Not from the heat, though—oh no. This morning, we’ve gifted them a little something we like to call Lips Don’t Lie. Because nothing says ‘good morning’ like breaking hearts before brunch!”

“Here’s the deal: spin the wheel, land on ‘Snog,’ ‘Spill,’ or ‘Steal.’ Kiss someone, confess your darkest secret, or swipe a kiss from another Islander’s partner. Oh, and there’s a lovely stack of truths in those envelopes, just in case things weren’t messy enough.”

“Alright, Y/N,” Lucas called out with a cheeky grin. “You’re up first!”

The group erupted into chants, and Y/N stood, her shoulders squared as she approached the wheel. The handle felt cold under her fingertips as she spun it sharply, the clattering sound making her heart race.

It landed on ‘Spill.’

“Easy one to start with,” Chloe teased.

Lucas, practically vibrating with excitement, grabbed an envelope. “Alright, Y/N,” he said, his grin devilish. “If you had to recouple with someone other than Harry, who would it be?”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes on Y/N. She felt Harry’s gaze burning into her, but she kept her expression cool.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, dragging it out. “Hmm… Lucas,” she said finally, turning to him with a sly smile. “You always know how to make me laugh.”

Laughter rippled through the group as Lucas dramatically clutched his chest. “My dream finally comes true.”

“Y/N keeping it light and breezy. But don’t worry, Harry—Lucas is just here for the bants. Or is he?”

Harry’s jaw clenched, his mug of tea now forgotten on the table beside him.

“Your turn, mate!” Callum called, his grin wide.

Harry stood, brushing off invisible lint from his shorts before giving the wheel a forceful spin. When it landed on ‘Snog,’ the group erupted with cheers and whistles.

Sophia’s eyes lit up before Harry even moved. Without a moment’s hesitation, he crossed the garden and kissed her, slow enough to make the others holler in delight.

Y/N felt Chloe nudge her hard. “Don’t react,” Chloe hissed. “He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.”

Y/N tilted her head, feigning indifference. “Couldn’t care less,” she said smoothly, though her nails dug into her palms.

“Oh, Harry. If this were chess, you’d be playing checkers. Y/N? Ice cold.”

Sophia’s turn was next, and the wheel landed on ‘Spill.’ She sauntered over to the stack of envelopes, picking one like it held her winning lottery numbers.

Tom read aloud, “Sophia, who do you think is your biggest competition in the villa?”

Sophia smirked, her gaze drifting lazily over the girls before landing squarely on Y/N.

“Y/N,” she said confidently. “She’s stunning, and, let’s face it, everyone seems to fancy her.”

The group erupted with laughter and gasps, while Y/N shot Sophia a sweet, unfazed smile. “Aw, thanks, babe,” she said lightly.

“Sophia, dishing out backhanded compliments like cocktails. But let’s be honest, she’s right. Y/N’s still the main event.”

Max spun the wheel next, landing on ‘Snog.’ Without missing a beat, he turned to Y/N. “Sorry, Harry,” he said with a mischievous grin before kissing her, lingering just long enough to turn the group rowdy.

When Y/N sat back down, Chloe clapped her on the back. “Legend.”

Harry’s expression didn’t flinch, but his eyes burned into Y/N’s as she casually sipped her water.

Finally, Tom pulled an envelope from the truth pile, holding it up dramatically. “Time for a big one!” he announced.

The group quieted as Tom read aloud, “One Islander confessed: ‘I still think about kissing Y/N.’”

The garden froze.

Amber’s mouth dropped. “Who said that?!”

The boys erupted into teasing accusations, whistles flying as Lucas turned to Harry with a smirk. “C’mon, mate. You’ve got guilty written all over your face.”

Harry’s jaw tightened as he glared at Lucas. “Didn’t hear my name, did you?”

“Oh, Harry. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, and your face says it all.”

Chloe leaned into Y/N’s ear, whispering, “You’ve got him rattled.”

Y/N shrugged, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Not my problem.”

“Whew, what a morning! Secrets revealed, kisses stolen, and Harry’s mood hitting boiling point. And we haven’t even had lunch yet. Buckle up, folks—this villa’s about to erupt.”

The villa was quiet after the chaos of the game, with most of the Islanders scattered in their own corners, trying to digest the truths and dares that had been laid bare. Y/N was perched on the edge of the terrace, her foot tapping against the ground as her mind replayed every moment of the game—Harry’s snog with Sophia, the truth bomb about someone still thinking of kissing her, and the way Harry’s eyes had burned into her the entire time.

She heard footsteps approaching and sighed. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Not now, Harry,” she muttered, her tone tired but edged with annoyance.

“Yeah, well, I think now’s the perfect time,” Harry said, his voice low but charged. He moved closer, stopping just a step behind her.

Y/N whipped around, her frustration spilling over. “What do you want, Harry? Haven’t you had enough fun for one day?”

His jaw tensed. “I came to talk because clearly, we need to. But if you’re going to start throwing digs, I can walk right back out.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Do you want a medal for gracing me with your presence after ignoring me all day? Or is this just damage control because you know how bad you looked out there?”

Harry’s brows knitted together, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re acting like I’m the only one who played the game! What about you? Max kissed you, and you didn’t seem too bothered about that.”

“Don’t you dare,” Y/N said, stepping closer as her voice dropped dangerously. “Max kissed me because you made it very clear where you stand today. I didn’t ask for it, but I wasn’t about to stop him just to protect your fragile ego.”

“Fragile ego?” Harry repeated, his voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re the one who’s been sulking and throwing me daggers all day, acting like I’ve done something unforgivable when all I did was follow the rules of a stupid game!”

“Stupid game?” she fired back, her tone cutting. “So kissing Sophia—grabbing her like you couldn’t wait to get your hands on her—that was just for the rules? Funny how you didn’t hesitate even for a second.”

Harry took a step closer, their faces now inches apart. “And what about you, huh? Smiling and laughing with Max like you were enjoying every second of it? Don’t act like you’re above playing games, Y/N.”

Her heart was pounding, her anger mixing with something else entirely—something she didn’t want to name. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to play any games. I just wanted to feel like you cared. Like I wasn’t just… replaceable.”

Harry’s expression softened for a moment, but the tension between them was still thick. “You’re not replaceable,” he said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You think I don’t care about you? I can’t even look at you without losing my head, Y/N. And yeah, I messed up today, but don’t for a second think that means I don’t want you.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “Then why—”

Before she could finish, Harry reached out, cupping her face in his hands and pulling her into a kiss. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was full of all the anger, frustration, and desire that had been constructing between them.

For a second, she resisted, her hands pushing lightly against his chest, but then she gave in, gripping his shirt as she kissed him back with equal intensity.

The world seemed to blur around them, the only sounds their ragged breaths and the faint hum of the villa in the distance. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, their foreheads resting against each other.

“That’s why,” Harry said, his voice rough.

Y/N swallowed, her emotions a whirlwind. “This doesn’t fix anything,” she whispered, though her hands were still clutching his shirt.

“I know,” he replied, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But it’s the truth.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. “Then prove it, Harry. Because I’m not doing this halfway.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “I will.”

As the distant chatter of the other Islanders drifted toward them, Y/N stepped back, her walls slowly rebuilding. “Good,” she said quietly before turning and walking back inside, leaving Harry standing there, watching her go.

“Well, if we were playing ‘Lips Don’t Lie,’ those two just failed spectacularly. But will Harry make good on his promise, or is Y/N setting herself up for more heartbreak? Stay tuned, folks. It’s about to get messy.”

let me know if you want to get tagged!

TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orist, @ellaorchard, @loverrryxo, @dashingday, @harrystyles1d52, @stylessbean, @gem1712, @girlontheblock, @readingrockstar23, @run-for-the-hills

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gojoscumrag · 2 days ago

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ღ just a cumrag - part 2

warnings: absolute filth, public sex, degradation, obsession, exhibitionism, use of cursed energy, dumbification, cockdrunk reader, creampie, multiple loads, overstimulation, use-and-go, possession kink, ruined reader

Gojo didn’t knock. He just appeared, cursed energy buzzing sharp through the air, and grabbed you by the hair. With your hair in his fist he dragged you into the nearest empty classroom. Your knees hit the floor before you could speak.

“Open that mouth, baby,” Gojo said, already tugging his cock free. “It’s been two hours. You must be starving.”

You moaned around him before your brain caught up, cheeks bulging as he shoved his cock in deep. Unbothered by your gagging. He loved when your makeup smeared. When your eyes watered and your throat clenched around him like it missed him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “My dirty little cumrag. Just a hole I can fuck anytime I want.”

And he did. Hallways, classrooms, alleyways behind mission sites. He’d bend you over a desk with your panties stuffed in your mouth, slam into you while you sobbed and begged for mercy you never got. This time? He yanked you up, flipped you around and bent you over the teacher’s desk.

No prep or lube, only spit and raw need.

He shoved in like he owned you. And god, he did. He’d branded you with his cock so many times your body opened for him automatically. You moaned, brain slipping out of reach as he fucked you hard and filthy. Cursed energy buzzed against your skin, heightening everything. Each thrust slammed into your g-spot like a curse technique, pleasure too intense and sharp. You were drooling and barely conscious at this point. All you could think about was Gojo and his cock stretching you wide.

He grabbed your throat, leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna stuff you full again,” he said molten. “Already leaked out the last two loads. Can’t waste a single drop.”

Your pussy fluttered like it wanted to be used.

“Tell me what you are.”

You gasped, “Y-Your cumrag.”

“Louder.”

“I’m your cumrag!” You sobbed loudly.

“Attagirl.”

He slammed in deep. Hips jerking as he filled you again with hot, thick, endless mess. Your cry mixed to his deep groan. You were pushed to the brink, the stretch and pressure too much, too perfect. His cum dripped down your thighs the second he pulled out, but he didn’t let it fall far.

No. He shoved two fingers in, pushed it back up. He groaned again at the sight of your messy cunt swallowing his spend like it was made for it. Then he snapped a photo with his phone.

“For later,” he said casually, tucking himself back in. “When I’m jerking off between missions.”

You collapsed onto the desk, dazed, used and aching. And then the door creaked open. Gojo didn’t flinch, only looked over his sunglasses and smirked. “She’s mine,” he said, like it explained everything. “And she likes being ruined.”

Ino shouldn’t have walked in. He knew that.

But he had and now he couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your back arched, the way Gojo held your throat and the obscene slick sounds echoing in the classroom like it was something out of a porn. You’d been wrecked and dripping. You didn’t even flinch when Gojo snapped a picture of his cum leaking out of you. You looked proud of it.

So yeah. Ino had… ideas.

The next day, when Gojo left for a mission and you were in the hallway alone, bent over your phone reading a text—Ino saw an opening.

“Hey,” he said all flirty. “Didn’t expect you to be so down for a quick fuck like that.”

You blinked. “What?”

“C’mon,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “I’m not Gojo, but I can make you feel good. You were so hot yesterday. Bet you’re always wet like that, huh?”

His hand brushed your hip, fingers sliding dangerously close to your ass. Not rough, but too familiar.

You stepped back and whispered, “Don’t touch me.”

He raised his hands like it was a joke. “Relax. I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” you snapped, walking away before your heart gave out. But it stayed with you.

It clung to you. The way Ino looked at you, like you were free-use. Like being Gojo’s cumrag meant you were anyone’s. You didn’t tell Gojo. You couldn’t. What if he agreed? What if the thought of sharing you with others turned him on? What if he got bored of you? What if you ruined it?

So you stayed quiet. And days later, when Gojo slipped behind you in the hall, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest like he always did—you flinched. You flinched like it wasn’t him and instantly Gojo froze.

“…Hey,” he said seriously. “What was that?”

You shook your head too fast. “Nothing. You just surprised me—”

“You don’t get surprised,” he said, stepping in front of you now to scan your face. “You always know when it’s me. You melt when it’s me.”

You looked away. “I’m just tired.”

But Gojo didn’t buy it, not for a second. His fingers brushed your jaw, trying to be gentle. “Did someone touch you?”

Your silence was louder than any answer.

“Who?”

Your lips trembled. “It wasn’t like that—he just—he saw us and thought I was… easy.”

Gojo’s pupils narrowed. His cursed energy spiked so fast the air went sharp and cold. “Who.”

You whispered, “Ino.”

Gojo was gone before you could stop him.

He found Ino behind the training yard. All casual, sipping vending machine coffee like he hadn’t crossed a line so deep he was practically buried in Gojo’s kill list.

“Hey, Gojo,” Ino called, half a smirk on his lips.

Gojo didn’t speak or smile. He just kept walking until the air around them cracked, cursed energy rolling off his body in thick, oppressive waves that made the ground vibrate.

Ino tensed. “Whoa, what’s going on—”

Gojo was in front of him before he could finish the sentence, hand clamped tight around his throat. He slammed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the siding.

“You touched her?” Gojo said, deadly soft.

Ino choked. “What—”

“You touched what’s mine?” Gojo leaned in, sunglasses pushed up just enough for Ino to see his eyes glowing with fury. “You looked at her like she was a fucking free-use toy after watching me stuff her full and then you put your hands on her?”

“Gojo, fuck… okay, back up—”

“I don’t back up.” Gojo squeezed harder, cursed energy lashing out like invisible knives, cutting the air. “Do you know what I do to curses that breathe in my direction?”

Ino gasped, face reddening. Gojo leaned closer, voice dropping into something cold and hollow. “You think she’s just some slut I use? That she’s available to anyone just because I fuck her in the hallway?”

His smile was too wide now. “That’s your mistake. She isn’t some hole I use. She’s mine. She’s sacred. She’s the only thing keeping me from turning this place into ash.”

Gojo dropped him and Ino hit the ground hard, coughing and clutching his throat. Gojo stood over him, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes blazing behind his glasses.

“You don’t touch her. You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her unless you want your name scraped off a stone.” He crouched beside him, head tilted like a wolf circling a wounded animal. “Next time I even feel you near her, I’ll peel the skin off your face before you know you’re dead.”

He stood, dusted off his pants and walked away. No one dared stopping him, because they felt what he was. What she meant to him. Satoru Gojo wasn’t in love, he was possessed.

In the meantime you were sitting on your bed, legs curled up. You tried to focus on the silence when the door opened and Gojo stepped in. No usual teasing grin adored his features. It was a quiet, raw energy that filled the room. And he was already stripping.

Glasses came off first, followed by his jacket. His shirt. His belt. Pants. Boxers. Everything peeled away like he couldn’t stand a single inch between you. You sat frozen, heart pounding.

“Satoru…?”

He didn’t speak, not until he was completely naked. And then he crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of you, forehead pressed to your stomach like he was praying.

“I should’ve protected you,” he murmured. “He touched what’s mine.”

Your fingers slipped into his hair. “You scared me earlier…”

“I know.” He looked up, blue eyes bare and burning. “I’ll never let you flinch again. I swear it.”

He kissed you slowly, like your lips were something holy. And when he guided you back onto the bed it wasn’t rushed or rough. It was complete, because this time Gojo needed all of you. He crawled over you and started stripping you naked until you were skin on skin. No clothing, no barrier, just feverish heat and want. Your legs parted and he lined himself up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered. “Let me all the way in. I need to feel every inch.”

You did and when he pushed inside, it was differet. It was deeper and slower, a stretch that felt like he was carving his name into you. Your nails raked down his back as he rolled his hips, grinding into you like he wanted to fuse you together. To leave nothing untouched.

“You’re not just mine,” he groaned. “You’re me. My reason. My peace. My fucking obsession.”

You whimpered as his thrusts grew desperate, needy. Like his soul was clawing its way into yours through every inch of skin. His hands were everywhere—your hips, your face, your throat, your thighs—holding you down, holding you close.

“I saw red,” he panted. “When he said he touched you, I lost my fucking mind. You don’t know what I’d do to someone who thinks they can take you.”

“Satoru—”

“I’d kill for you.”

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning deep in his chest as your walls fluttered around him, wet and full and trembling.

“I’m gonna cum,” he breathed. “Gonna fill you again. So fucking deep. I want you leaking for days. I want you dripping proof that no one else will ever touch you.”

When he came, it was endless—hot and thick, flooding you completely as he held you tight. His chest pressed to yours, lips ghosting against your cheek. No separation. No air. Just him. All of him. He didn’t pull out and roll away. He stayed inside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding your body against his like a lifeline.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “As long as I breathe, you’re mine.”

#gojo satoru #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoru x you #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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buckets-and-trees · 1 day ago

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Only Your Actions Talk [I'm Your Man]

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 5.9k Summary: Andy delivers directly with his surprise when you return to Boston. But it's not what you were expecting.

Content/Warnings: forced engagement; use of pet name (sweetheart); smut (unprotected vaginal intercourse, fingering, oral: female receiving)

Author Note: Unbeknownst to you all, after Alpha April last month, I actually decided I wanted to torture everyone with I'm Your Man May and I was serious about it. 🤭 So you get this and probably at least one more piece of their story before the end of the month so long as the muse keeps cooperating... AND CREDIT to @stargazingfangirl18 for supplying me with the best idea here when I needed to pivot from an original plot point I’d planned on a long time ago that no longer seemed to fit the narrative.

Previous Part | Full Collection

It is no surprise to you that Andy is waiting on the tarmac when you land. You can spy him leaning against his Aston Martin, looking every inch the powerful man he is in a tailored suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders. His hands are casually tucked into his pockets, but there's nothing casual about the intensity of his gaze as he watches the plane taxi to a stop.

You feel your heart rate quicken despite yourself. The days away have given you clarity, but they haven't diminished the physical pull he exerts over you. If anything, the separation has heightened it, a fact that both frustrates you since you wish this were the happy version of what you would have wanted, not the machinations of one powerful and alluring man.

You've spent the flight rehearsing what you'll say about the business proposal, how you'll maintain your boundaries while still giving him what he wants most – you, by his side.

When the door opens and the stairs are secured, you descend to the tarmac with measured steps. Andy pushes away from his car the moment you appear.

"Welcome home," he says simply as you reach the bottom of the stairs. His voice is controlled, but there's an undercurrent of something primal in his tone that makes your skin prickle with awareness.

"Thank you," you respond, maintaining a careful distance between you, aware of Shep and Mark descending the stairs behind you. "You didn't have to come meet me yourself."

Andy's eyes don't leave yours as he steps closer, closing the gap you've deliberately left. "Of course I did," he says, as if the alternative were unthinkable. "I've missed you."

The simple statement shouldn't affect you as deeply as it does, but you feel a flutter in your chest nonetheless. His scent—expensive cologne with undertones of leather and something uniquely him—envelops you as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

His fingertips linger against your cheek, sending an electric current through your body. Before you can step back or say another word, Andy's hand slides to the nape of your neck, pulling you to him with gentle insistence.

"I couldn't wait another moment," he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips before he claims your mouth with his.

The kiss is devastating in its intensity—not rough, but consuming. His lips move against yours with practiced precision, coaxing rather than demanding, yet somehow leaving no room for resistance. Your hands instinctively rise to his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer, you're not sure. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, and you open to him with a small gasp that he swallows eagerly.

One strong arm wraps around your waist, drawing you flush against him as he explores your mouth with devastating thoroughness. The world narrows to just the two of you—the heat of his body, the skill of his mouth, the faint taste of coffee and something darker, richer that is purely Andy.

When he finally releases you, you're light-headed, your breath coming in short gasps.

"How was your flight?" he asks, his fingers lingering against your cheek.

"Fine," you say, finding it difficult to pull coherent words from your brain. "Smooth."

His eyes are a dark, stormy blue, but you see an undercurrent of mischief. He knows exactly how much the kiss he just dealt affected you, and he revels in it.

"I'm glad to hear it," Andy says, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "I've arranged for Mark and Shep to take your luggage home. You're coming with me."

You glance back at your security detail, who are already efficiently unloading your bags from the plane. They don't seem surprised by this arrangement.

"Where are we going?" you ask, finding your voice.

"That's part of your surprise," Andy replies, taking your hand and leading you toward his car. "I told you I had something special planned for your return."

The memory of his words during your late-night phone call sends heat rushing to your cheeks. As if reading your thoughts, Andy's lips curve into a knowing smile.

"Not that," he murmurs, opening the passenger door for you. "At least, not yet."

As you slide into the buttery leather seat, you notice a small gift box nestled in the console between the seats. It's wrapped in elegant silver paper with a black satin ribbon.

"What's this?" you ask as Andy slides into the driver's seat beside you.

"The first part of your welcome home," he says, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "Open it."

Your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for the box. The paper comes away easily, revealing a black velvet jewelry case. Inside, nestled against dark satin, is a delicate platinum bracelet studded with sapphires that match Andy's eyes perfectly.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, genuinely moved by the gesture despite your determination to maintain emotional distance.

"Allow me," Andy says, taking the bracelet and your wrist in his hands. His fingers brush against your pulse point as he secures the clasp, and you wonder if he can feel your heart racing beneath his touch. The sapphires catch the light, winking up at you like tiny fragments of the ocean.

"Thank you," you say softly, turning your wrist to admire how the stones shimmer.

"It suits you," Andy replies, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through you. "I had it made specifically for you."

Of course he did. Nothing off-the-shelf would do for Andy Barber.

He starts the car, the engine purring to life beneath you. As he pulls away from the airfield, you notice his driving is different today—less aggressive, more measured. His right hand leaves the wheel to rest on your thigh, the weight of it both comforting and possessive.

"Did you enjoy your time with Thea?" he asks casually, though you sense the question is anything but.

"Yes," you answer honestly. "It was good to reconnect. She's looking forward to the wedding."

Andy's lips curve slightly. "Is she now? I look forward to meeting the woman who's had your ear these past few days."

"I think you'll like her," you say, though you're not entirely sure that's true. Thea is fiercely protective and sharp as a tack—the kind of woman who sees through pretense. But then again, so do you, and look where that's gotten you.

"I'm sure I will," Andy responds, his thumb tracing idle circles on your thigh as he navigates through traffic. "Anyone important to you is important to me."

His words sound sincere, but you've learned to look beneath the surface with Andy. Everything has layers, calculations, purposes beyond the obvious.

"She's my best friend, Andy. She wants what's best for me."

"As do I," he says smoothly, his hand squeezing your thigh gently. "I'm not threatened by her influence."

You study his profile as he drives, the strong line of his jaw, the confident set of his shoulders. It's hard to imagine Andy threatened by anyone.

You’re quiet for a moment more, then ask, "You're not upset that I left?"

Andy's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. "I wasn't thrilled," he admits, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "But I can understand wanting space. And I knew you'd come back.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. He’s so seemingly nonchalant about this, and you’re not sure if it’s the truth or if he’s saving his unhappiness for later.

"You knew I'd come back?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Were you really so sure? Or was that just hope?”

Andy's eyes flick to yours briefly before returning to the road.

"Both, perhaps. But I've learned that holding too tightly to what I want can sometimes cause it to slip through my fingers."

The admission surprises you—it's more self-awareness than you expected from him. You find yourself wondering if your absence truly affected him, if he spent sleepless nights thinking of you the way you thought of him.

"Where are we going?"

"Patience, sweetheart," Andy says, his thumb continuing its maddening circles on your thigh. "We're almost there."

The car winds through the city, eventually turning onto a tree-lined street in one of Boston's most exclusive neighborhoods. Andy pulls up in front of a stunning brownstone with elegant bay windows and a wrought iron fence. The façade is immaculately maintained, with potted plants flanking the entrance and delicate lace curtains visible through the windows.

"What is this place?" you ask as Andy helps you from the car, his hand lingering at the small of your back.

"This," he says with a hint of pride, "is the home of Olivia Beauchamp."

The name strikes a chord of recognition. "The French pastry chef? The one with the three-year waiting list for wedding cakes?"

Andy's lips quirk into a satisfied smile. "The very same."

He guides you up the steps to the door, which opens before he can even knock. A slender woman in her sixties with silver-streaked dark hair and piercing gray eyes stands in the doorway. She's dressed impeccably in a simple black short-sleeved sweater and dark jeans and a crisp white apron.

"Andy Barber," she greets with a delicate French accent, her eyes appraising you with open curiosity. "And this must be your fiancée. Please, come in."

Andy's hand presses gently against your lower back as he guides you inside. The entryway opens to a bright, airy space that smells of sugar and butter and something floral—possibly orange blossom. Your mouth waters instantly.

"Madame Beauchamp has graciously agreed to create our wedding cake," Andy explains, watching your reaction closely. "I thought we might enjoy a private tasting this afternoon."

You look at him in disbelief. "A private tasting? But the waiting list is—"

"Not for friends of the Beauchamp family," Olivia interjects with a slight smile. "Andy's mother was very dear to me.”

This new piece of information catches you off guard. Andy rarely speaks of his mother, and you've gleaned only fragments about her from passing comments. To hear her mentioned so casually by this world-renowned chef opens a window into a part of Andy's life you've barely glimpsed.

"Come, come," Olivia gestures toward a sunlit room at the back of the house. "Everything is prepared."

The kitchen is a chef's dream—gleaming copper pots hanging from a rack, marble countertops, and state-of-the-art equipment that somehow blends seamlessly with the historic character of the brownstone. In the center stands a large island where an array of exquisite cake samples awaits, each one a miniature work of art.

"Please, sit," Olivia says, indicating two stools at the island. "I have prepared six variations for you to consider."

As you settle onto the stool, Andy sits very close on the stool next to you, and his knee settles against yours under the table. The warmth of his leg against yours is distracting, but you force yourself to focus on the beautiful array of desserts before you. Each sample is meticulously crafted—tiny perfect cakes with different fillings and decorative elements that showcase Olivia's legendary skill.

"These are all original creations," Olivia explains, her hands moving with elegant precision as she arranges delicate forks beside each sample. "I design each cake specifically for the couple after understanding their personalities and preferences."

You glance at Andy, wondering how much he's told her about you—about the unusual circumstances of your engagement.

"The first," Olivia continues, gesturing to a small, perfect square of cake with layers of what appears to be champagne-colored sponge and a pearlescent frosting, "is vanilla bean with champagne buttercream and fresh raspberries."

She slides the plate toward you, and Andy nods for you to try it first. The cake practically melts on your tongue—light yet decadent, with a subtle hint of champagne that complements the vanilla perfectly.

"Oh wow," you murmur, unable to contain your reaction. "That's incredible."

Andy watches your face with undisguised pleasure before taking his own bite. His eyes close briefly as he savors the flavor, and when they open again, they're fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"Delicious," he agrees, though his gaze suggests he's not just talking about the cake.

Olivia smiles knowingly as she presents the next sample. "This is Earl Grey tea cake with honey lavender buttercream and candied lemon."

It is equally exquisite—the tea flavor subtle but distinct, perfectly balanced with the floral notes of the buttercream. You find yourself making small sounds of appreciation as you taste each sample: a dark chocolate cake with salted caramel and fig preserves; a pistachio cake with rosewater and cardamom; a lemon cake with thyme and blackberry; and finally, an almond cake with orange blossom water and a hint of saffron that tastes like sunshine incarnate.

"They're all extraordinary," you say honestly, setting down your fork after the final sample. "I don't know how we could possibly choose."

Olivia beams at your praise, her sharp eyes darting between you and Andy. "The cake should reflect both of you—your tastes, your story together." She focuses her attention on you. "Which speaks to you most?"

You consider the question carefully, aware of Andy watching you intently. "The chocolate with salted caramel was divine, but…" You hesitate, glancing at the remains of the almond cake. "There's something about the almond and orange blossom that feels special."

"An excellent choice," Olivia nods approvingly. "And you, Andy?"

Andy's fingers brush against yours on the table, a seemingly casual touch that sends electricity up your arm. "I'm partial to the chocolate myself, but the almond has a certain brightness that reminds me of you."

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget your carefully maintained walls. Your lips curve into a genuine smile before you can stop yourself.

"Perhaps," Olivia suggests, her eyes twinkling with wisdom that comes from decades of watching couples make decisions, "we could create something that incorporates both? A dark chocolate cake with layers of almond and orange blossom?"

"That sounds perfect," you say, surprised by how much you mean it.

Olivia begins to sketch on a notepad, her pencil moving with swift, sure strokes. "I envision four tiers, perhaps with a cascade of sugar flowers in shades of cream and pale gold. Simple but elegant."

"Beautiful," you say, genuinely moved by her artistry and attention to detail.

"I trust your vision completely, Olivia," Andy adds, his hand covers yours completely now, his thumb stroking your wrist just below the new sapphire bracelet.

The pastry chef studies you both for a moment, her keen eyes missing nothing. "I believe I understand what kind of cake will suit you perfectly," she says with a knowing smile. "A marriage of contrasts—dark and light, sweet and complex."

You feel a flush creep up your neck at her words. The metaphor isn't lost on you.

"Now," Olivia continues, setting her sketch aside, "would you like some tea while we discuss the details?"

Before either of you can answer, she's already moving to a copper kettle on the stove, her movements graceful and efficient. The kitchen fills with the gentle hiss of boiling water as she prepares a pot of fragrant tea.

"Let me show you some designs while you digest," she says, disappearing into another room only to return with a large portfolio. "These are some of my recent creations. Perhaps they will inspire us."

As she flips through pages of stunning wedding cakes, each more elaborate than the last, you feel Andy's breath warm against your ear.

"Are you pleased?" he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"It's incredible," you admit honestly. "How did you manage this?"

His lips curve against your ear. "I told you, Olivia knew my mother. Some connections run deeper than business."

There's something in his tone that makes you wonder about the history there—another piece of the Andy Barber puzzle you've yet to fully understand.

"You knew Andy's mother?" you ask, curiosity finally overriding your stunned appreciation of the exclusive opportunity before you.

Olivia's eyes soften with memory. "Yes, we were neighbors for a time, both trying to forge a way in this world one day after another, and we became rather close." Her gaze shifts to Andy, something like affection warming her severe features. "This boy spent many summers in my kitchen, stealing chocolate and getting underfoot."

Andy's expression is unreadable, but there's a hint of tenderness in his voice when he says, "Madame Beauchamp taught me that patience yields the sweetest rewards."

"A lesson you clearly still struggle with," she replies with a knowing look that makes you wonder just how much this woman understands.

Olivia's keen eyes shift between you and Andy, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Your fiancé was always a determined child. When he wanted something, he would not rest until it was his." She pours the tea with practiced grace. "But I taught him that some things cannot be rushed—good pastry, fine wine, true connections."

You accept the delicate porcelain cup she offers, the warmth seeping into your fingers. "I can't imagine Andy as a child," you admit, stealing a glance at him.

"Oh, he was a serious little boy," Olivia says, her accent thickening with nostalgia. "Always watching, learning, studying. Even then."

Andy's hand slides to your lower back, his touch possessive yet gentle. "Madame exaggerates. I was merely curious."

"Curious enough to dissect my kitchen timer to see how it worked," Olivia retorts with a fond shake of her head. "And then rebuild it better than before."

You can't help but smile at this glimpse of Andy as a child—methodical, inquisitive, already showing signs of the man he would become. It humanizes him in a way few things have since you've known him.

"He would sit at the counter," Olivia continues, gesturing to where you're seated now, "and watch me for hours. Most children his age couldn't sit still for five minutes, but Andy… he observed everything."

"Some habits never change," you murmur, and Andy's fingers press gently against your spine in acknowledgment.

Olivia studies you with renewed interest. "You understand him better than you let on, I think."

The observation catches you off guard, and you take a sip of tea to hide your discomfort. The fragrant liquid coats your tongue—jasmine and something citrusy—as you consider how to respond.

"We're still learning about each other," you say diplomatically, aware of Andy's intense gaze on your profile.

"As it should be," Olivia nods sagely. "The discovery never ends, even after decades together. My Henri and I were married many years before he passed, and he still surprised me in our final days."

There's a wistfulness in her voice that touches something deep within you. You have chosen your fate, but you wonder if you and Andy will have that—years of discovery, of peeling back layers to reveal something new. Or will you only ever be an object to him?

"Now," Olivia says, her professional demeanor returning as she taps a perfectly manicured nail against a design in her sketchbook. "This design incorporates the architectural elements of your venue. The clean lines, the subtle gold accents—they would complement both the richness of the chocolate and the brightness of the almond."

You lean forward, genuinely interested despite yourself. The sketch shows an elegant four-tier cake with intricate geometric patterns that somehow manage to look both modern and timeless.

"It's beautiful," you say, meaning it. The design is sophisticated without being showy—exactly what you would have chosen if you'd had months to plan instead of weeks.

"I thought you might appreciate the balance," Olivia says, her shrewd eyes missing nothing. "Strong foundation, delicate details."

Andy's hand slides from your back to your thigh beneath the counter, his touch both possessive and oddly reassuring. "It's perfect," he agrees. "Just like our wedding will be."

You feel a flutter of anxiety at his words.

The wedding. It looms before you like a beautiful mirage—an event you still can't quite believe is happening in just weeks. You force yourself to focus on the present, on the exquisite cake designs and the warmth of Olivia's kitchen rather than the whirlwind that awaits.

You glance at your watch, realizing you've been at Olivia's for quite some time. The afternoon has slipped away in a haze of exquisite flavors and surprising revelations about Andy's past. It feels strange to see this softer side of him, to witness the genuine respect in Olivia's eyes when she looks at him.

"The wedding is in just under three weeks," Andy tells Olivia, his thumb tracing small circles on your leg. "I know it's short notice, but I hope that won't be a problem."

Olivia raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. "For anyone else, impossible. For you..." She sighs dramatically, but there's affection beneath her exasperation. "I will make it happen."

Andy is so unexpectedly normal on the drive home from the cake sampling at Olivia Beauchamp’s house you’re not sure what to make of it.

He chats easily about the wedding plans, about how he thinks Olivia's cake will be the perfect centerpiece for the reception, how he should note with your team to arrange for lighting that will highlight the sugar work she's planning for the cake. It's almost as if you're just any normal couple planning their wedding, not a man who orchestrated your entire engagement and the woman who's both drawn to and terrified by him.

"You're quiet," Andy observes as you turn onto the winding road that leads to his estate. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with casual intimacy. "Tired from the flight?"

"Just processing," you admit, watching the trees blur past the window. "It was nice meeting Olivia. Seeing that side of you."

Andy's thumb strokes the over the back of your hand. "What side is that?"

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully.

"The side that has history," you offer, meeting his gaze as the car slows at the estate gates. "The boy who stole chocolate and broke kitchen timers. It makes you seem..."

"Human?" Andy supplies, a hint of amusement coloring his voice.

"Real," you correct him. "Most of the time you seem like this perfect, polished creation. Seeing glimpses of your past helps me understand how you became you."

He considers this as the gates swing open. "Does that change anything for you?"

The question hangs between you, weighted with implications. You study his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes even when they're fixed on the road ahead.

"I don't know yet," you answer honestly.

Andy's expression shifts subtly, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his features before his usual mask of control returns. "Olivia knew me during a formative time. Before I fully understood what I was capable of."

The car crunches up the gravel driveway toward the house—your house now, though it still feels like his domain. He drives around to the back and pulls into the palatial garage that houses his collection of luxury vehicles. As Andy brings the car to a stop, he turns to you, his eyes searching yours.

"Did you enjoy my surprise?" he asks.

"Yes," you answer honestly. "It was thoughtful. Perfect, actually."

His smile is genuine, and it transforms his face in a way that makes your heart flutter traitorously.

"I'm glad," Andy says, his voice dropping to that low register that always sends shivers down your spine. "And it's not all I have planned."

He kills the engine, and the sudden silence in the garage feels charged with electricity. The lighting coming into the car casts shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the intensity in his eyes as he turns fully toward you.

"I missed you," he says simply, the words hanging between you like a confession. His hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. "More than I expected to."

Before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, hungry and demanding. This kiss is nothing like the one at the airfield—it's raw, possessive, unleashed. His tongue sweeps past your lips without preamble, claiming you with an urgency that steals your breath.

"Andy," you gasp against his lips, your hands instinctively coming up to grip his shoulders. His kiss is consuming, desperate in a way that makes your head spin and your body respond despite all your carefully constructed walls.

"Out," he commands against your mouth, already reaching for his door handle. "Now."

You comply, stepping out into the cool air of the garage on shaky legs. Before you can fully orient yourself, Andy is there, crowding you against the car, his body hard and insistent against yours.

"Three days," he murmurs, his voice rough with need as he presses his forehead to yours. "Three days without you felt like an eternity."

His confession sends a thrill through you—this powerful, controlled man admitting weakness, admitting need. His hands frame your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones with surprising tenderness.

"I thought about you every minute," he confesses, his voice rough with desire. "Every single minute you were gone."

And the next second his mouth is trailing down your neck, leaving a path of fire in its wake. You arch against him instinctively, your body responding to his touch despite your wish to resist him.

"Turn around," he growls against your throat, his hands already working at the buttons of your blouse.

You obey without thinking, your body responding to his command before your mind can process it. His broad chest presses against your back as his hands slip beneath your partially opened blouse, palming your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.

"I need you," Andy breathes against your ear, his voice raw with an emotion that sounds almost like reverence. "Right here. Right now."

"Andy," you gasp, aware of your surroundings. "We're in the garage."

"No one will disturb us," he assures you, his breath hot against your neck. "The staff knows better."

His hands slide down to your hips, then forward to undo the fastening of your jeans, pushing them down your legs in one fluid motion. Cool air kisses your exposed skin as Andy presses you forward, caging you in against the side of his Aston Martin. The metal is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning heat of Andy's body behind you.

His hands are everywhere at once—skimming over your hips, gripping your waist, sliding up to cup your breasts. The contrast between his suit-covered body and your increasing nakedness adds to the wild, forbidden nature of the moment. You hear the telltale sound of his belt being unbuckled, the soft hiss of his zipper lowering.

"I've thought about this," Andy murmurs against your ear, his voice a dark promise. "Bending you over, taking you hard and fast the moment you returned to me."

You should protest—you came back with plans to discuss boundaries, to establish a more equal footing. But your body betrays you, arching back against him, seeking the hardness you can feel pressing against you.

"Look at you," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "So eager for me, even after running away."

"I didn't run—" you begin to protest, but your words dissolve into a gasp as he pushes two fingers inside you.

"Didn't you?" Andy's voice is dangerously soft against your ear as his thumb circles your clit with devastating precision. "Stockholm is quite far for a casual visit with a friend."

You try to focus, to maintain some semblance of control.

"It was just a visit," you manage between shallow breaths, trying to hold onto your composure as his fingers work their magic inside you.

"Was it?" His teeth graze your earlobe, making you shiver. "Or were you testing me? Testing us?"

You don't answer, can't answer as he curls his fingers in that way that makes your knees weak. Your palms press flat against the cool metal of the car, seeking stability as pleasure builds within you.

"I think you needed to know if I would let you go," Andy continues, his voice a seductive rumble against your skin. "If I would chase you or wait for you to return on your own."

His fingers withdraw suddenly, leaving you aching and empty. But then he pushes inside you in one powerful thrust, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming—the stretch, the fullness, the sheer pleasure of him buried deep inside you. Your breath escapes in a broken moan as your body adjusts to his intrusion.

"Is that what you wanted to know?" Andy's voice is strained with the effort of restraint as he holds still inside you, letting you adjust to his size. His hands grip your hips with bruising intensity. "If I would wait or chase?"

"Andy," you gasp, unable to form a coherent thought as he begins to move, setting a punishing rhythm that has you clinging to the car for support.

"Answer me," he demands, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your neck. "Is that why you left?"

"Yes," you admit, the truth torn from you by the relentless pleasure building with each thrust. "I needed... space to think clearly."

His pace slows momentarily, becoming more deliberate, each stroke deep, punctuating how you ached to feel him inside you again.

"And did you?" Andy's lips brush the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Think clearly?"

"Yes," you gasp as he ruts inside you. "I did."

"We'll discuss your thoughts later," he promises, his voice dark with desire. "Right now, I need to remind you where you belong."

The possessive words should anger you, but instead, they send a fresh wave of heat through your core and you clench around him.

"Tell me you want this," Andy demands, his voice incredibly serious despite the tension coiled in his body. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you confess, the words spilling from your lips without hesitation. "I always wanted you."

The admission seems to ignite something primal in Andy. His movements become more urgent, more demanding as he drives into you with renewed purpose. One hand slides around to find your center, fingers circling with expert precision while the other maintains a firm grip on your hip, holding you in place for his onslaught of pleasure.

"You're mine," he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ear. "Say it."

The words catch in your throat. You want to give him what he wants—what part of you wants too—but something holds you back. A flicker of resistance, a need to maintain some small piece of yourself that isn't completely consumed by him.

Andy senses your hesitation, his rhythm faltering for just a moment. Then his lips curve against your neck in a knowing smile. "Still fighting me," he murmurs, not sounding disappointed but almost pleased. "That's alright, sweetheart.

We have time."

His hips snap forward with renewed purpose, each thrust driving deeper than the last. Your fingers curl against the cool metal of the car, seeking purchase as pleasure builds relentlessly within you.

"I can feel how your body responds to me," Andy continues, his voice strained with exertion but still commanding. "How you tighten around me when I claim you. How close you are already," he purrs, the vibration of his voice against your skin making you shiver. "Come for me. Let me feel it."

His fingers work magic against your clit as his cock fills you completely, and the dual sensation pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you with unexpected force, making you cry out his name as your inner walls clench around him. The sound echoes in the cavernous garage, your voice bouncing back to you as if to emphasize your surrender.

Andy groans in response, his rhythm faltering as your body pulses around him. "That's it," he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "Give me everything."

He continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging the waves of pleasure until you're trembling beneath him. Only then does he allow himself release, burying himself deep inside you with a groan.

You feel the warm pulse of his release inside you, your body still trembling with aftershocks as he holds you firmly against the car. Andy's forehead rests against your shoulder, his breathing ragged against your skin. For a moment, neither of you moves, joined together in the aftermath of passion.

The garage is silent except for your mingled breathing and the occasional clicks of the cooling engine. Andy's body presses into you, holding you captive between him and the cool metal of the Aston Martin. The contrast of temperatures—his heat behind you, the car's chill against your front—mirrors the contradictions that define your relationship with him.

His hands slide up your sides in a possessive caress, and his lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. He presses a tender kiss there, then another, working his way along the curve of your neck.

"Don't move," he murmurs against your skin, the command gentle but unmistakable.

You feel him withdraw from your body, leaving you empty and a little shaky. But his hands grip your hips firmly, steadying you and keeping you in place. Then, to your shock, he sinks to his knees behind you.

"Andy, what are you—" Your question dissolves into a gasp as you feel his mouth against your most intimate flesh, his tongue sliding through your combined release.

The sensation is overwhelming—intimate and obscenely erotic. His tongue explores you thoroughly, cleaning away the evidence of your passion with reverent attention. Your fingers curl against the sleek metal of the car as your overstimulated body responds despite itself, a new tension building where you thought only sensitivity remained.

"Andy," you breathe, not sure if you're protesting or encouraging.

He makes a sound against your flesh—part growl, part hum of approval—and the vibration sends a fresh jolt of pleasure through you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open for his ministrations as he devours you with single-minded focus.

When your second orgasm washes over you, it's gentler but somehow more profound than the first. You slump against the car, utterly spent, as Andy rises behind you. His hands are gentler now as he turns you to face him. His mouth claims yours in a searing kiss, allowing you to taste the mingled essence of your bodies on his tongue. It's filthy and possessive and utterly intoxicating.

You feel thoroughly and utterly disheveled, but when he finally pulls back, he looks remarkably composed apart from the darkness in his eyes and the slight flush on his cheekbones.

"Welcome home," he says.

What did you think about meeting someone from Andy's past? And was this what you expected from him when you returned from your jetaway to Stockholm?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#chris evans characters #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #female reader #i'm your man collection #aspen wrote something

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tiredofthehumanlife · 2 days ago

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I too fall asleep after eating

Barbie dolls: vampire! rosekiller x gn!reader

word: 1k

summary: you tell your vampire bfs to feed on you while you guys are making out(?) it's strange you'll figure it out

warnings: blood, vampires feeding on a human (🫵), blood kink😁, what else um, I didn't write sex I just wrote a little kissy kissy, Evan says I'm sorry about seven times, finger sucking love me a good finger sucking, a little short 😁

You hated to say it but your boyfriends were kind of strange. You could never have cute outside dates. No picnics, no apple picking, nothing with the sun. The number of dates you had after sundown. They even set up a picnic outside in the dark lit with candles to make up for them not able to make it to the first one. They both would stare at you on your front doorstep until you asked if they wanted to come in. Which you thought was strange because why didn’t they just come in already? It’s not like you were strangers. Furthermore, they both had a garlic allergy. This was quite interesting because who on earth had a garlic garlic allergy and how did they find each other like that?

Months went by and your relationship just got stronger. You eventually asked them if they ever thought of feeding on you. Barty made a large show of saying no but Evan on the other hand, stayed silent. You ignored Barty obviously overselling it and raised an eyebrow at Evan. He pressed his hand to his mouth, drawing your attention to his long sharp nails and you wondered how you hadn’t piece it together before.

So when Barty and Evan both sat you down and told you they were vampires, you weren’t totally shocked. You obviously weren’t expecting it but it’s not like you were dropping your jaw in shock.

You said, “Yeah, makes sense.” They were more shocked by your not-shock than you were shocked by their vampirism. After they got over their surprise, they said you could leave if you wanted to. They understood if you were uncomfortable. You told them they were batshit insane if they thought you were going to leave. You also pointed out your awesome pun that they didn’t seem to enjoy as much as you did.

You never asked them if they wanted to feed on you while you were sleeping together but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about it. You could imagine the tingling in your head as you straddled Barty. You could imagine his blissed-out face from being full. You could imagine Evan with a small smile pinching at his lips because of his slipping hunger. Their bodies warm with your blood.

“Once or twice, but two vamps on one poor soul like you would be a lot on your body. It’s not really a logical idea, however fantasy…” Evan let his sentence trail off.

A week later was the first time they fed on you. You actually quite liked it. Barty drank from your neck and Evan sank his fangs into your arm. You thought you would dislike the feeling, but it had a tingling sensation. You hummed and dropped back against the couch, breathing deeply. It’s almost like you could feel the blood traveling from your veins to their mouths. It reminded you of a hickey the way you could feel them sucking the skin around their fang punctures. When they were done it left you with a tingling buzz around your head that reminded you of Lily and Mary’s conjoined bachelorette party. You liked it and Evan and Barty liked it so it became a common occurrence. At least once a month you three settled on the couch.

Then one night, you were kneeling on the bed with Evan behind you and Barty in front. Evan was kissing down your neck as Barty started sucking a hickey into your side. Barty’s hands were pressed to your ass, while Evan’s were trailing around your torso. You had your eyes shut from the feeling of their mouths and hands traveling around your body. It felt like when you hid under the warm covers in the dead of winter. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt a stinging pain in your neck where Evan’s mouth was. You sucked in a gasp, making Evan pull away.

Evan started whispering apologies, making Barty pull away too. Your hand slowly traveled to your neck, dabbing the spot you felt the sting from. You pulled your hand back to see your fingertips wet with your blood.

“You bit me.” You whispered. Barty tugged your wrist down, staring at your fingers. Evan shook his head, furiously wiping at your neck to get rid of the evidence but just smearing your blood around.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just- I could feel your pulse under my tongue. I shouldn’t have I know, I know but I just couldn’t help it. You taste so good, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Evan whispered, still wiping at your neck. You could feel the temperature difference between where the air was chilling the blood on your throat. You thought for a moment, trying to decide what you were going to say next.

“Keep going.”

“Hm?” Your eye twitched. You hated repeating yourself.

“Feed on me.” You whispered, tilting your head back to look at Evan. Evan squinted at you with surprise.

You leaned further back into Evan's chest, slipping arms over his shoulders. Barty kept his mouth on your hip, sucking hickeys into the skin there. You worried their mouths would get tired but as the blood drained from your body so did the logic.

“You want us to feed on you while we’re fucking?” Barty asked. You looked down at him. He was sat on his heels. Instead of repeating your words, you slipped your blood-soaked fingers past Barty’s lips. Barty’s eyes fluttered as he accepted your fingers. He pushed his lips just past your first knuckle from the tips, swirling his tongue around your prints.

You tilted your head to the side as Evan’s mouth met your neck again. He wrapped his lips around the puncture and you could feel him sucking on your neck just like on the couch. Barty soon pulled away from your fingers, dropping his mouth to your hip.

Eventually, they switched places. Evan started adding to a large array of hickies along your stomach and thighs while Barty licked at the bloody mess Evan left. Then he gently pulled your head to the other side digging his fangs into your neck. You’d rather not admit that you moaned at the feeling.

Later when your head had a buzz to it and your boys had their satiated smiles on, you three flopped back into bed. You were too tired to gracefully fall. Barty and Evan were too full to give a damn. All things considered, you liked having vampire strange boyfriends.

#a little short but im emptying out my drafts #evan rosier #evan rosier x reader #barty jr #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x reader #barty x evan #barty crouch x evan rosier #rosekiller #rosekiller x reader #poly!rosekiller #evan rosier x barty crouch jr #marauders fic #the marauders era #the marauders #the maraunders map #marauders era #marauders

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mistressofthemanor · 3 days ago

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masterofthemanor

"Right" He agreed, his tone betraying both the relief and the joy that suddenly overcame him upon hearing her confirm that she'd not simply acknowledged his will, but understood his intentions and stood beside him, giving them a chance as a couple to face their first obstacle together in years. At first, he merely nodded with encouragement as it dawned on him, then the corners of his lips slowly turned upwards on their own accord. He was grateful for how she decided to handle their discussion; for, despite her own relentless nature, how she was able to put her ego to the side and give way to something that'd strengthen them as a unit. "Let's do that" He concluded and the smile on his face only became wider by that point as he was simply happy to be with her in that moment; to witness the outcome that filled him with hope and motivation for their future. He was determined to not only unveil the truth to their daughter, but also convince her that everything would be fine - and even better - so she wouldn't break the ties with either of them. At her expected, but not awaited final question, he couldn't help but hum to himself and reach for his tea to take a sip and earn himself a moment before giving his suggestion. "Now, that's a tough question" He announced nonchalantly, staring into his cup and biting down on his lower lip before placing the china down on the table and turning back to her. "The logical answer would be that we tell her as soon as possible. We should get over with it, so we can get this out of the way and stop hiding- I don't want to do that for long. *there, he stopped for a second and gave her a meaningful look* However, it's not that simple. You see, I would want to give her some time- a few days at least to get used to the idea and find her bearings- probably go over everything with Alexander, who'd, most likely soothe her, which'd help our cause... *he explained smoothly, resolved and composed, and without missing a beat* Additionally, I believe- and do correct me if I'm wrong and you have other notions, I feel we could use some time together as well. Just the two of us, no distractions, no responsibilities, no snooping around, no what-ifs... a peaceful getaway if you will, hopefully to aid us in finding our way back to each other... *shrugs* we need to get to know each other before I introduce you to my daughter *he smirked at her playfully, then cleared his throat before switching back to a more serious tone after his joke that meant to take the edge off of them needing to find their way back to one another* Ideally, I'd say two weeks. We could break the news to them after the recital- just in case our daughter gets so upset she refuses to be in the same room with us- that way, she couldn't revoke the invitation and we wouldn't have to let Ariadné down by not showing up at the event."

Quietly, she studied him as he spoke, a subtle flicker of fondness playing in her eyes. The corners of her lips curved gradually as he laid out his plan, her amusement restrained but unmistakable, especially when he joked about introducing her to Celeste. When he finished, she sat back slightly in her chair, folding her hands in her lap with the air of someone who had just listened to a well-crafted proposal and was giving it due consideration, although, in truth, her decision had already begun forming the moment he said we need some time together. “Well,” she said with a slow, deliberate elegance, “I must say, that is the most charmingly plan I’ve heard in some time." Her smirk deepened, though the warmth behind it softened the jest. “I admire the cleverness of it all. Pushing the confrontation past the recital to protect Ariadnè… ensuring the performance isn’t overshadowed by family dramatics… using the delay as an excuse to escape with me for two uninterrupted weeks…” She gave a slow, approving nod. “Very strategic. Very you.” Then, her gaze settled on his, and her voice lowered, losing some of its sharpness—becoming softer, more intimate. “But you’re right, Lucius. We do need time. Not just to remember what this is, but to be in it, without shadows crowding every step. If we’re going to face her, we need to do it as something solid. Something real. Not just familiar. And two weeks…” she mused. “That’s enough time for her to breathe, for Ariadnè’s moment to stay hers, and for us to come back to this house knowing exactly what we’re walking into.” She squeezed his hand one last time, then released it and took another sip of her tea, clearly satisfied. “So,” she said, with a trace of a smile lingering on her lips. “Where are you taking me, Mr. Malfoy?"

Bones of Contention

#masterofthemanor #bones of contention

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shamelesstragedyenjoyer · 2 days ago

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Ok, so. I know this is far-fetched, but stay with me now. I’ve scrolled through numerous Duke Thomas fanfics as his #1 fan, and I have yet to see his potential for behavioral attachment and obsessive tendencies being used as a key part of a plot. So I decided I’ll do it myself.

A mutual of mine made me read—though I didn’t want to at first—Batman: Urban Legends, and the Smile Drops drug derived from Scarecrow’s fear gas storyline really opened a door into a lot of previously unexplored terrain regarding the long-term consequences of fear gas/Smile Drops.

What fear gas does is trick your psyche by rearranging your neurological pathways into whatever the component of the formula wants. It’s never been in a solid form before, only as gas, and the transformation from gas to solid for the creation of Smile Drops is revolutionary. Pair that with ith the power vacuum left from Two-Face retiring (Batman: Detective Comics #1042–#1064) and the disappearance of Scarecrow, it makes it more than likely that someone was smart enough to take it apart, recreate it, and make more of it—with different purposes.

But what does it have to do with Duke? You may ask. Well, as I stated before, one of the most interesting aspects of Duke as a character is his obsessive nature—obsessive nature that’s only intensified by the void left behind by the loss of his parents. Obsessive nature within which lies my main point: what happens if a mutated version of fear gas—or Smile Drops—hits Duke? What happens when the drug hijacks his brain’s attachment mechanisms? What if his obsession— this means to fill the void— doesn't attach to a thing—like the idea of justice or protecting the Narrows—but instead latches onto a person?

There’s compelling science behind this. In times of crisis or trauma, the human brain goes into survival mode. If someone is present in that state—especially someone who offers safety or relief—the brain anchors to them.

It’s a form of trauma bonding.

The prefrontal cortex is compromised, the amygdala overfires, and oxytocin (the bonding hormone) is dumped into the system. To put it simply, when in a state of heightened vulnerability, the person who’s present when your brain is unraveling and re-forming becomes ingrained—wired into the architecture of your mind as something internal, essential, inescapable.

I thought about who the most interesting character would be to tie into this plot— to be there when Duke loses his mind. At first, I considered Cassandra Cain anx then Stephanie Brown. But ultimately, I chose Jason Todd and here's why;

They’re the most similar members of the Batfam: both from lower-class backgrounds, raised in similar, neighboring areas; both lost their parents and went through the foster system, only to run away from it; both were eventually adopted by a wealthy man who—regardless of intentions—forced them to give up part of their independence. A man who holds, in many ways, the power to shape or break the futures they’ve been fighting to build. Long story short, they're the same in the ways that matters; kids who never had a choice but were expected to rise anyway.

I think Jason would see himself in Duke, in that way. He’d be sympathetic, patient, maybe even protective sometimes.

And, do I think this could be one of the few genuine chances Duke has at building a healthy relationship with someone during this timeframe (without his parents in his life)? Absolutely.

But would Duke see it that way, especially so soon?

Absolutely not.

Because, Duke lives in the Manor he watches Bruce and Jason argue constantly. Jason cuts off contact with the family over and over. There is no time for them to bond. And for Duke, that doesn’t matter—because this has nothing to do with him.

But then, picture this; Jason operates in Crime alley and Duke the Narrows so they are in proximity when Duke gets this new lesser than version fear gaz. And Jason saves Duke. Is there when he unravels.

And in the aftermaths, Duke internalizes an obsession with Jason without even realizing it, at first. And it's true to say that Jason wouldn't be weirded out, if Duke got attached to him, especially after Red Hood And The Outlaws #25 and in the light of the events that have taken place in Heroes In Crisis—but this is Gotham and thats excuse enough to spoil something that could have been good, given time— but here's the tragedy: Duke doesn’t fully recognize it as a real connection, let alone attachment. His mind, altered by the drug and shaped by loss, dehumanizes Jason. He doesn’t view him as a person but as a subject—something to analyze, to observe. This pattern fits Duke’s psychological profile; he has a tendency to step back from things to view them clearly. That detachment makes it easier to cope, but harder to connect. (He did this with Riddler—treating Nygma as a puzzle instead of a person who creates them.)

So what does that mean for their non-existent relationship? It becomes… strange. Complicated. Duke keeps Jason at a distance emotionally even more now, all the while being mentally obsessed with him. And it all roots back to a single moment: while under the effects of Fear Drops, and completely blind of senses, Duke confused Jason for his mom—and clung to him like he once did her. And now, the lines between those attachments have blurred. Every time he thinks of her, he thinks of him.

What could have been the foundation for a healthy bond becomes something distorted—not out of malice, but because the trauma left Duke unable to tell the difference between love and survival.

Here are the tags, dropping this sometime next month!

#duke thomas #the signal #red hood #jason todd #batkids #archive of our own #batman comics #dc robin #dc comics #dc universe #dcu comics #batman

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dead-generations · 10 hours ago

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Your post on bluey mentioned that your biosecurity-focused customs agents are far less ideologically anti-immigration than one would expect; is there just a strong filtering for that type in whoever is enforcing the migrant detainment islands?

this is just a misunderstanding of how migration works in australia, confusing it for what happens in america. point blank: australians are not worried about illegal migration because that does not happen. australians concerned with migration are concerned with 1 quantity of perfectly legal migration (typically as a function of housing costs, sometimes as wage supression) 2 the economic dependence on student migrants specifically 3 the use of easy to access temporary visas to transition into permanent migration, mainly through (at least previously) fraudulent schools set up specifically to launder student-visa-to-permanent-residency 4 sometimes as a function of specifically anti indian racism

so the idea that airport security cares at all about why 99% of people are coming here is just silly. There just aren't people coming here without visas. They will be looking for smuggling of goods, which IS a real problem at airports. And there is a racialised element to that - lebs and yobs are screened for smuggling cigarettes, and indians, viets and chinese are profiled for smuggling in biosecurity risks. which doesn't typically lead to deportation or detention, just to your shit being trashed and being slapped with fat fines. Though ciggy smugglers do go to trial, iirc. This is universally viewed as a matter of vital national security, and frankly thats not an exaggeration. if anything we are too lax. The customs people are dickhead control freaks in my experience, with no sense of humour and a lot of self importance, which is not typical for australians

but there are the migrant islands, so lets talk about those. first, where do they come from? the only way to illegally sneak into australia is by boat - and australia has had a maximal deterrent program against boat migration for over a decade, actually since 01 i think. If you come by boat you will never, ever, ever be allowed into australia on asylum or any other pathway. they publicise this in indonesia, thailand, sri lanka etc in the native languages in posters and advertising, also emphasizing risk to your life, claims that the majority of people die and that people smugglers are lying to you.

the few boats that still come here (i dont think there have been many in YEARS) are in for a very, very bad time because they mean what they say. you are rounded up and shipped off of australia to one of a handful of island detention centers where you will waste away for god knows how long. I think some have just been abandoned forever.

I know someone who worked at one of these detention centres, one of the processing ones before people are shipped to christmas island. she was a nurse. She was haunted by the experience. People tried to kill themselves without fail when they learned they would be going to christmas island, so no one at the facility knew these movements were happening more than 3 hours out from the transfers. They would still manage to swallow razorblades, which did nothing to stop them being shipped off. Her job was basically keeping them alive to be shipped to hell.

When she interviewed to work at the island itself, one of the interview questions was

You will have patients who you assess, correctly, as needing to go to a hospital facility only available on the mainland to save their lives. You will be denied. Will you be able to handle that?

In this case, the cruelty really is the point. It has in fact worked and stopped boat migration totally.

talking about these facilities is more or less completely taboo in australian society. we dont like to think about it. we know they are cruel but broadly speaking, people believe it to be necessary to some degree. it conflicts with our national self image and our desire to be sanctimonious to americans. And indeed it was these facilities which directly inspired trumps asylum policies, first with guatemala and now el salvador.

now to return to your question as to where dickheads work: I don't know. maybe they do work there. the person i knew who worked there was a bleeding heart who was clearly haunted. But ill tell you a story: I knew a british migrant who told me her friends would never come to australia because of a girl they knew, a scottish girl who came here with her friends on a work-holiday visa. she was staying with three other british girls in a share house, and one of them overstayed their visa. the story goes that they were black bagged by cops and shipped to queensland to do agricultural labour before being deported. I had to inform this person that no many in australia would be particularly sympathetic there.

If that sounds random - one year visas in australia can only be renewed if you spend an amount of time performing agricultural labor, typically in queensland. I have heard mixed stories, but mostly it appears to be exactly as pleasant as that sounds. I typically advise people to not do it.

Funnily enough in melbourne I would say the control freak migrant haters end up becoming fare cops on the trams. In sydney that title probably goes to the anti terrorism freaks. overall it probably goes to the AFP, the federal cops, and some sections of the state cops. A lot of cops end up being hired thugs for politicians (like the fixated persons unit targeting friendlyjordies for trolling a corrupt politician).

#this went long but there you are.

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intuitive-revelations · 3 days ago

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Semi-live/retrospective analysis of The Interstellar Song Contest!

And here's my usual commentary for episode 6! Featuring a long final discussion by a very split me, who wants to rave about bits they loved in this episode, but needs to confront some very concerning (or at least bungled) messaging.

As I'm not sure what will go on with the airing with Eurovision and the football, I'm just going to go ahead and post this one before the live airing, since I've seen plenty of other people already posting anyway. Spoilers below the read more.

Before we get started, some acknowledgement that I seem to have been partially spoiled regarding some reveals this episode. I'll hold my tongue for now, as I want to see how it comes together, but we'll see...

I love the absurdity of being cryogenically suspended just to keep hosting for centuries.

Ok, 2925 And it's the 803rd song content - assuming this grew out of an Earth thing (and follows Earth years) that would give us a potentially starting date of 2122?

As someone who's never watched Eurovision in my life, despite how much everyone ends up talking about it, I'm not sure what to make of the premise of this episode. Neat idea I think.

Oh yeah! Juno Dawson's writing!

WTF, that's Trenzalore! Literally stock footage from Time of the Doctor. Wasn't expecting to see it here (especially as I didn't think it would have been settled until circa. the 51st century).

A nice couple of easter eggs at the bottom, with the Zygon New Colony and Alpha Centauri. Trion too!

Also look at that resolution: 11920x6705.

Ok, Mrs Flood's here straight away.

Oh, good point regarding Earth from Belinda! This would seemingly imply Earth is fine, though absolutely it may not be a human derived thing. Trenzalore being a human colony (plus potentially the Zygon colony, if they're from Earth's refugee population) could be points towards Earth's state too?

Ah, the Doctor's joy at seeing Belinda enjoying herself.

So the vindicators are important to Flood. We'll see how accurate my prediction is I guess? "Link" seems to imply otherwise.

Does Freddi Fox's audio seem slightly off in this scene? Might just be my bluetooth headphone delay, but the lip sync seems weird. It's like he's barely annunciating?

"Hellians" huh? Could have done a bit more with this design, but whatever.

This is an insane number of people to kill off! wtf?!

"Not again" lol. I also see they're using the same freezing over in the vacuum visuals from Oxygen, which always seemed to be possibly inspired by GOTG.

Never mind, not dead I guess. Also mavity again! Interesting - as if Earth is gone then there's no real need to use that word again, since people presumably aren't actually speaking English here? I guess it can still be translated relative to Belinda I guess.

I wonder if Mrs Flood got sucked out too?

A DELTA WAVE?! (Remember the Doctor's plan in Parting of the Ways?)

Interesting detail on the betting. I guess that's more due to the broadcast than FTL communication specifically, but interesting thought.

Dugga fricking Doo

So much for Belinda enjoying herself...

"And I never got to tell him?" ??? I can't imagine Belinda has anything specific she knows she wants to tell the Doctor, so is this more of a subconscious thing, where she really is hiding another identity chameleon arch style? (Again, may have been partially spoiled here, but let's see.)

SUSAN SUSAN SUSAN, LOML!!!! HOLY SHIT!

I was spoiled on some sort of tease relating to her, but I wasn't expecting to actually see Carole Ann Ford today?!

This could link to the above, but I think it's a red herring. a) that's a sudden 'reveal', b) Bel still referred to the Doctor as her 'friend', and c) it's pretty notable we've got Carole Ann Ford here specifically.

(Also wow, she looks great here!)

Weird that this moment specifically reached the Doctor, is Susan telepathically reaching out to him right this moment, and that's what woke him?

Obviously the Doctor surviving in space is nothing new, but the frost melting is a bit interesting. I guess it was more just water settling on him, but makes me wonder if his body was also going to a sort of 'rest state', and the shock was enough to get his body temperature shooting up to keep him awake? We know Time Lords can survive a wide range of temperatures after all (oddly, despite being not that warm-blooded).

Also curious if there's actually oxygen here? The Doctor making sounds etc. would imply as such, as would everyone not really being dead, so maybe it's just a) low pressure, and b) cold?

Ooh, Gary's another nurse!

Ey, respiratory bypass system mention.

"Camp" lol.

"Mavitic suspension" oh come on... I'm trusting the low pressure idea.

"she/her" Yay, if a surprising courtesy to provide in talking to a terrorist in this situation.

Oh wow, and here we get to see the delta wave in action!

Pretty concerning that so many TVs (or future equivalent) are capable of broadcasting a delta wave?

Ok, so we're clearly getting a prejudice (and maybe Palestine?) thing with the Hellians. Kinda tired of stories where the oppressed go beyond being "well-intentioned extremists".

Also Cora is 100% a Hellian right? Horns hidden in her hair?

Graham Norton!

Oh so the song contest does originate from Earth? Interesting...

Definitely teasing the Susan connection, but I'm still sceptical.

"Revenge against the corporation" Hm?

Damn, and he we get the rageful side of the Doctor. The "ice" line reminds of that one: "there's a sliver of ice in his heart" from Series 7.

"That's not him" And Bel notices.

Oh, so horns are less hidden and instead cut. At least Cora is a lot more sympathetic. Also obvious real world parallels with her hiding this side of her.

And there's the corporation again. So they're responsible for Hellia. Is it a thing where the Hellians went into debt, and had to sell everything off?

"Your planet was invaded for honey?" Damn, I noticed the ad earlier, of course it comes back.

It may not be that absurd, but the sonic being able to be used so broadly and destructively against robots always feels a bit much, since it kinda implies most robots shouldn't be a threat. I get there's probably difficult levels of complexity to this based on the tech, but still.

Also the gun here, that tends to be particularly egregious. Again, I can excuse it for the sake of a story, but tend to prefer being a bit more restrained with these things.

Damn, rare we see the Doctor get to the point of actually trying to hurt someone for glee. Pretty ironic after what he just said about revenge. Also surprisingly fitting this comes with visions of Susan, given One's early attitude.

From reactions I'm seeing, I'm clearly not alone in finding this rough. Especially with no-one, not even Belinda, calling the Doctor out harder. I thought this would be the thing that pushed her back away from starting to enjoy travelling and become determined to leave, so I wasn't expecting her to coddle him so much.

Hard light holograms as a tractor beam is actually pretty clever.

"I'll do anything for you" lol

Did anyone find Mrs Flood among the rescued people, or has she been fine this whole time?

I wonder if they did any conlanging for this song, or if it's just syllables.

The intercuts of visuals of Hellia, a planet we don't even know, are honestly a great addition.

Side note - I think that alien behind the Doctor is an old prosthetic? I think i recognise it from Rings of Akhaten, plus some other Moffat era episodes.

Hmm... so in regard to real world parallels, what's the message here? As I said, it's always a bit uncomfortable when a member of an oppressed group acts as an extreme terrorist in a story, especially villainised as much as Kid here. On the other hand, in every other way, there's clearly a message here simultaneously celebrating the union of Eurovision and the like, while also seemingly condemning its failure on a political / world events front? Still pretty incoherent though. I'll go into a lot more detail later.

"I don't think I've ever told you, you're wonderful." Oh, is that it?

Ah, and of course this comes back to Gallifrey for the Doctor. Was thinking it, especially with his reaction to Cora's song. It's also clearly foreshadowing, given Susan's appearances (and, that thing I've been spoiled on).

Uh oh, Graham Norton here. It's going to be revealed this didn't come "from" Earth, but is more of a tribute to it, isn't it?

"Poor old Earth died many years ago." YEP!

"It is said the planet disintegrated, into rock and dust and ashes. All of the memories here were sieved from the rubble of a civilisation that died in a single second. Cause: Unknown." IT'S GOING TO BE THE VINDICTOR, I'M SO CERTAIN OF THIS. Did I actually get this right as far back as the first episode, that the TARDIS trying to get home is ripping Earth apart?

OMG, is him going there now going to be what causes it?!

CLOISTER BELL CLOISTER BELL

Jesus, that's a hard cut.

Ah, there's Flood. Here we go.

YEP IT'S THE RANI! Also bigeneration, which I also expected.

Hm... I was sceptical of Flood being the Rani, and in a weird way I still kind of am. Her new regeneration definitely has the right vibes at least, which is good! On the other hand, Flood herself doesn't really feel like the same character. Sure Time Lords can be eccentric and vary in personality wildly, but it's weird for an incarnation of the Rani to be so glib. At least the new one feels a lot more in character, which helps sell it.

Also interesting how oddly submissive and apologetic Flood is to her other incarnation, during and after the bigeneration? "Oh I'm ever so sorry ma'am." "Unfortunately, yes." Feels like there might be something else going on here.

Maybe there's something in-particular with the Flood incarnation, to try and induce the bigeneration, like taking cues from the Doctor after his bigeneration? Clearly the new Rani views her with some disdain, like she's a variation from the norm.

I'm sure other people are saying this, but it's so funny that after so many years theorising about Susan and/or the Rani returning, we now get both in one episode!

Overall Thoughts

Oh boy. I'm in two (or more) minds about this episode. To the point I think I need to properly segment this discussion.

Let's Talk Politics...

First off: the messaging of this story is kinda disasterous. I was going to be more forgiving and put it more aside, but seeing some other people's discussions does want me to emphasise the issues here, especially after not talking that much about it above. Plus it is leaving a worse and worse taste in my mouth the more I think about it.

In particular, the Hellians continues a bad trend (see things like The Zygon Inversion) of villainising portrayals of abused peoples while trying to provide real world commentary. While the trope has a long history and can definitely be interesting in cases, it is at it's worst here, putting the "extreme" in "well-intentioned extremist".

The Hellian's exact history is clearly a bit of a mix, between the capitalistic colonisation and enslavement of their world, and the way Cora has to hide her true self. This could be an allegory for a number of things (the latter partially making me compare it to a queer/trans metaphor) but obviously it's impossible to watch without thinking of Palestine. This villainous portrayal seems especially blind, considering the episode directly discusses how they've been targetted by propaganda, regarding ideas of things like cannibalism and witchcraft (they're literally called HELLIANS and are still getting demonised!). Meanwhile the status quo of the Intergalactic Song Contest is largely upheld, with the exception of allowing Cora to sing about her people. There's clearly some element of critique there, which is appreciated, but it is not enough. Note there's never any discussion of the Song Contest itself doing anything wrong, but rather just a general vibe of intolerance which Cora stands up against, and some offscreen "corporation" which doesn't even get its own name (other than the honey ad - which tbf I did appreciate as showing the price of such things and how petty it can be). There's half-hearted attempts of attacking the exploitation of colonised peoples for luxuries and the white/pink-washing of those crimes through media like Eurovision, which would be a good starting point, but the episode never commits.

Similarly, Dark!Doctor moments are hardly new, but this wasn't a good one. It's clearly meant to be a Witch's Familar / Face the Raven kind of thing, with him believing Belinda might be gone, and also being furious at someone's intent to commit genocide many times over. As he acknowledges, it's also his own trauma regarding Gallifrey coming out (he did NOT finish therapy). But it's rare we get to see him actually be physically violent in such a way, which makes it really stand out. It's only worse when you mix in the above politics. I compare it to The Zygon Inversion, but that's honestly doing that episode a disservice, as for all the Doctor's fury he still forgives Bonnie and the Zygons. I think something like this could have been saved if it were for two things (not necessarily both, but at least one of them):

All those people actually do die. While it doesn't change Kid's intentions, nor the plan to kill trillions with the delta wave, it does provide genuine, lethal stakes for the Doctor to become angry about, plus avoids the whiplash with the "happy-go-lucky" ending we get, of everyone in suspension being awoken.

Belinda is furious with the Doctor. Her reaction was not enough, which is kinda shocking, given the series has done so well with her realistic reactions previously. This should have been the breaking point that reminds her that, no, she was right: he is dangerous. I can sort of excuse her being relieved he's alive and understanding his trauma, if we take her to still be angry below the surface, but we needed much more.

One of the few possible saving graces of this, is that Wynn at least, despite being part of the plan is still treated sympathetically by the narrative, which is better than if it was just Cora, since it at least doesn't condemn all outrage and lets us see Kid as a particularly extreme terrorist / "psychopath" (again, not exactly a great trope to use). That is really picking at scraps though, and shows just how much the episode bungled this. There's clearly an intent to look at ideas of demonisation (again, just think about their names!), propaganda, whitewashing etc., which might be why I want to be generous to the writing, but it honestly falls flat because of Kid and his plan.

I'm pretty keen to know at this point how much of this came from Juno Dawson, from RTD, or from executive meddling. That might sound like a weak excuse, but given we are talking about Israel/Palestine and Eurovision, I really wouldn't be surprised if there was some interference from either the BBC or Disney. It would make some sense of some of the mixed messaging - but at the same time, the blame may very well be wholely on RTD and Juno and I don't want defend them if it's the case.

I don't know, I can technically make excuses all day and justify things in my head so I can better enjoy the rest of the episode, but I know that's not helpful. Ultimately I'm just disappointed the episode didn't do better.

As for how I'd haved tried and fixed it? Well, assuming we really do want to do "Die Hard at Space Eurovision", as in the original pitch, and for better-or-worse we really want a well-intentioned villain that has a point that can be applied to real-world issues, this could have been a hostage situation (rather than, you know, attempted mega-genocide). Maybe even have the hostage takers intentionally make sure the audience are alive and suspended, as they didn't want to actually hurt them all, but needed them out of their way so they can make their threat. It's still an antagonistic role, but one which is much more defendable and potentially justified, plus would allow a deep psychological / moral element, without racing to stop a countdown that will literally kill trillions. It also would allow them to actually, y'know, make demands which we can hear about and discuss, plus we could meet their enemy. It could even have had Bel and the Doctor on seperate sides of the hostage situation, which would've been a great way to use them both. Obvious potential risk would be it being considered a bit too close to real life, with regards to the hostages held by Hamas and Israel, but I'm sure you could make it work, framed more as a bank robbery style hostage situation. Even if this was impossible, this is just what I came up with off the top of my head in 10 minutes. I'm sure something better could be developed.

You Spend Decades Waiting for a Time Lady, then Two (Three) Come at Once!

Ok, now I've gotten that off my shoulders, time to go back to my usual optimistic self...

HOLY SHIT SUSAN AND THE RANI. Originally I wanted to make this section purely about them, before I decided I really had to discuss the politics of the episode in depth.

As mentioned, I had heard two spoilers: 1. that Flood would end up being the Rani bigenerated, and 2. that Susan may be back sometime this season, and there may be a hint at her this episode.

I certainly wasn't expecting Carole Ann Ford herself to show up this episode, which I'm so, so, so glad for. Even though it is surprising that Susan wouldn't have regenerated by now, given the Time War and everything, it always would have been disappointing if she came back with another face. So I'm so happy we got to see her. There's obviously meant to be a tease that she's regenerated into Belinda, but I strongly doubt that. Indeed I hope this is a sign she's alive and well telepathically communicating with the Doctor, and we'll see her in person.

I'm so curious where we'll find her though. Obviously she can't be on 22nd/23rd century Earth right now, unless she'll be found there once the timeline is restored. We saw her in the TARDIS, but I assume she isn't literally travelling in one (after all, if she was she'd probably be seen in another console room). It depends where she says the Doctor needs to "go back" too? It could be future Earth, or even modern day Earth (even another trap to get him back to Earth right now?). Honestly, I even think it might be Gallifrey itself? After all, that's where the Doctor always said he and Susan originally wanted to go back to, "some day". This feels particularly logical with the Rani's presence here too.

SPEAKING OF WHICH. OMG we've actually got the Rani on-screen. Even having heard about the leaks I was sceptical until I got spoiled about this episode specifically. Part of me was wondering if it would be a fake leak, akin to the filmed line with Missy where she calls herself the Rani.

I'm actually kind of relieved by the depiction thus far. I was pretty concerned at the idea of Mrs Flood being the Rani, as her personality largely doesn't seem to line up. She seems malicious and entitled, sure, but seemingly lacked any of the seriousness and scientific thinking of the Rani we know. Bigenerating now, however, into an incarnation that immediately takes on those traits makes it a lot more pallatable. Archie Panjabi is an amazing choice, and is immediately recognisable as the character.

Some immediately big questions we need to have answered:

Where has she been this whole time? No seriously, we've got to have some update on what happened to her during the Time War, right? If I had to guess, maybe she survived most of the war and was on Gallifrey on the final day, but immediately went renogade as soon as Gallifrey returned, a la the Master? We also know Flood was "hiding away", but for how long? Was a chameleon arch involved?

Why is Mrs Flood so different? Sure Time Lord regenerations vary greatly, but Mrs Flood is barely recognisable as the Rani, before and after the bigeneration. At most, we could say some of her companion outfit pastiches are references to the Rani dressing as Mel in Time and the Rani, but that's pretty much it. I guess her wanted to 'overthrow God' could be seen as a science / anti-myth motif too?

Building on the above, why the sudden dynamic and shift after the bigeneration? It could again just be Time Lord quirkiness, but it does feel as if something's off about Flood. Like she's an experiment, or an intentional diversion from the norm. Not only does the new Rani immediately dismiss her, barely admitting she's even "a Rani" (even calling her Mrs. Flood as they leave), but she is immediately subserviant herself.

Again possibly linked to the above, why another bigeneration? While it could be something to do with the current state of the universe (remember RTD suggested bigeneration might even have been retroactive for all the Doctor's incarnations?), it seems more likely it would be part of some sort of experiment, maybe based on the Doctor. This could also be linked to Flood's oddness, potentially.

And finally, of course, what is her plan and motive here? (A bit more on this below.)

I kind of love that the person we've seen repeatedly breaking the fourth wall turned out to just be another Time Lord, rather than making it purely a god and Doctor thing. I'm also keen to see how she'll interact with everything/everyone else. Does she know about the Timeless Child (if so, she could potentially be a pretty strong parallel to Tecteun, and may want to experiment on the Doctor)? Does she know what the Master did? What's her reaction to the current state of the universe, with its decaying rationality and growth in magic? As a scientist, is she trying to reverse this?

Hopefully, we might get some more Academy era stuff, when she and the Doctor finally interact, this time not purely about the Master? (Imagine if we got an Ushas or Deca namedrop!)

...or maybe do make it about the Master, and let her be exasperated with them on-screen all over again. Bring him back too, so we can really get the full Mark of the Rani experience!

Everything Else

Anyway, for all the messy analogies, the episode as a whole was fairly fun. I enjoyed the setting and the side characters. Kind of a shame we didn't get more focus on the music? A lot of continuity references this episode too, between the familar planets (seriously, Trenzalore?! I can't believe they just straight up through that archive footage in there) and the delta wave.

Interesting to note, with all the Doctor / Master parallels this season, Kid kind of fits into that too? He literally lacks a real name, and is acting to revenge exploitation and the destruction of his homeworld. Mix in the Doctor's rage for Gallifrey's destruction being triggered, and we can see both of them: the Master, destroying the Time Lords in light of learning about the exploitation of the Timeless Child, and the Doctor showing that same rage for his destroyed world that Kid has himself.

Graham Norton of all people being used to deliver the wham line that Earth really is gone in this time was such a choice, which I can't help but respect. As mentioned above, I remain locked in on my "the TARDIS ripped Earth apart" theory, but this still leaves a number of questions. Why was the TARDIS unable to reach Earth in the first place? How is this part of the Rani's plan? Is it just revenge, or something more?

Logicially, if she's getting involved, it could very much be something "Time Lord-y" which fits well with my theory she's targetting the Web of Time. But why would she want to tear it down? To build something better? Or is she just experimenting with reality in general - possibly via the Doctor, seeing just how much she can use him to reshape history? The latter maybe supported by her biregeneration, if it suggests she's deliberately experimenting with him specifically, probably specifically because of his connection with the Timeless Child.

#Doctor Who #Fifteenth Doctor #The Interstellar Song Contest #DW Theory #DW Meta #DW Critical #(a rare tag for me - but deserved here)#DW Spoilers #Doctor Who Spoilers #The Rani #Susan Foreman

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the-dao-of-the-zerg · 1 day ago

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Disclaimer: I haven't played an Adventure game in a decade or two; I remember digging this stuff out when Myst first came out. In 1993.

But the basic idea was: god it really sucks how walkthroughs just tell you how to SOLVE the game. That's great for other genres, shit for a puzzle game. So behold: The Universal Hint System!

For example, here's the premise of Myst:

What exactly is the point of this game? Hint 1 - At first, all you should worry about is exploring. You'll discover what your goal is as the game progresses. (you have to click to reveal the next hint each time!) Hint 2 - You should start out by going into the library. It's the rectangular building just past the note from Atrus to his wife. Hint 3 - Read through the books and take the time to look at all of the other things on the walls. Hint 4 - In particular, look at the tower rotation device on one of the walls.

They're usually pretty good - it starts with a vague nudge and gets increasingly more explicit.

Again, I haven't used this in decades, but I remember it being about 90% well written. There was the occasional puzzle where the first hint felt like a big spoiler because I instantly solved it after that, but I'd expect it varies from person to person which ones are like that

The "UHS Reader App" and the paywall / ads are all new, but it otherwise looks like this is probably the specific hints website I was using back in the day. I've got an adblocker and the site works fine for me.

getting stuck in old school adventure games is rough because if you try to look up a hint online there's no way to just get a little nudge, they're just going to tell you step by step how to get through the puzzle. And if I do that I no longer feel like I'm playing a game, just following instructions, and that's no fun.

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reminiscentreader · 16 hours ago

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HEY GUYS!! its been ages since i wrote so please bare with but i really wanted to write a little something inspired by this post i made about grayson, rohan and mattias!

for backround context this is about a year after the grandest game takes place :)

More brothers…?

savannah, gigi and lyra invite their others halves out to dinner, determined to make them get along, they escape, forcing the boys to get along

Lyra -

It was exactly 8pm, and the plan was in place.After sitting in her bathtub (hiding from Grayson) for exactly an hour while The twins and her discussed “operation make thanksgiving less awkward this year” as Gigi called it. Lyra was finally ready.

Quietly she slipped out of the hotel bathroom and back into the room to see what Grayson was up to. “Gray?” she called out, careful not to let her voice give anything away. “You almost done, we have to leave in five minutes you know.” Grayson look up from the bed he had dramtically thrown himself over an hour ago, and had seemingly not moved from…

*one hour earlier*

Lyra sat down next to the mirror Grayson was currently stood in front fiddling with his tie, “you know how we’re going to dinner with the twins right?” Grayson side-eyed her suspiciously, “yes?”

“well I forgot to tell you theres gonna be some other.. guests.” Grayson whipped around to stare at her. “No..” Lyra cast him a nervous smile. “Im not going.” Lyra rolled her eyes, “yes, yes you are.”

The whole walk from the hotel to the fancy ferrari outside, Grayson kept his eyes focused on the floor, only occasionally grumbling about some “how slate is a evil bitch,” or “Rohan is a cocky bastard, i hate him.” like a whining toddler.

“You know Gray..” Lyra said, slinging her arm through his, “I think it would be good for you to try and get to know them a bit more, I think you guys are more alike than you think.” As expected Grayson ignored her suggestion.

Rohan -

Rohan had been in lots of situations in his life, but none as awkward as this. Savannah spoke with Gigi and Lyra at the end of the table, what they were speaking about, Rohan didnt even want to know. While at his side of the table, Gigi’s boyfriend, Slate, he’d been told, shifted awkwardly as Grayson Hawthorne stared daggers at them from the opposite side of the table. He’d told Savannah he didn’t mind missing out (translation- he was about to do anything to get out of it.) but she’d insisted, and by the looks on the faces of the other boys, Gigi and Lyra had done the same.

They had just ordered drinks when Lyra suddenly stood up and announced that the three girls were going on a trip to the bathroom. “Do all three of you have to go at once?” Grayson raised a curious eyebrow. In response the girls ignored him and walked off, giggling togther as they did.

Gigi -

Ditching the boys had been her idea, obviously. After lots of careful thought and consideration they decided the best route out was the bathroom window, so here they were, three girls in tiny minidresses attempting to sneak out the tiny window in the tiny bathroom.

Once they were out they began to make there was down the high street, “Are we sure this is a good idea?” Savannah queried, “I mean, what if they start a fight and get arrested, I am not bailing anyone out.” Lyra rolled her eyes at Savannahs doubtfulness, “Sav, it’ll be fine, I told Grayson he better be on his best behaviour tonight, or else.” She suddenly pointed at shop, “look!!” Lyra grabbed Gigis arm, “We should so go get ice cream!” Lyra stalked off across the street gesturing for Savannah and Gigi to follow.

“Any arrests for three men fighting with eachother in a top notch italian restaurant yet Savannah?” Gigi asked, eyeing Savannah who had been anxiously checking her phone for at least ten minutes, “none yet.. What could they possibly be doing if theyre not fighting?”

“Having a brood-off contest?” Lyra suggested

Grayson -

Grayson Hawthorne has lived through more than his fair share of bad days in his life, but nothing he’d been through before could compare to this. The girls had been gone for almost twenty minutes now, he wasn’t nervous, he knew from the beginning Lyra had been planning something.

“So um- should we go look for them?” Slate piped up. It was the first time anyone had spoken since the girls left.

“no.” Grayson and Rohan said simultaneously, Grayson glared at him, as if he dared steal Grayson words. Rohan glared right back, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist Hawthorne, none of us wanted to be here.” Grayson rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah? well I bet I wanted to be here the least.”

“If it’s competition,” Slate started, “it’s actually probably me.” The three of them all death stared each other, well it was more the two of them glaring at Grayson, who stared right back. He wasn’t one to back down from a competition. “Lets play a game, two truths and a lie.” Rohan proposed breaking the ultimate brooding competition. “Seriously?” Slate raised an eyebrow, “We aren’t twelve.”

“You dont have to play,” Rohans gaze shifted to Grayson. He now had two options he could a) turn down the game and live without spilling his secrets to the two men he hated most, or b) accept the challenge. Hawthornes never turned down a good game so he went for the latter. “I’ll play.” he announced, Rohan clapped his hands togther, “brilliant, I’ll go first.”

”First, I used some slighty unmoral methods to win the game, second, I was drowned multiple times as a child and lastly,” Rohan side-eyed Grayson, A mischievous glint in his eye, “Savannah is Preg-“ Rohan didn’t even get to finish the word before his shirt was fisted by Grayson leaning over the side of the table. “You are not as funny as you think you are.” Grayson glared, making sure he gave Rohan what he hoped was a clear message with his eyes. “Ok i’ll do another one. I have always wanted brothers.” Rohan was quiet for a moment before asking who wanted to go next, Luckily for Grayson, Slate offered.

Slate had finished his turn and Grayson was just about to start his, when three loud giggly girls pushed through the door holding empty ice cream tubs. “So much for going to the bathroom,” Grayson raised a suspicious eyebrow at Lyra who had thrown herself across his lap. “Turns out!” Gigi announced, “there is an ice cream machine in the bathrooms, how authentic!” the three of them exchanged glances. “Did you boys have fun while we were gone?” Lyra queried, Grayson looked at Slate, and then at Rohan, “we had… quite a fine time, thank you sweetheart.” Lyra beemed at him. “thats great! now who wants more wine”

The rest of the night passed with embarrassing stories and far too much wine, and by the end of it, Grayson felt a sense of happiness deep in his stomach that had replaced the usual crippling anxiety, he also found himself, glad, that he had come, but his mind still lingered on what Rohan had said “I’ve always wanted brothers.” Grayson was at no shortage of brothers, or just siblings in general.

ROHAN -

They all left the restaurant at around midnight, and as Grayson tipped all the staff and paid the bill, Rohan couldn’t stop thinking about the night they’d had, Rohan had never, ever had friends in his life, but tonight he had felt a small sense of camaraderie towards Grayson and Slate.

Before Rohan and Savannah left in their car, Rohan felt a small tap on his shoulder, he turned and was surprisingly met with Grayson Hawthorne Greek god esque face. “If you want brothers Rohan, Im happy to lend you some of mine.” Grayson managed an awkward smile resembling that of a twelve year old boy forced to take photos next to a nice looking tree, before striding off. For a while, Rohan wondered if it was something Lyra had put him up to, but Lyra seemed to have no idea Grayson had even left her side. So for once in his life, maybe, just maybe, Rohan thought, he had a friend… maybe even a brother.

—-

BAHHH IM SO SORRY FOR SO MANY THINHS

IM SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK

IM SORRY FOR HOW SHITTY THIS IS

IM SORRY FOR HOW RUSHED IT IS

IM SORRY FOR HOW OOC EVERYONE IS I JUST WANTED TO WRITE A HEALED VERSION OF THIS

IM SORRY THAT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CUTE FIC OF EVERYONE BUT JUST TURNED INTO ROHANXGRAYSON ROMANCE

p.s @me-h1m i know you were patiently waiting for this

#jameson hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #xander hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the inheritance games #the grandest game #lyra kane

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rea-grimm · 2 days ago

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Android Luffy

You worked in a science lab where they focused on making robots and improving artificial intelligence. They wanted to perfect everything and create the perfect android that would be unrecognisable from a human, at people's fingertips and, most importantly, able to get power for its system in times of power outages and so on. Now you were also working alongside nanobots and special metals that were to be incorporated into another new model.

This created the first android model that did all that. This prototype was supposed to draw energy from human food, was supposed to feel human emotions, and could stretch its body as if it were made of rubber without any damage.

You weren't there for the programming process or the actual manufacturing. Your task was simple, at least according to everyone. The prototype of this robot, named JOY-BOT01, but with the work name Luffy, was to live with you, and you were to test its reactions in a real environment.

Everything was to take place in your house. They moved a giant box that contained a charger and an android. You opened it and felt the button that the android had hidden behind its ear, which served as a switch.

Just as you turned him on and his eyes opened, a giant smile appeared on his face. You had no idea how energetic and cheerful this android would be. You've never seen such a personality in an android before.

Luffy, even though he couldn't read or write and had limited knowledge, was cheerful and full of life. You'd expect him to have a processor full of knowledge or access to the internet to look it up, but no. Instead, he had a head full of dreams and asked questions about everything. You got the impression that at one point, you were working with a child rather than a real android.

Every day was an adventure with Luffy, and not a single day was boring. You wrote down all your progress and observations in a notebook and reported back to the scientists every week.

However, from their answers, you found that they didn't like Luffy's daydreaming and his general character. Or that he would use nanobots to reach out for food, or that he would reach out and hug you like an octopus. You, however, tried to reassure them that everything was perfectly fine and that Luffy would eventually calm down. Even though you didn't believe it yourself.

One day, you decided to take Luffy to the amusement park to test his interaction skills. As soon as you entered the park, Luffy's eyes lit up. He had no idea which ride to go on first, or if he would go around to all the treat stands first. Eventually, however, something else caught his attention.

"Y/N! Look at that ship! That's a pirate ship! We're going treasure hunting!" He exclaimed excitedly, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the attraction.

In front of the pirate ship, you were given a map that led to the hidden treasure. The game consisted of searching for clues around the park, and whoever found the treasure won a teddy bear. Luffy looked at the map carefully and started pulling you for the first clue.

Luffy ran from one station to the next, his long mechanical arms reaching out to collect all the clues he needed. Every once in a while, he stopped to ask you a question.

"Y/N, why do people like to find treasures? What's so exciting about it?" while he was scouring the map for where to go next.

"Because treasure isn't just about value, Luffy. It's about the journey you go through before you find it. And of course, the excitement of finding your reward after a difficult journey," you replied with a smile. Luffy thought for a moment, but his enjoyment of the game didn't wane. Instead, you had to show him the way.

When you finally found the treasure, you were given a teddy bear with a map in its hand, plus a straw hat. Luffy picked up the teddy bear, looked at it, and then gave it to a little boy standing nearby.

"To me, treasure is something else," he said as he put on the straw hat, and his eyes briefly met yours. "Maybe it's something I'll find later."

Before you walked out of the park, you came across a snack stand. Luffy immediately headed over to the vendor and asked for a huge portion of fries with a wide smile. When you sat down at a table to eat your share, he began to enthusiastically talk about how amazing the treasure hunt was.

"It was like a real adventure! But I think my real treasure is still out there," he said with a mouthful of chips and a dreamy, hopeful expression.

On the way back home, Luffy told you about his dream. What he wanted to achieve. You've never heard an android talk so determinedly and enthusiastically about his dreams. You've only heard him talk about dreams. Androids didn't usually have dreams of their own. Only pre-programmed ones.

"I want to find my own treasure. Something that's mine alone. Maybe not gold, maybe not food. Something... that I can feel here," he said, placing his hand on his chest where his processor was hidden. Your heart fluttered strangely at his words. Luffy had something special inside him - something that went beyond programming.

"What would your treasure look like?" You asked curiously as you watched Luffy gaze up at the star-studded sky.

"I'm not sure," he replied after a moment. "But I think it'll be something that fills me with the same happiness I feel when I'm with you," he said, looking at you like it was nothing, his smile warm and innocent. His words surprised you and warmed your heart at the same time.

As your work continued and you sent in your regular reports, some scientists began to have doubts about the safety of the program. Luffy's behaviour was an aberration that had to be stopped.

"A robot can't have dreams," said the project leader. "If it keeps going like this, we'll have to terminate the program."

"But Luffy is unique! His ability to think and feel is what makes this project revolutionary," you protested, but your words were ignored. Luffy overheard your conversation, and his eyes darkened.

In the lab, Luffy was subjected to more tests. He was originally supposed to answer questions about his functions, but instead, the scientists focused on his behaviour. One:

"JOY-BOT01, what is your main objective?" one of the scientists asked him. Luffy paused for a moment and thought.

"I want to find treasure," he replied confidently without any hesitation.

"That's not an adequate answer," the scientist remarked sharply. "Robots cannot be programmed to search for abstract concepts. That is unacceptable." At that moment, you realised the end was near, as you saw him write the word DEACTIVATE heavily in his notes.

The day Luffy was to be deactivated came too soon, and you failed to prepare for it. You wanted them to cancel it, you made up reasons why the project should continue, but the scientists were deaf to you. They said you were too emotionally invested for a proper review.

As the scientists prepared to shut it down, Luffy saw your face and knew that would be the end of it. What upset him more than his demise was your sad face. How dare the scientists do that? Luffy got angry and broke through the lab's security systems.

"Y/N, come on! We gotta get out of here!" He grabbed your hand before changing his mind and taking you in his arms like a bride and running with you to the dock.

At the pier, you headed straight for the boat you bought because you wanted to take him on a sea trip. Luffy hopped on it with you, still trying to use his outstretched arms to push away the scientists and security guards who were following you. You, meanwhile, ran to the wheel and started it up before taking off full speed away from there.

"We're free now!" Luffy rejoiced. "And you know what? Together we'll find the greatest treasure. Maybe it's a treasure I can't find alone - maybe it's you."

On the high seas, you started a new life. No scientists, no controls, just you and Luffy. And even though Luffy was an android, he could show you every day that his heart was full of life, dreams and love. As you sailed over the horizon, you felt that you had both found the true treasure in each other.

Luffy Masterlist

#one piece #monster piece #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy #android au

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